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    Captain Rundel I - Trafalgar and Beyond (book 6 of 9 of the Rundel Series)
    Captain Rundel I - Trafalgar and Beyond (book 6 of 9 of the Rundel Series)
    Captain Rundel I - Trafalgar and Beyond (book 6 of 9 of the Rundel Series)
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    Captain Rundel I - Trafalgar and Beyond (book 6 of 9 of the Rundel Series)

    By N. Beetham Stark

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    This is book six of the nine book series, set in the years 1803-1806. Ben endures blockade duty and finds a novel way to overcome the boredom suffered by his crew. He is aboard the H. M. S. Victory under Admiral Lord Nelson. He and Tom survive the Battle of Trafalgar and see their hero, Lord Nelson fall and die.

    Ben helps get the fallen Admiral back to London for burial. He is put in charge of the Navy’s part of the funeral and the procession of barges that take the Admiral’s body to St. Paul’s for the funeral service. Ben is determined to meet his lady love, Annie, there. He is certain that she will sing for the funeral service. He spots her and manages to run her down after the long service. They share a supper together and spend the next 24 days together. They are most happy in one another’s company and Ben gives her a ring and they are engaged.

    Ben, who has finally received his captain’s rating, is sent off to inspect the coastal Martello Towers to see if they are properly manned and ready for any surprise attack from the French.

    Ben says ‘goodbye’ to Annie as he heads off on his next assignment. He is to sail to the Pacific to check out the resources on the continent of North America to see if there is anything there that the British may want when peace finally comes and the treaties are signed. It is the same time that the Lewis and Clark Expedition sets out to explore the west coast.

    Ben leaves his ship with only twenty men afoot. They push far inland in what is now Oregon and encounter both friendly and warlike natives. They are captured and their goods taken. The delay sets them back and after escaping at night they are caught in a mountain blizzard.

    Nearly starved and half dead, they finally return to their ship to find that the crew has mutinied and all now lay drunk on the decks, his officers imprisoned. Ben and his men summon up the energy to reclaim the ship and head back home.

    Ben suffers a brutal blow when he arrives at London and finds that ‘His Annie’ has vanished without a trace. There are no letters, no sign of her and the Opera Company is destitute at her loss. He leaves on another assignment to the Caribbean, but his heart is no longer in being a captain and sailing the seven seas.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherN. Beetham Stark
    Release dateJun 15, 2011
    ISBN9781458015341
    Captain Rundel I - Trafalgar and Beyond (book 6 of 9 of the Rundel Series)
    Author

    N. Beetham Stark

    Nellie Beetham Stark was born November 20, 1933, in Norwich, Connecticut to Theodore and Dorothy Pendleton Beetham. She attended the Norwich Free Academy and later Connecticut College in New London, CT before graduating with a MA and a Ph.D. degree in Botany (Ecology) from Duke University.Stark worked for the U.S. Forest Service as a botanist for six years and then joined the Desert Research Institute in Reno, Nevada where she worked on desert and forest ecology and later tropical nutrient cycling. She has consulted in many countries, working for some time in Russia, Australia and South America. She developed the theory that explains why tropical white sand soils cannot grow good food crops and described the decline processes of soils. She has also developed a science of surethology, or survival behavior which describes how humans must adapt to their environments if they hope to survive long term. She has 96 professional publications and has published in four languages.Her life long hobby has been English history, with emphasis on naval history. Her family came originally from Tristan Da Cunha in the South Atlantic in the early 1900’s. Her grandfather was a whale ship captain for a time which spurred her interest in naval history. She also paints pictures of sailing ships which she has used as covers for her historical novels. She has built several scale models of sailing ships and does extensive research on ships and naval history, traveling to England once yearly.Stark was awarded the Connecticut Medal by Connecticut College in 1986 and the Distinguished Native Daughter Award for South Eastern Connecticut in 1985. She was named outstanding Forestry Professor three times by the students of the University of Montana, School of Forestry.Today she writes historical novels, mostly set in England. She has published some 21 novels in the past twenty years, mostly on the internet. She lives on a farm in Oregon and raises hay and cows.Stark's two most popular book series are:Early Irish-English History1. The Twins of Torsh, 44 A.D. to 90 A.D.1. Rolf "The Red" MacCanna, 796-8462. An Irishman's Revenge, 1066-11124. Brothers 4, 1180-12165. Edward's Right Hand, 1272-13076. We Three Kings, 1377-1422The Napoleonic Wars at Sea (Benjamin Rundel)1. Humble Launching - A Story of a Little Boy Growing Up at Sea, 17872. Midshipman Rundel - The Wandering Midshipman, 17953. Mediterranean Madness - The Luckless Leftenant Rundel, 17974. The Adventures of Leftenant Rundel, 1797-17995. Forever Leftenant Rundel, 1800-18036. Captain Rundel I – Trafalgar and Beyond, 1803-18067. Captain Rundel II – Give Me a Fair Wind, 1806-18098. Captain Rundel III – Bend Me a Sail, 1810-18139. Admiral Rundel – 1814-1846

