The Storm-Grey Sea

Chapter Five - An Auspicious Start

Author's note - as you can no doubt tell, I really like ships. If you're confused by anything, such as the hierarchy of naval ranks, or the rating system specific to Great Britain, or what the hell a stern chaser is, let me know. Also: if you see any inaccuracies, please point them out! I've done a mind-numbing amout of research, but it's impossible to know everything, so if you see something wrong, let me know!

Stephen had decided that, as much as he was fond of Isaac, he hoped never to ride in a carriage with him again. On the journey from Taunton to Plymouth in a hired carriage, Isaac chattered incessantly, clearly eager to return to his ship.

Stephen's only solace was the fact that Isaac's imminent return to the Dauntless was a pleasant respite from Isaac's recent disappointment over being unable to call upon the esteemed Miss Marlowe, at whose house Stephen had learned Isaac had arrived, only to find that she had recently gone away with her father.

"What terrible news!" Isaac had cried, and for the first time Stephen had seen, he had looked a little irked. "To leave, without telling me!"

"I do not doubt that Miss Marlowe will write to you in time, if she is as fond of you as she seems," said Stephen.

Isaac had seemed comforted, and the product of that was the fact that he left the topic of Miss Marlowe's departure - though Stephen sensed he was still despairing over it - was that he now spoke in great volumes of his ship and her crew.

Stephen tried to encourage his friend's silence by feigning sleep, but it was to little avail. By four in the afternoon, Isaac had spoken such volumes that Stephen was forced to plead:

"No more, I beg you. I am sure the Dauntless is a great beauty, and that Captain Spenser is an admirable man, but I entreat you not to speak of them anymore."

Isaac took the suggestion very well, simply smiling and gesturing out the window.

"Very well, then, Stephen. She is anchored there, make of her what you will," he said.

Stephen, turning his head, saw that they had arrived in Plymouth harbour and there, out of many anchored in the harbour, was a ship at which Isaac was pointing.

As he and Isaac descended from the carriage, Stephen tried to remember what Isaac had taught him about the Dauntless, and failed utterly. Was she a frigate or a ship-of-the-line? How many guns did she have? What the devil did one call the ropes that hung about her, and was the term for her bloody sails not being out that they were furled, or curled?

Stephen was damned if he knew. He squinted and tried to remember, but gave up after very little effort. He need only be a passenger in the damn thing, not sail her.

"Ho, there!" hallooed Isaac from next to Stephen, calling to a rather rough-looking gang of men seated in a boat that was laid alongside the jetty.

"Mr. Cuthbert, sir!" cried a slightly less mangy man, springing out of a seat at the - oh, what the bloody hell was the thing that steered the boat called? "Captain sends his regards, sir, and asks that you and the doctor come aboard immediately."

"Yes, yes! Now Come and bring the luggage aboard presently! What are you doing sitting there? Look lively!" cried Isaac in response.

There was a flurry of movement in response, the grubby men moving with more agility than Stephen had imagined was possible.

In that moment, Stephen saw quite a new side to Isaac's personality. Rather than the amicable, friendly fellow, he saw instead a leader, a voice of firm authority. Instead of appearing rather plain but pleasant in his blue coat, he was all at once a figure cut from steel.