Free The King's Marauder by Dewey Lambdin Page B

crowed, a tad too loud and eager.
    “I will send your orders and active commission documents round your lodgings within a day or so,” Marsden told him, much relieved to have his problems solved. “Once in receipt, drop a note of hand by to pay for the fees.”
    There goes better than fifty pounds! Lewrie thought. Just like the first time he’d been made “Post” and appointed into the Proteus frigate back in 1797, he’d always had the droll idea that the quickest way to command of a ship would be to turn up at Admiralty with a full purse, and throw money at someone! The patents of his knighthood and baronetcy had cost a gruesomely high sum, too! Every honour bestowed by HM Government had a high price, one way or another.
    “Thank you, Mister Marsden,” Lewrie said, preparing to rise and depart. “I’ve spent too long on the ‘beach’, as has Westcott. Should I send him up straightaway, or have him wait ’til your calendar is…?”
    “Oh, send him up,” Marsden said, with a genial chuckle. “Saves a stamp, or a messenger’s time hunting up his lodgings. And I thank you, Sir Alan. It’s damned good of you to take on Sapphire, though you’ve proved yourself a most accomplished frigate captain, and had a long run in that class. Seniority demands, though, that men move up and on, sooner or later.”
    “Hey, sir?” Lewrie asked, wondering what Marsden was maundering about. Onward and upward, mine arse! he thought.
    “Why, Sapphire ’s a Fourth Rate, of the Antelope group. Quite modern, really,” Marsden said in gleeful praise, “re-fitted with iron knees, and metal fresh-water tanks. Last of her class built in 1792.”
    “A two-decker fifty-gunner?” Lewrie replied, trying very hard not to start kicking furniture.
    I’ve been had, by Christ! he fumed to himself; Is it too late t’beg off? Start limpin’, again?
    “I did not mention that? How remiss of me,” Marsden said with genuine regret. “Been on the job too long, I suppose. Can’t say that I won’t miss the office, but one does get older, and it is about time for a younger man to take my place of the First Lord’s, Lord Mulgrave’s, and the Prime Minister’s, choice.”
    “Oh, surely not, sir!” Lewrie exclaimed, feigning distress to hear that. “Won’t be the same with you gone.”
    “Oh, tosh, Sir Alan,” Marsden pooh-poohed, “I only fear that it will be. I’ve found that Admiralty grinds on in the same old way, century to century, ha ha! Again, sir, thank you for taking on Sapphire, and I wish you all success in your new command.”
    “Thank you, sir, and good day,” Lewrie replied, shaking the old fellow by the hand, then heading out.
    She’s a ship, an active commission, and full pay, Lewrie forced himself to think; Plaster “gladsome” on yer phyz, ye gullible clown, and look pleased with her! Even if she does turn out t’be Tom Turdman’s barge at Dung Wharf!
    He trotted down the stairs to the ground level and the crowd in the Waiting Room, looked towards Lt. Westcott, and smiled broader.
    “Good news, sir?” Westcott asked, rising to come meet him.
    “For both of us, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie told him, putting the best face on it. “ We have a ship! Sapphire, badly in need of both a Captain and a First Officer. I requested you, and we are both now employed!”
    “That’s tremendous, sir! Just grand!” Westcott loudly declared; loud enough to set many sets of teeth on edge among the un-employed.
    “The First Secretary wants t’see you for a few minutes,” Lewrie told him. “After your meeting, I’ll be in the courtyard, havin’ a tea. Mind,” Lewrie continued, in a softer voice as he walked with Westcott to the foot of the stairs, “she ain’t a frigate. She’s a fifty-gunner, lyin’ at the Nore.”
    Westcott made a faint moue of disappointment, but cheered up a second later, drolly saying, “The First Officer in a Fourth Rate gets a shilling or two more a day than the First in a Fifth Rate,