TURN TEN

The dinner was nearing its end, and Ian realized with a start that the hour was growing late. To that end, he swallowed the last of his wine and said "Well, ladies and gentlemen... it is later than I feared, and you must wish to return to your ships. I shall not keep you... however, what shall we do with our guests? You are of course free to remain here aboard the Watcher--she is sure to offer slightly better accommodation," he smiled. At this cue from his Captain First Leftenant MacDonald got to his feet, In all honesty the dinner had not been as bad as he had expected, The women were good company and not as formal as he thought. As a matter of fact Lady Farthingdale had been quiet amusing with her tales of
how she viewed life aboard a Kings ship. If only he could master these skills of courtly manner as well as he could aim a 12 pounder he would be an admiral already. "By you leave Captain, I will check with the officer of the watch to make sure that all is well and then I will turn in." MacDonald offered his good nights to the other guests and left the party. After a slow uneventful walk around the deck he returned below to sleep.
As the Dinner party finished there last glasses of wine. Lady Farthingdale had proved she could be quite charming and entertaining, when drawn out of her aristocratic shell, as she told several tales of her adventures in Dublin. She also seemed quite taken with Captain West. As the junior officers excused themselves and the American Lieutenant Gardner requested permission to wait in the wardroom. Miss Stocker said, "Commander Bryant I believe you offered to show me around the deck of one His Majesty's fine frigates." At the same time Lady Farthingdale gave her a knowing wink and said, "What a charming idea you two run along while I have a chat with the captain ."
Ian leaned back in his chair. "As you wish, my lady," he said quietly. "Commander Bryant, you may show Miss Stocker the noteable features of the Watcher at your pleasure," he grinned. "Lieutenant, you may feel free to enjoy what diversion our wardroom may provide." When the guests had filed away, Ian closed the door partially, and returned his attention to the lady. "So then, Lady Farthingdale...I trust you seem to
have had an adventurous day," he began..."That is has been and it seems to get better as time passes. The young American seems quite taken with Commander Bryant. I hope his intentions are honorable,” she said with a smile, “though I wouldn't blame him in the least
if he strayed, being proper all the time is such a bore. I myself would like to accept your gracious offer to remain aboard.” She pauses, sipped her wine and said, “I'll be quite frank my husband is a bumbling idiot, but his one talent is surrounding himself with capable people. He will need a Naval Liason within this squadron and quite frankly he and Captain Giles detest each other. I can assure you the job can have many fringe benefits.”
Upon hearing her words, Ian was quite glad he had no wine in front of him, for he would have certainly spilled it. Never had he expected, from Lady Farthingdale's air of noble reserve, to hear such words from her; never would have he expected her to acknowledge the opinion which he--along with many others--held of the gentleman. In a sudden flash of insight, Ian believed he was speaking with the one who held the power in their relationship. "My lady," he stammered, suddenly taken aback, "I am indeed honored that you would think of me in this way, yet surely you must realize I am of no stature to merit such an offer. I have not the seniority to benefit your husband in his efforts." He suddenly felt warm, his composure lost utterly. He hoped to the starry heavens above that he was not blushing as noteably as he felt he must be. And yet this was an opportunity that
could make a career, despite his low standing on the Captain's List. Prove himself capable in his conduct in this matter, and it would be remembered down the years as his seniority brought him closer to flag rank. Perhaps even a peerage of his own, the one he could never inherit from his father, as his brother stood in the way.
Swallowing hard, he regained his composure as quickly as it had been lost. "Forgive me, my lady--your generosity is overwhelming." He reached for a small bottle of port, part of his personal supply which he kept hidden away, and two glasses. "What exactly would your husband require of me?" Lady Farthingdale accepted a glass, "The land expeditions will no doubt have a large contingent of Royal Marines to secure the landing areas and seamen to man the guns put ashore. A post captain's command for sure. In addition to your handling of that. He would need eyes and ears in the squadron and a strong voice supporting his recommendations. Captain Giles is said to have considerable influence with Admiral Medicus. My husband and the Admiral have never met and quite bluntly the Admiral is only one my husband can't intimidate to get his way"
Ian realized what he was being asked to do with a slow sense of revelation. "You understand, my lady...I would need to be firmly convinced of the correctness of your husband's recommendations. I would not in honesty be able to influence my admiral to a course of action detrimental to His Majesty's forces...." Lifting his glass, he took a contemplative swallow.
"Well of course not Captain but there are many ways to get things done and receive due credit. Think about it" Lady Farthingdale paused, "perhaps we should go on deck and enjoy the sunset with the Commander and Miss Stocker." As she put down her glass she continued "she's quite well inform about Yankee ships and perhaps the Commander could be recruited to our cause as well?"

