Chapter 16. Changing Fortunes

May, 1803

Two days later, just as the officers gathered for breakfast, Hookham entered the wardroom.

“Gentlemen, Captain Fitzsimmons passed away tonight. He did not regain his senses before that.”

“Thank you, Mister Hookham,” Percy said calmly. “We shall have a burial this morning, gentlemen. Excuse me now. There is much to do until then.”

He rose and left the wardroom, leaving the officers in a sombre mood.

“What will happen now?” Will asked the wardroom at large.

“Percy will assume temporary command. I suppose he will also read the orders. Then, it’ll be his decision what to do.” Muir said, very much the 1st lieutenant already.

“Norton is one lucky man. Without the captain to testify, he’s liable to evade the firing squad. There was no time for the captain to write a report, so all we have is hearsay,” Briar said.

“He can forget about getting a commission though,” Muir said with some heat.

“Who is going to go the watches now?” Angus Donovan asked. “We’re down to you and me, James.”

“Don’t I know that,” Muir sighed. “That’s something for the captain to decide, too.”

The service for Captain Fitzsimmons was brief, and the crew watched the ceremony with stony faces. Four shots were fired from the six-pounders when the grating with Fitzsimmons’s body was tilted up and the sewn-in body splashed into the cold Biscayan waters. Acting captain Percival Montgomery then gave a short speech, admonishing officers and crew to do their duty. He then appointed Master’s Mate Edward Barkley as acting lieutenant and Midshipman Daniels, a lad of seventeen years and with just four years seagoing experience, to watch officer without an acting commission.

Immediately afterwards, Percy gave orders to go before the wind, and Dido raced eastward in the cold westerner, heading for the Basque coast. It was clear that their acting captain wanted to catch a prize or two to further his small chances to win the coveted promotion to commander or even keep the Dido. Still, as they raced along the Spanish coast under topsails and topgallants, no sail was seen for the whole day. They shortened sails for the night and were off Santander again in the morning. The sight was too poor to identify the shipping in Santander Bay, and it was a neutral port to begin with.

They shook out their reefs again and reached Coruña by mid-afternoon, again without sighting a single sail. Sailing on until sunset, Percy had his ship go about, and sailing as close to the wind as possible, they crept back towards San Sebastián. The grey winter morning saw them five miles off the Basque coast, and as the clouds lifted, they sighted a merchant brig ahead.

Percy did not hesitate. “All hands, Mister Muir. All plain sail! Mister Donovan! Course West by North!”

Close to the west-by-southern wind they slowly caught up with their quarry over the course of the morning. The crew had not a free minute as they kept trimming the sails to the best advantage. The larboard nine-pounders were run out to even the keel a little, and all hands kept to the port side, too. Finally, by two bells in the afternoon watch, the nine-pounder chase guns barked in unison, throwing up water fountains in the brig’s path. A French flag was hoisted in defiance, and the race dragged on. Finally, an hour later, Dido could bring her broadside to bear.

“Mister Muir, dismantling shot, if you please!” Percy ordered, and two minutes later, the broadside roared out. An iron hailstorm ripped through the brig’s rigging, and she immediately lost speed. “Load with round shot, Mister Muir! Mister Donovan, lay her alongside!”

With Dido now abreast, and her guns run out, the French captain gave in. The Tricolour flag was lowered, and the brig hove to, accepting her fate. Dido’s crew broke out in jubilations, but Percy had none of this.

“Quiet on deck! Mister Muir, kindly take the cutter and take possession of the prize!”

“Aye-aye, Sir! Mister Pennington, have the cutter swung out! Mister Clive, I need two dozen armed men,” Muir gave his orders and not five minutes later, the cutter shoved off and approached the Spanish ship.

In the meantime, Dido’s crew remained at quarters, but Will had his men dole out water and bread to the men on their stations. It took close to an hour for Muir to return and to report to Percy.

“She’s the Jeanne brig, 320 tons, and a crew of twelve. She’s carrying a cargo of small arms and ammunitions, Sir. Two dozen wine casks, too.”

“Not a bad catch, is she?” Percy smiled, finally relaxing.

“No, Sir. She’s a sound ship, only two years old. She’ll sell for a good price, too.”

“I need you on board, Mister Muir. Prize crew of twelve under a midshipman, I’d say. Four marines under a corporal, too, to guard the prisoners. Let’s put Mister Daniels in command.”

“Aye-aye, Sir.”