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      Book preview

      Captain Rundel I - Trafalgar and Beyond (book 6 of 9 of the Rundel Series) - N. Beetham Stark

      Captain Rundel I

      Trafalgar and Beyond

      An Historical Novel of the Sea

      by N. Beetham Stark

      * * * * *

      Discover other titles by N. Beetham Stark at

      Smashwords.com or at NBeethamStark.com.

      Captain Rundel I: Trafalgar and Beyond

      Book 6 in the Benjamin Rundel Series

      Written by N. Beetham Stark

      Copyright 2010 by N. Beetham Stark

      Cover art by N. Beetham Stark

      Published by Smashwords, Inc.

      ISBN 978-1-4580-1534-1

      All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form

      without the written permission of the author or trust agents.

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

      * * * * *

      Dedication: This book is dedicated to Tintagon, Tarsie and Picatso and our mutual friend, P.P.

      History builds a bridge to the past and plots a way to the future which we dare not lose lest we fall into an abyss of ignorance.

      N. Beetham Stark

      Acknowledgements

      The author is indebted to the Royal Naval Museum, the National Maritime Museum, The Maritime Trust and the Lancaster Maritime Museum for information used in reconstructing the historical events in this novel. Authors such as C.S. Forester, Dudley Pope, Alexander Kent and Patrick O’Brien stirred my interest in stories of naval adventures. Nelson’s Captains by Ludovic Kennedy, Nelson by David Walder, The Illustrated Companion to Nelson’s Navy by Nicholas Blake and Richard Lawrence, and Nelson’s Battles by Nicholas Tracy were all invaluable in providing insights into the life of seamen of the times.

      The Benjamin Rundel Series by N. Beetham Stark

      This is the sixth in a series of nine books centered around the life of an orphan, Benjamin Rundel, a fictitious character who relates history to the reader as he might have experienced it himself. The complete series includes:

      Humble Launching - A Story of a Little Boy Growing Up at Sea, 1793

      Midshipman Rundel - The Wandering Midshipman, 1795-1802

      Mediterranean Madness - The Luckless Leftenant Rundel, 1797-1801

      The Adventures of Leftenant Rundel, 1797-1799

      Forever Leftenant Rundel, 1800-1803

      Captain Rundel I – Trafalgar and Beyond, 1803-1806

      Captain Rundel II – Give Me a Fair Wind, 1806-1809

      Captain Rundel III – Bend Me a Sail, 1810-1813

      Admiral Rundel – 1814-1846

      See NBeethamStark.com for information on how to find all of the books in the Rundel series, as well as Stark’s other works.

      Table of Contents

      Acknowledgments

      Introduction

      Chapter 1 - Blockade Duty

      Chapter 2 - Cat and Mouse

      Chapter 3 - Trafalgar and to Hell and Back

      Chapter 4 - The Storm

      Chapter 5 - London and Lord Nelson’s Funeral

      Chapter 6 - The Sea Fencibles

      Chapter 7 - Captain Rundel - Sailing to Ecstasy - Annie Sutherlin

      Chapter 8 - Savages in a Wild Country

      Chapter 9 - Mutiny in Aragon

      Chapter 10 - Sailing a Sea of Delusion

      Chapter 11 - Search and Seize

      Chapter 12 - The Trebuchet

      About the Author

      About the Book

      Introduction

      Benjamin Rundel began as an orphan who ran away from the orphanage and stowed away aboard the HMS Faithful because he longed to go to sea. He spends many years sailing the seas as yeoman seaman, then able-bodied seaman, carpenter’s assistant, surgeon’s mate, midshipman and finally leftenant. His tour as leftenant has seemed especially arduous and long to him and he yearns for a chance at a captain’s commission. Ben distinguishes himself in many ways during his early career, by capturing three pirate ships and sailing them into Bridgetown Harbour with only ten men, by serving as acting captain aboard the Gadfly when he discovers that her captain is incompetent, and by saving his crewmen from death from fevers with herbal treatments used by the natives of the Caribbean. But as a commoner and one with no family to help, he stands little chance of making post captain. The first five books of this series cover his early life at sea.

