Chapter 12: The Royal Naval Academy

May, 1802

As in the Cormorant, two years before, his bruised behind and shoulder improved his standing with the ratings and junior officers. Gareth Edwardson had spread the word of how Thomas had made the taller and heavier Osborn cry. Boatswain’s mate Anderson, too, had made it known amongst the ratings that Thomas had taken his punishment stoically, but it still took a week before he could sit without pain.

In contrast to what awaited him at the Academy, the volunteers in the Duke hulk were given shore leave on Sundays, allowing him to roam Portsmouth’s street with his mates. They were not allowed in the taverns as they would have liked, and they had been warned against visiting any of the less reputable places. Still, they enjoyed the free afternoons, the food and the ale they consumed.

Thrice, Thomas was visited by his mother and grandfather, and William Grey would pick him up in the Duke. This always led to a reception at the port with six boatswain’s pipes twittering, for he was always clad in his captain’s coat. Then Captain Harrison made some time for him to brief him on his grandson’s progress, before Thomas was released for the afternoon. Thomas suspected his grandfather of making those calls aboard the Duke to feel like a senior captain visiting the flagship. He was, after all, close to the top of the captain’s list¹ and might one day soon receive his flag.

Taking the rented boat to the quay, they would then meet Margaret Grey and spend a leisurely afternoon with an early dinner in a good eating house. Thomas’s appointment as class prefect was a source of pride for his grandfather and even his mother, and he had to recall the events in the Duke hulk since their last visit. They also brought letters from his father, who was still commanding the Cormorant on the Leeward Islands Station. Thomas learnt that Vice Admiral Duckworth was now Commander-in-Chief, Kingston, but there was little excitement to report for Theodore Grey. They conducted their patrols, observed the French as they reestablished their control over the islands which had been returned to them, and had their eyes out for pirates, even cooperating with the French authorities in that task.

Finally, it was mid-July, and Thomas was mustered out from the Duke’s roll, to give him two weeks at home before the Academy started. By the next morning, he was on his way, riding the London stage coach and arriving in Guildford by early afternoon. There he found a cab at Carrington’s Stable and had himself driven to the Grey’s estate, located east of the town.

Stepping up to the front door, he worked the knocker and, when the door opened, found himself vis-a-vis his father.

“They threw you out already?” was his greeting, delivered with a big smile.

“Throw out the class prefect? Hardly!” Thomas gave back, sensing the light mood of his father.

“They must be overrun with lubbers to pick you,” Theodore Grey gave back.

Thomas laughed, happy to have his father back. “That, and I saved Admiral Moorbanke’s grandson and courted his granddaughter. It is all about interest, Father.”

“You ... his granddaughter?”

“We spent lots of time in solitude together, up in the rigging, that is. She’s a tomboy, Father, and I was tasked with showing her the rigging. Her brother’s the worst lubber ever, and I caught his collar when he was falling off the maintop yard.”

“Dear me! What a mess that would have been! But do come in! And please, don’t tell your mother about any admirals’ granddaughters. She’ll drag you to the Paddingtons instantly to correct the error of your ways.”

Setting his sea chest down by the entrance, Thomas followed his father to the living room, where his mother and grandfather were awaiting them.

“What’s that I hear about tomboy girls?” Margaret Grey asked with mock severity. “We leave you out of sight for a mere three months and you dallied with girls already?”

“There’s a reason they call him Tomcat, Margaret,” her husband laughed, sending the elder Grey into guffaws.

Thomas realised that his father’s return had set his mother into a rare, lighthearted mood, and he had to grin.

“Only with the granddaughter of the Commander-in-Chief, Mother,” he therefore bantered back. “I shall need his patronage.”

“Humph! You had better look for suitable girls nearby.”

“But Mother, young Miss Houghton was very close by,” Thomas returned with a cheeky grin.

