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Can We Talk?
A Capital Ship story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer
“Excuse me? Bosun?”
Repairs were underway, and the warship’s speed had been reduced to cut back on the crosswind sweeping across the main deck. Francois turned away from watching the crew up in the tops to see Prince Jahan standing behind him. The young tiger looked tired, but his striped tail jittered nervously.
Probably post-action nerves. Francois idly wondered when he’d lost that anxiety in the face of battle.
Ah well. “Yes, Mr. Timuríde?”
The tiger cleared his throat. “About the, ah, enemy . . . will we know who it was?”
“Well, Soor,” the red-ruffed lemur said, “that’s the question, isn’t it? You saw yourself that it wasn’t flying any flags.” He put a paw on the Prince’s shoulder, steered him toward the quarterdeck stairs, and after the tiger had seated himself said, “If it’d been your uncle, he would have put up a flag.”
Prince Jahan nodded. “So pirates, then?”
“Either them, or one of your brothers sent it.” Jahan’s ears went back, and his upper lip curled back from his teeth. “But let’s say that it was a pirate,” the lemur said, and dipped an ear. “Why do you think he still fired on us after firing that illumination round?”
“Um? Oh . . . “ Jahan thought for a moment. “He should have run away.”
“Yes, and a lot of them would turn tail at the sight of us. But there’s always a few who’ll try to bluff.”
“’Bluff?’”
“Yes, make us think that they’re more powerful than us, or have better weapons. Either fool us into running, or giving up.” Francois chuckled. “I heard that actually happened, a few years back.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Two pirate boats, smaller than the lugger that we shot at, saw l’Intransigeant on the water, and thought it was a cargo ship.” He chuckled again, and smiled as Jahan’s mood lightened a bit. “Imagine their surprise when the frigate shot back and chased them down. Caught them, too.”
“What happened to the pirates?” Francois drew a claw across his throat, and the younger fur nodded. “I’ve seen murderers executed, in my father’s gardens.”
The lemur blinked. “The gardens?”
“Yes. The headsman was my father’s chief gardener as well. He was a nice fellow.” His expression softened momentarily, as if recalling happier times, before he recovered himself and asked, “Do – do pirates always die?”
Francois nodded. “Pirates are outlaws, and it doesn’t matter who catches them. French, English, Abyssinian – it doesn’t matter.” He glanced to his left and stepped aside, saluting as Mr. Villiers approached. “Begging your pardon, Soor. Mr. Timuríde had a few questions about the action.”
“Stand easy, Bosun. I was looking for the Prince. The Captain says our watch is over and we can get some sleep.” The midshipman nodded at the Bosun as he and the tiger went to their quarters.
Once the repairs were finished to his and the carpenter’s satisfaction, Francois reported to the First Officer and went to his own hammock.
A few days later saw the Temeraire at Mauritius, where it refueled. Doctor Mirabeau took two ratings with him to obtain some medicines and supplies, and returned scant minutes before the gangway was brought in. “Running low, Soor?” one of the junior petty officers asked.
“We were all out of these pills,” and he held up a glass bottle labeled #11.
“Important, eh?”
“Let me put it to you this way,” the buck said, “I could give you one of these if you got sick, or one from #4 and one from #7. No telling what they’d do, but they add up to eleven.” He smiled. “Care to take a chance, then?”
The petty officer gulped, “No, thank you, Soor.” The doctor and his supplies headed below, and the man rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced up at the quarterdeck.
Francois raised an eyebrow at the man, who found something else to do, and the lemur went back to overhearing Captain de Ville and the other officers discussing the ship’s route.
“The message did say, ‘best speed’ to Kaapstad, Sir,” the First Officer said, standing by the binnacle with his arms folded across his chest.
The captain was seated in a folding deck chair nearby, a chart of the area spread across his lap. “Very true,” the bulldog said, “but we’ve already been shot at once. It seems too coincidental that we should have a pirate come at us soon after taking His Highness on board.” He waved the second-in-command over and traced his finger along the chart. “We’ll follow this course, from Mauritius to the southern end of Madagascar, and from there across the straits to Mozambique – but, we’ll keep to the water.”
