Chapter 11: The Houghton Siblings

A day later, Thomas was still berthing in the gunroom of the old battleship. The exam had all been about basic seamanship, tying a double bowline, performing a long splice, belaying a brace, and all the other things which Mister Hanson in the Cormorant had drilled into the boys.

After supper in the gunroom, Thomas was assigned to the evening watch, and he had eschewed his grog allowance, to help him stay awake. The officer of the watch was the third lieutenant, Mister Ferns, a man of thirty-five years who had a stiff leg after a bad fall some ten years earlier. He could not move about well, and therefore made good use of his junior watch officer. Thomas had to roust and control the men of the evening watch, keep an eye on the hour glass, and watch for approaching boats.

Therefore, it was he who espied the neatly painted barge heading for the Duke.

“Sir, private barge approaching from the quay,” he notified his superior.

“White hull and mahogany gunwales?” Ferns asked.

“Yes, Sir. A smartly dressed crew, too.”

“Pipe all hands, Mister Grey! It’s the Commander-in-Chief.”

“A-admiral Moorbanke, Sir?”

“Aye, young man. Now hurry!”

Thomas found the boatswain’s mate of the watch, and soon, the pipes shrilled through the ship, rousing all hands. The wardroom officers showed, too, and Mister Conroy, as acting commander, saw to it that they stood in divisions. The standing crew of the Duke numbered no more than seventy men, nominally amended by twenty volunteers, of whom twelve were actually on board.

Thomas was allowed to hail the approaching barge.

“Boat, ho! What boat?”

The coxswain held up eight fingers, and hailed back, “Portsmouth!”, confirming that the commander-in-chief was visiting his flagship. In the fading light, Thomas could see two youngsters in the barge, a boy of perhaps twelve, and a girl a few years older.

Now, the barge hooked on, and the boatswain had a chair swung out from the main yard, to haul up the old admiral. Marc Moorbanke, Admiral of the White Squadron, was 72-years-old, and to climb the three decks was too much for a man his age.

Mister Conroy received him to the twitter of eight pipes and welcomed him aboard.

“Evening, Conroy,” the admiral answered informally. “I’ve my grandson with me, and my granddaughter. We’ll stay in my cabin for a week. Kindly see to it that they come aboard, and our dunnage, too. Then send the cutter to the quay for my staff.”

“Aye-aye, Sir. Where do you want your grandchildren to berth?”

“My granddaughter in my cabin, my grandson in the gunroom, if you please. My son-in-law asked me to place him in the Academy. If nothing else, he’ll get a good education.”

“Aye-aye, Sir.”

Moorbanke’s eyes fell on Thomas, standing on the quarterdeck at Mister Fern’s side.

“Who’s the junior watch officer?”

“Mister Grey, Sir. He’s a young gentlemen about to join the academy. He had two years seafaring experience and is rated a 1st class volunteer. He’s serving as junior watch officer until classes start, Sir.”

“Quite! Good family?”

“His father is Commander Theodore Grey, of the Cormorant sloop, on the Leeward Islands Station. His grandfather is Captain William Grey. I understand they are landowners in Surrey.”

“Navy family, then. Send him to my cabin once I’ve settled in.”

“Aye-aye, Sir. Shall I send the boatswain’s chair for your grandchildren?”

“Only for Alice. My grandson Marcus will enter the ship like a sailor!”

The old admiral had to be hard of hearing, for Thomas, at his post on the quarterdeck, had heard every word. So had Ferns, who could not hide his grin.

“Felicitations, Grey. You’ll be the nanny for his grandson.”

“‘S blood, Sir!” Thomas gave back, his vocabulary of curses drawn largely from his grandfather’s, who favoured a dated English at times.

“Indeed, Grey, indeed! Kindly see to it that the boy won’t drown.”

“Aye-aye, Sir.” Thomas nodded and watched the further proceedings.

The admiral’s daughter, Alice, as he remembered, was hoisted from the barge in the boatswain’s chair. From a few yards away, Thomas saw that she was slender of figure. Her hair, of a mousy colour, was tied in a single braid, with a small hat sitting on her crown. She was adroit in concealing her legs whilst being swung up in the chair and, delivered from it, stood at her grandfather’s side.

Her brother soon followed her, cautiously climbing up the ship’s side, with one of the barge’s crew following closely, to prevent any mishap. He was younger than Thomas, by a year or more. He also had the pale skin of a boy previously stuck in some dimly lit classroom. He was also dressed in spotless white breeches and a Navy-blue coat made of the finest broadcloth. It became clear from his bearing, that this was his first ever visit to a man-of-war, for he failed to salute the flag and stood undecided at the port.