The following morning...

Ian contemplated the small note on his desk, pen in hand. He had been drafting a reply to his first lieutenant's highly unorthodox request. Given the current happenings in the flotilla, this was a situation which must be handled delicately:
Sir;
I confess that this request quite takes me by surprise. You of course have displayed nothing but the highest command and facility with a ship and her crew, and I would be pleased to see you succeed. You are, however, aware that with Lieutenant Davion attached to the brig Amy as prizemaster, your transferral would leave me with but one leftenant, and that one recently a midshipman. Also...allow me to be frank, sir: the situation aboard the Willow is highly volatile; I shall expect you to attend me within an hour of receipt of this letter, and I shall inform you of your orders.

One hour lator...

"So, sir," Captain. West was saying, "you are directed to proceed to the Willow
and assume temporary command. If Whitehall decides to make this post permanent, so be it. If not, I shall expect you back soon as possible. You are furthermore required to send Lt. Wallace here to the Watcher to take your place, along with Commander Callaghan, as he will receive better care and a better berth with our surgeon. And you shall monitor the Willowcarefully sir--the burden of mutiny shall lie on your shoulders,
sir....should it occur."

Ian was growing impatient. It had been almost two full days since they'd had more than a bare hint of breeze to fill their sails, canvas which now flapped nearly useless overhead.
He himself was in the shrouds, clinging to the lines as he swept the horizon with a glass, searching for hints of the coast. They should be making landfall any day now, if his calculations were in order. He strained his eyes in vain.Closing the glass, he slid easily down along the lines, his heart skipping along until he felt solid deck once more beneath his feet. He was not exactly a vision captainly authority this day. He wore ordinary duck
trousers over unadorned shoes, and a plain white shirt that looked as if it had seen one too many washings in its day. His best uniforms hung in his cabin, awaiting the time when he should require them.
Which would most likely be this evening. He had entertained the Lady Farthingdale every night since she had arrived aboard Watcher. After much thought, he had decided to accept her offer. He felt it would give him a chance to ensure that the Lord Farthingdale did not do anything *too* foolish. The office would give Farthingdale his representative, and would allow Medicus a close eye upon his doings. It was, as the lady had said, a
situation replete with many rewards. He would inform her, he decided, over dinner tonight.
Mounting the quarterdeck, he strode to his new first leftenant. "How is the
commander?" he asked. "Any change in his condition? Have you heard from the
surgeon?" The wind has picked up and everyone taking their noon sites estimates they
are less than a days sail from the American Coast. Dead astern the lookout of the Watcher reports "sail in site Brit schooner by the look of her tops" Captain West smiled broadly. That would be the Crab, most likely, bearing dispatches and letters. Both of those would be welcome as far as Ian was concerned. "Masthead, there!" he called in reply. "That sail should be the Crab! Keep her in sight, and watch for signals!"
He turned his attention to Lieutenant Greg, who had been getting quite the baptism
into his new lieutenancy. A small smile played about his lips. "Mr. Greg...what would you do in this situation?"Greg thought for a moment before responding. "Maintain course and allow her to catch the flotilla. She's capable of doing that, of course..." he trailed
off into nothing, second-guessing himself. Ian arched an eyebrow. "Then that is what we shall do...give the order, Mr. Greg." He walked off, leaving a thoroughly stunned leftenant behind him.