“Off to your room, you rascal! Clean up, and don’t forget to wash your mouth!” his mother commanded, but he could see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“But, Mother, I did not wash my mouth ever since she gave me a parting kiss...”

Margaret Grey’s mouth fell open, but then she saw her son’s grin and looked at her husband.

“Is this what he learned whilst sailing with you?”

“Why, dearest, isn’t courteous intercourse with young ladies of breeding a worthwhile pursuit?”

The three older Greys were still laughing when Thomas retreated upstairs to his room, where he shed his coat and shirt, and made good use of the wash stand. Clean and with freshly combed hair, he returned to the living room, but the others had already settled in the dining room where supper was served.

Having lived on purser’s stores for two months, Thomas enjoyed the food made by Cook immensely, and he showed all the appetite expected of a growing youngster.

“He is not exactly pining away after that girl,” Theodore Grey opined with a smile, but Thomas had his answer ready.

“I must eat, Father, to grow up quickly. Admiral Moorbanke will not agree to an engagement before I’m as tall as Miss Houghton.”

“Stop this now, Thomas! You’re only thirteen and a decade away from entering into an engagement,” Margaret Grey reminded her son.

“Miss Alice promised to wait for me,” Thomas answered with a perfectly straight face, causing his mother’s eyes to bulge.

“Margaret, he’s teasing you,” Theodore Grey laughed. “Lord knows, he’s become quite the prankster, but they’ll drive that out of him at the Academy.”

Later that evening, as the older Greys enjoyed their port wines and sherries, Thomas told them of the last three months in the Duke. He also had to produce his documents for his father. Reading about the second caning Thomas had received, he raised his eyebrows.

“You’ve been brawling again,” he asked in a voice which Thomas knew, and he refrained from any flippancy, telling about the cutlass practice, about the order to cease, and the backhanded stroke he not quite avoided. When he admitted to smashing the handguard of his cutlass into Osborn’s face and breaking his nose, Theodore Grey took a sharp breath.

“I just reacted as I had been taught,” Thomas ended.

“What happened to the boy?” Theodore Grey queried.

“Captain Harrison dismissed him for unbecoming conduct, Father. He had to leave the ship. He could have broken every bone in my shoulder if I had not turned away in time. That’s how the captain saw it. I was merely caned for retaliating.”

“A Solomonic judgement,” William Grey opined. “Harrison couldn’t let Thomas off without punishment, but it was that snivelling blackguard who started it. I spoke with Harrison about it. How he and Moorbanke feel about the matter is shown by the fact that Thomas will still be class prefect.”

“I can see that, too. Yet, Thomas, you must learn to control your rashness and not fly into a rage. We’ll practice some in the next days. Also, get rid of the Tomcat nickname. It signifies someone we don’t want you to be. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Father,” Thomas answered a little hesitantly, but thinking of it, he nodded. “Yes, Father. I can see the point you are making.”

“Yes, a reputation as a brawler will damage your career. You doubtlessly have the respect of the other cadets now. Build on that respect and be a leader, not the biggest bully boy.”

“Yes, Father. I am sorry. I did not want to embarrass you.”

The two weeks spent at home passed quickly for Thomas. He spent quite some time with his father, who made it a point to teach his son better self discipline both in everyday life and in the service. Thomas also received his first lessons in fencing with a small sword. Theodore Grey owned a very fine sword made by Reeves of Birmingham, a gift from his father on the occasion of earning his commission fifteen years ago. Thomas was allowed its use for practice whilst his father used the heavier sword of William Grey, forged by some Spanish sword smith a half century ago and won as spoils of war when fighting a Spanish lieutenant in some skirmish on the Spanish Main.

Father and son used the estate barn for their practice. They did not really fence, but Theodore Grey taught his son the basics of lunging, slashing and parrying and the footwork involved. Thomas learned the fundamental difference between sword fighting and the hacking and slashing with a cutlass, with his father insisting that the point was always faster than the edge and also more difficult to parry.