Ransome's Crossing (20 page)

“Mr. Cochrane, a word.” William headed for the captain’s cabin, the only place they could be assured of privacy. He closed the door as soon as Ned entered. “Sharpshooter killed them. Best way to render a ship ineffectual, killing the senior officers.” William clasped his hands behind his back. “Gardiner is too young and inexperienced to command this ship.”

Fear wrapped around Ned’s heart. The screams of the injured outside the cabin mixed with the phantom screams in Ned’s memory.

“I am making you acting captain of
Audacious
.”

No. Sweat trickled down Ned’s back. He could not take command. He could not risk having more men die because of his poor decisions. “Sir…I cannot leave
Alexandra.”

“You do not have a choice, Mr. Cochrane.
Audacious
and her crew need you. And I have every confidence in you.”

He’d always sworn he would resign his commission before accepting a command. But here, now, in the middle of the ocean with a ship in need of an experienced officer…William was right. He had no choice.

“Thank you, sir. I shall do my best.”

“I expect nothing less.”

Charlotte’s throat was raw—from yelling commands to the gun crew and the pervasive, acrid smoke filling the gun deck. She spat,
trying to get rid of the taste of blood from her split lip. Her left eye and cheek throbbed. Leaning her torso out the gun port, blasted to twice its size, beyond
Alexandra
she caught sight of the hostile ship and the captured cargo ship slipping away over the horizon.

“Who d’ye think they be, Mr. Lott?” one of the gun crew asked, joining her at the portal.

“I can’t be certain,” Charlotte rasped. “Pirates or privateers, most likely.”

“They tuck tail and run like Frogs, sure enough.”

“Charlie! Did you see me?” Isaac darted through the sailors now trying to clear the debris—and casualties—from the deck. She was relieved to see that the young boy had survived his first combat. “Did you see? I broadsided her for certain.”

“Well done, Isaac. Now, before the master gunner or the first lieutenant comes down for inspection, you need to get your gun and crew set to rights.”

Isaac waved and ran off. Charlotte followed her own advice and got her crew to work clearing their stations and cleaning the cannons.

As soon as the guns were cleaned and the deck cleared, Charlotte dismissed her crew and went toward the cockpit to change into her clean uniform.

She was almost there when she heard the whistle for all hands to assemble on deck. Her heart hammered. What if William recognized her?

Dread weighing each step, she made her way up to the quarterdeck, pulling the brim of her hat low on her forehead. She squeezed into the crowd of midshipmen, standing directly behind Martin, before glancing around.

William stood above the wheelhouse on the poop deck, hands behind his back, the forepoint of his hat hiding his eyes in shadow. Ned stood beside him, looking more handsome than Charlotte remembered. On William’s other side, stood Lieutenant Gardiner, his waistcoat and shirtsleeves soaked with blood. Charlotte’s stomach churned, bile rising in the back of her throat.

Where were the other officers? Captain Parker? She shivered in spite of the morning’s heat.

“Officers of His Majesty’s Ship
Audacious
,” William’s voice rang out over the deck. “I regret to inform you that Captain Parker and Lieutenants Howe and Crump were killed in the effort to protect the convoy ship. Many others of your number have also been wounded, some grievously, such as your doctor. I am promoting Lieutenant Cochrane to acting captain of
Audacious.
Your own lieutenants will also be promoted, and between them, they will choose two midshipmen to promote to acting lieutenant.”

The young men around Charlotte murmured, each hoping he would be so distinguished. Charlotte chewed her bottom lip. In the nine days since leaving Portsmouth, she’d had quite a bit of interaction with Captain Parker. She could only hope that Ned would be so consumed by matters of command that she would have no interaction with him.

She released a rueful snort as a thought occurred to her. Thanks to the chunk of oak hull that had smacked her face, she wouldn’t have to try so hard to hide her identity, at least for a little while.

Ned’s heart thudded in his ears. The bodies of the dead officers lay in a line behind him. Blood still stained the deck and the men assembled there. He’d seen battle before, had witnessed friends maimed or killed, but never before had he been tasked with taking command in the aftermath.

