Truth and Beauty 5-9

Truth and Beauty updates Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

On the bridge he plugged in his sextant again, patching in the radar and IFF inputs, and brought up the Moon Roadstead.  Roth lay on the outskirts of the roads, near buoy seven.  Several smallcraft lay inward of her; she would have to be careful in lighting her engines.  Outward lay the Arras frigate.  No local traffic below the anchoring plane.  “Helm,” said Captain O’Brian, “take us below the roadstead at one quarter slow and then forward at two knots.  Once we’re clear of the Arras, bring us three points to starboard and lay in a course for I-16 outbound, full speed.”

“Sir,” piped Barus, “engineering generally prefers to run at three quarters speed, not to tax the number two engine.”

“Three-quarter speed it is, then.”  Jack made some quick calculations in his head - I-16 would be perhaps a degree further along in its orbit if they approached at 3/4 speed.  “Three and a quarter points to starboard, then, once we’re clear of the Arras."

Roth worked her way free of the roadstead, turned lazily to starboard, and then fired her thrust engines in earnest for the first time under her new captain.  A low thunder filled the bridge and the brig shook - Stephen looked at Jack, surely this was not normal?  But Jack and the rest of the crew seemed oblivious to the sound and motion, only raising their voices slightly to talk above it, making occasional, unhurried, minor corrections to the brig’s course.  Barus had retreated back to his phone, playing a game that beeped and squawked from time to time.

“Mister Barus,” said the captain, taking notice of this, “is there not a rule about using your phone when on duty?”

“Beg pardon, sir,” said the midshipman, “but I don’t think that there is.”

“Well there is now.  Aside from use having to do with official duties, you are not to give way to distractions during your time on watch.  Doctor, I am afraid that I will be more or less pinned to the bridge for the next several hours, but if you’d like to see the officers’ recreation space it is through that hatch, or our quarters are below.  Of course, you’re welcome to stay here, if you’d prefer, though I expect it will be pretty quiet.”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 6-2 Captain Fitton

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

The prize turned out to be the Tres Hermanas, laden with, as Mister South commented, “anything that could burn or explode, like:” coal, gunpowder, candles, pitch, coils of hempen rope, turpentine, and methylated spirits. Her eleven-man crew was the usual mix of nationalities: two Spanish, two Dutch; and one each of French, lascar, Chinese, Portuguese, American, and Russian; plus one man who spoke neither a word of French nor English and whose nationality was thought to be Swedish. The French and Spanish men he held as prisoners of war; the others he offered wages as members of Badger’s crew, gaining him eight new crew members. “Rate them ordinary to begin with, Mister South,” said Philip, “except for that foreign hand, who should probably be a landsman until he has a few words of English in him.”

“How shall I enter the cargo, sir,” asked Mister South.

“We are in need of coal, Mister South, and I believe there is a provision in the Printed Instructions for ‘supplies captured in time of need,’ or thereabout?”

“Yes, sir. Such supplies 'may be entered as supernumerary, to be used or discharged at first visit to a British class B port or above in a visit of 24 hours or greater'.”

“Very good. Ask the carpenter, bosun, and purser if they have any need for the other items, and the gunner. And please let Mister Horrace know that we will be live-firing at divisions for the foreseeable future, only one of the two guns fired today hit its mark.”

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 5-8

Truth and Beauty updates Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

“Anti magnets to one quarter,” said the pilot.

“One quarter, aye,” said Panzer, manipulating the control, and the viewscreen showed the wharf start to slide to port.  The mood lighting turned green.

“One meter clear,” said Durkin.  “Jetways retracting.  Five meters.  Ten meters clear, sir.”

“Magnets to zero.  Nose ring to zero degrees, one second burst, then fifteen degrees.”

“Nosering at fifteen,” said Panzer

“One second burst,” said the pilot.

The wharf began to slide shallowly down, now, too as Roth tiptoed away from the congested wharf. Once clear, she dropped off the pilot, then came to anchor in the Moon Roads so her captain could open his orders.

This he did by excusing himself form the bridge and stepping down the companion to the great cabin and logging in to the computer there.  The orders were simple enough: a milk run to Neva 4 to drop off supplies, collect raw oxygen, and return.

