booms below. She sported crossed square-sail yards for tops'ls on both masts, and stays forrud for outer-flying jib, inner jib and fore-topmast stays'l.
Her hull below the black chainwale was linseeded or oiled a dark brown with a glossy new sheen, while her gunwale and bulwarks, all her upper hull was a spritely blue several shades lighter than royal blue, and her rails, transom carvings, quarter-galleries, beakhead and projecting strips above and below the gunwale were done in a yellow deep enough to at first be mistaken for giltwork. Her crowned-lion figurehead at the tip of the beakhead, below the thrusting jib boom, was the only place true gilt appeared.
"Boat ahoy!" one of the harbor watch shouted in query.
"Alacrity!" the bargee bellowed, and raising several ringers in the air to indicate the number of side-boys due their visitor; and with his shout telling them that their new lord and master had arrived. He stilled his oars and let the rowboat coast to give them time to sort out a proper welcome.
The boat at last thudded against the hull by the boarding battens and dangling manropes. Alan hitched his hanger out of the way, set his hat firmly on his head, and stood. He reached out, took hold of the manropes and heaved himself onto the wide and deep shelf-like battens to ascend to the entry port cut into the bulwarks above. He heard the sweet trills of bosun's pipes squealing his first salute as a captain of a man of war, and once through the entry port and standing on the starboard sail-handling gangway (his gangway, he relished!) he doffed his hat in reply. Surprised as they were to see him, he was as much surprised to see a Commission Officer standing before him with a sword drawn and presented in salute.
"Welcome aboard, sir," the young man said once the ceremony was done, and he had sheathed his sword.
"Lewrie," Alan announced. "Alan Lewrie. And you are?"
"Ballard, sir," the trim little officer replied. "Arthur Ballard." He pronounced it Ball-ahhrd, emphasizing the last syllable.
"Are you temporary, or... ?" Alan quizzed.
"First officer, sir," Ballard informed him with a slight raise of his eyebrows. "A bomb would normally rate but one Commission Officer as master and commander, sir, but rerated as a sloop, sir..."
"Ah, I see!" Alan nodded with a smile. He would have someone else to help with the navigation, and the watch-standing, which suited his indolent nature perfectly! "Did you turn over with her, sir, from her previous commission?"
"Came aboard to join four days ago, sir, just after she left the careenage," Ballard rejoined.
"Right, then," Lewrie said, digging into that side pocket for his precious orders. "Assemble ship's company, Mister Ballard."
"Aye, aye, sir," Ballard intoned with a sober mien.
It was thin audience Lewrie had to witness his reading-in. Two gangly midshipmen of fourteen or so, hopefully salty enough from being at sea since the usual joining age of ten or twelve; eight or nine boys dressed the usual "Beau-Nasty" he took for servants and powder monkeys; twenty or so hands from fifteen to forty dressed in blue and gray check calico and slop-trousers, plus the older men who affected cocked hats and longer frock coats with brass buttons who would be her holders of Admiralty warrants; the bosun, carpenter, cooper, sailmaker and gunner, and their immediate mates who were the ship's career professionals.
Alan read them his orders, savoring every mellifluous, ringing phrase which directed him "to take charge and command" of His Majesty's Sloop Alacrity. Finished at last, he rolled up the document and retied the ribbons, wondering if he should say else.
"I am certain," he began, looking down at their hopeful faces peering back up at him from the waist amidships, "that many of you came up on blood and thunder in the recent war, as did I. Service in a ship in peacetime may not hold the ever-present threat of battle. We may have more time for 'make-and-mend,' more 'Rope-yarn Sundays.'
Her hull below the black chainwale was linseeded or oiled a dark brown with a glossy new sheen, while her gunwale and bulwarks, all her upper hull was a spritely blue several shades lighter than royal blue, and her rails, transom carvings, quarter-galleries, beakhead and projecting strips above and below the gunwale were done in a yellow deep enough to at first be mistaken for giltwork. Her crowned-lion figurehead at the tip of the beakhead, below the thrusting jib boom, was the only place true gilt appeared.
"Boat ahoy!" one of the harbor watch shouted in query.
"Alacrity!" the bargee bellowed, and raising several ringers in the air to indicate the number of side-boys due their visitor; and with his shout telling them that their new lord and master had arrived. He stilled his oars and let the rowboat coast to give them time to sort out a proper welcome.
The boat at last thudded against the hull by the boarding battens and dangling manropes. Alan hitched his hanger out of the way, set his hat firmly on his head, and stood. He reached out, took hold of the manropes and heaved himself onto the wide and deep shelf-like battens to ascend to the entry port cut into the bulwarks above. He heard the sweet trills of bosun's pipes squealing his first salute as a captain of a man of war, and once through the entry port and standing on the starboard sail-handling gangway (his gangway, he relished!) he doffed his hat in reply. Surprised as they were to see him, he was as much surprised to see a Commission Officer standing before him with a sword drawn and presented in salute.
"Welcome aboard, sir," the young man said once the ceremony was done, and he had sheathed his sword.
"Lewrie," Alan announced. "Alan Lewrie. And you are?"
"Ballard, sir," the trim little officer replied. "Arthur Ballard." He pronounced it Ball-ahhrd, emphasizing the last syllable.
"Are you temporary, or... ?" Alan quizzed.
"First officer, sir," Ballard informed him with a slight raise of his eyebrows. "A bomb would normally rate but one Commission Officer as master and commander, sir, but rerated as a sloop, sir..."
"Ah, I see!" Alan nodded with a smile. He would have someone else to help with the navigation, and the watch-standing, which suited his indolent nature perfectly! "Did you turn over with her, sir, from her previous commission?"
"Came aboard to join four days ago, sir, just after she left the careenage," Ballard rejoined.
"Right, then," Lewrie said, digging into that side pocket for his precious orders. "Assemble ship's company, Mister Ballard."
"Aye, aye, sir," Ballard intoned with a sober mien.
It was thin audience Lewrie had to witness his reading-in. Two gangly midshipmen of fourteen or so, hopefully salty enough from being at sea since the usual joining age of ten or twelve; eight or nine boys dressed the usual "Beau-Nasty" he took for servants and powder monkeys; twenty or so hands from fifteen to forty dressed in blue and gray check calico and slop-trousers, plus the older men who affected cocked hats and longer frock coats with brass buttons who would be her holders of Admiralty warrants; the bosun, carpenter, cooper, sailmaker and gunner, and their immediate mates who were the ship's career professionals.
Alan read them his orders, savoring every mellifluous, ringing phrase which directed him "to take charge and command" of His Majesty's Sloop Alacrity. Finished at last, he rolled up the document and retied the ribbons, wondering if he should say else.
"I am certain," he began, looking down at their hopeful faces peering back up at him from the waist amidships, "that many of you came up on blood and thunder in the recent war, as did I. Service in a ship in peacetime may not hold the ever-present threat of battle. We may have more time for 'make-and-mend,' more 'Rope-yarn Sundays.'
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