Excerpt: The Lieutenant

Lt. Jon. Gray,

This letter will be brief, I promise you, as I have no time to write. It is with great pleasure that I write to you a letter bearing such good news. I believe that currently you are out of service, not serving aboard a ship, am I right? That will change shortly.
On the day August 6th, 1805, you are to report for duty as First Lieutenant aboard the H.M. Sloop Trustworthy, which is captained by Charles Lewis, a newly promoted master and commander. I believe you two know each other, do you not? The ship is moored in Portsmouth, so you should have no trouble getting there. Captain Lewis expects you aboard the Trustworthy one hour after dawn breaks, and I advise you not to be late. The sloop sets sail on its mission a few days after you are expected on board. Good luck, Mr. Gray! Fare well.

Sincerely,
James Bowen, Rear Admiral

“Charles Lewis? Could that be my old friend Charlie from aboard the Speedy? I have not seen him in many years, I believe I was but sixteen when we parted ways! Now a commander, what luck has he!” Jonathan grinned from ear to ear. “And what luck I have, to now be assigned a ship to serve aboard, with my friend Charlie!” Scooping up the two newspapers, he ran inside, eager as ever to share his news, even if only with his landlady. He rushed into the kitchen, still beaming like the August sun.
Mrs. Hughes looked over her shoulder at him. “Well, what is it that has got you so happy? Speak up, lad!”
Jonathan tossed the letter down onto the table. “See here, Mrs. Hughes! A letter from the rear admiral! I’ve been instructed to become the first lieutenant aboard a sloop-of-war! I finally get to go back to sea!”
The landlady still concentrated on her cooking—now she was placing bacon and eggs on plates. “And I suppose that’s good?”
Jonathan gaped at her. “It’s not good, it’s excellent! I am to report for duty aboard ship on August the sixth, in Portsmouth harbor. I must go celebrate!” He made for the front door, still carrying both newspapers, but Mrs. Hughes stopped him.
“August the sixth?” she cried. “Why, that’s tomorrow! You must pack, pay your rent, settle your affairs! And put down the newspapers.”
Jonathan placed the papers down on the table, suddenly panicking. “Tomorrow? August the sixth is tomorrow? Are you sure?”
Mrs. Hughes nodded earnestly. “I’m sure, Mr. Gray. Look at the calendar, today is the fifth!”
Jonathan looked over at the calendar and groaned. “It is indeed the fifth today. Mrs. Hughes, I believe I have a debt to you. I have not paid for the past two weeks.” He rummaged through his pocket to find his money, and upon finding it, pulled out the two shillings he owed. “Here you are, Mrs. Hughes. My rent that I owed you. Plus,” he said, pulling out an extra shilling which he had planned to use to earn money through gambling at the pub, “One more shilling I shall give you for being such a kind landlady these past four months.” He held out the three coins for her to take.
But Mrs. Hughes only took two. “I will not take more money than you owe me. Keep your third shilling, go celebrate.”
“I insist, Mrs. Hughes. Take the extra. You will have greater need of it than I, if your next tenant is anything like I was when it comes to paying up. Think of it as my way of celebrating.”
Still Mrs. Hughes refused. Shaking her head, she replied, “No. I can get by without that shilling. Now go to the pub for a pint, or to your room to pack. Do something, for heaven’s sake. Now go.” As if to stress that the situation was no longer open for discussion, she turned around and began to clean the kitchen. Jonathan sighed, defeated, and turned to leave. But before he left the room, he placed the silver coin very carefully on the table next to Mrs. Hughes’s newspaper. Then he walked swiftly out the front door, down the road two doors to the pub.

When Jonathan arrived back at the house later that day—after a good five hours at the pub, no less!—he was a very drunken man. He barely managed to stagger upstairs to his bedroom before he collapsed on the bed and promptly fell asleep. It did not occur to him that he should wash up, as he would have no time the next day. Nor did it occur to him that he should pack his sea-chest. On he slept, through the rest of the day and on until the next morning.

“Mr. Gray, do wake up! You’ll be late if you do not awaken now!”
The sound of Mrs. Hughes’ voice cut sharply into Jonathan’s head, and he groaned. His head was a mass of agonizing pain. So stupid of him to get so drunk the day before boarding a ship and meeting the other officers aboard that ship. So incredibly stupid. He rolled out of bed anyways, as he did not want to be late. The sun was already a ways into the sky. Oh no, he wasn’t wearing his uniform, was he? Jonathan looked down quickly at his clothing. Thankfully, he was not wearing his uniform coat, only his shirt and breeches. The coat, hat, and sword were nowhere to be seen, though. “Mrs. Hughes...” he whispered, the horrible headache not allowing him to speak louder than that. “Where is my uniform...?”