Ignoring for the moment a certain uneasiness with the Neva system, Jack moved to the chartroom and plugged his sextant into the navigational computer, pulling up a map of the space and hyperspace between here and the Neva system over the time it would take the Roth to get there under standard conditions.  Based on the projected weather along the way and recent reports of French activity, he chose a course along Interstellar routes 16 and 73, noted the probable time dilation offset, and saved the data to the navcom.  Then he puled up a current map of the solar system.  The interstellar route entrances were in a heliocentric orbit sandwiched between the orbits of Mars and the Earth; I-16 was perhaps one-sixth of a revolution back.  He highlighted the gate and their current position: 28º37’16’.  He saved this to the navcom, too, then ejected and pocketed his sextant and returned to the bridge.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Truth and Beauty 5-7

Truth and Beauty updates Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Mister Barus found his captain and his captain’s guest lingering over their post-prandial coffee. “All of the officers have reported, sir, we are ready to cast off,” he said.

“Thank you Mister Barus,” said the captain. “Doctor, do you care to finish your coffee on the bridge?”

“Certainly,” said Doctor Russ, putting down his juice glass again and grabbing his mug instead.

They followed Barus back to the bridge, where they found the pilot; Panzer, sitting at the helm; a radioman; and a sensorman. “All desks report,” said the captain, taking up a position behind the helm and stepping into the familiar rhythm of casting off at an unfamiliar place, rather as if he had been asked to play a favorite song in an unaccustomed key.

 “Helm, standing by,” said Panzer.

“Communications, standing by,” said the radioman, whose name plate read Cather.

“Sensors, standing by,” said the sensorman. His name plate read Durkin.

“Deck standing by,” said Barus. “Christmas tree is green across the board.”

“Pilot, cast off when ready and take us out,” said Captain O’Brian.

“Aye, sir,” said the pilot. “Communications, send signal 36 to the wharf. Deck, advise engineering to stand by.”

“Wharf replies with signal 37, sir.”

“Engineering is standing by.”

“Release the umbilical,” said the pilot.

The rush of the HVAC system stuttered briefly, but the lights and electrical power remained steady. “Umbilical cord released, sir.”

“Release coupling magnets.”

The mood lighting went out, and a peculiar lightness underfoot told them they were free of the wharf. “Magnet release confirmed,” said Barus.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 4-16 Dr M'Mullen

Author's Note|First Post|Previous| last episode with Captain Fitton GLOSSARY

5 MAY 1860 THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS DEEPEST REGRETS THAT YOUR LOVED ONE DR PATRICK MMULLEN HAS BEEN REPORTED MISSING IN ACTION OFF THE COAST OF SPAIN STOP IF FURTHER DETAILS OR OTHER INFORMATION ARE RECEIVED YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY NOTIFIED +

Author's Note|First Post|Previous| last episode with Captain Fitton GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 5-6

Truth and Beauty updates Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Jack closed the hatch to the hangar control booth and led Stephen aft along the port gangway. “I think the only thing of note that you haven’t seen is the hold, which is merely a big empty space in the Roth’s middle - we’re walking past it now, actually - and then the bridge and the officer’s recreation space, both of which are above my quarters” he said.

“The officers’ recreation space?” asked Stephen, with what he hoped was the appearance of interest. “Is that not in the wardroom?”

“Beyond the wardroom,” said Jack. “That is, in addition to the wardroom. There is a gym there - or there usually is - to be true, I haven’t found time to see it myself yet. Just up these steps, doctor.

“This is the bridge. Not much to see at the moment since we’re moored in a home port and at anchor watch, but once we cast off you’ll see someone at each of these stations - helm, communications where the midshipman - yes, Mister, er Mister Barus, isn’t it?”

“Holley, sir,” said the midshipman, sweeping off his hat and bowing as low as he could. “Beg pardon sir but this message just came in.”

Jack took the offered slip of paper and read it. “Ah,” he said. “Mr Holley, do you know how to hoist the blue peter?”

Mister Holley started, almost dropping his phone. “The blue peter, sir? Yes, sir, Mister Wolfson put in a blue button in the communications panel.”

“Hoist the blue peter, then, Mister Holley,” said Jack. “Doctor, if you’ll forgive me, the officer’s recreation space is through that hatch, or if you’d prefer to unpack our quarters are just downstairs, I’ll let the sentry know to let you in. I’ll see you in the great cabin at eight bells for supper. In about twenty minutes,” he added, seeing Stephen’s puzzled face.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 6-1: Captain Fitton

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Chapter 6
Badger began to lose speed, falling back from the moon’s reflection.  Aboard the Spaniard a pistol fired, flashing in the darkness but too far away to be dangerous.  “Mister South, take us under her stern.  I want her between us and the moon.”

While the quarterdeck was busy with these orders, Philip stepped to the taffrail and ran their color up the ensign staff, then moved forward  to the step of the quarterdeck and raised his trumpet to the Spaniard, “Rendre!”

Badger ran under the Spaniard’s stern and crept up along her port side.  “Rendre,” called Philip again, then, “Mister Wilkins, a gun through her foresail, please - two guns through her foresail.”

