Free An Awkward Commission by David Donachie Page B

hard-bargain, immune to the kind of fighting wiles that were Michael’s trademark way of winning a scrap. Clipe was the kind of man who ignored such subterfuge, who stood up rock solid to the heaviest blow, so it had therefore come down to a contest of sheer determination not to give in, a toe-to-toe slugging match. Taberly, the lieutenant in charge of his division, had been the only officer aboard HMS Leander to back him – all theothers, commissioned and warrant on the 74-gun ship, had gone for the other man, who had a reputation which made him well worth a wager, thus the odds the lieutenant had managed to extract were showing him a handsome return. With crew it was mostly not money, but grog and tobacco that were used to bet; few of the original crew had any coin after weeks spent at anchor in Spithead, and the Griffins had been fetched aboard without being paid.
    ‘I will see you are rewarded once I have collected my winnings, O’Hagan. There’s a couple of gold coins coming your way, and I have the power to excuse you from duties for a few days to recover. See the surgeon, if he’s sober and you feel the need, and if the sot seeks to charge you for palliatives and the like, I will pay.’
    Taberly probably thought that Michael dropped his head in gratitude, but in fact he had done it so that the officer would not see the anger in his eyes, the desire to do to him what he had done to Clipe, whose partisans were around him trying to revive the poor sod. Charlie, who knew only too well what the Irishman was thinking, for he talked enough about it beforehand, dabbed harder with his piece of spirit-soaked tow than he should, which got him a curse in the Erse tongue. But he had done it for the best, for they had seen the grating rigged from the first day of coming aboard this ship, and Charlie knew that half the floggings witnessed had come from acts of common seamen talking without due respect to their officers.
    The fight need never have happened; sure he and Clipe had eyed each other on first acquaintance, as those of a certain ability with their fists always do, but the man was no more of a fool than his Irish counterpart. Michael was big and broad of shoulder and had the air of confidence that went with skill. Clipe could see an opponent that would hurt him, even if he was the victor in a contest, and withthe wisdom of someone with nothing to prove he had been warily friendly. But those denizens of the wardroom, led by the Premier, who seemed to take pleasure in seeing a man flogged, had grown disputatious regarding the abilities of certain crew members. One of the marine lieutenants knew Clipe from a previous commission, and the man had reputation enough to suggest that none could stand against him. It had been Taberly who had demurred, and suggested that there might be another aboard in his very own division who could more than hold his own.
    After only fourteen days at sea, and not so much as a sniff of a sail, friend or foe, many of the occupants of the wardroom professed themselves bored, fed up with cards, word games and the tunes played on the marine officer’s flute. A boxing bout, in the absence of dogs, bears or spurred cocks to set against each other, was just what the doctor ordered. Notwithstanding the fact that they were breaking half the rules laid down in the Articles of War, for both fighting and gaming were forbidden, they wanted a chance to engage in a spot of the latter too, as Taberly had explained to his chosen champion, experience a bit of stimulation.
    Reluctance on behalf of the principal meant little; the Premier ran the ship, for Captain Tucker was an indolent, if compliant, commander who might stir for an enemy warship or an admiral’s flag but not for much less. He kept to his cabin, his books, and his collection of rare butterflies and appeared on deck for no more than a quarter of an hour, twice a day. So when the First Lieutenant let it be known that a fight was required, the whole