“We’ve been delayed too long.” William lifted his hat to mop the sweat from his forehead. “Nearly six hours gone already.” He shook his head and stuffed his handkerchief into his pocket. “Did you retrieve everything from
Alexandra
that you needed?”

“Aye, sir. Captain Parker’s…” Ned swallowed hard. “
My
steward is preparing the big cabin for me.”

A large sailor approached, knit cap in hands. “Beggin’ pardon, Captain Cochrane.”

Ned jolted at hearing himself called
captain
for the first time. “Yes?”

“Colberson, sir, master carpenter.” He knuckled his forehead.

“Yes, Mr. Colberson. What do you have to report?”

“All the damage below the waterline is repaired as best we can, sir. All other repairs can be completed under sail, sir.”

“Good.” Ned squeezed his hands into fists to keep himself from looking to William for commands. “Return to your duties. Continue using all necessary hands until the repairs are complete.”

The carpenter saluted again. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“Dismissed.” After the subordinate returned to his work, Ned turned to William. “What are my orders?”

“I’ve given them to you.” William laid his hand on Ned’s shoulder—the one absent an epaulet signifying confirmation of his true promotion to post captain. “You are now acting captain of this ship. I suggest a conference with the three remaining lieutenants and all the warrant officers as soon as possible. The sailing master can be invaluable to you in deciding which mids to promote to acting lieutenant.” His blue eyes bored into Ned’s. “You are ready for this, Ned. It is a daunting task to help a crew heal after a tragedy, but I have faith you will rise to the occasion.”

“Thank you, sir.” He moved with William toward the waist entry.

“We shall signal once we regain the head of the line. If the captains followed my orders, and it appears they have, we should be back on course and at full sail within the next hour.” William glanced around the deck one last time. “Let them have a day to grieve and adjust to your command, but do not let them get the better of you.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“And Ned?” William lowered himself onto the accommodation ladder on the side of the ship.

“Sir?”

“Our prayers are with you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

N
ed fought the urge to pace. He could not understand how William managed to stay so calm, so still, so unemotional when he stood before a room full of men looking to him for guidance and direction.

“Commodore Ransome suggested I solicit recommendations from you as to the midshipmen who are ready for promotion.” He flexed his fingers, resisting his nervous habit of tapping them against his legs. “I assume it will be between the three midshipmen of the watches?”

The remaining lieutenants exchanged a glance. “Sir, I believe we would all agree upon two names of mids who are ready.” Gardiner glanced at Wallis and Duncan again, and they nodded. “Hamilton and Martin. Not only are they the two senior mids, and both have passed their examination for lieutenant, but neither has yet been recommended to a ship for promotion.”

Understandable, as the Royal Navy had been of a mind to decommission ships and cut down on the number of officers, not make new ones.

“Master Bolger, what is your opinion?”

The sailing master seemed surprised to have his opinion solicited. “I agree, sir. None better ’an Hamilton and Martin. ’Twas Martin who first alerted us to the enemy ship and gave the order to beat to quarters.”

“I shall see that he receives the proper commendation.” A dull ache started just behind Ned’s eyes. But a headache was nothing compared
to the gashes and bruises sported by almost every man in the room with him. “I understand your crew is on watch and watch.”

“Aye, sir,” Gardiner answered.

Ned pulled out the head chair and sat. “I would like to put them into three watches instead.” The sooner he got this ship and her crew working more like
Alexandra
’s, the happier he would be. “Mr. Gardiner, you will work with the warrant officers to create a new watch schedule.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Gardiner looked anything but confident. Ned understood. The first time he’d been assigned such a task, he’d been terrified—and he had been on a much smaller ship.

“Lieutenant Wallis, you will work with the purser and master-at-arms and master gunner to inventory our remaining ammunition.” Ned sent up a quick prayer of thanks that William had the foresight to demand that both ships carry a full supply of cannonballs and powder when Admiral Glover tried to talk him into taking only a quarter of what a battle-ready warship needed.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Lieutenant Duncan, you will work with the midshipmen who take over the watches for Hamilton and Martin. After I speak with them about their promotions, I will send them to assist you.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Ned turned to look at the warrant officers. “I would like reports from each of you on your areas before beat to quarters for inspection tomorrow evening.”