Gun two fired, severing the mainmast’s port shrouds.  A calculating pause, and gun four fired, opening a hole in the Spaniard’s foresail, and Philip heard angry voices on the Spanish brig, seemingly arguing: “¡Están mas fuerte!  Necesitamos rendir,” and, “¡No!  ¡No nos  rendiremos!  Mi hermano-” cut short with another pistol shot.  Then the first voice again, “¡Rendiremos!  Rendre!  England, we surrender!  ¡Por favor, no to shoot mas!”

Philip walked forward and opened the night glass again.  The Spanish crew were busy at the foot of the main mast, reducing sail.  Then they moved to the foremast to do the same.  On the quarterdeck, a man stood with his hands raised.  Philip handed the glass to a sailor and picked up the trumpet again.  “No mujerse,” he said, hoping this was at least close to correct.  “Mister South, bring us alongside.”

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 5-5

Truth and Beauty updates Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Jack led them up through the forward companion to a room with a rubberized floor. Looking about Stephen saw exercise equipment, and he was not surprised to hear Jack say that this was the crew’s gym. Two men worked with free weights, and after a moment another jogged by on a track that looped through the space before leading aft through the port and starboard gangways.

“Forward is sickbay,” said Jack, “see how the sill of the hatchway drops when I open the hatch? Even if they’re very weak they can get through. You have an office through here - everything’s on their ID card, of course, with local copies on the medical office computer. You can also print off a new card for visitors and members of other services, there should be a printer here somewhere. Yes,” he said after a moment’s looking about, “over there below the monitor.”

Jack also showed Stephen the exam room and the four-bed infirmary, whose equipment was a generation or two back, but serviceable. “Any of the crew who were confined to the infirmary were discharged when Roth made port,” he explained as he led them aft out of the medical suite, through the gym to the companion. “Up again is just the various store rooms and such, the machinery space for the nose ring, and guns one and two, so we won’t stop. Oh, and the sensor electronics bay is in there too, but we’ll go up another level to the hangar.

“This is the control booth, you see. Through the window they have full view of everything going on in the hangar itself, just forward. The deck officer sits on the left and the airspace manager on the right.”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 5-10: Captain Fitton

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

With the beating of her drum, Badger fell into her rhythm at last.  The forecourse vanished, water and sand splashed onto her deck, and the gun captains raised their fists.  When the last fist was raised Mr South reported that the Badger was ready.

“Mr South, keep us on this heading, but reduce sail.  Put the stem of their bowsprit level with our mainmast.”

Mr South began a volley of orders, taking in the maintopsail and scandalizing the driver, and easing the wheel one spoke.  As the crew began securing the lines, Midshipman Wilkins reappeared at the top of the companion.  “Mister Wilkins,” said Captain Fitton, “fire gun three across her bows.”

“Gun three across her bow, aye, sir,” replied Mister Wilkins, saluting and darting back down the companion.

Philip turned his attention back to the Spanish brig.  She was hoisting a flag.  In the dim light light the colors were difficult to make out, but in the night glass Philip distinguished five horizontal stripes, the middle one wider than the other four.  With a panic he glanced at Badger’s halyard: no colors were bent.  Nor was there a signal midshipman to bend them, Wilkins being busy and Emmet and Adams being aboard the Chasseur.  Gun three fired; Philips insides turned to water.

He grabbed a speaking trumpet from the binnacle and turned it on the Spanirad.  “This is Her Majesty’s brig Badger of fourteen guns,” he announced.  “Heave to or we shall sink you.”

“Tengo veinte cañones, English Badger,” replied the Spaniard.  “Si ustéd fire your cañones, we fire también.”

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 5-4

Truth and Beauty updates Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Even with the headphones, the engine room was loud.  It was also bright and humid, and smelled of machine oil and hot metal.  They stood on a catwalk overlooking the prime mover, a monstrosity of mass, pipes, cables, gauges, switches and valves.  A humming whine filled the space, vibrating the catwalk.  Several sailors crept about the two-story space or stood staring at one of the gauges, all wearing orange headphones and orange boots, and all intent on their work.  A pot of coffee and several battered mugs kept warm on a manifold.  “Bob,” crackled a voice in their headphones, “cycle that valve again, will you?”

Stephen started as a buzzer blared out.  He looked questioningly at Jack, who gave it a dismissive wave of his hand then gestured to the side wall, where several windows showed the presence of a control booth.  Then he gestured Stephen back out again and they returned to the vestibule.  Once the inner hatch was closed and latched, and the light turned green, he replaced his headphones in the charging rack and indicated that Stephen could do the same.

