Chapter 63: Lieutenant Governor

July 1814

A gully washer of a rain was pouring down on the courtyard of the Royal Naval College and School of Naval Architecture, and the solemn opening of the school year had to be postponed to the afternoon. Instead, Tony was enjoying tea in the headmaster’s office with Professor Inman, whilst making use of the delay by studying the curricula vitae of 28 first year cadets and fifteen first year students of Naval Architecture. Most of the cadets were the sons of Navy officers, whose tuition costs were born by the Admiralty, but there were a number of cadets coming from non-Navy families. Tony and Professor Inman were working on the problem of whom to select as first year prefect.

Four of the cadets had seagoing time in their papers, but that did not mean they had ever eaten salted pork. Often, 1st-class volunteers served on the muster roll of a ship only, without ever seeing the inside of a gunroom. This was common practice, with some volunteers put on muster rolls right after their birth. Such extremes would not be seen with the cadets, whose fathers were mostly officers of modest means trying to give their offspring a chance for a better career. Being a practical sailor, Tony naturally had a preference for a class prefect with seagoing experience, but Mister Inman argued that a prefect had to be a cadet with a high ranking in the classes.

After some discussion, they settled on Mister David Conroy, the son of an invalid captain, who had served in his uncle’s ship for a year whilst waiting to be accepted at the College. According to Mister Inman, the young man, 14 years of age, had a solid understanding of geometry. Tony also gleaned from his papers that young Mister Conroy had served in the Phoebe frigate, in the Channel Fleet, and that he had been named in the London Gazette for leading a landing operation after the commanding lieutenant had been wounded grievously.

Whilst the rain outside was letting up, Conroy was summoned the the headmaster’s office where he was informed of his appointment to class prefect. In person, the youngster impressed Tony even more, for he accepted the task with equanimity and politely thanked both men for their trust in him.

With this important question settled, Tony and Inman had tiffin with the teaching staff, and for the first time, Tony met Major Ignatius Butterworth, newly of the Royal Marines Regiment, who was the College’s fencing teacher and small arms instructor. A former infantry officer, he was very proud of his new task, after living on his pension in a small Devon port for years. He also knew of Tony’s reputation as a swordsman and offered his services as a practice partner, his eyes gleaming with admiration when he saw the Toledo sword at Tony’s side. He was a colourful character, and Tony resolved to take him up on the offer. He could use the practice.

Once tiffin was finished and the rainclouds had been driven off by the stiff breeze, 84 cadets and 42 Naval Architecture students assembled by classes in the courtyard, where Professor Inman welcomed them back to the College and announced the changes and other worthwhile information. The dancing instructor, Mister Honeycut, had been replaced by a Mister Merrion, and of course. there was a new Lieutenant Governor, whom Inman introduced, once again sketching out Tony’s career to the cadets, but also announcing that Tony would be seen frequently at the College and would involved himself far more with the cadets and students than his predecessor.

Then it was Tony’s turn, and he reiterated his plans to show a presence in Portsmouth and that he would reside in the former Atlas second rate. He also promised them to have Atlas’s mainmast rigged to the top, where he would assess their seamanship. That elicited an audible groan from the cadets and smirks from the Naval Architecture students. This, he quelled by promising them practical lessons from Atlas’s boatswain and carpenter, such as replacing sections of deck and hull planking.

The cadets and students were then dismissed to their first classes, and Tony returned to his quarters in the Atlas. Here, a joiner from Portsmouth was performing repairs on the bulkheads, removing unsightly scratches and varnishing the woods, but also planing and waxing the deck planks. If he was to live in those quarters for two or three years, they could just as well look decent, Tony had decided.

Grimm and John Little had arrived in Portsmouth already, but until the repairs were done and his cabin furniture fitted, Tony was living with Andrew, whilst the two men were overseeing the work. They spent a quiet evening together after a small supper and visited a Navy club, The Long Rooms, where they sampled the brandies until it was time to turn in.