      In this book, he serves during the Battle of Trafalgar and assists with the preparations for Lord Nelson’s funeral. After the funeral he is assigned to inspect the coastal fortifications of the Sea Fencibles, once under the command of Lord Nelson. In the meantime, he has finally met the one woman that he can love, Annie Sutherlin, an opera singer.

      Then it happens! He is promoted to post captain. He knows that it will take many years to work his way up the list of captains, but he can wait, now that he has his title and his Annie. He spends twenty-four wonderful days with her, promising to return as soon as he can, but duty draws him far to the west. The Admiralty wants to know more about the resources of the great western continent of America which at the time was largely uninhabited. They expect to face peace negotiations soon and they want to know if there is anything there that England wants. Ben is sent on a long journey and has to face down a mutiny when the men assume that he has been killed by local Indians. His friend, Tom Murphy, is there at his side, an ever-friendly, smiling source of inspiration to Ben.

      When he returns to England, he finds that his Annie has mysteriously disappeared, leaving him no word of her whereabouts. Ben buries himself in work and finds himself facing capture of a Spanish garrison when a storm comes up and his ship is driven far out to sea. He is stranded and must fight to win or die. He resurrects some ancient technology to help him conquer the garrison. The irony of the situation becomes evident when no English port will allow him to land his Spanish prisoners who are plagued by fever.

      Note that some of the dialog and recounting of historical events are paraphrased from various writings from the era and have been used to make the presentation as historically correct as possible. In some cases, Lord Nelson’s own words are recounted here as recorded by various historians from the time. One example is his prayer before the Battle of Trafalgar. Words thought to have been uttered by Captain Thomas Hardy and others are also used as direct quotes, when they are available. There is no way that I could produce a more accurate sense of destiny and feeling for the trauma of the times than to use the words of England’s greatest naval heroes of the era.

      I have tried to recreate the agony of two years at sea on blockade duty as truthfully as possible. This is history told through the eyes of two fictitious characters. Rundel and Murphy. I show how some officers made that time more bearable for the common sailor and how simple things like a good meal could make a huge difference in the behaviour of men. While all this makes for a slow beginning of the book, the reader is soon immersed in violent battle complete with choking smoke, flying splinters and deafening sound in Chapter 3 when the English finally engage the Franco-Spanish Fleet. It is unfair to those men who had to endure the long blockade to try to play down the effect that ‘waiting’ had on them. The reader needs to suffer a bit with the men of the day if he or she is to truly understand the history of early 1800’s England. As you read, remember that there is a good chance that one of your ancestors was aboard one of the fifty or so ships that fought that fatal battle. Suffer with him and let history come to life for you.

      It is because of the events that took place here in England during the Napoleonic Wars that we Americans do not today speak French!

      Chapter 1 - Blockade Duty

      Leftenant Benjamin Rundel stood quietly behind a stanchion below decks on the HMS Victory 105. They had been at sea continuously now for over nine months. Soon after arriving in the Defiance 74 they had been transferred to the Amphion and then to the Victory 105, which was Admiral Nelson’s flag ship as Commander of the Mediterranean Fleet. There had been little action in these first nine months. They captured a Dutch merchantman that was bent on making some huge profits by running the British blockade to take supplies to Napoleon’s troops, but that was the extent of the action. They spent endless days tacking or wearing ship guarding a 200 mile section of the French coast. There were several other ships of the British fleet out there too, all doing the same thing, tacking and wearing endlessly, a sea dance of utter boredom.

      The supply ship had just released her cables and headed off to sea. She left them four bulging canvas bags of mail, mostly for the sailors. But some men never received mail. Ben had been watching Wiggins, Swift, Moorehead and Wallace now for several weeks. They were in his division and midshipman Wilkins came forward just yesterday with concerns about these four men.