“Any damages?”

“We’ll have to reeve some new shrouds and stays, Sir. They have two wounded, too. They’ll need a surgeon.”

“Have them transferred to our sick bay, Mister Muir. Let’s head north under easy sail until the repairs are finished.”

Now was a good time to return to the fleet and report Fitzsimmons’s death, with a sizeable prize to show of which the admiral could claim a one eighth share. Percy would even receive a quarter of the value, being in acting command of the ship.

An hour later, the two ships set out on a northern course, with repairs in the prize still ongoing, whilst Dido’s crew raised the bulkheads and returned the ship to normal. Everything was finished by the 1st dog watch and in time for the evening tot of rum. Since the men had been on station all morning, missing their morning tot, they received the full daily ration, causing exuberant celebrations of their small victory amongst the watch-free men.

In the wardroom, celebrations were lively, too. Somers had minced choice cuts of salted beef, bread crumbs and their last eggs to make a meat loaf with a thick gravy. Potatoes from their stores completed a tasty dinner. On Will’s initiative, they also invited Percy, seeing that he had paid his share for the supplies, and he accepted. They had thin ale with their food, as Percy was still adamant on keeping up the ban on wines and spirits for the wardroom.

With a full wind, in spite of the easy sails, the two ships made a good progress on their way north, and by daybreak, Percy ordered a north-eastern course, hoping to meet the fleet off Rochefort. Indeed, they sighted the first sails by noon, and a good hour later, Percival Montgomery, acting captain of HMS Dido, was sitting in the gig and on the way to the flagship, with his and his officers’ reports, and with a prize flying British over French colours in the backdrop.

He returned two hours later, his face without emotion, and curtly ordered his possessions transferred back to his cabin off the wardroom. Obviously, he was back to being the 1st lieutenant. Muir, in turn, moved back into the wardroom. Shortly before darkness fell on the ships, a boat arrived from Gorgon, 74, bringing a new officer. Mister John Weathers was easily forty years old, with his commission dating from 1784, and he was the new 1st lieutenant. This meant that Percy would move again, now back into the wardroom. Their supper was subdued, with everybody at a loss what to say, and Percy did not volunteer anything.

Come the next morning, a flotilla of gigs headed for Dido. Five post captains came aboard in their Nº 1 uniforms and assembled in the after cabin. Bruce Norton, pale as a sheet, was led aft, too, under the supervision of Lieutenant Briar, and a gun shot announced the convening of a Court Martial. Percy, James Muir and Will were notified that the court wanted to hear their testimonies, and they hurried to dress in their best uniforms.

Percy was the first to be summoned, and he was questioned for almost an hour. Muir came next, but he was back on deck after mere minutes. Will was called next.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the cabin where five captains were sitting at Captain D’Arcy’s old table. The man sitting in the centre, obviously the captain presiding, looked Will over.

“Please state your name and rank, Sir!”

Will swallowed, but then he bravely announced himself. “William Potter, Sirs, purser in His Majesty’s Ship Dido.”

“You are quite young, Mister Potter. For how long have you been a ship’s purser?”

“Over a year in Dido, Sir. Before that, a half year in the Princess Royal, Plymouth Harbour. Before that I was the acting purser in His Majesty’s sloop Serpent, of 14 guns. I received my warrant when Serpent was laid up for repairs, Sir.”

“Were you present and on deck on the 12th instant, when Captain Fitzsimmons suffered his lethal fit?”

“Yes, Sir. I followed the 1st and 2nd lieutenants on deck when we heard a commotion.”

“What did you observe, Mister Potter?”

“Captain Fitzsimmons was quite beside himself with fury, Sir. He threatened Mister Norton with a court martial and ordered him to call his relief. When he regarded us, he told us that he had found Mister Norton drinking spirits from a hip flask whilst on watch, Sir.” Will avoided looking at Norton.

“Did you see that hip flask, Mister Potter?”, a captain on the right asked, less sternly.

“No, Sir. I had to answer the captain, and I did not look at Mister Norton.”

“What did the captain ask, pray?”

“He wanted to know if I had sold Mister Norton the spirits, Sir.”

“Had you?” This from the leftmost captain.

“No, Sir. We have wardroom stores, but very little spirits. Captain Barker, when he was 1st lieutenant, discouraged the consumption of spirited drinks in the wardroom, and we continued the rule under Mister Montgomery. I have no spirited drinks in my slop chest, either, Sir. I ... well, I suggested that Mister Norton must have bought the spirits himself, Sir. After all, we were just a week out of Plymouth, Sir.”

