Watho: A Novel of Gal ... by Bob Nelson - Episode 19

The Southern Sea – February 3282

Gods! It was so wonderful to see Hawk gliding to the pier! My heart was near to bursting at the sight of her.

On arriving in Chendan, Captain Kindred had gone for news from the Harbormaster, and explained to us that after the Embassy's departure to Vaisilo, Hawk had begun a program of three to five day patrols between visits to Chendan for news of the Embassy. We had to wait two days... but here she was!

Gorgeous... magnificent...

"Permission to come on board!" I shouted the words; I was so very happy to be coming back aboard.

"Permission granted, Ensign Fochen... and welcome home!" called Lieutenant Thoinen, who was apparently Officer of the Deck.

"I must see the Captain immediately, Sir," I said when we released each other from our embrace.

Lieutenant Thoinen looked at me oddly.

"I carry dispatches from the Ambassador," I explained.

"Ah!" he acknowledged. "Is there anything I might expedite?"

I nodded at Corporal kinVoren, who had followed me up the gangway. "Our squad will be coming aboard... including our mounts...."

The lieutenant nodded. He did not know what was going on, but it was surely the Lady's business, so the "already in the air when asking 'how high' rule" applied. "I'll get things under way, while you report to the Captain."

Report to the Captain... The words were pure honey. I was back aboard Hawk! I was home!

There were two marines on guard at the door to the Captain's cabin, as always. I held up an envelope. One of the marines rapped discretely, opened the door a few fingers, and announced, "Ensign Fochen, with dispatches, Sir!" Then he closed the door.

A few seconds later, Captain Crain called for me to be admitted. I entered and came to attention. The Captain was seated at the table/desk, with a spray of documents arrayed about him. He held out his hand, and I gave him the three envelopes that Lady Wubi had instructed me to give him. I had several others, for other circumstances.

"Sit down, Ensign, while I read," he said, gesturing to the bench along the forward side of the table. I sat.

He finished reading... and then sat a long moment, just staring at the letters. Then he looked at me, with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. "It appears that you have done honor to the Navy, Master Fochen!"

I flushed bright red, of course.

"And now," Captain Crain went on, "we must find a way to live together on a voyage to Donor..." He gave me a moment to consider the implications. My mission was to carry letters to the King of Donor... but that would be at the end of a voyage that might last several months. I had assumed that I would again be Lieutenant Kolenter's second for those months... but suddenly I realized that my relations with Hawk could not be so simple. "We must already be in the air when we ask, 'How high, my Lady?' the Captain had said. And now I represented the Lady.

"Might I just be Lieutenant Kolenter's second, Sir?" I asked, far too plaintively. "Until we arrive at Donor?" I suddenly had a vision of myself as a passenger on Hawk. The vision made me sick.

The Captain waved the letters at me. "You could claim my cabin and all the comforts, Master Fochen..."

"Please, Sir," I pleaded, trying to strike a balance between dignity and desperation. "All I want is to be Lieutenant Kolenter's second... Once we arrive at Donor, I'll take on the other mission..."

The Captain reflected for a moment.

"Please step outside, Ensign, and find Lieutenant Kolenter for me. Then stay nearby while he is with me."

The lieutenant was in his cabin, also facing a stack of paper. "Welcome back, Fochen!" he said with a warmth that did a great deal to restore my flagging spirits. And when I told him the captain wanted to see him, he added with a sigh, "Riner is gone, you know... We got a dispatch from Bandar calling him back, to take command of Flash – she's a sister to your Dart. So now I'm First, and I had no idea how many details old Riner had to handle all the time!" He shrugged. "But I guess it would be very bad form to complain, now wouldn't it? ... ... Do you know what the Captain wants?"

"Ummm... ah... No, Sir..." I stumbled over my own tongue. "I handed him the dispatches from Lady Wubi -- I am to be her messenger to Donor. And then I asked to return to my old berth as your second... Sir..."

