Free Under the Jolly Roger: Being an Account of the Further Nautical Adventures of Jacky Faber by L. A. Meyer

wishing for a mirror, I'm strapped back in harness again, ready for whatever else happens.
    I step back into the midshipmen's berth and almost trip over two of the boys, as Ned and Tom had pulled their mattresses to the floor and are sound asleep outside my door, one to each side—I imagine they are there as protection for my own frail self.
My two Knights Errant.
Three, actually, as Georgie is curled up over there at the foot of the ladder.
Did you all swear mighty oaths on your knightly armor and intend to keep a watchful vigil over yon fair maiden? I am touched. How sweet.

    Robin Raeburne is asleep at the table, his head on his arms. There is a cup in front of him and I pick it up and sniff it and it smells strongly of rum.
Does it help you sleep, young Robin? Does it help make you forget where you are? If it does, then I shan't blame you for it.
    I quietly put the cup back down next to his hand and tiptoe past the sleeping boys and go out of the room, up the hatchway, and into the light.
    All on board expect me to hide. Therefore, I shall
not
hide.
    It looks to be a bright clear day with the sun coming up over France out there to port. I grab a ratline off the foremast and climb up into the rigging. I go up past the foretop and gain the fore royal yard and straddle it, looking out toward France.
    France seems to be a pleasant place, in spite of all the awful tales I have heard of it ever since I got old enough to listen. I had half-expected there to be ogres and trolls and other of Napoleon's minions hanging about, but instead there are gently rolling hills going off into the distance, marked with neat pastures and farmsteads. There are some inlets set into the coast with a few fishing boats coming out of them to set their nets. But they do not come out too far, I notice, as they know we are lurking out here. Back there, behind us and out of sight below the horizon, is England ... England and Ja—Judy. Back there is Judy, and I hope she managed to make do on the money I left her.
Hang on, Judy, till I get out of this mess and can get back to you.

    I look down at the
Wolverine
lying down there below. It is, as I suspected when first I caught a glimpse of it, a Brig-of-War, about a hundred feet long and twenty-five feet wide at the beam—which is half the size of the dear old
Dolphin.
Two masts instead of three. It probably carries about a hundred men and officers—one-quarter the number on the
Dolphin.
Looks to be eighteen cannon and they seem to be eighteen-pounders, and they are all right there on the top deck itself, not down on the second deck like on a frigate. I'll bet there's a Long Tom nine-pounder up front as a chaser and another in the stern.
    It's plain that the
Wolverine
is on blockade duty—helping to keep the French warship fleet bottled up in their harbors and disrupting the enemy's seagoing commerce by stopping smugglers. All for the good and glory of Britannia, she who rules the waves, at least for now. And forever, it is hoped.
    I look up at the sails and see that she is trim and the decks down below are scrubbed clean, so it is not a sloppy ship. My fear is that she is all spit and polish and not in fighting trim because that's a dangerous situation. I already feel, deep in my bones, that there are some things very,
very
wrong on this unhappy ship.
    Today is Sunday, so I expect there will be a muster of the crew and church, but I don't know. I will wait and see. I know from the smoke curling up from the cooking fires that the next watch is getting their breakfast, and so I slip back down to the deck to get me some. I duck down into the fore hatch and stride into the teeming mess deck. All heads lift up upon my entry and the hum of conversation stops dead. There is a low whistle from some cheeky cove, but that's it. I get a cup of tea and some johnnycake and I sit down across from a seaman seated at the long table. I am used to being the center of attention. Most times I like it.