“I see. What happened next?” This was the presiding captain again.

“Well, Sir, the captain suddenly had an empty look in his eyes, Sir, and he was leaning heavily against the railing. He looked really out of it, Sir. I ordered the runner to fetch Mister Hookham.”

“You did that by yourself, Mister Potter?” The tone was sharp now, and Will felt the sweat run down his back.

“Y-yes, Sir. He did not answer to Mister Montgomery’s questions, and the way he looked ... I’d seen a man having a stroke before, Sir, before I joined the Navy, Sir. Captain Fitzsimmons looked the same. I was told then to lose no time, for sometimes a quick bleeding will save the man.”

The senior captain nodded to this. “I believe you did the best you could, Mister Potter. Another thing: have you ever seen Mister Norton drink from a hip flask whilst sharing the wardroom with him?”

“No, Sir. After supper, I usually sat with Mister Montgomery, playing Draughts or Chess. It took all my attention. He is very good.”

That caused smiles all around. “A worthy activity, to be sure,” the presiding captain nodded. “Have you gentlemen more questions of Mister Potter? No? Thank you, Mister Potter. You are excused.”

Will stood to attention. “Thank you, Sir!” he rapped before hastily retreating from the cabin. Outside, he found the other officers on the quarter deck. By silent agreement, the questioning by the court martial was not discussed. Instead, they discussed the prize.

“At least, I’ll receive the captain’s share,” Percy admitted. “Damn Fitzsimmons!”

“What happened?”

“The man tried to ruin us.” he answered. “He must have started writing evaluations of us his first evening on board. James is unreliable, Will is a stealing and cheating rascal, Bruce is a drunkard, Angus is an old fool, and Emanuel is too inexperienced.”

“And you, Percy?” James asked.

“Worse. I don’t have the qualities nor the moral fibre do be a 1st lieutenant.”

“Did he at least write an evaluation of himself? Something like ‘useless old ninny’?” Will asked bitterly.

“No, but thank God, that was the prevailing opinion of him amongst Sir Ralph’s staff. That’s what Captain Hartley told me on the way to the port. He promised to lose those evaluations, but he made it quite clear that Sir Ralph could not ignore them entirely, so no command for me. That’s why they sent Weathers, too.”

Angus Donovan shook his head. “No, that was bad luck. I spoke to him last night. He was sent to the fleet as a spare officer after his old ship was condemned. With his seniority, he’d have been 1st lieutenant in almost every ship, and all the captains refused him. So Sir Ralph simply used the opportunity.”

“What a mess! This used to be a lucky ship under D’Arcy,” Muir exclaimed.

Just then, the new 1st lieutenant showed on the quarterdeck.

“Gentlemen, any news about Norton?”

Percy answered for them. “No, Sir; they’re questioning Mister Hookham now.”

“It’s a bad business all around,” Weathers opined. “Perhaps, when they’re finished, we can sit at dinner and get to know each other? I know your names now, but we’ll be wardroom mates, and I’d like to know more of you. I’m sure you’re curious about me, too.”

“We shall be happy to, Sir,” Percy said stoically.

Just then, Norton, accompanied by Bruce Briar, appeared on deck. Without a look at the wardroom members, he climbed down to the main deck where he sat on a nine-pounder carriage, filling and lighting a tobacco pipe with trembling hands whilst Briar watched him.

“A wretched man, whichever way this’ll play out,” Weathers commented.

“Sir, he brought it upon himself. Drinking on watch is beyond the pale,” Percy said stiffly.

“Yes, Mister Montgomery, without doubt he’s unfit for a commission. I still hope there won’t be a firing squad on these decks.”

Their discussion was interrupted when the sentry at the cabin called the accused back in. Norton was trembling badly climbing up the companionway and walking across the quarter deck, but then the door closed after him.

“Now we should know soon,” Will commented. Nobody answered this statement of the obvious. They watched the cabin door patiently, but not for long, for the presiding captain strode out on deck, looking for Weathers.

“Kindly call for my boat, Mister Weathers!”

“Aye-aye, Sir! Midshipman of the watch, call Goliath’s gig!”

“Aye-aye, Sir!” Midshipman Probe, a boy of fourteen years, squeaked and ran for the port.

“Sir, can you tell us the sentence?” Weathers asked the captain.