Lieutenant Kolenter breathed deeply, and grimaced. "I see..." He shook his head in exaggerated sadness. "The officer roster wasn't complicated enough. Now we have to slot you in somehow! I can hear the Captain already, asking me why I was not already prepared for this." He looked into the distance for a few seconds, his frown smoothing to a small smile. "Do you know, Fochen... With your few minutes forewarning... I may be able to survive this encounter!"

He gestured for me to follow him, as we returned to the Captain's cabin. As the Captain had instructed, I waited at the foot of the ladder while he went in. The marine guards observed me without curiosity.

After perhaps five minutes, Lieutenant Kolenter's voice called, "Fochen!"

I entered and braced to attention. The Lieutenant was seated opposite the Captain. He gestured to the place beside him. "Sit," he commanded. I sat.

"Do you see the problem that your reintegration among Hawk's officers presents, Master Fochen?" the Captain asked. His voice was soft, requiring the listener to strain to hear. Captain Crain was of very modest height and breadth. "Unimpressive" was the very best that one might say of him. He had decided, everyone understood, not to swim against that current. To add to his modest appearance, he spoke modestly, and dressed modestly. He obviously believed that acts would speak for him... and they did.

"Yes, Sir," I answered. I had had time to think, while going for Lieutenant Kolenter, and then waiting to be called into the Captain's wardroom. "I presume that Master Kolenter has Midshipman Parenter as Second Officer on Watch, Lieutenant Shoinin has Midshipman Ach'Ahim, and... Ensign Wainterin, acting lieutenant and Third Watch commander would get me as his Second. That might be difficult, considering my upcoming role as the Ambassador's messenger." I sighed. It would be simpler to keep me on the side, as a passenger.

"Do you have a solution, Ensign?" asked the Captain.

I shook my head. "No, Sir. I do not. Wainterin is a good officer. It would be a cruelty to shackle him to 'the Ambassador's protege'. Everyone would wonder who is really 'senior'."

The Captain agitated one of Lady Wubi's letters. "The Ambassador says that you have done very well, in two very different circumstances." He phrased the statement like a question, requiring a reaction.

"Yes, Sir," I said, following the time-honored rule for junior officers in the presence of senior officers: Keep it simple!

"She says you acquired a great deal of prestige, with the Wathot," the Captain continued.

"She would know better than I, Sir. She had more varied contacts with them."

"You were wounded while saving the life of a very high personage."

"Yes, Sir."

"And that was your second success...

"Yes, Sir."

"She proposes that you be breveted to lieutenant."

I did not gasp. My jaw did not hit the table. My heart may have stopped, but only briefly.

"That is kind of her, Sir." I was tremendously proud of my self-discipline! I wanted to jump up and dance around the cabin... but I sat there stolidly...

"Can you handle Hawk, Master Fochen? Officer of the Watch, with Ensign Kort as your second? In a Southern Ocean gale?"

I breathed deeply, eyes almost closed, imagining Hawk's deck during that storm on the run south from Bandar. "Yes, Sir... " And in truth, I was quite confident that I could. I had often stood watch in Dart, including a few stints as an acting ensign, including time as Officer of the Deck. I had learned a great deal about being an officer during my short previous duty in Hawk. I knew that if I got close to my limits, I would feel at ease in calling on the Captain, and that he would understand my doing so.

The three of us were still for a few seconds, as though something significant had just occurred... and then the Captain stirred himself. He broke the spell, but it seemed to me that his breaking it only confirmed that it had existed.

"Do you have a set of pips to lend to Master Fochen?" Captain Crain asked of Lieutenant Kolenter.

"Yes, Sir."

"And, Fochen... I want you to continue wearing that crown." The Captain glanced at my right collar.

I tried mightily to hide my distress – my pain – but he saw them.

"You are in the first circle of a woman who is in the first circle of the Duke, Master Fochen. You will leave our company in Donor, then rejoin us for the voyage back here to Chendan, and then... ... who knows? Perhaps the Lady will have returned to Chendan, her mission complete, and you will be returned to Hawk... But just between you and me, I think it far more likely that you will take the road back to Vaisilo, and a future that is much less clear.

