8_2

Captain Fellows was a tall heavily built man with a ruddy complexion and startling green eyes. As de Hogue stepped forward he offered his hand, neatly overcoming the possible embarrassment of their difference in rank. This was noted by the crew of course, who looked to each other with knowing glances and a few raised eye brows.
They knew something was afoot but so far only rumours were abound.
Fellows dismissed Johnson and led his two guests into the Captains cabin. Situated at the rear of the ship, this compartment was the only place of any real comfort below deck. Its vast curving windows brought in plenty of light and it had its own private convenience. Adjacent to it was a smaller pair of rooms, which Captain Fellows set at their disposal.
“Feel free to use the closet when ever you wish” he told Melchior, who received this gift in ignorant bliss. He had no idea that the rest of the crew used the ships head. De Hogue smiled at Melchior’s willingness to be pleased, and as Fellows rang the bell for his man servant, he examined the two thirty two pound carronades which sat on either side of the cabin and were braced against the ships motions.
“Ever fired a thirty two pounder?” Fellows asked.
“Not a carronade,“ de Hogue shook his head. “A cannon aye, but we never had carronades on the Vanguard.”
“They’re regular smashers!” Fellows grinned boyishly.
The cabin door opened and a long heavy faced man entered the room.
“Adams. Bring us something wet!” the Captain turned to his guests, “What’ll you take gentlemen?”
Both men were willing to be introduced to some thing new and Fellows ordered up a bottle of his favourite claret. As soon as it had arrived, in silver goblets, and set aside on the large heavy table under the elegant curving window. Fellows sat in his easy chair and gave him self to listen as de Hogue outlined Baileys plan.
“The Alert will be with us this afternoon. Billy Ratcliff has her now, and he’s a reliable man. He’ll follow your plan to the letter. These smugglers won’t know what’s hit em!”
They drank to the success of the plan, and then climbed up onto the quarterdeck where the wind had turned cold.
“This is a fine breeze” Fellows sniffed at the sky. “Let’s hope it remains thus”
He turned to the Master and gave the order to cast her loose.
“Take us out into the road if you please Mister Doyle”
Doyle turned to the main mast and began shouting out orders in a thundering voice and all along the waist of the ship, came the tramp of many feet. Melchior and de Hogue were standing aft of the capstan and from below, where it intersected the deck, came the cry; “Heave Ho!” They both moved aside as the crew swarmed up to take their positions.
“Around she goes!” the same voice yelled, and at once the men pressed against the arms they had slotted into the capstan head. Slowly at first, then with a rush, the anchor was lifted from the soft sludge of the Thames estuary, its heavy rope coming aboard in a long stinking movement to be instantly stowed below.
“All hands prepare to make way!” Doyle roared. “Fore and main top gallants first!”
Melchior found himself brushed aside by more men than he had imagined the ship able to hold and he turned to de Hogue as they dodged yet more sailors who rushed up the mizzen lines.
“How many men does this ship carry?”
“It varies” de Hogue replied, “but she looks to be well manned, so I’d guess about a hundred and eighty souls all told.”
“One hundred and seventy four.” Lieutenant Johnson said as he appeared by their side.
“So many?” Melchior replied in wonder. “But the ship is so small!”
“One hundred and twenty six feet on the gun deck” Johnson replied. “And thirty one feet and eight inches broad, amidships.”
Melchior shook his head in puzzlement.
“But where do they all sleep?”
“Oh we make do in the Navy Sir” Johnson laughed. “The hands sleep below, each man having his allocated space.”
“But, they must be packed in like.. like… “ Melchior shrugged unable to think of any suitable example.
Johnson smiled and made to reply but was called away by Captain Fellows.
“It’s fairly cramped on the lower deck” de Hogue replied, “But that’s a blessing on a cold night believe me”Melchior remembered the recent cold nights he had spent on Saint Albans and made no comment. The point was well made.

Several hours later, as the ship made its slow way out of the river and onto the sea, they were joined by the smaller, twenty gun, HMS Alert, and Captain Ratcliff, her commanding officer, made his way across to the larger ship.
Since he was not a Post Captain, but only a Commander, Ratcliff was automatically lower in rank to Captain Fellows, but still higher in naval regard than de Hogue. Unused to the often transparent distinctions with regards to civilian rank, he bowed to de Hogue but reserved his hand.
As soon as custom allowed, Ratcliff was allowed by custom to regard the ship for a few minutes, they retired below where de Hogue, once again went over the plan. This time in great detail with maps and charts lay out across the table.Melchior listened at first, but gradually his attention became more and more abstracted and eventually he excused himself and took a turn up on the deck. The stars were already beginning to show in the darkening sky and he made his way to the stern to watch the wake of the ship stretching out behind them. They were now far out to see and the coast was only the dimmest of lines, only really visible because of the few lights along it.