“He is to be dismissed from the Navy, Mister Weathers. Without Captain Fitzsimmons’s testimony or written report, we could not decide on a harsher sentence, much as we believed you gentlemen. Be that as it may, the Navy is rid of the man.”

“Thank you, Sir!”

“By the way, Captain Deever will read himself in this afternoon. Better be prepared.”

“I have been informed, Sir. Thank you,” Weathers answered.

The captain looked at the other officers. “I wish you gentlemen more luck with your new captain. I am Captain Desmond, the captain of the fleet, and I assure you that all your evaluations by Captain Fitzsimmons will be stricken from your papers.”

“Thank you, Sir,” James Muir answered for them.

“Well, there’s my gig. Have a good day, gentlemen!”

One after the other, the captains left the ship, leaving behind wardroom officers who were a little relieved and still very angry at their late captain. Norton was confined to the gunroom to stay there until he could be sent back to England, and Bruce Briar joined the group on the quarter deck.

“Gentlemen, have we a midshipman to whom we may entrust the watch?” Weathers asked them, and Percy answered.

“Mister Peabody shows promise, Sir. He’s only sixteen, but he’s the best of them.”

“Can the rest of you gentlemen please join me in the wardroom? I took the liberty of ordering the noon meal served early, so we may get to know each other and be ready for the new captain.”

Five minutes later saw them all assembled in the wardroom. Somers had set the table already, serving them a soup and cold cuts. Weathers waited until everybody was served before he spoke up.

“Gentlemen, I believe it is important to clear up a few matters. Firstly, I was not appointed to Dido because Mister Montgomery is lacking the qualities of a 1st lieutenant, as your previous captain wrote. I was appointed because our new captain is in need of a very senior 1st lieutenant. Captain Deever has been serving on the Admiralty staff with the rank of commander for the last years, and he is deemed irreplaceable there. Yet, in order for him to advance to captain’s rank, he needed to be posted into a qualified ship, in spite of a limited seagoing experience. Hence, Captain Fitzsimmons’s lamentable demise was a lucky stroke, not just for you, but also for the admiral. Captain Deever will command Dido for a few months before returning to the Admiralty, and I shall be his minder and provide him with guidance.”

“Sir, how could he get commissioned without seagoing service?” Percy asked.

“Well, I don’t know for certain, but I suppose serving in the Commander in Chief’s flagship in the Pool of London will count as seagoing duty,” Weathers answered drily, a twinkle in his eyes. “He is from a good family, of course, and that might have helped too. He is also very adept at was he does at the Admiralty.”

“Shall we still sail on detached duty, Sir?” Muir asked.

“No, not at all. We shall sail as part of the fleet and as much under the eyes of Captain Desmond as possible.”

“At least, we’ll get provisions and mail regularly, Sir,” Will commented, causing resigned grins all around the table.

“That is a way to look at it. It is also the chance to make a good impression on an officer who has the ears of the First Lord and the Board,” Weathers answered. “Let that guide our conduct, gentlemen.”

“Aye-aye, Sir,” the officers chorused.

“Very well. I shall make the time to talk to each of you in the next days. From what Captain D’Arcy wrote, this is a very fine wardroom, and I am proud to serve with you gentlemen. Another thing: here in the wardroom, I’ll be just ‘John’.”

“Thank you, John. We welcome that,” Muir — well, James — answered. “It is the way this wardroom was run since Captain Barker joined it.”

“Glad to hear that. Now, when we’re finished eating, let us all get our responsibilities up to date. Will, can you stay behind and give me the numbers about the provisions?”

“Aye ... Yes, John,” Will answered.

John Weathers was a stickler for exact numbers, Will found out. He went over the Victualling Book with great attention to detail, but he also questioned Will on the procedures. He was very satisfied to see the provisions listed by delivery date, with the expected month of spoiling, location in the hold, and inspection dates added. Will also had the dates noted when each group of supplies would run out at the earliest. Weathers looked at those and smiled.

“May I have a copy of these?”

“Yes, of course. I’d like to wait until I know how many servants and cooks Captain Deever will bring.”

“Yes, that is sensible. Are you happy with your steward?”

“Yes, absolutely. Alwyn is honest and loyal. Carron needed some supervision, but he learned. Williamson is a good cooper, but needs to be told what to do.”

“So you can make do with the Board’s allowances?”

“The men get their due, but I still make a small profit. The slop chest makes some money, too.”

“Percy told me that you sailed The Horn once?”