      When mail call was over, Ben followed the four into the hold. He had seen them often retreating to the hold during their dog watches. It was high time he found out what they were up to. But what he saw before him in the dim light of the chain locker was altogether sick and disgusting! The men had found some boards and set them on edge making high-walled, narrow runways. At the end of each runway was a food parcel, a bit of moldy cheese or a weeviled biscuit. They had rats kept in cages. He could see their whiskers moving through the wire. From the appearance of the rats, they were all but starved to death.

      Look at this one, will you Wally. E’s so gaunt I bet he beats your mangy rat to the bait in no time at all.

      Aw, ‘E ain’t that anxious. Look at ol’ Elmer here. He can hardly wait to get out o’ his cage. ‘E’s been in here for a week now with nothing to eat. Nothing is going to stop him! Ben thought that he didn’t want to know how they caught the rats in the first place.

      Ben could not determine what the men intended to do with the rats, but one thing was certain. They were gambling and that was against the Articles of War! He watched as the four men knelt at the entrance to each race track with a tiny cage in his hands. Wiggins called the shots and said, Off! At that, each man opened the cage and let his rat free. The poor animals were gaunt beyond belief. From his hiding place, he saw their noses twitch as they smelled the food. They were barely able to walk to the food, often falling, their emaciated bodies refusing to carry them. Mostly they wobbled down the narrow runway. Wiggins’ rat made it to the cheese first and began to gobble the food as fast as it could move its jaws. Wallace’s animal was second.

      I win, lads, said Wiggins. You each owe me ten pence.

      Aw, you always win, said Moorehead.

      At that the men moved forward and beat the rats to death with clubs.

      Blood and bits of entrails spattered all over the bulwark, making a filthy mess. The discolouration of the bulwarks told the grim story that this pagan sacrifice had been practiced many times before. Ben was appalled. This was not acceptable. These men were torturing the rats by starving them and then putting food before them. Just as the poor animals were about to eat, they were clubbed to death. Only a sick mind could do that! Ben hated rats, but he could not tolerate torturing any animal needlessly.

      Well, none of you have won this time, said Ben as he stepped out from behind the stanchion. The light from the lanthorn shone on his face giving it a dark, sinister cast and hiding his youth. You know that gambling is forbidden aboard ship. You know what the penalty is too, I am sure.

      Aw, leftenant, we wuz jus’ having some fun. We didn’t mean no harm.

      One of the animals was twitching in pain. Ben stood for a second, contemplating a proper punishment. These were all topmen and good ones at that. He hated to ruin a good man if he might be rehabilitated.

      We won’t do it ever again, sir, we promise, said Wallace.

      Dark, hairy forms crept in from the edges, moving slowly closer to the dead rats. There were other hungry rats out there also and they were ready for dinner.

      Get those poor beasts overboard at once. And clean up this mess, every bit of it. If you want to kill rats, do it in a humane way and dispose of the bodies at once so that other rats can’t feed on them. I’ll deal with your punishment as soon as you come above deck. Report to me when you have undone your mischief.

      Aye, aye sir.

      That gave Ben time to think. The poor fools are bored to death. They have little imagination to find useful hobbies. The fact that they didn’t get any mail today probably contributed to their feelings. I must do what’s right by the Service. That would mean four floggings, but then I would have four topmen who are useless in the tops. I’m already short of hands to man the tops. There must be some other way...

      Ben found the four men standing in the waist, looking forlorn. They turned and saluted him. Their long faces, drawn and grey, reflected the fact that they liked him as an officer but that they dreaded the pain and humiliation of a flogging.

      I will speak with each of you alone, said Ben. He motioned for Moorehead to step aside. So, why are you gambling in defiance of the Articles of War?

      Well, sir, we wuz bored you see, an this is an ancient Scottish sport that Wallace taught us. We thought it would do not harm. We didn’t mean to defy orders, sir.

      I see. I am going to assign you to half rations for a month, seeing as you feel comfortable in sacrificing good food to feed the rats. I want you to take this piece of wood and carve something either beautiful or useful out of it and I want you to present it to me Thursday next. If you fail in this duty, I will assign you to regular duty hunting rats in the hold with marlin spikes. Is that clear?

      Moorehead’s eyes opened wide, partly in disbelief and partly in fear of the challenge that Ben had leveled at him.