“Come now, Marcus, announce yourself to Mister Conroy!” Thomas heard the admiral prod his scion.

“M-marcus Houghton, S-sir, c-come aboard...”

“Salute the flag!” his grandfather supplied, and the boy awkwardly lifted his bicorne hat in the direction of the quarterdeck. Moorbanke rolled his eyes. “Follow me!” he said curtly, heading aft for the admiral’s cabin.

“May I stay on deck for a spell, Grandfather?” the girl asked. “Perhaps on the quarterdeck?”

The old man shrugged. “But stay out of the way, Alice! Come aft in a half hour, to join us for dinner!”

“Aye-aye, Sir,” the girl mock-saluted her grandfather with a cheeky grin, which caused more eye rolling on his part, before she ascended the companionway to the quarterdeck.

“Good evening, Miss Houghton?” Ferns bade her welcome. “I am Lieutenant Avery Ferns, at your service. This is Mister Thomas Grey, the junior officer of the watch. He can answer any questions you may have.”

The girl stared at Thomas. “Why, he’s no older than myself!”

“He’s a seasoned mariner nevertheless, Miss Houghton.”

The girl blushed a little. “I meant no offence, Mister Grey. I was merely surprised at the station you have already attained at such a young age.”

“I took no offence, Miss Houghton,” Thomas answered carefully. “I have always been the youngest in my previous ships.”

“Not any more, Mister Grey,” she giggled. “My dear brother will have that honour now, at least for the next few months, till you’ll be rid of him.”

Thomas looked his question, and she volunteered the desired information.

“He will join the Royal Naval Academy then.”

“So shall I, Miss,” Thomas replied.

“Getting in some seagoing time for cheap?” she asked knowledgeably.

“You are well informed, Miss.”

“We’ve spent two weeks in my grandfather’s household,” she answered with a smile and a shrug.

Thomas noticed that the mousy, slim girl was very pretty when she smiled.

She did then ask Thomas questions about the ship, but even more so about his service in the Navy so far. In the end, she looked at him intently.

“I envy you for your life, Mister Grey, but I also feel that you are worthy of it.”

“Why envy me, Miss?”

She spread her arms, encompassing the whole ship and the waters beyond. “All this. Sailing the seas, fighting the King’s enemies afloat, winning prize monies – all of it.” She giggled a little. “Safe for that bout with the yellow fever; that you may keep. I even envy you the time with that witch doctress. You have to see that I would give everything to join the Academy instead of my brother, who would love nothing more than to keep studying Latin and Greek and read mouldy books. The stork must have muddled his deliveries. I definitely landed in the wrong body.”

“I cannot find fault with your body, Miss,” Thomas dared to quip.

“Neither can I. It serves me well enough when running, climbing or on horseback.”

“Climbing, Miss?”

“Trees,” she clarified. “I should love to run up the ratlines here and up to the cross-trees.”

“Better not in a skirt, Miss,” Thomas answered. “There’s a reason why sailors wear short trousers.”

“So true, Mister Grey,” she sighed. Then she squinted at him. “You are very kind and understanding. Don’t you think me scandalous?”

Thomas shrugged. “I like you better than our neighbour’s daughter. She is quite silly and vain.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Very much, but I find bright girls more to my liking.”

She giggled. “In your vast experience with girls?”

Thomas had to chuckle. “Yes, I’m still a silly boy.”

“No, Mister Grey, not silly, just young. Whilst the former may linger life-long, the latter will be cured by time.”

“Spoken like my mother,” Thomas answered, making her giggle.

“Touché. Oh, here comes Grogart, Grandfather’s cox’n, no doubt to summon me to table.”

Indeed, a sailor well in his fifties approached, wearing a well-fitting reefer jacket and spotless trousers.

“Mister Grey, Sir?”

“Yes.” Thomas answered, not sure how he should address a man four times his age with twenty times Thomas seagoing experience. “How may I help?”

“Admiral Moorbanke asks you to his cabin.”

Thomas quickly shot a look at Ferns, who nodded.

Thomas bowed to Alice Houghton. “By your leave, Miss?”

She laughed brightly. “I’ll come along. Grogart, is the dinner ready?”

“Yes, Miss. I was to summon you, too.”

Thus, Thomas entered the great cabin following the admiral’s willowy granddaughter. Once inside, she gave her grandfather a hug and sat down at table, whilst Thomas stood to attention.

“Volunteer first class Thomas Grey, Sir!”