The next morning found Tony at the College again, where he sat in on some classes, just to get an impression of the curriculum and the teaching staff. Some teachers took this with equanimity, others with satisfaction over the Lieutenant Governor’s interest in the College, whilst others were flustered by his presence. As Tony perceived, the latter trio were grounds for worry, for they appeared to be poorly prepared and lacklustre in their presentations. He also gauged the students for the interest they showed, and it was obvious that poor teaching coincided with poor attention. He resolved to sit in during classes for a few more days before speaking to the teachers in question.

He was also present when the first-years saw the practice mast for the first time, but with the exception of a Naval Architecture student, all the youngsters forced themselves to climb up to the top-gallant crosstrees. Mister Callahan, the bosun, looked on with a grin and, walking over to where Tony stood, relayed his impression.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Sir Anthony, but I’ve never seen firsties take to the rigging so fast.”

“Such was my purpose, Mister Callahan,” Tony answered with a straight face. “Still, they needed awfully long.” Speaking loud now, he addressed the cadets. “Listen up! This wasn’t bad for a first time effort, but you must become faster! When there’s repairs needed aloft, the ship and your own lives may depend on how quick you are getting up and doing the repairs. Still, don’t be careless. You can’t do repairs when you’re a bloody puddle on the deck. Careful, steady, but quick, is the secret to being a top man.”

With that, he shed his hat and coat, and after thinking quickly, his sea boots, too, before he flung himself at the shrouds and climbed up as fast as his 35 years allowed. He was fairly winded after reaching the crosstrees, but a little proud of himself when he climbed back down.

“Kindly try to be at least as fast as a senior captain, and don’t let me catch you using the soldier’s hole, you hear! A Royal Marine has to carry his musket, powder and balls, and wear boots. He’s excused for using the lubber hole. You, however, want to become seamen. Understood?”

Led by the quick-witted Mister Conroy, the cadets rapped out a convincing “Aye-aye, Sir Anthony!”

“Once you master this rigid mast, we shall find a real mast in a real ship for you to practice. Pray, continue, Mister Callahan!”

“Aye-aye, Sir Anthony! Class, let’s do this again. Put some heart in it, but mind where you put your hands and feet!”

After the fifth attempt, the best cadets, led by Conroy, reached the crosstrees in a decent enough time, and the few stragglers were not too far behind. Surprisingly, one of the stragglers had seagoing time in his papers. He was lean and did not seem to be soft at all, but he had been hesitant climbing up, and he fairly clung to the ratlines going down. It had to be fear of heights. Well, to become an officer, he would have to conquer that, Tony mused. The thought of Emily’s definition of courage came to his mind, and he smiled.

Three weeks into his tenure at the College, the repairs to Atlas’s after cabins were finished, and the furniture fitted, allowing Tony to move into his quarters. Tony moved in for a few days and found his new accommodation to lack nothing much, and after giving a few instructions to Grimm, he and John Little returned to London, planning to move to Portsmouth again in early September.

Tony was sitting in their study three days later, perusing the day’s newspapers and enjoying a fine coffee brewed by Nadine Blacket, when he saw the announcements at the bottom of page 8.

Arrived at Deptford: HMS Clyde, 40, Captain Sir Thomas Grey KML, from Valetta, to be paid off.

So, the old Clyde had returned from the Mediterranean Sea and would be laid up. It would be a nice opportunity to invite the young Captain Grey for dinner, to finally meet the man behind the legends at the Royal Naval College. He could also invite Cyril Fortescue, his first lieutenant in the Clyde and his successor as her captain. The captain after that, a man named Mather, had nearly wrecked that fine ship off the Breton coast, and Tony would rather not see the man. He was beached anyway after a reprimand by a court martial. Then, there was Hohenstein, but he and his Isabel were probably busy reestablishing his rule over that minor German principality. Still, getting to know Captain Grey and seeing Fortescue again seemed like a good idea.

Tony leafed over the rest of the paper, not expecting anything of interest for him, when his eyes caught a gossip article, titled Brummel denied entry at St. Croix. Out of morbid interest, Tony flew over the article. Apparently, the proprietor, the Marquis, had refused to let Brummel enter the club, calling him a parvenu. Feeling aggravated, Brummel had then made a disparaging remark about another guest, His Serene Highness, the Prince of Hohenstein, who “deftly expedited Mr. Brummels departure” as the writer of the article paraphrased it.