      You mean sir, that I ain’t going to be flogged?

      Not at present at least. I wouldn’t brag to any one if I were you that you got off free of a flogging. That will certainly bring the cat down on your back with claws bared. Now go about your business. Oh, and shave off the bristles on your face. You aren’t fit to serve in His Majesty’s Navy looking like that.

      Aye sir, Aye. I will! he said as he almost bowed to Ben.

      Ben cornered the other three men and told them all the same thing. He was clutching at straws to try the carving thing, but he couldn’t think of anything else to use as punishment. He couldn’t put them to painting or polishing. With continuous blockade duty, every bit of brass shone like the sun because it was polished daily. The ropes of the standing rigging were tared more often than needed and the blocks were greased every week. There was little work left to do aboard ship when the entire crew must be kept busy every minute of their watch. Captain Hardy would not allow a spot of rust or a bit of filth to inhabit any part of his ship. He would be appalled at what was going on in the hold of the ship if he ever found out. Part of Ben’s reasoning for not bringing the men forward for a flogging was that he hated to tell Captain Hardy that his men were so bored and so undisciplined. He shared some fault in all this too.

      That afternoon, Ben stood at the taffrail beside Tom. The two were great friends, had been for over twelve years, and managed to find a few minutes each day to visit. Tom was serving as third leftenant and Ben was his superior as first leftenant.

      This is turning out to be a terrible tour of duty. All we do is sail the same water week after week, keeping an eye on the frogs so they don’t slip out and invade England. They don’t have enough ships to launch a full invasion anyway. I’d give anything for a good pitched battle, broadside to broadside, said Tom.

      "You are suffering from the same disease that is plaguing the entire ship, the whole fleet for that matter. We have plowed these waters so often that the waves see us coming and recognize us. Listen to them tapping their greeting against the Victory’s hull." Ben turned an amused smile to Tom, who returned with his great Irish grin, exposing his picket fence perfect row of white teeth.

      Even the appearance of the supply ship doesn’t raise my spirits these days. It’ll mean a good meal and the company of the Admiral tonight. I always look forward to that, but then what?

      So do I. Any fresh food is welcome these days. But that does nothing for the crew. I’m most concerned about my men. Their morale is at an all time low. I found four of my men in the hold during their dog watch, racing rats and killing them with clubs. They were gambling. I should have them flogged, but they are my four best topmen. I will be shorthanded if they are laid up. So, I told them that if I caught them gambling again, they will get the whip, all 24 lashes. I also set them on half rations for a month and gave them an assignment that should occupy their spare hours. But even this is only a drop in the sea. All of the men are bored and it shows.

      You probably did the right thing, but they deserve a good flogging all the same.

      "I may live to regret my leniency, but this is their first offense and they have agreed not to discuss the matter with any of the crew. We’ll see what happens. I think that some measures are needed to reinforce discipline, or we’ll be fighting the French with a mob of rabble rousers.

      You’re right there lad. I have noticed that many of the men are lax about saluting and when all hands is called by the bosun, they take their good time about responding. I don’t know what to suggest, lad.

      I have been giving the problem some thought lately. I think that the music sessions on Sunday afternoons are helpful, but they could be improved. I plan to start some singing next time. So far, all that happens is that Pete Brown brings out his fiddle and Clancey shows up with his bodhrain, but no one sings. A good song can open up a man’s heart and make him feel happier. What do you think, Tom?

      Oh, I agree. But I do remember how you balked at the bodhrain when you first saw it. You said that it sounded like someone pounding on a hollow log. Couldn’t see how it would ever make music.

      I remember that and you are teasing me now. I’ll admit that it can accent some music quite well when played at the proper time, and Clancey has a knack for it, no doubt about that.

      I have been toying with an idea for some weeks now. We’re bored and the crew is bored as well. There might be a way to help us both and give the men something to take home with them other than their meagre wages. Did you notice today when the mail was handed out that over half the men, I’d guess at least 65%, could not read their letters? I know because men from my division came to me to read their letters to them.

      Sure, lad. Anyone who can read was busy for two hours, not sailing the ship but reading the mail to illiterate seamen. But that has always been the lot of the British sailor. Few of them ever can read.