“Thank you for coming, Mister Grey. I looked into your papers. Two years in three different ships, and you’re only thirteen. Why are you joining the Academy?”

“My parents want me to have a well rounded education, Sir. It’s free, too.”

“And you yourself?”

“I look forward to it, too, Sir. I ... I believe that I shall miss the sea, but joining the Academy makes my mother happy.”

“Did you smell gunpowder in those two years?”

“Yes, Sir. We had four pitched encounters, Sir, and we caught a few prizes, too.”

“You were also punished once for brawling?”

“Yes, Sir. He was a grown man beating on a small girl, Sir.”

“How did that end?”

“He walked funny, Sir, even a day later.”

The old man bit on his lips, but then put on a stern face.

“What did you learn from that?”

“Beg your pardon, Sir, I learnt that being caned is not as bad as being a coward.”

“Why, you’re a rogue!” Moorbanke laughed. “Well, I hope that the lesson will hold.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Did you know that my grandson will also join the Academy?”

“Yes, Sir. Miss Houghton told me.”

“Did she now! Well, it’s the truth.” He pointed at the boy who was sitting at table. “Marcus here is almost twelve, but he has no experience on shipboard. Mister Conroy tells me that your seamanship is well developed, but also that you conduct yourself like someone older. I wish for you to give my grandson guidance and remedial lessons where necessary, so that he may fit in well once classes at the Academy start. Think you can do that?”

Thomas took a deep breath before answering. His thoughts raced through his head, but there was no choice anyway.

“I shall gladly render him any help, Sir.”

“Not more than I expected, Mister Grey. There is another task, too. I am very fond of my granddaughter, and I overheard what she told you about running up the ratlines. Tomorrow, you will guide her up to maintop, and further up to the crosstrees if she so wishes. However, you will reeve a tackle with which to secure her against a fall. And yes, she’ll be wearing trousers.”

“Aye-aye, Sir. I shall need some hands to belay the tackle when needed.”

“My barge crew will help out, right, Grogart?”

“Yes, Sir,” the old sailor chuckled. “And I’ll have this young gentleman’s hide if she comes to any harm.”

“You heard him, Mister Grey. Do not worry though. Alice is quite the tomboy, and she has been climbing trees since before she could walk,” Moorbanke bragged. Obviously, he appreciated his granddaughter’s daring far more than his grandson’s studious ways.

“I shall heed your advice, Sir,” Thomas therefore answered.

Over the following days, whilst Admiral Moorbanke resided in the Duke, the officers and crew were kept busy. At any given time, he would order signals to be sent, or boats to be launched for his purposes. He much relied on his own barge for important business, but his staff and, even more so, his servants, made liberal use of the ship’s crews. A few times, Thomas was sent somewhere in the side boat, giving him his first chances to command a boat. On the downside, Marcus Houghton was clinging to him like a limpet to a ship’s bottom. He could only shed this veritable shadow during the seamanship lessons taught by the boatswain, when young Houghton had to sit and learn his bowlines and splices, and how to coil cordage properly.

If that was not enough, the old admiral’s had decided that Thomas would be prefect of the incoming 6th class at the Academy. Of course, he had the most experience, but there were cadets a year or more older than him, who would grumble over the admiral’s pet, who would lord it over them.

The few highlights in his days were the times spent aloft with a trouser-clad Alice Houghton, who took to the rigging like the proverbial duck to the water. She had a sinewy strength, she was nimble, and she was dogged in her determination to show herself equal to Thomas. If she did not quite succeed in that quest, it was not for lack of trying.

The sly old admiral sanctioned that, obviously in the hope to turn the girl’s mind towards boys, but her relationship with Thomas was one of shipmates, right from the start. To her, as she told Thomas, boys were tedious creatures, always gawking at her and belittling her at the same time. Thomas understood and kept to his role as shipmate.

Meanwhile, he was going watches, mostly the unpopular evening and middle watches, sparing the other junior officers from these duties. However, Mister Conroy caught on to that and let Thomas do a normal rotation through the watches.

After two weeks, Admiral Moorbanke returned to his shore quarters, taking along his granddaughter, but leaving his grandson Marcus behind. By now, Thomas had a pretty solid impression of the boy. Thomas thought him not overly quick of mind, but that was true for most landlubbers. Worse was that he could no more keep his mind on a task than a puppy dog. Whatever he did, after a few minutes, his mind drifted off, likely to his Latin textbooks or to some Shakespearean sonnet, causing him to fail at his tasks. Keeping him to a task was akin to herding grasshoppers.