“Well,” said Jack, “that is the prime mover.  It’s much bigger than we need - Mister Humphries says he ran the numbers and it was one of the turbines from the old Ark Royal, the reactor is, too - that’s at the back, you probably didn’t notice it.  So, plenty of power, though at idle the coolers do have their work cut out for them.  We go down again.

“That buzzer, by the way, is the paging system - with all of the electrical fields and wiring and such there are a lot of radio dead spots, so they use the buzzer to call each other’s attention.  Each man has his own number, see, and each location does, too, so by counting the buzzes they know who is needed where.”

“Is that so,” said Stephen, aware that he had missed much of Jack’s explanation.  Drowsiness was welling up again, in spite of his earlier rest.  Surely the tour must be nearly over - they were now at the lowest level of the staircase, and they had started near its top.

But no, Jack was leading them forward, into a wide, low room lined with bunk beds and steel cabinetry.  The beds were all neatly made and unoccupied, and Jack gestured to the showers and a hatch he called the head.  Stephen made a quick count of the bunks: perhaps 50.  There had been about a dozen cabins in the wardroom, say 60 or 65 people in all.  And he responsible for them all.  “Do I have an assistant?” he asked Jack.  “For the more delicate operations?” he added.

“Assistant?" said Jack, who had been describing how the crew’s mess tables retracted into the ceiling between meals.  “Well, not a dedicated assistant, but there is generally a clever hand or two among the men and of course Mister Lorre for the amputations, not that we’re likely to have many of those, as a transport."

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 5-9: Captain Fitton

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

“Douse that god-damned bell!” Philip hissed, but too late; the voices drifting over from the stranger were now raised in alarm, and Philip could make out individual words, meaningless to him but in a Spanish accent: toque, campana, barco.

Below Philip the rigging ceased creaking as Liddle reached the deck.  Did the Spanish stranger know where Philip was?  Was it still worth the extra time and confusion to go to quarters without the silently?

On the Spaniard, a drum began to beat urgently, and in the moonlight streaming over Philip’s shoulder he could see her crew tumble up from below deck.  “¿Que pasa?” Philip heard someone ask, then much louder, another voice, “¿Que barco está?”

He had seen enough.  Climbing over to the backstay, he rode it down to the deck, burning one of his hands in the process.  “Mr South, crews of the dismounted guns will reinforce those crews whose guns are intact.  Mr Wilkins, tell the gunner that subsequent rounds will be grape.

“Aye, sir” said the master, saluting and moving forward among the assembling men; “aye, captain,” said the midshipman, saluting and darting down the companion.

Around Philip the Badger came to life with less than her usual grace, her hands stupid and confused by the unaccustomed silence.  Philip clenched his fists and his jaw, urging his men on.

“¿Que barco?” asked the Spaniard again. “¿Donde está?”  And then the same voice, not as loud, “prepara los cañones,” and another voice, clearly panicked: “¡allí!  ¡Abajo de la luna!”

Luna.  Didn’t that mean moon?  Philip turned around: the moon was directly opposite the Spaniard; from the Spanish deck Badger must be sitting in the middle of the moon’s reflection.  “Mr South!  Beat to quarters!”

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 5-3

Truth and Beauty updates Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

“Is a blockade very tedious, then?”

“Oh, yes,” said Jack, leading Stephen back out to the companion.  “Either there’s nothing to do except attend closely to the flag’s signals, and petty annoyances grow to preposterous proportions, or you’re so overworked that everyone’s on watch and watch, and again things that you’d not normally care about become infamous.  This is the other midshipmen’s berth, with its gun.  It’s really just a reverse and repeat of the one to port, you see?”

“They seem to be fans of soccer - that is, football.”

“Yes, many of the mids are - it lends itself to the space they have.”   Jack led Stephen down another level of the companion to a closed hatchway with a green light beside it.  He peered through a small window let into the hatch, then pulled it open and ushered Stephen inside.  “Hold here,” he said, stepping through the hatchway himself and pulling it closed behind him.

They were in a small vestibule, with a heavy hatch at either end.  A rack of scuffed orange headphones hung along the third wall, and a large sign dominated the fourth: ENGINE ROOM: HEARING PROTECTION MANDATORY BEYOND THIS POINT. Ch 1 Repeater Ch 2 Talkaround Ch 3 Bridge.  A low whine filled the space, and the floor vibrated softly.

Jack pulled two pairs of headphones from the rack, fiddled with them for a moment, then passed one to Stephen and put on the other himself.  “Can you hear - er, you have them on backwards, sir.”