"I just want to be in Hawk," I said quietly, trying for "sincere" but surely coming out "plaintive".

"Do you suppose that that young woman, who has a Barony in turmoil, wants to be in Vaisilo as the Duke's ambassador? Do you suppose that your Lord Brantwall would choose to have his young wife and himself where they are?"

"I have never met the Duke, Master Fochen, but I have met a few of 'his people'... They have one character trait in common: they set their own lives behind their duty to those who depend on them. I am sure that very few of the people who live along the border with Watho even know of Lady Wubi's embassy... but she knows that if she fails many of those people will die... and therefore she will do everything in her power to succeed. That would include sending a bright-eyed young Navy ensign – lieutenant – into danger."

We sat for a few seconds.

"Can you imagine that lieutenant not accepting whatever mission she might give him, Master Fochen? Even if that mission takes him away from his ship? Could he do less than she has done in leaving her Barony?"

"No, Sir," I whispered, sick at heart.

"I understand that you spoke with Lord Brantwall about the battle at the bridge."

I was vaguely aware of surprise, somewhere in the back of my mind. When, how and why had my captain learned about that? But I was too crestfallen to think clearly. I nodded.

"Perhaps he could help you with your 'burden of duty', as well," the Captain continued. "He carries an even heavier load, accompanying the woman he loves into danger. You might want to talk to him about what is important in life."

"Yes, Sir," I said numbly. I wasn't thinking any more. One thought filled my mind: I was going to lose Hawk. And that thought made me ill.

§      §      §

Some time later I became aware that I was sitting on the chair in my cabin, with a set of lieutenant's pips in my hand. Lieutenant Kolenter had guided me to his cabin and then to mine, and then left me to breathe a bit.

The cries of Hawk's company reached through my fog: we were about to leave Chendan harbor. I stirred myself, needing to be on deck to observe the maneuver. It was a good need, rising up from deep inside me: the ship was taking to the sea, and I had to be there!

There was a jug of water, kept half-full by the lieutenants' orderly, and latched to my little table/desk to prevent spillage. I splashed some water on my face to get my brain working. The pips were still in my hand, so I took off the single ensign's pip and put on the lieutenant's pair. I stood and breathed deeply. I took a few seconds to put in mind what I was about to do. It was simple to go up on deck... but it seemed a great and arduous task at that moment.

I would run into the other officers. The ensigns, whom I had "jumped", moving from least senior ensign to lieutenant. I repeated to myself – several times – that the promotion was merited. That I was now senior, and deserving of their respect.

Good luck with that.

I had just closed my cabin door, and was turning toward the ladder to the deck, when I heard Ensign Wainterin: "Well! There you are, Fochen! I heard that you'd come back to us, but no one has seen you since, and I didn't see your gear in our bunk..."

Wainterin was a good man. A good officer-in-the-making. Five years my elder and four years my senior in date of commission.

As I turned to him, I saw his eyes flicker to the door I had just closed, and then back to my face... or rather just below my face, to my collar.

His face broke into a grin, and I felt a wave of relief. "Well, now, Lieutenant Fochen!" He extended his hand for a congratulatory hand-shake. "You must have been busy these last few weeks!" He looked at the bandages that still wrapped my left forearm. "Something messy, it looks like!"

"Uh..." I was tongue-tied. Grateful for his acceptance, and now not knowing what to say.

"Come on... Sir..." he said, leaning heavily on the honorific. "We have to watch your old boss take us out."

He scrambled up the ladder, leaving me a bit of time to gather myself. Wainterin had accepted me! He had been something of a role model for me during my short time in Hawk: he was just an ensign like me, but he had been an acting lieutenant for long enough that he carried himself as one. He expected respect because he knew he had earned it. And now he had accepted my jumping past him! He would surely never know how much that meant to me.

There wasn't much to do, for Hawk's crew, in the first stages of leaving Chendan harbor. It was a fairly tight space, so maneuvering was left to the port's pilots, in company with the port's tugs. Visiting ship's crews were just to stand by until the locals finished their work!

