Chapter 1

A chill wind blew through the narrow, rambling streets, whipping round a short, brown haired, blue eyed youth who stood on the corner observing the Portsmouth shops that were beginning to close up for the night. He wrapped the cloak he wore tighter round his shoulders and held on with one hand to the tri-corn hat, which was ready to fly off with the smallest gust. Young Mr Ashley McKay had arrived in the maritime town in the early evening after an eventful and tiring journey from his home. Having been packed off that very morning to make his own way in the world, as an officer of his majesty’s navy. He sighed to himself, and then after choosing the path, which he believed, would bring him to the inn his father had booked him rooms at. He strolled down the road, trying to appear to know what he was doing, and where he was going. This was the first time Ashley had visited Portsmouth, on his own, and without a guide he soon found himself hopelessly lost in the myriad of streets and byways. In his exhaustive search for his elusive refuge, he had come across many inns and taverns filled with their miscellaneous patrons and the sound of laughter emanating from within, but none were called the White Horse. Ashley had been tempted at one point to ask for a room at one of the places he had previously passed, but knew that his father would be angry if he did not make use of the room that had been so generously paid for in advance and the more importantly his sea chest been sent to the inn in advance contained several valuable items which could not be left behind had been a deciding factor in his decision to persevere with his quest.

His hapless wanderings through the maze of unfamiliar never ending streets only served to fatigue him and his feet protested at their excessive use. Also his muscles ached and his stomach rumbled in response to the lack of food it had not received all day. Ashley was starting to think that this endeavour was pointless and futile. He contemplated giving up when once again his tactic of turning randomly down streets in an attempt to locate his elusive refuge ended in disappointment. So it was in desperation and with loathing, admitting he was lost, he decided it might be worthwhile to ask a local for directions. Ashley reasoned that he could not do much worse a job at finding his lodgings by sacrificing a little pride and asking for aid.

It was at this very moment of decision that the ‘press’ made their appearance. At the time being quite naïve, even for his own standards he didn’t realise their vocation was, but he still decided to ask them before he lost his resolve.

Ashley apprehensively approached a rather short, stocky, officer, judging him to be in charge of the group. “Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me how to get to the White Horse inn?” He asked.

“Is that where you’re staying?” replied the officer, his voice harsh and grating.

“Yes, sir,” replied Ashley, adding, “At least I hope so if it ever has the decency to allow me to locate it.”

“If you come with me-,” said the officer as he grinned like a predator, revealing his yellow teeth. “I’ll show you to your accommodation,” he replied, motioning for Ashley to follow.

“Thank you,” said he replied nervously, feeling slightly suspicious of the insincere tone of voice the man used. He noticed the officer gave a kind of knowing nod to his comrades. Ashley was not sure whether this was a bad or good thing. For a moment he thought that maybe this was a trick and that they were some murderous footpads out to rob unsuspecting people like himself, but tried to push that thought to the back of his mind so as not to cause his fear to show through. Ashley observed his surroundings as best he could in the dark of the evening, hoping to see the welcoming site of ‘The White Horse Inn’. The Officer and his fellows led him through the maze of streets until eventually Ashley found himself at the waterfront, where they stopped. He felt rather uneasy. The dark unfamiliar surroundings suddenly became more threatening and he could feel the fear crawling up his spine like a spider, till it reached his brain only to open his eyes to the fact there were no inns called White Horse in the vicinity and the officer looked rather stern and menacing. His mind told him to go, run, flee, but his legs were frozen with fear, unable to comply.

He tried to swallow but his mouth felt dry. Ashley opened his mouth to speak, his nervousness causing him to pour out words, not even taking breath in-between sentences, “I don’t mean to doubt your navigation, sir, but we seem to have ended up at the waterfront and there are no inns by the correct name that I can see. You said you’d take me to my lodgings.”

“This is the way to your new accommodation. You’re going to sea, lad,” replied the officer, signalling his colleges to cut off any hope of escape.

At the mention of going to sea, Ashley relaxed slightly.

 “I know I am going to sea,” he replied, “but I need to at least collect my belongings. My sea chest is at the inn and my uniforms in there. I can’t go like this. I didn’t think I was expected onboard till tomorrow.”

“What are you about, boy?” exclaimed the officer, his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle when he frowned.

“I'm here to join my ship. I'm going to be a midshipman aboard the HMS Velox, sir.”

“Why didn’t you say that before? Where are your papers?” he demanded.

“Oh! Here,” said Ashley. He fumbled about in his jacket pocket, till his fingers grasped hold of the bundle, wrapped in oilskin so as to protect the contents from damage, neatly tied with string. He lifted out the package he had been given before the outset of the journey, which contained various official documents. He passed them to the officer, who gave them a cursory glance then, with a disappointed grunt, handed them back.

