STO'B 5

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Several hours later Jevons and Boswell steered Philip out of the tavern to the street, and thence to the Crown. Here they handed him off to the night porter, who half guided, half supported him up the stairs, tipped him unceremoniously onto his bed, and departed, returning a minute or so later with a letter in his hand. "This came for you sir, while yous were out," he said, but as Phillip did not respond the porter placed the letter on the table and withdrew.

Phillip lay diagonally across his bed, filling most of it. The letter surprised him, and he puzzled over what it might contain. That man whom he had challenged - what was his name? McMullin? - could he have sent a challenge so soon? "A bloody-minded fellow," Phillip said to himself, "unless -" His mind ran along a series of hypotheses, but he had drank too much and he found it difficult to concentrate.

At length he rolled over and stared at the letter in case its cover might suggest an answer. It did not. He reached for the envelope, but succeeded only in knocking it to the floor. "Whatever it is, it can wait until morning," he said, leaving the letter on the floor and falling asleep.

* * *

In fact, the letter waited until early afternoon before Philip finally rolled out of bed and ordered a pot of coffee to be sent up. Some minutes later the porter knocked on the door, and as he arranged the pot, saucer and cup on the table, Philip, waiting impatiently for the coffee his whole being ached for, noticed the letter on the floor by the bed. The porter refused to leave until Philip produced a tip - a tip that he could ill afford - and finally he was left alone with his coffee. And his post. He bent to collect the letter and considered it as he sat down to his coffee.

He considered the seal as he drank his first cup. He had apparently trodden on it earlier, probably when he left the bed to order his coffee, and the seal had cracked and deformed under his weight. No matter how he turned it, he could not make out its original form from what pieces remained.

During his second cup, he considered the front of the cover. He did not know who had addressed it - the handwriting was unfamiliar - and whoever had addressed it clearly didn't know him, either, as the address read Captain Philip Fitton, RN, a particularly galling mistake in light of his loss of the Rattler.

Finally, with his third cup he opened the cover and removed the letter inside, which read

By the Right Honorable Lord Green, Knight of the Bath, Admiral of the Blue and Commander in Chief of Her Majesty's Ships and Vessels employed and to be employed in the Mediterranean, etc, etc, etc.

You are on this date hereby directed and required to proceed on board the Badger Sloop of War and take upon You the Charge of Command of Master and Commander of her; requiring all the Officers and Company, of said Sloop to behave themselves, singly and severally, in their several Employments with all due Respect and Obedience to You their Commander; and You likewise to carefully and diligently observe as well the General Printed Instructions for Discipline of the Navy, And what Orders and Directions you may from time to time receive from Your Superior Officers.

And for so doing This shall be your Order.

Hereof neither You nor Any of you shall Fail in this regard as You shall do so at Your Peril.

To Philip Fitton, Esq,
Hereby appointed Master and Commander of
Her Majesty's Sloop Badger
With seniority from 3rd April 1860

He took in all of this at a glance, but nevertheless he read the letter again, and then a third time, quite closely. He stood up and folded the letter to put it in his pocket, then unfolded and read it again, having quite forgotten its beautiful phrasing and, he realized, the beautiful penmanship, for although most of the order was printed on a press, his name, the name of the Badger, and several other details were necessarily written in by hand.

"The Badger, ha ha ha." He knew her well, having twice chased her (unsuccessfully) when he was a midshipman in the Atlas, and having seen her a few times since her capture from the French some time last year. The Admiralty had fitted her with an improved Watt engine powering a screw - none of those paddle wheels that were so vulnerable to gunfire, and with that he should be able to chase down anything of his size. Prizes, riches, glory; all for the taking.

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