“I know that the Engineer wants to baby his charges,” the feline said, “but he always does – “
“So we give him what he wants,” de Ville said. “I’ll send a wire to Kaapstad in cipher before we head out to sea. This way we’re still headed for Kaapstad, we rest the engines, and maybe throw anyone stalking us off the scent. Bosun?”
“Soor?”
“Spread the word. As soon as we’re in open water, all paws aloft and rig for sail.”
“Yes, Soor.” Francois saluted and started toward the steps, but paused as the Captain cleared his throat. “Soor?”
“Mr. Villiers has reported on Mr. Timuríde’s progress regarding his lessons.” De Ville smiled up at the lemur. “He also mentioned that you had taken our young guest in paw as well, Bosun Ntsay.”
The lemur’s shoulders drooped, just a bit, and he hoped that the bulldog hadn’t noticed. “Yes, I have, Soor. “
“Why would that be? I know you don’t want him on the ship.”
At a questioning look, the captain nodded and the First Officer took a few steps back. Francois took a breath and let it out before saying, “Begging your pardon, Soor, you’re right. I do want him off this ship. He’s learning, yes, but I worry that he may end up killing himself – or killing someone else trying to rescue him. So, yes, I want us to get him to Kaapstad as fast as we can, and let him be the Admiral’s problem.” A pause. “Soor.”
The bulldog gave him a wry smile and glanced at the First Officer. “I agree with you, Bosun, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t have my own misgivings about our guest, as you know. But orders are orders. Now,” he said briskly, “it’s my intention to have us sail, not fly, to Lourenço Marques, and then fly overland to Kaapstad. With a bit of help,” and here he crossed himself, “we’ll manage to throw our pursuit off the scent.”
The lemur nodded, then grinned. “So I’ve your leave to show young Mr. Timuríde the ropes, Soor?”
De Ville tried, and mostly succeeded, in hiding his smile. “By all means, Bosun Ntsay. Spread the word and get the deck crew ready.”
“Yes, Soor.”
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
A Capital Ship story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer
“Excuse me? Bosun?”
Repairs were underway, and the warship’s speed had been reduced to cut back on the crosswind sweeping across the main deck. Francois turned away from watching the crew up in the tops to see Prince Jahan standing behind him. The young tiger looked tired, but his striped tail jittered nervously.
Probably post-action nerves. Francois idly wondered when he’d lost that anxiety in the face of battle.
Ah well. “Yes, Mr. Timuríde?”
The tiger cleared his throat. “About the, ah, enemy . . . will we know who it was?”
“Well, Soor,” the red-ruffed lemur said, “that’s the question, isn’t it? You saw yourself that it wasn’t flying any flags.” He put a paw on the Prince’s shoulder, steered him toward the quarterdeck stairs, and after the tiger had seated himself said, “If it’d been your uncle, he would have put up a flag.”
Prince Jahan nodded. “So pirates, then?”
“Either them, or one of your brothers sent it.” Jahan’s ears went back, and his upper lip curled back from his teeth. “But let’s say that it was a pirate,” the lemur said, and dipped an ear. “Why do you think he still fired on us after firing that illumination round?”
“Um? Oh . . . “ Jahan thought for a moment. “He should have run away.”
“Yes, and a lot of them would turn tail at the sight of us. But there’s always a few who’ll try to bluff.”
“’Bluff?’”
“Yes, make us think that they’re more powerful than us, or have better weapons. Either fool us into running, or giving up.” Francois chuckled. “I heard that actually happened, a few years back.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Two pirate boats, smaller than the lugger that we shot at, saw l’Intransigeant on the water, and thought it was a cargo ship.” He chuckled again, and smiled as Jahan’s mood lightened a bit. “Imagine their surprise when the frigate shot back and chased them down. Caught them, too.”
“What happened to the pirates?” Francois drew a claw across his throat, and the younger fur nodded. “I’ve seen murderers executed, in my father’s gardens.”
The lemur blinked. “The gardens?”
“Yes. The headsman was my father’s chief gardener as well. He was a nice fellow.” His expression softened momentarily, as if recalling happier times, before he recovered himself and asked, “Do – do pirates always die?”