“They seem all in order. I'm sorry about the little misunderstanding… Mr McKay.”

“What misunderstanding,” asked Ashley, trying to sound cheerful, despite his anxiety.

“The misunderstanding that would have seen you pressed into service, young man. Next time try to be a bit more prompt in identifying yourself. It will save a lot of hassle.”

“I didn’t know who you were. If you don’t mind me asking, will you now tell me the correct directions to my accommodation or shall I ask someone else?”

The officer then proceeded to describe to him the route Ashley should take to reach his desired destination. He thanked the officer for the directions hoping this time they would be correct, said his goodbyes, and then went in search of his lodgings.

***

He turned the last corner. Ashley could hear the sound of raucous laughter coming from inside the building that stood in front of him, tucked away in a fairly quiet area of the town. Light flooded out of the windows, illuminating the street giving it a warm inviting glow. He approached the building relived to see from the sign that hung above the door that it was the White Horse, the inn he had been searching for. Ashley cautiously pushed open the heavy oak door. He peered inside and was instantly hit by the smell of tobacco and stale beer. The place was packed with people both standing at the bar and sitting at the well worn, beer stained tables. They were laughing, drinking and appeared generally, to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. He stepped inside. Seemingly invisible to everyone he pushed through the packed room the throng of people closing in around him. Moving across towards the bar he narrowly avoided several of the jolly patrons of the establishment who had clearly drunk too much as the bundled past him in a flurry of laughter. When he eventually reached the bar Ashley tried to catch the attention of the landlord; a short, ruddy faced, balding man who was serving drinks to his thirsty patrons.

“Excuse me, sir,” called out Ashley, but his voice was drowned out by the ambient noise. He tried again to attract the attention of the harassed landlord this raising his voice further and accompanying his shouts with a wave of his arms. “Excuse me, sir! Over here, sir!”

Finally Ashley found success in his endeavours. The landlord responded.

 “What will it be then, sonny?” asked the landlord, briefly turning his head to call out to one of the serving women to see to one of the orders.

“Oh! I don’t want a drink, sir,” replied Ashley, hastily. “I just need to speak-,”

“If you don’t want a drink,” interrupted the landlord. “Then what you doing here?”

“My father reserved a room here for me. My luggage should have arrived earlier today, sir.” Adding quickly, having to raise his voice yet again to be heard over the din. “It was booked under the name McKay!”

“Ah yes! I remember Scottish chap, always stays here when he’s in town. Would you excuse me for a jiffy,” said the landlord disappearing for a moment to serve some more drinks. On his return he apologised for his earlier departure, “Sorry about that, were a bit busy tonight…wedding reception.”

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. Then the landlord reached under the counter and pulled out a book bound with string. He undid the string, opened the book and ran his finger down the list written in an almost illegible hand on its crisp, yellowing sheets of paper. Ashley stood there expectantly, trying to read the list himself, even though to him it was upside-down.

The landlord tapped his finger lightly against one of the pages, pointing to one of the scribbles and exclaimed, “Found it! Mr McKay has already paid for your room and board. If you would like to follow me, I will show you to your room?”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Ashley, following the landlord to the back of the bar behind, which was a small staircase.

They both ascended the rickety old stairs, the steps creaking underfoot. On the landing at the top of the stairs there were four similar looking doors. The landlord took a key from the pocket of his grubby apron and unlocked the door furthest away from where the stairs reached the landing. Ashley entered the room, passing the landlord who stayed standing by the open door. It wasn’t exactly St James’s palace, and it smelt musty and old, but he thought it would have to do. The room consisted of a basic bed, a plain wardrobe and a small, simple washstand. His sea chest sat incongruously in the room pushed up against the end of the bedstead. In the far corner by a small, grubby window sat a writing desk, which had clearly seen better days. In another corner was a full-length mirror. From his position by the door the landlord pointed out that Ashley’s father had paid extra for such a luxury. Ashley felt his father had clearly tried to skimp on the cost of his accommodation, but that in his own experience was to be expected. His father was not even happy about giving him an allowance and had vowed that as soon as Ashley was promoted to lieutenant he would be on his own financially.

“Will you be wanting anything, sir?” asked the landlord, interrupting the young man’s thoughts.

“Is there any chance of some supper,” asked Ashley, as his stomach reminded him of his hunger by rumbling so loud the whole of England cold probably hear it.

“There nothing hot available at the moment, but I’ll see what I can find,” replied the landlord, slipping out of the room, eager to please a paying customer.

“Thank you,” he replied, but it was too late the man had already left.

