The Continental Risque by James Nelson Page B

the sun. He smiled broadly. ‘God, I beg your pardon, sir! We’ve not met, I thought you were one of these infernal rascals from the dockyard, set on doing as little work as they can.’ The lieutenant extended his hand. ‘Lt Roger Tottenhill, sir, from the proud colony of North Carolina, at your service.’
    Biddlecomb shook the proffered hand and remained silent as Tottenhill introduced himself to Virginia, bowing and, much to Isaac’s annoyance, kissing her hand. When at last the scraping was done, Biddlecomb said, ‘I am still confused by this first-officer business. I have a first officer, Ezra Rumstick, who has been with me this past year. Who told you that you were to be first officer?’
    â€˜It’s politics, sir, and I apologize. I know Mr Rumstick by reputation, and I’m not all that pleased to try and fill his shoes, but the Naval Committee decided that his commission, issued by Washington, do you see, who didn’t really have the authority, ain’t valid. They reissued him a commission, but that makes him junior to me. They were going to post me aboard as second lieutenant, but I’m afraid the new commission made Rumstick the most junior officer in the service, so they had to make me first.’ As he spoke, the lieutenant rummaged around in his blue coat, finally pulling from an inner pocket a packet of papers, which he handed over.
    Biddlecomb took the papers without a word and unfolded them. ‘There is quite a bit of politics, I fear, in the Congress, and …’ The lieutenant continued to speak though Biddlecomb, looking through the papers, did not continue to listen. There was a lieutenant’s commission, months old, and instructions to assume the position of first lieutenant aboard the
Charlemagne
, signed in Stephen Hopkins’s scratchy hand. ‘Hmm,’ Isaac said, refolding the papers and handing them back to Tottenhill. ‘Does Rumstick know of this?’
    â€˜I don’t know, sir. Sir, if you please, I’m sorry about this, really, and about how I greeted you. I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot here. I know you and Mr Rumstick have been close, but it’s not like he’s left on the beach, he’s to be second officer. And I’m an experienced officer, sir. I’ve been an officer in the merchant service for five years now. And in the last war I sailed aboard a privateer. I was just a boy, of course, an apprentice seaman, but I saw a scrape or two.’
    â€˜Well …’ Biddlecomb said, mustering his composure after the shock of having a new officer thrust upon him. This navy thing, he reminded himself, was not all fancy balls and sycophancy. It involved, among other things, considerably less autonomy than he was accustomed to as a merchant captain. But this was too much.
    â€˜I suppose those are as good credentials as we’re likely to find. Better than my own were a year ago. I’m sorry as well, sir, for doubting you. The organization of the navy has been so … informal up until now, I’m not accustomed to superior officers and Naval Committtees and such. Yes, very well …’ Isaac did not want to start an argument, nor did he wish to offend Tottenhill, so he did not voice his thoughts, which were that Tottenhill would not remain in his post for long. Rumstick was Biddlecomb’s first lieutenant. There would be no other.
    He smiled at Virginia, then looked Tottenhill in the eye. ‘I—’
    â€˜Sir, if I may be so bold, shall I tell you about the cant frames here?’
    â€˜Yes, certainly.’ There was no harm in indulging Tottenhill. He would, after all, most likely remain aboard the
Charlemagne
in some capacity. Second lieutenant, perhaps. It was important to establish some rapport with him.
    And besides, Tottenhill had already launched into his explanation. ‘I reckon they’re sound enough. You know, I’ve seen vessels going down