      But that’s just the point, lad. I can read and I have some time on my hands. I’d like to offer to teach some of the men to read, if they are interested. And I think that many would want to read. You have heard old Simms say that he is going to retire and start a pub in Bournemouth when he goes home. Yet the poor bugger can’t read or write or cipher. How is he ever going to handle his accounts?

      You have a point there, lad. But aren’t you chewing off a mighty big chunk of gristle with all this?

      Maybe, Tom, but the only way I’ll ever find out is to try. Remember we tried this with another crew just off the Goodwin sands a few years ago. It was a great success. You helped too. I may ask the Admiral and Captain Hardy what they think of the idea tonight.

      I can tell you what they think right now. They won’t agree. They prefer their crews to know their ropes and sails, not their alphabet. Uneducated men are easier to handle, you know that.

      But I feel that I must try just the same, said Ben. These men may soon give up their lives for their country. Those who survive can go back to their homes someday with a gift that many others lack. It’s the least that we can do. 
Just then a ship’s boy approached the two men. You two gentlemen are requested to attend the Admiral’s table tonight at 6 sharp. Ben could see that he had memorized the message. The boy turned with a wave of his hand that was intended as a salute, but might have been mistaken for any of many other not so complementary gestures. Ben reached down and grabbed the youth by the seat of his trousers, hoisting him up to waist height. He looked the youth straight in his blue eyes.

      What kind of a salute was that, young Master Ames?

      The child struggled and squirmed. His bright eyes blinked and he shook his head. Sorry, sir. I guess my hand slipped a little, jus’ a little.

      Ben set him down and he faced Ben, his feet together properly, and delivered a suitable salute. Sorry, sir. Then he ran off like a scared rabbit.

      That is just what we were talking about, lad. Discipline is slipping, not in big ways, but in little matters like that. It’s our job to do something about it or Cap’n Hardy will have our hides tanned for it. You know him!

      So, that’s why I plan to start a school, complete with alphabet, reading and ciphering.

      "But if you plan to teach these men to read, where will you find books for them to read? We have not touched a port in over nine months. We could be at sea for several years, considering that the Victory has just come out of refit. There aren’t enough books on board to fill the need. I judge you will get about a dozen takers at first, but later others will want to join your school too. What then?"

      I have thought about that too, Tom. I’ll teach them the alphabet first and make it plain that any man who wants in had better sign up right away so they are all on the same course. Then I will teach them to recognize and spell words. Finally, I’ll begin by writing short stories about things at sea, just a page a day. If I post it in the chart room each day, any man can stop by on his free time and read the page. I plan to write a funny story about two sailors, Tom Tucks and Frank Fuchs and their mutual friend, fat and jolly Molly Muckers.

      That ought to keep them interested, if anything will. As always, lad, you know where you are going and have charted the waters with all the bearings and hazards marked. You’ll do just fine. Tom patted Ben on the back as he went to the helm to check their course.

      That night, Ben instructed the steward, Stewart Gibbs, to press his best uniform. He put on his cleanest white shirt. He was trying desperately to live down his reputation as the Navy’s poorest dressed officer. But as he met Tom on the way to the Admiral’s cabin, Tom stopped Ben to straighten his tie and push an unruly mop of hair out of the way. Ben had always sported a lock of hair in the front that wanted to curl down onto his face. Tom always fussed over Ben like a mother hen. He placed his bicorn on fore and aft, not the way the other officers wore the hat. He and Tom had frequent disagreements over how the hat should be worn and ninety five-percent of the Navy agreed with Tom.

      The meal was fine with roasted chicken doused in a pungent sauce with floating pineapple chunks. Admiral Nelson insisted on dining well, probably because he had eaten ship’s food as a boy with his uncle, Maurice Suckling, and didn’t like it. His dinners were always a surprise and always sumptuous for sea fare. A man didn’t become his steward unless he was an accomplished chef.

      After the meal, conversation turned to the war, or at the moment, the lack of it. Every officer expressed disgust at the inactivity associated with blockading. Ben was amazed that Lord Nelson was willing to submit himself to this long blockade duty. He was too much a man of action to be contented with sailing back and forth in the Mediterranean past French ports. He remembered the last time that he became bored with blockading and got himself in trouble at Tenerife. Has he learned his lesson? Probably not. His comments suggested that he would rather orchestrate a cutting out expedition or send a fire ship into some unsuspecting French port, but he was bound by his orders, for once. Ben noticed that the Admiral didn’t look well. He came on deck daily, often walking the quarter deck. Ben rarely had a chance to look deeply into his troubled eyes. Now he could see that the Admiral was not at all well.