Once his guest’s headphones were arranged properly Jack went on, “You can adjust the speaker volume with the knob below the left ear.  Ready?”

“Yes,” said Stephen.

Jack glanced released the safety on the inner door.  The light on the wall turned red, and he pulled open the hatch.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 5-8: Captain Fitton

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

* * *

The first watch became the middle watch, and toward the end of the middle watch Simkin knocked on the doorway of the coach and woke his captain.  “Half a glass to the end of the watch, sir, as you requested.”

Philip swung out of his cot and stepped out to the companion.  Badger’s sails looked the same as they had seven hours ago.  Smoke billowed from her stack, dark against the pale background of the sails before vanishing into the night sky.  He climbed the companion to the quarterdeck.  The master was here, and the gunner, in low conversation.  “Good morning, gentlemen,” said Philip, walking over to them.

“Good morning, sir,” they replied.  “We were just thinking of calling you,” said the master.  “Liddle, in the foretop, thought he saw something off the port bow, but we can’t make nothing of it.”

Philip took the offered night glass and stepped to the rail.  No, nothing there.  He stepped over to the bulwark and pulled himself up into the shrouds, looping one arm through to steady himself.  Still, nothing, so he finally walked forward and climbed up to the foretop.

He was still fit enough to make the climb without difficulty, even with the cumbersome night glass slung over his shoulder, but he did have to catch his breath on arriving in the top.  To cover this weakness he peered blindly forward and to port, asking, “where away, Liddle,” once his breathing had caught up.

“Just below Cassiopeia, sir,” said Liddle, “perhaps two cables off.”

Philip found Cassiopeia, and searched the sea beneath.  Was that a vessel, a blackness in the blackness?  He raised the glass to his eye.

It took only a moment to sort out the inverted image.  She had two masts.  No sign of a funnel, unless it was collapsed?  Not that it mattered: a cold boiler took hours to warm up.  She was barely silhouetted against the false dawn - Philip swung around to look at the sea beyond the Badger - no light there to show her silhouette to the stranger.

He turned back to the stranger, running before the wind, either bound for Sardinia or using it as a way point, like himself.  He could avoid this engagement - it would be safer, particularly if the strange brig was a Navy vessel: several of Badger’s cannon remained dismounted, Mahon not having gun carriages to replace those destroyed in action against the Spaniard.  And time was of the essence if he wanted to return to Mahon in time to keep his brig.  Admiral Whyte’s words echoed in his head: “You will not dilly-dally about, nor will you go whoring after prizes.”  On the other hand, if he took a prize under Whyte’s orders, the admiral would receive one eighth of the prize money.  And it would hardly take him out of his way.

Not that the other vessel was yet his prize, or even necessarily a lawful prize.  She could be English, or one of the many Americans that plied the Mediterranean.  Or any of the states at war on the Italian peninsula; God only knew where any of them stood in relation to England at any moment: allied today, against tomorrow.

He continued to stare at the stranger, now on the Badger’s beam as they overtook her, seeking out details to reinforce his growing conviction that she was a French merchantman.  French-designed bow.  French-cut sails.  She seemed to have taken a reef in her topsails, too: many French commanders had a habit of taking in a reef at night, but some English and allied commanders did, too; and merchant vessels of all nationalities did so as a matter of course.  Two boats trailed behind.

Back to her deck, and Philip made out several barrels.  Not even the Spanish Navy would tolerate that.  There was still the possibility that she was allied or neutral merchant - English ships typically had English-cut sails, but not always, particularly if they were recent captures.  Nevertheless, his conviction grew.

Occasional gabble floated over the water.  “Liddle, go to the master and tell him, from me, that the bell is not to be struck until further orders, and all conversation shall be conducted in whisper, then return.”

“Yes, sir,” said Liddle, saluting, but as he swung his leg over the edge of the top, two bells rang, clear and loud in the darkness.

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 5-2

Truth and Beauty updates Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

The wardroom was narrower than the great cabin above it, having the officers’ individual cabins to either side, but it was also longer, stretching forward under the coach and sleeping cabins.  It was dominated by a long, heavy, scarred wooden table running down its length, and a reasonably magnificent window across the stern bulkhead, at present showing part of the victualing wharf and the space beyond it.

Sublieutenant Greenstreet and another man sat over a chess board in the middle of the table.  They leapt to attention on seeing Captain O’Brian and saluted.

“I beg your pardon, I should have knocked,” said Jack, returning the salute.  “This is Doctor - er - Russ, who will be traveling with us this trip as my guest and who, if we make him comfortable, I hope will then consent to be our surgeon.”

