Newly Made A Gentleman by Andrew Wareham

Author:Andrew Wareham [Wareham, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: PublishNation
Published: 2022-05-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

There was a busy traffic of boats across the harbour waters, men transferring between the ships of the squadron and shore craft coming out with fruit and local merchandise, turned away by Wrexham and Calliope, wise in the ways of the Tropics, selling at the sides of the others of the squadron.

“They will catch the fevers, Mr Cousens! Never let the bumboats come alongside in Yellow Jack waters!”

“They cannot really bring the miasmas with them, surely, sir.”

“I am not wholly convinced by the hypothesis of the miasma, Mr Cousens.”

Nick was rather proud of that sentence – it was not the sort of thing to be heard in the mouth of a vulgar hind, showed just how far he had risen in a few, short years.

“But, sir, it is generally accepted by the medical profession.”

“Not perhaps wholly so, Mr Cousens. In any case, many another theory has been postulated over the years and has been shown false. More will be yet, I do not doubt. Doctor Wemyss is one of those in the calling who believes that bodily contact, or breath perhaps, is a more likely means of spreading ailments. It is true that doctors will catch fevers more easily than the common run of mankind, and that can be explained by their making contact with the sick.”

“Ah, sir, there we have it! The sellers on the bumboats are not themselves sick – otherwise they would not be able to row their loaded boats out from the shore!”

Nick was forced to concede the point. The boats were commonly piled to the gunwales, demanded fit, powerful arms at the oars.

“Not to worry! We have not caught the fevers yet – still no more than the three with breakbone as yet. There goes Hogg, from Calliope, off to Juno. I can now leave you, Mr Cousens. I will not insult you with parting advice – you do not need it! I will say only that I hope Wrexham will be as good to you as she has been to me. A fine ship, the most excellent people! I shall remember her always!”

The words, addressed to Cousens, were meant for the crew, would be known to all of them within the hour. Nothing was private aboard a small ship.

The captain’s barge was alongside to carry Nick for a final time, Cousens’ own coxswain at the tiller.

“Smith Three, I see you are Captain Cousens’ man now.”

“Beg pardon, sir. Smith One, now, being as what I am, the names being changed.”

Nick made acknowledgement – he should have realised.

“You might give some thought to making your name Smythe.” He spelt it, to emphasize the difference. “Captain’s coxswain should not be one of the many Smiths, after all.”

“Might be, sir… Didn’t think o’ that… Might very well be, sir. Thank’ee, sir.”

It was an important decision, would involve discussion with Mr Zane, at minimum, but the suggestion made sense, bearing in mind the place Smith Three now held in the hierarchy.

Robbins gave a quiet murmur.

“Ready now, sir.”

The bowman hooked on to Calliope’s side and Robbins and McKay further grabbed firm hold of the manropes.

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