Free The Torrid Zone (The Fighting Sail Series) by Alaric Bond Page A

crossing the line was so fixed in naval tradition that Banks knew he would have to make some concession. But to stop the ship, as was customary, and waste what would be the whole afternoon as well as both dog watches in tomfoolery went totally against the grain. And it wasn't as if the whole performance was nothing more than harmless fun; all knew that the various escapades were often used as a means for righting wrongs or getting even. Men frequently suffered minor injuries under the banner of horseplay, and there were tales aplenty of ceremonies aboard other ships that had ended in maimings and worse.
    “If you are considering inviting royalty aboard, sir, I'm sure the men would appreciate some notice.”
    Once more the master was right, much of the morning would also be lost to the absurd preparations; Banks felt plagued with bad luck – this voyage was turning out to be one of the worst he could remember.
    “Could we not simply hold a tournament of King Arthur?” he asked hopefully.
    Fraiser eyed him cautiously. Such a game, which required little preparation and hardly any risk, would indeed be a far easier alternative, but unlikely to satisfy men keen on one of their few official jollies. “Do you think the people would accept that, sir?”
    “I could combine it with an extra ration of beer,” Banks persisted. “And call a make and mend for the following afternoon?” 
    “It may serve, sir, but I feel they would not take to it,” Fraiser said softly. “No man chose to be sent south; all would far rather be in England at present and some might even say they had a right to be so. But as they are here, they will expect their traditions to be respected.”
    Banks knew Fraiser was correct, and even the presence of a hostile squadron somewhere to the north would not be excuse enough to cancel the event. He would have to abandon the day, give it over to folly and foolishness, just to appease a group of men who found pleasure in such banality. It was annoying, but a morose crew was that much worse and, despite the recent action, he had noticed certain signs of discontent which it would be prudent not to encourage. Yet again Banks was grateful to Fraiser for his guidance: the sailing master might not always be the most cheerful of company, but there was much wisdom stored in that wizened old face.
    “Very well, Mr Fraiser; I shall speak to the first lieutenant, and the men can elect a King, or whatever else they wish. You have been south before, I trust?” 
    “Oh yes, sir,” Fraiser assured him. “And yourself, sir?”
    “Indeed, master: more times than I care to remember.” Fraiser turned for the quarterdeck ladder once more, and it was only then that Banks remembered that it was Sarah's first deep sea voyage.
    * * *
    “I 'll have you know I've crossed the line more times than most aboard this ship,” Kate replied truculently as she shook out a freshly washed bandage and started to roll it expertly between her fingers. “And went through all that pollywog malarkey when I was but a child.”
    “Then you will have no reason to be involved,” Manning said softly, and with some relief. His wife was very much stronger now, but he still wished to avoid stressing her unnecessarily. “It will just be a few japes in the afternoon – you may watch if you wish, though much of it can be a little coarse.”
    “A little coarse?” She snorted. “I should say; my father was forced to break up such ceremonies in the past, and that was in a merchant ship with far less crew. And they did not have the access to alcohol that your Royal Navy finds so essential. It may have escaped notice, Robert, but we do not have the happiest of people aboard at present.”
    “The men are disappointed,” he replied. “Nothing more; there is no harm in them. We have both been aboard a ship where there was mutiny and I cannot say the feeling is the same.”
    “Oh the men respect their officers right enough, and much has improved since