Hawk was turned about, and towed to the harbor entrance. Massed batteries of catapults squatted on both jetties, starboard and port. It would not be fun to force this harbor!

"Let go the tops'ls," came the high-pitched voice of Midshipman Parenter. Apparently, Lieutenant Kolenter was going to let the boy take the ship out. It was a simple maneuver, once the tugs had lined us up with the passage between the breakwaters, but still... it was an honor for young Parenter. The sails came down from their furled position, hanging slack. The landsmen stood with braces in hand, waiting for orders.

The tugs let go their lines, and moved quickly out of Hawk's route.

"Brace the topsl's," called Parenter. The Bosun amplified with a thunderous "Heave there, lads!" and the lines from the deck to the ends of the yards went taught. The yards pivoted, bringing the sails across the wind. The sails filled; Hawk leaned over and was under way.

"At the wheel, course 180 degrees, if you please!" Jaime Parenter's voice almost broke with his excitement, but he hung on, fighting gallantly to repress the grin that threatened to overwhelm him.

Hawk was just clear of the breakwaters when Parenter called for the topgallant sails, and then for a course change to 215 degrees. The wind was from the southwest, as was the general rule here in the Southern Ocean, so we were close-hauled on the port beam.

"How do you feel the wind, Master Willder?" Midshipman Parenter asked the Navigator. "Is it steady enough to deserve the mains'ls, or shall we wait until we have tacked?" The language was not that of a thirteen-year-old boy, but Parenter had probably been rehearsing this speech since shortly after learning that he would have the deck during these maneuvers.

"I believe she would take the mains'ls, Master Parenter," answered the Navigator, returning the Midshipman's stilted language.

"Hands to the mainsl's!" called Parenter, as loudly as he could... but probably not loudly enough for the topmen to hear.

"Hands to the mainsl's!" bellowed Bosun Perinalitilis, more than loudly enough, and before long Hawk was flying along under nearly full sail, with only the topgallants and royals still furled.

Wainterin and I had said nothing during all this, being content to observe and imagine ourselves in the place of the midshipman. Without thinking about it, we had taken station behind the midshipman, to observe him as he observed the cloud of sail above us. They were taut enough for ordinary running. Any tauter would risk blowing them. Wainterin and I exchanged approving nods.

Midshipman Parenter walked to the wheelhouse to speak to the Quartermaster's Mate. We couldn't hear them, but we knew what he said: "Steady as you go, if you please... We shall hold this cap until we clear Cape Khortet."

Then the boy walked back to a spot a few paces astern of the mizzenmast, and just on the centerline. From there he could feel all the ship's motions, and see all her sails. That spot was always occupied by the Officer of the Deck. We could almost see Jaime Parenter's chest swell as he straddled the centerline and looked up into the cloud of sail above him.

I thought of Dart, and I wondered what Wainterin's first ship had been. This little episode – Hawk leaving Chendan – had been nothing at all. Routine. Wonderful.

§      §      §

Captain Crain rang the tiny brass bell that always sat near his plate, and silence fell instantly.

"First tonight, of course... I wish to welcome back among us our vagabond, Garid Fochen... who returns to us with an additional pip on his collar. I am not at liberty to recount the adventures that led to Master Fochen's brevet – and neither is he, let me insist! Those events are either under judicial secret or diplomatic secret. You will not pester him about them.

"I can tell you that Master Fochen demonstrated intelligence, enterprise, leadership, and personal courage... deserving of his brevet.

"So..." he finished, raising his mug, "a toast to Lieutenant Fochen!"

After the obligatory barrage of "Hear!" and "Health!", the Captain calmly added, "First will give you the new roster." Which Lieutenant Kolenter proceeded to do. As Third Lieutenant, I got Third Watch, with Ensign Moller Kort as my second. I didn't know him very well. About three years older than I, but if I remembered correctly, only a year senior in date of commission. Well... beginning at Midnight, we would have lots of time to get to know each other!

It goes without saying that "The Legend of Garid Fochen" spread through Hawk in a very few hours, despite the Captain's instructions to his officers. Corporal kinVoren saw to it.

