Kings and Emperors by Dewey Lambdin Page A

thank you for the duty, sir.”
    â€œGood. Go brief your chosen hands, and we’ll be about it,” Lewrie told him in conclusion, and dismissal. He lingered after the Second Officer had left the great-cabins, studying the chart for a bit longer, noting that close inshore of the Moroccan coast ’twixt Ceuta and Tetuán there were soundings indicating six or seven fathoms. If Sapphire had to chase Spanish coasters into those waters, there would be no refuge for them; his ship could still swim in there!
    Satisfied at last, he rolled up the chart, grabbed his hat, and went out to the quarterdeck and the larboard-side chart room to place it back in a slot, then went to the helm, the compass binnacle cabinet to take a peek. At last, he ascended to the poop deck for a long look about.
    Sapphire was two miles Sou’east of Gibraltar’s Europa Point, on her way to Ceuta once again. She ploughed along at a slow five or six knots under tops’ls, fore course, spanker, and jibs. There was no rush to cross the Strait; it was only twelve miles to the fortress.
    Now that Spring had arrived, he found the seas and winds mild and pleasant, the skies bright blue, with no ochre clouds of dust in the air from the Sahara for a change. In high Summer, and even in the Winter when the winds howled out of North Africa, the remnants of dust and sand storms cut visibility to almost nothing, and left Sapphire strewn with gritty dust that got into the food and water.
    God, who’d live in such country, Lewrie thought; Unless they have nowhere else to go.
    He’d been to many foreign places during his long naval career, some of them exotic, some dismal, and always got a strong longing for the ordered gentleness of England. He’d even tolerate the rain, if it made the countryside greener!
    â€œYar, dog, ’at’s filthy,” a sailor in the After-Guard griped. “ I won’t throw it for ye, fer all th’ rum in th’ Indies!”
    Disconsolate, Bisquit picked up his oldest plaything, a rabbit hide stuffed with wool batt. Half the hair was missing, by now, and Bisquit had mouthed it so long that it was permanently slimy. With a faint hope, he padded to Lewrie’s side and made some pleading whines.
    â€œAlright, alright,” Lewrie said, ruffling the dog’s fur, and taking the damned thing from his mouth, which set Bisquit to prancing. He threw it aft, and off the dog dashed to pounce on it, give it some shakes, then trotted back to drop it at Lewrie’s feet. A feint left and right, and Lewrie hurled it again, right to the taffrail flag lockers, resulting in another mad dash. That game went on for five minutes before Bisquit’s tongue was lolling.
    At least somebody’s gettin’ some exercise, Lewrie thought, glad that the game was over. He wiped his hands on a handkerchief and left the toy on the deck. “Thirsty, Bisquit? I’ll bet you are. Let’s go down to the scuttle-butt.”
    Bisquit followed Lewrie down to the quarterdeck, then to the waist, where Lewrie used the long dipper to pour water into his hand so the dog could lap. He knew he was making a comical spectacle of himself, but he didn’t care; Bisquit needed a drink.
    *   *   *
    Sapphire rounded Ceuta and the fortress’s guns by four miles, just out of gun-range, to frustrate the Spaniards, then shaped course for Tetuán. She came to anchor a mile off the mouth of the inlet in six fathoms of water. Bosun Terrell took one cutter to row round the ship to see that all the yards were squared, and all the running rigging was set at the right angles, with no lubberly slackness. The other cutter set out for the inlet, first under a single lugs’l, and later oars once they entered the long slash of an inlet, hacked out of the dry hills to either side by centuries of fresh water from some inland river. Just off Tetuán’s quays, the waters would be brackish, but that