Ashley shut the door. The bare floorboards creaking beneath his feet as walked back across the room towards the bed, where he collapsed gratefully onto the thin mattress, sending up a plume of dust from the rickety old bed. He felt exhausted and so he lay there, too worn out to bother to get changed into his nightclothes. He groaned as his stomach protested at its prolonged emptiness, and hoped that the landlord would bring the food soon. For want of anything else to do Ashley lay there, staring up at the ceiling. He began to drift of into a half waking daydream. He dreamt that he was a captain of a ship; that he was sailing on the open ocean, capturing prizes and making his fame and fortune.

***

Ashley was awoken the next day by sunlight streaming in through the rooms sole window. He wasn’t sure when it was he had fallen asleep, but he reasoned he must have, to need to wake up. He slowly opened his eyes, but had to shield them from the light with his hand as he tried to drag himself bleary-eyed out of bed. He slowly rose to his feet, his muscles protesting. Ashley looked down at himself in disgust. His clothes were a mess where he had slept in them, and his hair was tangled, sticking out haphazardly at various angles. He ran his fingers through his hair trying to tame it and let out a sigh.

 Ashley moved slowly to the corner of the room where he had noticed the basin in the washstand had been filled with clean water. Hoping that it might help him wake up quicker splashed his face with the water. As he was drying his face with the towel that had been neatly folded on the small table by the washstand there was a knock at the door. Before he could answer a woman - who he presumed was the landlord’s wife - came in carrying a tray containing breakfast.

“I see you’re up then mas’er McKay. I ‘ave your breakfast ‘ere. You must be ‘ungry. You fell o’sleep before you could eat your supper,” commented the woman; her round figure a testament to the notion she surely ate more than her fair share of meals.

“Oh! Thank you very much ma’am,” replied Ashley, not forgetting the manners that had been drummed into him.

“It was no problem. Especially for such a polite young man as yourself. I hear your joining the navy. Well you better eat up, you’ll need it,” she said placing the try of food on the faded, grey felt surface on top of the old writing table, “Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes, thank you,” he replied, his mouth watering at the sight and smell of the breakfast lain out before him. After the woman who had brought his breakfast left the room, he sat in the bare wooden chair that was by the table, and proceeded to eat the meal in front of him at such a speed that in a few minutes the plate was empty. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve Ashley felt as if he could eat several more meals that size and still not feel full. Pushing the empty plate to one side he paused for a moment to recall what it was that he would need that day. It was that afternoon he was supposed to report aboard the ship that would be his new home, for the foreseeable future. He felt excited, yet the thought of having to assimilate all these new experiences while no longer in the safety of his family filled him with trepidation. He remembered how at first his father had baulked at the cost of buying the uniform and all the equipment that he believed Ashley would need, but he had with coaxing from Ashley’s mother he came round to the idea. Both his parents had been upset to some degree by his choice of career, as it had been hoped that he would follow his father’s footsteps and become a lawyer. He remembered his mothers’ tearful goodbye as he left home, not to return until he had proved that he was no longer the spoilt younger sibling.

Ashley bent over the wooden sea chest, his nimble fingers unlocking the clasp, which held it, shut. Raising the lid he carefully lifted out his uniform laying it out on the bed. He quickly got changed into his new uniform, making sure he looked his best. After a rushed attempt to bring his brown locks under control, he took time to observe himself in the mirror, checking his countenance. He felt good in his uniform and for a second he even felt grown up. Ashley reached in once again to his new sea chest and carefully removed the box containing the silver pocket watch. He had received it from his grandfather, an admiral on his twelfth birthday only two days ago. As he held it up the silver watch glinted in the sun. He rested it in his hand and opened the watch carefully so as not to break it. He could hear the steady tick, tock of the mechanism. Ashley glanced at the face and was alarmed to see the time. With shock he saw he had slept longer than he thought. It was almost eleven o’clock. If he did not hurry he knew he would be late reporting to the Velox.

***

When he finally reached the waterfront, Ashley was out of breath from his run from the ‘White Horse’ in order to keep to schedule. He was eager not to be late on his first day and waited impatiently for the porter he had hired to carry his sea chest to catch up. When it arrived accompanied by the tired looking porter, he thanked the man, paid him and sent him on his way. No doubt to con some other fool into parting with an extortionate amount of money for such a simple task. He was just about to go and fetch someone to take him to his ship, when he spotted an old man with thinning grey hair and a weather-beaten face standing by the jetty, touting for business. Ashley spotted, to his surprise that the old man had a wooden leg.

“I noticed you over ‘ere thought you might like some transport. Unless that is you’re planning to swim to your ship,” said the old man giving a toothless, gummy smile.

“If I tried swimming with this sea chest, I’d probably drown, sir,” replied Ashley, indicating where the large, oak box with his initials carved into it sat on the cobbles.