§      §      §

I quickly adopted the rhythm appropriate to Third Watch, sleeping in the afternoon before dinner, and then in the morning, after going off duty. That left me awake over midday – we Ensigns and Lieutenants took our midday meal in the Officers' Wardroom – and at dinner. Our nighttime watch was an easy one, since we reduced Hawk's sails from dusk to dawn. We wanted our lookouts to have a bit of reaction time.

The biggest problem was sleepiness. Hawk was on a long reach, with little for the men to do. The Bosun's Mates ensured that Hawk was in perfect order... but after all, she had just been doing little five-day cruises for the last month. There just weren't any serious problems to be taken care of... and of course all the everyday work was done during daylight.

I allowed half the Watch to sleep at their stations, including either Kort or myself. Those who remained awake were charged with ensuring that... their fellows remained awake!

Kort proved to be hard to understand. He was polite, but reserved. I tried to launch a conversation several times, but was answered with monosyllables. Considering that I had made the effort, and that now it was up to Kort to do the same, I allowed our relations to continue on a strictly professional basis.

As of the second day out, Hawk adopted the usual routine of Marine training. I ensured that Corporal kinVoren and his squad were included, and I participated myself most days. It cut into my morning sleep time, but since the weather was good, I was getting quite a bit of sleep at night.

I was pleased to observe that I could hold my own with a shortsword... almost... against the Marines. I made sure that "my people" did not abuse their competence. Lorn Sartine, the Marine Lieutenant, was happy to have my people do shortsword instruction in exchange for more arbalete training.

"They're very proud to be 'The Messenger's Team', you know," Sartine told me. "Your people have bored the ears off everyone in the crew, telling about your deeds..."

The idea troubled me: 'my' people... I was one of "Lady Wubi's people". She was one of "the Duke's people". I spent a great deal of time, trying to grasp the implications of those words, but always feeling that I was missing something.

On the third morning we cleared Cape Khortet, and in the afternoon, while I was sleeping, Hawk tacked onto a due-west course that we hoped to follow for the next two weeks, until we would turn northward at Land's End, toward Donor.

Hawk was now close-hauled on the port quarter, with wind and swell moderate and steady. Ideal conditions for making speed. We piled on all canvas, including the royals. Rinn Willder, the Navigator, kept a close eye on the set of all that sail. In principle, it was up to him to give instructions for maintaining the ideal balance between filling the sails and keeping the hull horizontal. Fuller sails give a ship more power, and more speed... but the ship's hull is most efficient through the water when it is horizontal. A ship that is heeled far over loses steerage, so her nose wanders. That loses speed. So "trimming the ship" means finding the right angle of the sails to the wind.

Supposedly, the Navigator gave us watch officers advice. In fact, of course, it was a matter of honor for us to have the ship properly trimmed at all times, so as never to need his advice. Under good sailing conditions like we had in those fine Summer days of mid-February, trimming the ship required "only" constant attention to the braces. Once in a while the wind rose, requiring reefs to be taken, and one night Kort woke me to suggest taking in the royals entirely. He was right to wake me, because he was right about the royals. That was Kort: efficient and polite... but distant.

Lieutenant Kolenter drilled the ship's company at its battle stations every other afternoon. I was commander of the aft pipe-organs, eight on either side of the ship. Shoinin had the forward section. The most basic drill was: "unlimber, check safety lock, lower for load, load, raise for release 75 degrees, aim, remove safety lock, release"; and then, once the "battle" had begun, "lower for load, set safety lock, load, raise for release 75 degrees, aim, remove safety lock, release".

The weapon's greatest range was obtained with the tubes angled a bit above 45°, and as we closed with our target we would gradually raise the angle closer and closer to 90°, to have the bolts plunging on the enemy deck. A flat trajectory would allow enemy boarders to shelter behind their ship's gunnels. High-arcing bolts, plunging down almost vertically, would force the enemy to remain below decks until our own boarders were ready to go over.