      Then the conversation turned to women and the news from the mail of the day, as it always must with men long at sea. Ben knew that he would be ribbed about his lack of a wife or a lady friend. Only Tom knew about Annie Sutherlin and he would not tell anybody. But as Ben thought about Annie, he realized that she was not his Annie at all. He had barely even spoken to her. And for all he knew, she might be wedded now to some wealthy Londoner. She had more suitors than any lady could possibly manage. He was a fool to think that she would still be the same lady that he had fallen in love with when first his eyes rested on her at the opera house many years ago. That was too much to ask, but it was all that he wanted to live for! He couldn’t let go of his love for her. He blushed when some of the officers told of their romantic conquests and he felt that they were simply looking for a bit of self-gratification. It was different with him. Maybe I’m abnormal?

      And what about you, Benjamin? asked Lord Nelson after one midshipman had told a lusty story of chasing a lady about her chambers naked.

      Oh, I have my moments, said Ben. But I would like to pose a question to you gentlemen, all of you, but especially to the Captain and Lord Nelson. Have you noticed any evidence of boredom aboard ship, I mean, less than the usual diligence?"

      Both men grumbled and finally admitted that things were getting a little, loose.

      I have a possible solution to offer, said Ben. He didn’t hesitate but plunged into his plan to start a school to educate the sailors, those who wanted to learn. He was glad of a chance to extricate himself from a boring discussion of his love life. When Ben made a point that many of these lads would die before they left the Navy, but some of those who lived would want to set up businesses, pubs, blacksmithys, boarding houses after they left the Navy, he noted a distinct interest in Lord Nelson’s eyes. They lighted up suggesting that he was definitely sympathetic. Ben pushed the point further.

      They put their lives on the line for King and Country for a few pence a day. The least that we can do is to offer them something that will make their lives easier and more profitable when this blasted war is finally over. And if a man loses a limb and is discharged ashore, he can still set up an accounting office and support himself if he can cipher. That’s better than squatting on the cobbles of London holding out a tin cup for alms! Ben went on to describe his approach and how he would write a page a day of his lusty story of two sailors and a fat maid and post it in the chart room, with permission, of course, so the sailors could read it. That brought a chorus of laughs and everyone approved of the plan. Almost everyone had heard rumours of unrest on the other ships on blockade that bordered on mutiny. Something must be done to stave off mutiny, at all costs. The group began to discuss the idea and many problems were brought up.

      What about the dummy who just can’t learn to spell or who can’t learn to add two and two? said Tomlinson, the fourth leftenant.

      I may just have to tell him that he is a hopeless case. The least I owe him for trying is an honest evaluation of his ability.

      What if you run out of story? What then?" said one midshipman.

      Oh, I’ll think of something. If I can’t, I’ll call on one of you for a recounting of one of your amorous bedroom adventures. That ought to spice the story up a bit.

      It would bolster morale without a doubt, but it will post a heavy burden on your shoulders, Ben, said Captain Hardy.

      I had hoped that I could count on the abilities of some of the other leftenants and especially on the midshipmen to help with the teaching, especially the ciphering.

      I’ll help with teaching them to count and do simple arithmetic, said Conrad Squires. I used to teach my younger brothers and sisters to cipher when I was a youngster. I was rather good at it too, if I must say.

      Before the meal was over, Ben had received the blessing of Lord Nelson who could see the benefits of a contented crew and Captain Hardy who felt that Ben was a rash but brilliant young man with more energy than he could handle.

      This school of yours might even raise the spirits of the officers, especially if you are a creative writer, said Hardy. But don’t make it too raunchy.

      Ben worked on his plan for another week. During that time there was little to divert men’s attention from their wretched state of drudgery. On one day there was a call of, Sail Ho from the fighting tops and feet came running to see what was happening. Ben was on duty and he could see a French supply ship through his glass. It was headed into port, so sometime in the recent past it must either have slipped out of port in the dark or fog, or come from some other port that was less well guarded. Ben noted that she was sailing like the wind and riding unusually high in the water.

      Pass word for Captain Hardy, shouted Ben.