Francois nodded. “Pirates are outlaws, and it doesn’t matter who catches them. French, English, Abyssinian – it doesn’t matter.” He glanced to his left and stepped aside, saluting as Mr. Villiers approached. “Begging your pardon, Soor. Mr. Timuríde had a few questions about the action.”
“Stand easy, Bosun. I was looking for the Prince. The Captain says our watch is over and we can get some sleep.” The midshipman nodded at the Bosun as he and the tiger went to their quarters.
Once the repairs were finished to his and the carpenter’s satisfaction, Francois reported to the First Officer and went to his own hammock.
A few days later saw the Temeraire at Mauritius, where it refueled. Doctor Mirabeau took two ratings with him to obtain some medicines and supplies, and returned scant minutes before the gangway was brought in. “Running low, Soor?” one of the junior petty officers asked.
“We were all out of these pills,” and he held up a glass bottle labeled #11.
“Important, eh?”
“Let me put it to you this way,” the buck said, “I could give you one of these if you got sick, or one from #4 and one from #7. No telling what they’d do, but they add up to eleven.” He smiled. “Care to take a chance, then?”
The petty officer gulped, “No, thank you, Soor.” The doctor and his supplies headed below, and the man rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced up at the quarterdeck.
Francois raised an eyebrow at the man, who found something else to do, and the lemur went back to overhearing Captain de Ville and the other officers discussing the ship’s route.
“The message did say, ‘best speed’ to Kaapstad, Sir,” the First Officer said, standing by the binnacle with his arms folded across his chest.
The captain was seated in a folding deck chair nearby, a chart of the area spread across his lap. “Very true,” the bulldog said, “but we’ve already been shot at once. It seems too coincidental that we should have a pirate come at us soon after taking His Highness on board.” He waved the second-in-command over and traced his finger along the chart. “We’ll follow this course, from Mauritius to the southern end of Madagascar, and from there across the straits to Mozambique – but, we’ll keep to the water.”
“I know that the Engineer wants to baby his charges,” the feline said, “but he always does – “
“So we give him what he wants,” de Ville said. “I’ll send a wire to Kaapstad in cipher before we head out to sea. This way we’re still headed for Kaapstad, we rest the engines, and maybe throw anyone stalking us off the scent. Bosun?”
“Soor?”
“Spread the word. As soon as we’re in open water, all paws aloft and rig for sail.”
“Yes, Soor.” Francois saluted and started toward the steps, but paused as the Captain cleared his throat. “Soor?”
“Mr. Villiers has reported on Mr. Timuríde’s progress regarding his lessons.” De Ville smiled up at the lemur. “He also mentioned that you had taken our young guest in paw as well, Bosun Ntsay.”
The lemur’s shoulders drooped, just a bit, and he hoped that the bulldog hadn’t noticed. “Yes, I have, Soor. “
“Why would that be? I know you don’t want him on the ship.”
At a questioning look, the captain nodded and the First Officer took a few steps back. Francois took a breath and let it out before saying, “Begging your pardon, Soor, you’re right. I do want him off this ship. He’s learning, yes, but I worry that he may end up killing himself – or killing someone else trying to rescue him. So, yes, I want us to get him to Kaapstad as fast as we can, and let him be the Admiral’s problem.” A pause. “Soor.”
The bulldog gave him a wry smile and glanced at the First Officer. “I agree with you, Bosun, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t have my own misgivings about our guest, as you know. But orders are orders. Now,” he said briskly, “it’s my intention to have us sail, not fly, to Lourenço Marques, and then fly overland to Kaapstad. With a bit of help,” and here he crossed himself, “we’ll manage to throw our pursuit off the scent.”
The lemur nodded, then grinned. “So I’ve your leave to show young Mr. Timuríde the ropes, Soor?”
De Ville tried, and mostly succeeded, in hiding his smile. “By all means, Bosun Ntsay. Spread the word and get the deck crew ready.”
“Yes, Soor.”
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Lemur
Size 120 x 92px
File Size 42.4 kB
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