“Are you a physician, then?” asked the shorter of the two men.  He wore a checkered shirt and loose canvas pants that flared slightly at their cuffs, and he walked over to Jack and Stephen and extended his hand.  “Conrad Strasser - Sergeant Strasser, of the Marines.”

“Stephen Russ,” said Stephen, shaking the sergeant’s hand. “Yes, I am a physician.”

“Russ is your last name?” cried Jack.  “All this time I thought it was your first name.  Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Jack waited for a further reply, but nothing came.  “You are a deep one, doctor,” he said, trying not to look too put out.

By now Mister Greenstreet had worked his way down to meet them, stooping under the ceiling with his unnatural height.  “Subleftenant Greenstreet,” he said, interjecting his hand into their midst.
“Stephen Russ,” said Stephen, shaking hands again.  “Forgive me sir, but I’m afraid that I don’t know what a subleftenant is?”

“It means that I’m a midshipman who passed for leftenant - lieutenant sir, if you prefer - but I’m serving under a leftenant instead of as a leftenant.  Their Lordships have yet to promote me.”

“Ah,” said Stephen.  He thought that he detected a certain brittleness in the subleftenant’s voice, and perhaps a certain falseness to the smile, too, but he merely shook the man’s hand again and offered a pleasantry.

“The wardroom has a stern window, too,” said Jack, gesturing at the row of panes that made up much of the aft bulkhead.  “Automatic deadlights, of course, just like the ones in the great cabin, so you won’t go blind when the thrust engines fire.  Which one is the surgeon’s cabin, Mister Greenstreet?”

“Almost the last on the starboard, sir.  The left,” he added for Stephen’s benefit, “just between my cabin and the shower.”

“Well, it’s not much,” said Jack, as he peered over Stephen’s shoulder at the depressingly small cabin: barely big enough for a cot and a small wardrobe, and with much of the headroom taken up by the cut-out for the number four engine, “but you take your meals and leisure in the wardroom and there is also your office down in sick bay, that is, if you should decide to stay.  And though the quarters are not as , hey, regal as in a first rate, you are also spared the tedium of a blockade.”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 5-7: Captain Fitton

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
GLOSSARY

 After supper he returned to the deck.  The bells rang out, the men at the wheel and the lookouts changed, occasionally a sail appeared, typically turning tail and running, without learning if the Badger was friend or foe.  The wind backed and Philip orderd a mild change of course.

At four bells the first dog watch ended: the larbolines came off duty and the starbolines, who had been amusing themselves with singing and telling tales under the foc’cle, came on duty.  The sail maker and his mates packed up their work.  Midshipman Wilkins, who had asked for the opportunity and been recommended by Mr South, came on as officer of the watch; “here you have her,” said the gunner, “course east-southeast a half east till Sardinia’s in sight, then southeast, all possible speed; engine is six knots; forecourse, topsails and driver; Captain to be notified of any change of weather or sail; and orders are in the binnacle.”

Mister Midshipman Wilkins’s reply was almost verbatim, and he took up his position behind and to windward of the helm, remembering only occasionally to look stern and sober.

Philip lingered on deck for a few minutes, then, reflecting that his continuing presence undercut Mister Wilkins’ authority, he returned to his cabin.

He was back on deck for eight bells and the end of the second dog.  “Here you have her,” said Mister Midshipman Wilkins to the master, “course est-southeast a half east till Sardinia in sight, then southeast.  All possible speed.  Engine speed is six knots, sails: forecourse, both topsails, and driver.  Captain is to be notified of any sail or change in the wind - or weather.”

“Written orders?” murmured the master.

“Yes, written orders are in the binnacle.”

The master made his reply and assumed command.  Both watches snugged down the brig for the night, double checking her ropes in the long shadows, stripping off the canvas covers to get their hammocks down from the bulwarks, stowing the mess tables that were still out; then the starboard watch retreated below for four-hours’ sleep (less, actually), and at one bell the bosun’s whistle blew for lights out.  Philip retired to his cabin for a few hours’ sleep of his own.  Around him Badger continued to work, steaming under a plume of smoke now over 150 miles long.

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next

Truth and Beauty 5-1

CHAPTER 5
“This is the great cabin,” said Jack, gesturing around them, “but I’ve already told you about that.  We’ll be sharing it this voyage, since you’re traveling as my guest.  You saw my sleeping cabin,” he gestured toward the room where Stephen had rested, “and to starboard there’s the coach, where you’ll be sleeping.”

“I have my own room,” asked Stephen, “a private room?”

“Of course you do.  All of the officers above midshipmen do.”

“Midshipmen?”

“The midshipmen,” said Jack, struggling to find an explanation that a landsman might understand, “the boys - well, not the ship’s boys, but the boys who are studying to be officers - the cadets.”