“Exactly. So do you want a lift? If you allow me to relive you of some of your cash, I’ll put your stuff in the boat and row you out to yer ship,” said the old man, not waiting for a reply he continued, “And what ship might you be going to?”

Feeling that he did not now have much choice in the matter, as the fellow seemed to have assumed his acceptance, Ashley replied, “The Velox, sir.”

“Ah yes, she be a fine ship,” he mused, staring off to a midpoint as if in a deep reverie of some long past memory.

“I hope so, sir,” agreed Ashley, hoping to push the old man into action as he was running late.

The old man lifted up the bulky sea chest with ease, carried it over to the side, and placed it into the wherry boat that was ready and waiting. Ashley stood on the edge for a moment before first reaching out nervously with one foot, but then drawing it back to the side not quite sure how he was going to get into the small boat without falling in. It seemed such a long drop and the boat moved every time he tried to reach it.

“You gonna’ hop in?” asked the old man, an amused look on his face.

“Of course,” he replied, bristling at the intimation he couldn’t do it. Ashley was not about to give up and tried again to get into the boat. This time lowering himself in backwards, but misjudging his footing and the movement of the boat as he climbed in. He wobbled all over the place, trying to keep from falling overboard. Eventually he fell down into the bow of the boat on to his bum. All this time, the old man had been laughing at his attempts to keep upright. Ashley felt thoroughly embarrassed at his ungainly drop into the boat and blushed, which made him feel even more self-conscious. The old man got in the boat after him and even with his impediment was rather more nimble and able than Ashley. They pushed off from the side and the man began to row. They sat in silence as for most of the journey. Ashley looked around gazing up at the ships they passed in awe. The little boat he was sitting in seemed infinitely tiny compared to the huge ships around them.

As he sensed that he was getting nearer his destination he asked, “Which one is the Velox, sir?” hoping to spot it from his present position.

“It’s that one over there, lad,” replied the old man, indicating by nodding in the direction of a large majestic looking ship. Ashley felt pleased that he would be able to serve on such a grand ship, but as they passed round the stern of the large ship he read the name. Picked out in gold paint was written The Faerie Queene. His heart sank. Looking up again he saw that hidden behind the grand ship was the Velox. It seemed rather small and disappointing to him in comparison to its neighbour.

**

The boat came to a gentle stop against the side of the Velox. Ashley looked up. The ship was defiantly bigger close up. He sat still in the boats stern for a few moments as he collected his thoughts glancing nervously at his watch. It was one-thirty already; he couldn’t put it off any longer. He made as if to stand up, but hesitated before sitting back down again.

“You can go up the side, lad,” said the old man, encouragingly.

Ashley suddenly felt rather nervous. It appeared from his point of view to be a long way from the boat to the top. He slowly tried to stand up. Wobbling about precariously, he lunged at what appeared to be a kind of ladder. He reached his target, and held on tightly, his fingers gripping so hard they hurt. Ashley reached out with one hand to the next ‘rung’ of the ladder and pulled himself up. He had only gone about three or four yards vertically when he made the mistake of looking down. Suddenly the water below looked dark, deep and menacing. He felt a jolt in his stomach like it had been pulled in two opposite directions and his head spun. Ashley closed his eyes, screwing them shut trying to block everything out. He held his body as closer to the wooden ships side as possible, to reassure himself he wasn’t going to fall.

“What’s the matter?” called out an unfamiliar voice, from far above him.

Someone else replied “’es stopped dead, sir.”

“You down there bear a hand! You can’t stay there all day!” called down the original voice.

Ashley tried to move again, but it seemed his body wasn’t willing to respond to his thoughts. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up towards where the voices had come from. Several faces peered over the edge, one of them an officer appeared to be the owner of the first voice.

“Please, sir. I'm stuck. I can’t move,” pleaded Ashley, hoping that the owner of the voice would aid him in some way.

“Of course you can move. You have arms, legs and at least the makings of a brain. Try using them in collaboration,” he replied unsympathetic to the young mans predicament.

“I can’t sir. Help me please. I'm deadly afraid of heights, sir.”

“Nonsense! Only cowards have such irrational fears!” snapped the voice, angrily.

“I'm not a coward! Its just I-I-I have come over all wobbly, sir,” replied Ashley, still hanging on to his precarious perch.

“Poppycock! You’re just a lily livered coward! You can stay there till you decide to take control and haul your backside up here!”

He saw all the faces disappear from over the side. Ashley stayed there, frozen in position for what, to him felt like an eternity, but must have been in reality only a minute or so. Eventually Ashley resolved that he would have to continue his climb, and that there was more likelihood of him falling if he stayed here than if he carried on. He took a deep breath and reached out for the next rung; all the time looking up keeping focused on his target.