Chapter 20: Night Watches & Other Issues

January 1804

Thomas did not hear anything about his suggestion for the next days. Assuming that Peabody waited for an opportune moment to submit the idea, he exercised patience. On the next Saturday however, after tiffin, he was summoned to the headmaster’s office together with Carlson and Melville. They found Mister Peabody there, too, but also Mister Johnson and Folger, the boatswain, and the Lieutenant Governor, Captain Haversham. Bayly opened the meeting.

“Gentlemen, Mister Peabody submitted a proposal to me which originated from the prefects. You suggest that a night watch be instituted here at the Royal Naval Academy?”

Seeing his fellow prefects’ nods, Thomas answered.

“Yes, Sir. It occurred to us that everybody in the Academy building is asleep at night. Should a fire break out, instructors and scholars would be doomed. To my knowledge, every hulk here in Portsmouth harbour has a watch going at night, much like every ship and sloop in the Royal Navy. To have a watch would not only increase our safety, but also get the scholars accustomed to a duty they will have to perform in their future careers.”

“Wait, now!” Haversham cut in. “I was assuming that this was already instituted, Mister Bayly.”

“In all honesty, no, Sir. Not under my tenure, and not under my predecessor’s tenure. I held that this is an academy and learning institution, and not a naval command.”

“I suppose I should have asked and not assumed, Mister Bayly, but I must insist on an immediate implementation of night and weekend watches. Perhaps we can task Mister Peabody with the details?”

“The prefects already made sensible suggestions regarding the scheduling, Sir. We could start this very weekend,” Peabody answered calmly. “I suggest that we task the prefects with writing up a duty roster.”

“Are there any objections from you Gentlemen?” Bayly asked pro forma. “No? Well, young Gentlemen, you may proceed with your suggestion. Keep Mister Peabody informed of the duty roster!”

That was it, and the three cadets walked out of Bayly’s quarters already making plans. It was clear that the three of them would have to go first. Carlson and Watson would take the coming night, whilst Thomas and Robert would handle the Sunday night. The weekday schedule would be established on Sunday morning, before service.

As expected, there were protests when they informed the other cadets of the new night watch. Some saw the reason for it after it was explained, but a strong minority, especially amongst the third-years, were quite vocal in their displeasure. Not surprisingly, Peter Henley also used the opportunity to fan the flames again, bragging that he would go to sleep if he was detailed for the night watch, consequences be damned. Thomas was not there, but Carlson told him later what happened.

Still with a poor standing amongst the third-years, his boasting raised ridicule. Gerald Mason, ever Henley’s nemesis, laughed into his face.

“Oh, yes, do that! Sleeping on watch means a court-martial and a firing squad, you jackass!”

“Old Bayly is too soft for that,” Henley sneered, but Samuel Carlson countered that.

“It’s Captain Haversham’s orders. It was he who insisted on a night watch. Get this into your thick skull. It won’t be Mister Bayly’s decision. You’ll be defying a senior post-captain.”

“Wait! We thought it was you and Grey!” Mason demanded sharply.

“We have no authority to institute a night watch. The Lieutenant Governor wants it, and Mister Bayly tasked us with the implementation. It’s necessary, too. Think of it: a big house with forty cabins and the private quarters of the masters. What if there’s a fire at night? We’d all die! Think of how they carried Oxfoam’s carcass in at night, and nobody noticed a thing!”

Mason scratched his head. “Seeing it like that, it makes sense. How often will it be our turn?”

“We figure a little over forty of us and we need fourteen in a week. It’ll be once every twenty days, and for us, it’ll be over when we’ll graduate.”

“I guess it’s not so bad,” Mason conceded.

“It’ll be practice too, for when we’ll be posted to a ship.” Carlson added.

That pretty much settled the issue, but for a defiant Henley, but nobody paid him attention.

Having the Sunday to Monday night watch did not keep Thomas from visiting the Sea Rover, but he kept it rather short and returned to the Academy for an afternoon nap. After supper, he slept some more until 8 bells, when he splashed some cold water into his face and made ready. Robert, too, had taken a nap, and the two of them started their night duty by controlling the lights-out. After that, they took turns, with one of them sitting in the entrance hall and the other patrolling stairwells and hallways. Each of them had a boatswain’s pipe to alert the other if needed.

No need materialised during the night. Three of the masters came in early, using their keys, and one, Mister Tolley, the new fencing and dancing master, came in later.

The night hours dragged on, only interrupted when one of them walked the rounds through the dark building taking one of the lanterns. When reveille was sounded, they returned to their dormitory, washed briefly, and then joined the others at breakfast.

“So, how was it?” Godfrey Gurr asked.

“Quite easy. Thomas and I spun some yarn to pass the time, and before we knew it, the pipes sounded,” Robert answered easily.

“Who’s on watch tonight?” Jeremy Martins asked.

“You, with Melville as junior,” Thomas grinned back. “Weekdays will see first-years as Nº2.”

“That’s not bad. Melville is solid.” Jeremy answered easily. “I’ll better catch some sleep after the last class.”

After the roster of scholars had served their first night watches, the grumbling about the new duty waned considerably. Even Henley toed the line, and was belittled for caving in after the boasts early on. This was probably due to Mister Peabody, who had announced that sleeping on watch would be punished with five demerits and a caning, and immediate expulsion on repeat. Thomas had learned from Carlson that Henley was an orphan, raised by his well-to-do uncle, who, learning of his ward’s 18 demerits, had threatened to wash his hands of his nephew should he fail the Academy.

In late February, during the third duty cycle, Thomas and Robert had the Sunday night watch again. It was almost three bells — nine-thirty p.m. — when Peter Henley knocked on the main door, drenched in sweat from running and looking quite dishevelled. Seeing who opened the door for him, Henley groaned and leaned heavily against the door jamb.

“Just my bloody luck! All right, Grey, do your duty. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“Where the hell were you?” Thomas whispered back urgently. “And keep your voice down!”

“I had to see my uncle. He’s sick, and he’s ... it’s important I make a good impression. On the way back, the bloody wheel of my uncle’s coach came off and broke. I ... I had to run all the way back, and it’s four miles.”

“Mister Peabody just came through. Wait here for another half hour, to make sure he’s turned in, then follow me on my next round and sneak into your dormitory. I don’t have to tell you to be quiet, right?”

“Why’re you doing this?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Because you might be a good officer one day, and the Navy will need you. How’d you get past the sentries?”

“With my last shillings.”

“You may be lucky after all.”

“Just like that?”