Will nodded and gave a wry smile. “‘Twas something to remember, but it ruined the old Serpent. She was close to falling apart afterwards.”

“It takes a good ship to sail The Horn,” Weathers agreed. “I sailed it twice, once even westward.”

Will whistled softly. “That takes away my glory,” he admitted. “Rounding the Cape in westward direction was bad enough, but The Horn?”

“It gives me reasons to brag,” Weathers admitted with a proud grin. “Yet you’ve seen quite a lot yourself for somebody so young.”

“I am just as happy getting my wife’s letters on time.”

“You’re married already?”

“Abigail is ... was the sister of my shipmate Horace Trent. He was a midshipman ordinary, and I had to give her notice when he fell in a boarding fight. I was sweet on her right the moment I saw her, and when I got my warrant, I rushed to ask for her hand.”

“I have a good wife waiting for me, too. Her father owns a little land, and he helps us to make ends meet. Anyway, I am happy to see how you run the victuals. Just advise me of any changes!”

“Of course,” Will smiled. He already liked Weathers. He was as personable as Clyde Barker. His appointment was a stroke of bad luck for Percy, but that could was nobody’s fault.

“Have you any idea how the after cabin is set up?”

“Captain D’Arcy cleaned out his private supplies and took along his steward. Percy assigned Tom Oakham to the captain. Oakham is not a bad man, but he knows next to nothing about cooking. A good hand for coffee, but he isn’t lettered. I know that Somers has been teaching him a little, so he may be better now. As for supplies, Captain Fitzsimmons drew crew rations. I offered him some of our stores, but he declined.”

Weathers shrugged. “I expect that Captain Deever will bring along his own stores and servants, perhaps even his own furnishings.”

“I have two or three warm blankets in my slop chest and we keep a sack of fresh straw for the mattresses.”

“With a seasoned man, I wouldn’t worry, but I’m afraid Deever hasn’t sailed in years, if at all.”

“Is this common? I mean, appointing captains with no seagoing experience? I thought that was a thing only the Spanish do.”

“I’ve never seen it before, and I’ve spent eighteen years in the Navy. Who knows, he may not be bad at all, only green. Then again, he may spend his entire command puking his heart out.”

After the talk with Weathers, Will opened his slop chest to give the men an opportunity to replace torn or stained slops, shirts or kerchiefs. Chewing tobacco and brown sugar were also in steady demand, and Alwyn booked sales for £4.11s .7d, a good return, netting Will earnings of £1.8s .2d, of which Alwyn received one tenth.

At five bells in the afternoon watch, one of the fleet supply ships came up to Dido’s position and signalled their wish to send a boat. Weathers had the Dido heave to, and a little later, a cutter left the side of the transport and approached them.

Weathers called both watches and had them muster on deck in divisions. The boatswain’s mates and side boys took their positions and the 32 Royal Marines formed file opposite the port, too. The cutter hooked on, and a man of perhaps 30 years in a splendid captain’s coat entered through the port. He was of middling height and wiry, and dressed to perfection. He identified Weathers and addressed him.

“I am Captain Emanuel Deever, come aboard, Sir!”

“Lieutenant John Weathers, 1st lieutenant, Sir. Welcome aboard! The hands are all on deck, Sir.”

“Thank you, Mister Weathers! Let us go up to the quarter deck, shall we?”

Weathers followed his new captain up the port side companionway and joined the other wardroom officers whilst Deever stood at the railing overlooking the waist, unfolding his orders. In a clear voice, he read himself in, thus assuming the command over the ship. The boatswain then led three hurrahs for the new captain, and the ceremony was over. Deever then turned around and faced his officers.

“Mister Weathers, kindly dismiss the free watch and resume our position!”

“Aye-aye, Sir,” Weathers answered, and soon, the yards were braced and Dido caught up with the fleet again. Deever watched the manoeuvre, and then nodded with satisfaction.

“A smart ship, and a smart crew, Mister Weathers! Kindly introduce the gentlemen to me!”

“Aye-aye, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Mister Percival Montgomery, 2nd lieutenant; Mister James Muir, 3rd, Lieutenant Bruce Briar of the Royal Marines, Mister Angus Donovan, Sailing Master, Mister William Potter, Purser, and Mister Emanuel Hookham, Ship’s Surgeon.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, gentlemen, and I trust that we shall get to know each other soon,” Deever said politely. “Please, return to your duties now. Can you please show me to my cabin, Mister Weathers?”