Another chorus of “Aye, aye, sir.” Every time Ned heard it, he could picture the eager sailors who had followed him in his first command with an “Aye, aye, sir,” and gone to their early and unnecessary deaths.

“That is all.”

The officers filed out of the dining cabin wordlessly. Ned waited until the door closed behind the last man before propping his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands.

Someone cleared his throat. Ned jerked his head up. The wiry little man who had introduced himself as Parker’s steward stood just
inside the door. “Beggin’ pardon, Cap’n. Wanted to know should I start supper for ye and what ye’ll want to have, sir.”

With the sour feeling in his stomach and the burning in his chest, Ned wasn’t certain he would be able to eat, but he had to try. “Bring me whatever you would have cooked for Captain Parker—and his officers and the midshipmen of the watch.” He was about to dismiss the steward, but then he remembered one of the privileges of his new rank. “Pass word for Midshipmen Hamilton and Martin to report to me.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” The steward disappeared.

Ned stood and crossed to the door leading to the day cabin. Willing his hand to stop trembling, he opened it. The lingering need to have permission to step into the captain’s inner sanctum held him in the doorway.

Unlike William Ransome’s plain, understated furnishings, Captain Parker’s tastes had run to the ornate: large pieces covered in carved scrollwork, elaborate and bold upholstery, and an oilcloth upon the floor painted to look like black-and-white tile—as Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson reputedly had in his cabin aboard
Victory.

Papers still lay atop the mahogany table in the middle of the room, as if Captain Parker were merely seeing to something out on deck and would be back in a moment to continue working on them. A book with a marker sticking out nearly halfway through the pages sat beside an ornate brass lamp on the stand beside the plush chair in the corner. And over the chest of drawers hung a portrait of a woman and two young girls.

Sorrow clutched Ned’s heart. Parker’s wife and daughters. William would send word to Mrs. Parker informing her of her husband’s death when they made port in Madeira.

Rather than picturing Mrs. Parker, Ned imagined Charlotte Ransome weeping over receiving news that he had been killed in action. No. William had been right…before he had himself changed his mind. A naval officer had no business marrying.

At a knock on the dining cabin door, Ned gathered himself and turned away from the perusal of his new living quarters. “Enter.”

Two young men stepped into the room. The one with light brown hair seemed self-assured and confident—but patches of red high on his cheeks made Ned suspicious that the midshipman might merely be good at hiding his emotion. Not so his mate. The taller, dark-haired boy wore his disquietude on his face.

“Midshipman Hamilton reporting as requested, sir.” The boy with the lighter hair stared over Ned’s right shoulder.

“Midshipman Martin reporting as requested, sir.” Martin’s deeper voice trembled.

“At your ease, gentlemen.” Ned rested his hands on the top of the chair before him. Neither midshipman relaxed his stance. “Though we all would wish the circumstances to be different, I am pleased to congratulate you both on your promotion to acting lieutenant. Which of you is senior?”

“I am, sir.” Hamilton’s chin trembled, but with all his effort, the dimple that appeared in his cheek betrayed his joy in the announcement. Martin did not smile, but he visibly relaxed.

“Very good, then. Mr. Hamilton, you will be fourth; Mr. Martin, you will be fifth. I understand you both passed your lieutenancy examination?”

“Aye, sir,” both boys chorused.

“Good. Then you know what is expected of you.” Rather than go all the way around to the head of the table again, Ned pulled out the side chair he stood behind and sat. “Please, be seated.”

The two acting lieutenants did as requested. “As the leaders of your respective watches, you have a better knowledge of the midshipmen under your command than the lieutenants might. Who would you recommend to take over your watches?” Though these things usually went by seniority, Ned himself had been the beneficiary of a captain who looked at his midshipmen’s aptitude and readiness and not just his time of service as what made him suitable for leadership.

Martin looked to Hamilton. Ned tucked that away in his mind—to be certain Martin did not always look to others before making a decision or expressing his opinion when asked.

“Sir, though he does not have seniority, I would recommend Midshipman Lott as a watch leader. In fact, Captain Parker—God rest his soul—had just yesterday assigned Lott to the quarterdeck during his watch.”