      Hardy came on the run. What’s up, Mr. Rundel?

      It’s just a French supply ship headed into port as if the Devil were after her, and riding high in the water, sir.

      Hardy took the glass. He peered at the disappearing ship for over a minute. There is nothing that we could do to stop her, I’m afraid. She is sailing too fast and too far off to risk even a warning shot. Best let her go, but I sure would like to know where she’s been and what she was doing.

      That was it! That was their excitement for the rest of the year. On Thursday, he inspected the carvings of the four miscreants. He was surprised at the quality of their work. Wallace had to admit finally that he had some help from Wiley Dixon who was an excellent carver, but that he had started and finished it himself. He seemed to take considerable pride in the whale that he had carved. Ben also looked at a fox, a naked lady and a man’s thumb, the latter carved by Moorehead, who lacked imagination. They were all acceptable.

      Now, lads, Every time you have free time, I want to see you here on the deck carving something. I don’t care if you’re only making chips for starting the cook stove, but I want to see you carving. Do you understand?

      Aye, aye sir, came their answers in unison. Ben believed that they would soon find some other form of mischief. It was anyone’s guess what it might be.

      Then on Friday when the men assembled by division at dawn, while the lookouts were ascertaining that no enemy ships were anywhere on the horizon, Ben spoke to the men.

      Gentlemen, I noted when the mails came last time that over half of you cannot read. You were busy trying to find someone you could trust to read your personal letters to you. Now no one wants to have some grimy sailor read his love letters for him, does he? It’s no disgrace not to know how to read, but it is a darned disadvantage not to read when a fellow gets a personal letter. Most of you never had a chance to learn to read. I know that you have too much free time during the week. I am willing to set down with a group of you and teach you how to read, if you are interested.

      At that, Ben stopped and searched the faces. There was surprise, disbelief and even furrowed brows that suggested that some would not feel up to so stout a challenge.

      I would like a show of hands for how many of you would like to learn to read and write. We’ll start lessons in ciphering later if all goes well with the reading.

      At first no one raised his hand. All were too confused and surprised or embarrassed to admit to ignorance.

      Ben continued. Some of you want to retire to a small pub or a small business when you leave the Navy, and believe me, this war will be over someday, be assured. A cheer went up after those words. Then about 20 hands shot up. Ben took their names and said that they should meet him on the gun deck midships at 6 bells in the evening.

      And so it began. Ben found a large slate board in the hold of the ship used for planning battles. Since there were no battles imminent, he decided to use it for teaching. He gave each man a small smooth board and they painted the boards black with ship’s paint. Then he gave each man a piece of chalk from the great cliffs to use. The next lesson he began with writing A,a,...B,b....C,c... etc. on the board. He had the sailors draw the letters and pronounce the sounds that they represented. Some already knew the letters, but bided their time patiently so they could learn how to put them together. After four lessons, every man could write any letter Ben requested and tell where a capital and a small letter should be used. He showed them a lexicon and how to use it too. It would reside in the chart room.

      Then he started the same way that he had learned his words, but naming and writing the names of parts of the ship, Bow, stern, wheel and showed the men how they could recognize the words by the sounds of the letters. That took several weeks, but soon he could come to class and put a word on the board and the men could sound out the word and knew instantly what he meant. It became clear that the men admired him and thought him to be a fine officer. Some of the men wanted to hear their letters from home read again and they begged Ben to read them to them. Soon the men were reading their own letters with great pleasure. Always in the front row of his classes were four ugly faces, Wiggins, Swift, Moorehead and Wallace.

      It ain’t so hard, sir, when you get the hang of it, said Red Wolf after he had read his letter mostly unaided.

      By the time the supply ship arrived again, Ben had most of his eager class reading simple sentences and able to recognize the written names of the parts of the ship. When mail was passed out, not one of his students went to anyone to read his letters to him. Ben and Tom stood by the rail and marveled at the eagerness that these men showed. But there were still several hundred men who couldn’t read. It was not long before his class would swell to a size that was too much for one man to handle. He called on his fellow ship mates and they lent a hand.

      You’ll have to teach them how to write now so they can answer their letters, said Tom.

      More than likely their wives and girl friends can’t write either. They probably hired a scribe to write the letters for them.

      The lessons went on for several months. When Ben thought that

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