STO'B: a beginning

Author's Note

Philip was not happy. He stood on the quay, watching the Rattler, a beautiful little coal-fed steam/sail sloop, take on coal, water, and provisions, and he was not happy. He had been promised command of her - had been promised promotion into her, in fact - but the secretary's brother had gone and run his brig onto the rocks (the blind fool), and the Rattler, along with the promotion, went to him instead. Philip saw him on the Rattler's deck, just abaft the starboard paddle wheel housing, directing the operations. The scrub was impossible to miss as his fresh new Commander's epaulettes gleamed in the setting sun. Philip, still just a lieutenant, turned his back.

As he walked away he remonstrated with himself: he should have protested when the news reached him. He should have dealt with the matter firmly and immediately. For now, having misused him once, the secretary would no doubt look upon the name of Philip Fitton with disfavor. Not at all, he argued back, one of the tenets of the service was that argument in such a case was not allowed. He was bound, hand, foot and tongue, by the Articles of War, and answering back might be the end of his career.

Nevertheless, he needn't have so politely acquiesced. There must have been some remark he could have made that would have pointed out the unfairness of it all, which would have reminded the secretary of his promise without being too gross. He went on in this way for a while, arguing with himself and becoming increasingly unhappy. He thought of other men, junior to him on the Lieutenant's list, but now promoted and ahead of him forever. And others, also junior to him, who had commands of their own as lieutenants, and were on full pay, whereas he only drew his half pay of [XXXX] a lunar month. He stared at his feet, feeling thoroughly low.

His feet carried him past the opera. His friend Jevons, whom he had known since they were both squeakers in the old Resolution - no use to mouse nor man - had invited him to tonight's performance, but he had begged off, intending to be overseeing the provisioning of his new command. But no new command, and no opera, either. Probably a perfect performance tonight, too; no doubt Jevons would regale him with all he had missed tomorrow. No doubt, too, Angela would be on stage, probably at this very minute, and -

Instead of completing this thought he walked bodily into a man standing outside of the theatre and the two of them tumbled onto the sidewalk. "Why don't you pay attention to where you're going!?" Philip cried. He knew that he was in the wrong, but he didn't care. He was looking for a fight, and he had found one. "Can't you see there are other people here?" he continued.

[EDIT 1 SEPT 2008]
[EDIT 20 MAY 2009 (description of relation to Jevons)]

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