Kings and Emperors by Dewey Lambdin

spanker, all jibs, and all stays’ls set t’get a way on her.” Lewrie ordered, “No music, mind! Let’s keep it as quiet as possible.”
    There was supposed to be good holding ground off Tetuán, according to the Sailing Master’s books, so Sapphire had come to anchor in six fathoms of water, and had paid out a five-to-one scope, meaning the men at the capstan bars only had to haul in 180 feet of cable. It would not be noiseless, though. The capstan pawls clanked as loud as pistol-shots, the thick cable groaned as it came slowly in against the hawsehole’s lower rim, and even horny bare sailors’ feet drummed on the decks. Despite the need for quiet, the ship’s boy “nippers” just had to stumble and argue with each other as they dashed back and forth to nip the lighter messenger line to the cable, follow it near to the drum of the capstan, then dash to nip on again to seize onto a freshly-revealed length of cable. And the drumming of the mauls fleeting the messenger up the capstan drum put Lewrie in mind of a dance among the Muskogee Indians in Spanish Florida ages before!
    â€œShort stays!” the word came from the forecastle, followed a very long moment later by “Up and down!” and a harsh voice up forrud calling for the Heavy Haul, for the hands to stamp and go!
    â€œAnchor’s free, and haul away!” the Bosun cried.
    â€œMake sail, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie ordered. “Hands aloft to the tops’l yards.”
    The stock of the bower anchor was snagged and “fished,” a fluke “catted” and men on the forecastle and weather deck walked away with the “fish,” then the “cat” to ring the anchor up to the out-jutting cat-head beam and swung it up for stowage, even as the ship began to get a slight way on her.
    â€œNo bite, sir!” Senior Quartermaster Marlowe reported from the double-wheel helm, turning spokes either way. “Her head’s fallin’ off to starboard. Sou’east.”
    Aloft, tops’ls were being loosed and let fall, clew lines sang in the blocks to draw them down, and brace lines groaned through theirs. The wooden parrel balls squealed as the yards were braced round to cup wind in the sails, impossible to see, and only imagined in the mind by the sounds of sails pivotting on the masts, and the rustling of canvas.
    â€œAnswerin’ her helm, now, sir,” Marlowe announced, sounding relieved.
    â€œClose-haul her ’til we get some speed,” Lewrie ordered. “A cast of the log!” A minute later and some Midshipman aft reported that the ship was making three knots; Lewrie could not differentiate who it was by the screech.
    â€œAloft, there! Lay out and free the fore course!” Westcott yelled. “Sorry about the shout, sir,” he apologised to a shadow on the quarterdeck he took for Lewrie. “Will you wish to tack or wear once we get some drive on her?”
    â€œA wear’s safer, Mister Wesctott,” Lewrie replied. “Do we miss stays, those Spaniards will get clean away.”
    Westcott took a long look aft towards Tetuán and must have reckoned that they were now better than a mile out to sea and out of ear-shot, for he yelled aloft for the main course to be freed and let fall. More rustling, groaning, and squealing resulted.
    â€œFive knots, sir!” came the call from the chip-log tender.
    â€œStations to wear, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie snapped. “Thank God our night-time doings last Summer got the people used t’doing their duties in the dark.”
    â€œThen I will not disappoint you with a description of what a muddle it was, sir,” Westcott teased. “Hands to sheets and braces! Prepare to wear ship!” he shouted.
    Lewrie could not see the long commissioning pendant high aloft, but he could judge the direction and strength of the night winds by turning his face left and right; they were