Lott—he’d wondered how the lad had fared aboard
Audacious.
He hid his smile at his own success in recognizing Lott’s potential. “And the second?”

“Midshipman Jamison, sir. He’s senior after Kent, and he would make a good watch leader.” Hamilton seemed quite at his ease making recommendations for promotion. If his ability to see potential in others was as strong as his confidence, Ned would have a good crew working under him.

“Acting Lieutenant Hamilton, Acting Lieutenant Martin, you will join the rest of the lieutenants at three bells in the first dogwatch for supper with me tonight. And bring Midshipmen Kent, Jamison, and Lott with you.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Hamilton and Martin stood, saluted, and left the cabin.

Good. Perhaps now, under closer observation, Ned could figure out why Midshipman Lott seemed so familiar to him.

Charlotte thought she might be ill. Supper with Ned Cochrane?

“You probably should not tell anyone else, but Martin and I recommended you to take over command of one of our watches.”

“Why would you do something so utterly ridiculous? There are at least four others who have seniority over me.” Truthfully, even young Isaac McLellan with his six months of service had seniority over her.

“But would you want to serve under any of them who are senior to you? Excepting Jamison, of course.” Martin leaned in closer.

Charlotte ran through the names of the older boys aside from Hamilton, Martin, and Jamison. The other three over the age of sixteen were
all Kent’s friends and former
Lark
shipmates—and better at following Kent than they were at showing any leadership potential.

“No. I would not want to be assigned to their watches. But if I am put over a watch, all that will do is make them dislike me more than they already do—because I was shown favoritism by the captain who got me onto this ship in the first place.”

“Captain Cochrane did that? I thought Lieutenant Howe recommended you.” Hamilton paused in throwing his belongings into his sea chest to look up at Charlotte.

“Lieutenant Cochrane—I mean, Captain Cochrane recommended me to Howe first.” And if Ned recognized her, if he somehow figured out what she’d done, not only would he most likely be furious with her, he would never want to see her again.

Not that she should care about that. Using Ned’s seeming admiration of and liking for Charles Lott had been an expedient means to an end. It should not give her a hollow sensation in her chest to imagine his reaction when she finally revealed her identity when they arrived in Jamaica.

She helped Hamilton and Martin carry their belongings to the wardroom. At the opposite end of the room, silhouetted by the light from the stern windows, Lieutenant Gardiner stood in the doorway of one of the small cabins lining the room. The commotion of the new lieutenants’ arrival drew his attention.

“Lott? Is that you? You look horrible. Did you have the doctor from
Alexandra
take a look at your face?” Gardiner came over and grabbed Charlotte’s shoulder to turn the left side of her face toward the light.

“It looks worse than it feels, sir.” She touched her throbbing, swollen cheek. Indeed, Hamilton’s announcement that Ned wanted Charlotte to join the officers for dinner had momentarily taken her mind off the pain in her face.

“Still, you should have the doctor take a look. You could have some shards of wood imbedded in your skin, which could become infected and make you sick.”

“I will do that. Thank you, sir.” She glanced around the room.
Rather than the open-ended canvas stalls in the cockpit, the lieutenants had actual private cabins divided and enclosed with whitewashed wooden bulkheads complete with doors. They not only had the privacy afforded by those walls, but only four lieutenants had to share the larboard quarter-gallery privy—while the first lieutenant had the starboard quarter-gallery privy to himself—instead of having to share one head with more than a dozen midshipmen. Though illogical, as it meant she would come even more under Ned’s scrutiny, she wished she’d been promoted to acting lieutenant.

Less than a fortnight ago, when she had toured
Alexandra,
she had looked upon the wardroom and the lieutenants’ quarters as barely habitable. Now, after more than a week in the cockpit, they looked luxurious.

“Lott, what are you supposed to be doing now?”

Gardiner’s question made her nervous. “Nothing, sir. I’m idle this watch.”

“Good. I need help packing up Howe’s and Crump’s belongings and taking them below to the hold. The purser will store them until they can be sent back to England.” Gardiner rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I do not know anything about Crump’s family or to whom his belongings should be sent. Howe’s will go to his wife.” He shook his head.