“Ah,” said Stephen.  “And they bunk together, then?”

“They have a pair of rooms to do with as they choose, just forward of the wardroom,” said Jack, leading Stephen through a corridor between the coach and his sleeping cabin and so to the aft companion.  “Just down these steps - they say it’s always best to face the steps as you go down for your first three days afloat, that’s the rule.  Here, you see, under the chartroom.”  He knocked, received no answer, and opened the hatch enough to stick his head in.  “Yes,” he said, standing back to let Stephen see into the cabin, “they have both slung their hammocks here and I dare say they use the other cabin for meals and leisure.  Boys being boys I imagine they’ll have a falling out over some trivial matter and then each sling their hammock separately for a while before reconsolidating.  As long as they don’t have a duel I don’t suppose I care, though of course if they’re mixed gender you can’t have them sleeping together, that’s the rule.  And beneath that laundry is the number three gun, for what it’s worth.”

Stephen peered through the gloom and made out two hammocks, a pair of trunks, and the breech end of a gun, in use as a drying rack for an assortment of work shirts and small clothes.  “I had always thought cadets were in school on land,” he said.

“Yes, they do put in time on land - classroom rotations, you know.  But they have to have space time, too, and though much of that time is, well, not quite in space, without they spend some time afloat they are unlikely to pick up all of the experience they need.  Getting signed off for replenishment-under-weigh at a shore establishment does tend to raise eyebrows.”  He closed the hatch.  “Past this sentry is the wardroom.”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 5-6: Captain Fitton

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

* * * Some time later Mr Horrace, the gunner, fresh from his meal, came on deck to see the set of the sails and converse quietly with Mr South. Not long after, the bell rang out four double strokes, followed immediately by the bosun’s calls and the tramping of dozens of feet as the men were piped to supper. Philip heard the master formally hand off the deck to the gunner: “here you have her: course east-southeast till Sardinia is in sight, then southeast, all possible speed; engine at six knots, forecourse, topsails and driver; Captain to be notified of any change of weather or sail; orders are in the binnacle;” and the gunner’s equally formal “east-southeast till Sardinia then southeast, all possible speed, captain notified of any change or sail.” The men saluted, and the master retreated below for his own supper.

Forty-five minutes later the sailors who had worked through supper took their own meal, while the rest of the larboard watch came on duty. Badger continued to chase the setting sun. Her bell rang out, the men at the wheel and the lookouts were relieved, the log was thrown. The sailmaker and some of the more skilled seamen stretched the main course out on deck to overhaul its boltrope while under the foc’cle several of the starbolines gathered around a fiddle. Philip moved to his cabin to take his solitary meal, staring out at the Badger’s empty, creaming wake.

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 4-9

Truth and Beauty updates Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Coffee and juice appeared, borne by a tall, thin sailor with a long face, long dark hair pulled back into a queue, and heavy gold earrings. Thank you, Bollwerk,” said Jack, as the sailor poured the coffee into a pair of heavy, chipped mugs, each featuring the fouled-anchor insignia of the Admiralty.

They sat companionably for a bit, drinking their coffee in long sips, Jack refilling their mugs when they were low. Eventually the pot was empty, Stephen was at last looking healthy again, and having first asked if Stephen would like some orange juice (“thank you, sir”), Jack asked if Stephen would like to be shown the Roth?

“Certainly,” said Stephen, putting down his glass and standing up.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 5-5 Captain Fitton

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

“Yes sir,” said the midshipman.  “Signal 6- 62, sir.”

“And what do you suppose signal 62 means, Mr Wilkins?”

Mr Wilkins did not immediately reply; he was consulting the signal book.  “Unable to maintain present speed, sir,” he said at last.

“Thank you, Mr Wilkins.  Sir,” said the master, approaching Captain Fitton, and saluting, “Chasseur signals she is unable to maintain present speed, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr South,” said the captain, who had heard the midshipman’s report perfectly well even if he hadn’t already seen and interpreted Chasseur’s signal on his own, and had his reply ready.  “Please signal her to make best speed for Malta, consistent with the safety of her spars.”
The master repeated the orders, then crossed back to midshipman Wilkins and passed the orders to him.  Philip turned to hide his smile: all those years he had thought that his captains had always planned out every contingency, when as often as not it was merely that the tedious, tortuous repetitions of every report gave them time to formulate a response.

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 4-8

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

* * *

Stephen awoke feeling a little weak, but otherwise refreshed.  He climbed out of his bunk (Jack’s cot, actually), straightened the bedclothes, and considered his surroundings.