“Of course, Sir. This way, please, and mind the low deck, Sir!”

A moment later, they were by themselves.

“Short and sweet,” Muir commented in a low voice.

“A step up from Fitzsimmons, no doubt,” Briar answered.

“My imbecile brother would be a step up from Fitzsimmons,” Percy remarked, causing chuckles all around.

“I better see what and whom be brought along,” Will sighed, climbing down into the waist and looking over the ship’s side into the cutter. Huddled together on the boat’s benches sat no fewer than five men, shivering a little in the wintry breeze.

“You men are with the Captain?” he asked them.

One of them stood precariously.

“I’m Wilshire; I’ll be the steward. These are the Captain’s cook and servants. We’ve also brought along the Captain’s provisions.”

Will grinned. “Think you can climb the ladder?”

Wilshire nodded dubiously, trying to reach the rope ladder. He judged the ship’s movements wrongly and promptly got his foot and calf soaked. Jumping back in shock, he almost fell over the side, and the cutter’s crew roughly pulled him back to safety.

“We ain’t got all day, matey,” the cutter’s coxswain hissed. “Make a go fer it, an’ makit today!”

Wilshire tried again, this time dousing his left foot, but he held on and started climbing up.

“Is there no way to get on board easier?” he demanded haughtily.

“I am Mister William Potter, the purser. That means, you’ll address me as ‘Sir’. You are the captain’s steward, but your rank in this ship is ‘landsman’. You’ll address all officers with ‘sir’ and all petty officers by their name. I can see that you’re new to shipboard life, but you better learn this quickly.”

“But I am the Captain’s...”

“Doesn’t matter. Since you haven’t been read in, we’ll let it pass for now, but get used to it! Now, get those other men up here, so we can get the cabin stores aboard.” Will turned and found Alwyn waiting, like the good steward he was. “Alwyn, get Oakham and Somers and see that those stores are stowed aft, in the captain’s hold.”

“Aye-aye, Sir!” Alwyn answered smartly and with emphasis. He grabbed a ship’s boy and sent him to fetch the stewards, and then coordinated the boarding of the remaining servants, whilst Will went aft. He found Somers in the wardroom, setting the table for supper.

“Somers, give the captain’s servants a hand to settle in. There’s five of them, so find out where they can sling their hammocks.”

“Aye-aye, Sir. Landlubbers, Sir?”

“My wife is a better sailor than those five,” Will grinned, happy to delegate the care for those men to somebody else.

Back on deck, he saw Weathers and approached him.

“Sir, the Captain brought five servants and his stores. The men need to be read in and get hammock space assigned.”

“Thank you, Mister Potter,” Weathers answered. Then, in a low voice, “Lubbers?”

“That and stuck up, Sir. It’ll be work to break them in.”

Weathers sighed. “The captain needs to read them in. Where d’ye think they can sling their hammocks?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. The stewards berth together with Alwyn on the orlop deck, but that space is crammed with four men. That means we need space for four servants and a cook. Maybe Percy has an idea.”

“I’ll ask him. Can you have Somers help them with the cabin stores?”

“I already tasked him and Alwyn with that”

“Thank you, Will. Supper will be delayed then?”

“Only a little. Somers already set the table.”

It was indeed six bells before the wardroom assembled for their supper.According to Weathers, the captain had balked a little at reading in his personal servants, thus subjugating them to the Articles of War, but Weathers had prevailed. Now they were all fussing about the after cabin, rearranging the spartan furnishings and setting up their master’s beddings and other belongings whilst the captain studied the ship’s papers and orders.

Night fell on the small frigate, and she bravely kept her station three cable lengths to leeward from the flagship. One of the first orders Captain Deever gave had been to lift the ban on wine and ale for the wardroom, and the members celebrated with the last of their Maltese wines.

Come the morning, Dido was assigned a position aft and to leeward of the flagship. Captain Deever oversaw the necessary manoeuvres, under the unobtrusive tutoring by Mister Weathers, and they reached their station in creditable time. Of course, the sailors noticed that, but after Fitzsimmons, the men regarded Captain Deever as a welcome relief. He spent the morning hours walking the decks and watching the hands perform the innumerable tasks required in running a sailing ship, frequently asking questions of the petty officers and even the common sailors, flustering some of them, but also appearing interested and personable. With all his lack of experience, he appeared to be the right man to smoothen the ruffled feathers of officers and ratings.