The Seahorse by Michael Aye

the barge to veer to larboard momentarily.
    â€œCareful,” Bart whispered, his hand on Anthony’s arm for balance. “They’re watching.”
    That’s Bart, always at my side, always looking out for me. What would he do without Bart? What would England do without all the Barts in the Navy? They were the real backbone of the fleet.
    â€œShe flies pretty today,” Bart said, pointing to Lord Anthony’s flag flapping away at the mizzenmast.
    The bowman stood as they were now almost alongside SeaHorse, his boats hook at the ready.
    Tom Blood, Buck’s cox’n, was at the tiller and he eased it over slightly. “Ready bowman,” he bellowed. The oars were tossed and Blood removed his hat.
    Anthony looked at the cox’n with a quick smile on his face. “Thank you, Blood. That was done handsomely.”
    Blood caught a glimpse of Bart, who nodded his approval. “Smart turnout,” Bart said.
    Tucking his sword behind his leg so he wouldn’t trip, Anthony then waited for the swell to lift the bow of the barge. He leaped as Buck looked down anxiously waiting until he saw his admiral climbing up the side. Anthony made his way into the entry port as the marines came to attention. With a slap and click of muskets they presented arms.
    Bayonets glinted in the morning sun. The morning stillness was broken with the sound of “Heart of Oak” by the drums and fifes. Buck was there smiling from ear to ear. Anthony noticed the smells first—friendly smells to a sailor—tar, oakum, paint, new canvas…the smells of a ship.
    Glancing about the deck Anthony was impressed. The crew was nicely turned out. The cannons with all their tackles and gear were in perfect alignment. The decks were immaculate. The sails were tightly furled with snug gaskets. He expected nothing less and apparently neither did Buck.
    â€œI’m impressed, Rupert,” Anthony said, using Buck’s given name. “It’s a fine ship.”
    Then as they walked toward his cabin, Anthony paused here and there speaking to familiar faces. Lieutenant Lamb, now Buck’s first lieutenant, the bosun, May, Marine Captain Dunlap and his second in command of the Marines, Lieutenant Bevis. Then as Anthony walked aft he stopped and turned. He recognized that face, older and more filled out and weather-beaten.
    â€œGeorge Jepson,” he said. “Is that you?”
    â€œAye, My Lord.”
    Stepping back he eyed the man. It had been a lot of years. Jepson had just made master’s mate and Anthony was a young lieutenant. He and Bart had been mates. Now here Jepson was wearing the uniform of a warrant. Not just a warrant but also the master of HMS SeaHorse .
    â€œWell, damme. Where’s Bart? Off loafing, no doubt.” Looking toward the entry port Anthony could see Bart helping his flag lieutenant. Instantly he regretted his words.
    Everett Hazard had turned into an excellent flag lieutenant, in spite of having only one arm. The other arm was lost in combat. Turning back to Jepson he shook his hand.
    â€œCaptain Buck, you have a life saver as your master. A squall would have taken me over the side but for the strong arm of your master. Yes sir, without Jepson’s quick action it would have been another admiral hoisting his flag here today, for I’d be keeping company with ole Davy Jones.”
    â€œIt was nothing, sir,” Jepson said, uncomfortable with the attention he was being given by the admiral.
    Seeing Jepson flush, Anthony changed tacks. “Now let me warn you in advance, Captain Buck. He and Bart were as close as mates could be once so I know the trouble they can get into. It’s your ship mind you,” Anthony continued, “but were it up to me I’d have Captain Dunlap post an extra sentry at the spirit locker.”
    This caused all those in hearing distance to laugh.
    â€œJep, you old salt.” Bart had finally made his way aft and