He was in a small bedroom, furnished with a heavy wooden wardrobe and matching bureau, several worn steel lockers, a pair of chairs set into sockets in the floor, and of course the cot, built into the wood-paneled wall.  Two doors were set in the walls, one opening in, the other out, and a window, currently dark.

Stephen tried the inward-opening door, and looking at its edge discovered it to be metal, with a wooden facing.  The doorjamb revealed the wall to be of the same construction.

“There you are,” said Jack, then, “is there something wrong with the door?”

“I don’t remember seeing wooden walls in a space ship before, but I guess it’s a veneer.  The wall appears to be the same.”

“Strictly speaking, this is a brig,” said Jack, “but yes, space craft walls are metal, though these cabins are lined with deal.  The wardroom is similar, with wooden wainscot.  But are you feeling better?  Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“Coffee, perhaps?” said Stephen, entering the room and shutting the door behind him, “if it isn’t trouble?”

“Not at all,” said Jack.  “Bollwerk?  Bollwerk there, a pot of coffee and two mugs, if you please, and perhaps some orange juice as well.  Do you take milk, sir,” he asked Stephen.

“Perhaps not just now,” said Stephen, sitting down and looking about.  “This is rather a grand room.”

"Isn’t it?  This is the great cabin, a sort of office, sitting room and dining cabin for the brig’s commander, along with the coach, though of course the coach will be your for this trip.  There is a head- that is, a toilet, though there,” he gestured to a discreet door, “and a shower,” he gestured to an equally discreet door on the opposite wall.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 5-4 Captain Fitton

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Some time later he returned to the deck. Rich, black smoke poured from Badger’s funnel, blowing forward toward Malta, still at least a day and a half away. Astern, the tangibly true Chasseur maintained a cable’s length distance. As he watched her a signal rose on her rigging: two flags that flapped in the breeze and danced in her smoke. Philip pulled a glass from rack at the binnacle: signal 62. What was 62? Overpressed with sail? No, but something similar. He returned to the binnacle and opened the lead-covered signal book, leaving it lying in the drawer and flipping idly through the pages until he came to signal 62: unable to maintain present speed. He moved clear of Badger’s masts and rigging, hoisting himself into the rigging and turned his glass back to the Chasseur: her smoke looked as black as ever, but her sails were curiously flat. As he watched, she fired a leeward gun.

The report of the gun reached their ears and roused Midshipman Wilkins. “Chasseur has fired a gun, sir,” he said to Mister South, the master of the watch.

“Aye,” said Mister South, who was perfectly aware of this from his own ears, and perfectly aware of her reason for doing so, having seen and decoded her signal some minutes earlier. “And why do you suppose she has done as much?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know.”

“Come, now, you‘ll have to do better than that. There’s a spare glass at the binnacle.”

Wilkins pulled a glass from the rack. “She’s showing a signal sir.” he said.

“Is she, now?” said the master.

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 4-7

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

At gate five Panzer disappeared down a side passage to take her cart through the cargo hatch, while Barus led Stephen down the personnel corridor.  The red-coated Marine at the entery port snapped to attention as they approached and saluted; Barus gave a sketchy salute in return, touching his ID to the reader as he did so, and the airlock opened.

This was Stephen’s first experience with the peculiar physics of a military airlock and the shifting gravitational pull caught him unawares.  “Beg pardon, sir,” said Barus, for whom the change was as normal and unremarkable as crossing the street.  “The field changes between the wharf and the barky.”

Stephen nodded weakly - his stomach felt as if it had left the wharf’s gravitational pull rather reluctantly - and allowed himself to be pulled back to a standing position and led into the Roth.

Concentrating on his nausea, he lost track of everything else, until Jack's voice eventually broke through, “There you are, Russ."

Looking up Stephen saw that he was in a reasonably-sized cabin, rather larger than the steerage cabins he was used to.  Two men in the background, one wearing a strangely shaggy hat, were assembling a cot, but most of the cabin’s furnishings looked like a cross between a day room and an office.  But Jack was speaking again, “are you okay, sir?”

Stephen nodded his head bravely, but the movement was too much.  Spotting a trash can he knelt and vomited, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he looked up.  “Forgive me,” he said to his employer, “the airlock was a little unexpected.  I gather the gravitational pull turns there.”

“Yes,” said Jack, helping his guest to a chair and then ringing for his steward. “It allows us to park the craft closer together.”  And when Bollwerk appeared, “Bollwerk, a mug of peppermint tea for the doctor, if you please, and perhaps you could change that dustbin.  It does take some getting used to,” he continued once Bollwerk had left, “would you like to lie down?  Chips is almost finished with your cot, but you could use mine for the time being.”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post