So... "unlimber" meant releasing the hitching ropes that kept the pipe-organ tight against the gunnel, and remove the canvas cover that protected the weapon. "Check safety lock" meant verifying that the lock was set, so that the pipe-organ could not be released accidentally. "Lower for load" meant turning the two big handles attached to a worm-screw set, to pivot the pipe-organ from its nearly vertical storage position to nearly horizontal, apt to be loaded. "Load" mean not just setting a loaded magazine onto the weapon's carriage, but also locking it in place with four sliding bolts, two on each side.

"Raise for release 75 degrees" meant turning the handles in the other direction; to point the now-loaded pipe-organ up at its release angle, which was not necessarily 75°... might in fact be anything from 20° to 125°, because Hawk might be leaning toward or away from the target. It was my job to determine the angle. For that, I had a (very expensive) stereoscopic eyepiece – sort of like two horizontal rod-long periscopes. Parallax – the angle between the two branches – gave me the distance to the observed object. I had a table of correspondence among eyepiece angle and distance and pipe-organ angle... but it would be a very unwise pipe-organ commander who took the time to flip through the booklet in the midst of a battle... So I knew the tables by heart. Had learned them in Dart, in fact. Free-swinging rods attached to the fore and aft faces of each mast gave the ship's cant.

"Aim" was simpler than one might imagine: a slot on one side of the pipe-organ's carriage had to be aligned with the target. The weapon-captain turned a release-handle to allow the carriage to turn on its pivot, turned the pipe-organ to align the slot with the target, tightened the release-handle back down, and raised his hand to signal "ready". This "aiming" was not very accurate, but the whole point of the pipe-organ was to send over a spray of bolts. Precision was not required.

"Remove safety lock" and "RELEASE!" are fairly self-evident instructions, I think...

The purpose of these exercises was to make the crews as fast and as automatic as possible. In a battle, the men must hear their orders and execute them without thought. That means repetition. And repetition. And repetition. And repetition. ...

Ideally, we would have had live-release exercises at least once every five days. That meant setting out four barrels with canvas spread between them. Two of the barrels would have little sails, so that the canvas would be kept taught. The ship would sail back and forth, and around... at varying distances. Each pipe-organ magazine was loaded with just a single bolt to represent the whole volley, since almost all of the expensive little buggers would be lost.

But Hawk was on a mission: to rally Sheth, the "Summer Capital" of Donor, as quickly as possible. We could not take the time for live-release exercises. That was alright for the men – Hawk had done a great deal of live-release during her short cruises while waiting in Chendan.

The person who needed exercising the most was the novice: me. The men did the active work, raising and lowering the weapons, loading and unloading them... But the commander of the battery must observe everything, while ranging the enemy with the stereoscope and converting its information into elevation for the pipe-organs. But there was no real target... so Lieutenant Kolenter would shout a stereoscope reading to us (Shoinin up forward and myself) that we would translate into degrees of elevation for the pipe-organs.

The weapon-captains held both hands, joined, above their heads when the locks were set, brought them down during the "load, raise for release 75 degrees, aim" phases, and then raised them again, widely apart, when the locks were removed. I had to be sure that each of them went through these steps smoothly. The pipe-organs retained a huge amount of energy, with their twenty powerful springs; a mistake could easily result in injury or death among the weapon-crew.

I had two midshipmen, Pasharin and Dulass, to assist me. Truth be told, their purpose was to replace me if I went down. I gave each of them a group of pipe-organs to watch over – usually four on one side of the ship, since we would normally engage only on one side; but sometimes one middie on each side, when we drilled for an engagement against more than one adversary.

In any case, they also had to know how to command the pipe-organs as well as possible, in case I was out of action. So when I began to feel comfortable in my role as commander, I would only begin the exercise, before yelling, "I'm dead, Pasharin (or Dulass)! You're in command now!" And the lad would have to step up.

Seven days out, I noticed something that I hadn't thought about: the captains began to be at ease with the middies as commander. Using the stereoscope was easy, but converting its result into elevation for the pipe-organs required knowing the conversion tables by heart. The captains learned by experience that the midshipmen could do the job.

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