The King's Commission by Dewey Lambdin Page B

is he, Lewrie? More tripe and trullibubs upstairs to match the suet down below. What sort of chance do you think Claghorne had in command of a crew that knew him for a man who once was forced to strike? Whether or not there was a chance to fight that privateer, he was in command, and his decision was correct,
simply because he was a senior officer, do you comprehend that, Lewrie? You disobeyed him!”
    â€œSo you’d rather be dead or in chains, sir?” Alan demanded.
    â€œDamn you to hell, sir!” Kenyon spat. “Have you learned no shame, no sense of guilt for what you have done? You cost a good man his life.”
    â€œI saved yours, and every man-jack aboard, sir,” Alan retorted. “Besides, Claghorne was ready to strike as soon as he saw that brig, and nothing you or anyone else could have said would have changed his mind, and not doing everything in one’s power to prepare a ship to fight, or offering no resistance when there’s a chance to do so is cowardice, at least a court-martial offense on one charge, sir. But we did offer resistance, and I proved that resistance was possible, so Claghorne should have been strung up, or cashiered. Now it’s not my fault Sir Onsley gave that fatuous clown Parrot, sir. Had he given it a little thought, he would have known it was a death sentence, and …”
    â€œGod, I knew you were base, but I had no idea you were such a cold-blooded, dissembling hound, Lewrie!” Kenyon marveled. “Had the colors still been flying, your resistance would have resulted in every man-jack, as you put it, slaughtered with cold steel. And to smear a good man’s name, to call him a clown, a fatuous clown … I once thought highly of you, Lewrie. I asked for you in Parrot. I took you under my aegis when I saw how you were floundering about those first weeks in Ariadne. I’d like to think that what little you have learned about the Navy was partly my doing.”
    â€œIt is, sir, believe me.”
    â€œI gave you my trust,” Kenyon went on, his heart almost breaking as the enormity of Alan’s perceived sins overwhelmed his anger. “I brought you up from a seasick younker, taught you, gave you room to grow as a seaman, gave you responsibility, and I thought you were growing into a fine young man. But then you let me down so badly.”
    â€œI am sorry you see things that way, sir.” Alan calmed, knowing he would not be able to get through Kenyon’s screen of bile with any logic. “But I was technically second in command of Parrot at the time, and had a responsibility to do everything I could to prevent us being taken. Lord Cantner’s knowledge of government secrets, their persons, the ship’s people …”
    â€œDon’t cloak your actions in any false sense of duty,” Kenyon snapped, back in rancor again. “I told you in my letter I’d not abide you in my presence, nor in my Navy, and I meant it.
There’s a vile streak to you that belongs in the gutter, not strutting about a quarterdeck as a junior warrant. Now I’m first officer into this ship, I shall make sure you serve her, and the Fleet, no longer than necessary.”
    â€œAnd satisfactory performance at my duties could not alter your resolve, sir,” Alan sighed, steeling himself to use his ammunition.
    â€œNot a whit, Lewrie. I mean to see you cashiered, or broken to ordinary seaman and sent forward in pusser’s slops.”
    â€œThat’s devilish unfair, sir.”
    â€œNot to my lights it ain’t.”
    â€œThere are other officers who think highly of me in this ship, sir,” Alan countered. “Your intent will look like persecution.”
    â€œI’ve been in the Navy ten years longer than you, Lewrie, I can find a way, believe me,” Kenyon promised with a lupine grin that lit his countenance for a bleak moment. “And when you are broken, I’ll shed a martyr’s