First Voyage Read online

  Feeling a bit safer now, if somewhat foolish, Alexander had time to study the gryphon more closely. The hindquarters were those of a lion and covered in tawny fur. Up front, the beast resembled a giant eagle with brilliant brown-gold feathers. Its wings must have been twenty-five feet across. The beast was big as a draft horse, with a fearsome beak and talons like grappling hooks. But it was the eyes he noticed most of all. They were a bright, cat-like yellow.

  "Hey, snotty!" the flyer called down to him.

  Alexander glared at the rider, a boy his own age with pale blond hair who flew the gryphon with obvious joy. He felt the difference in their situations keenly, considering he felt anything but happiness as the ship rolled beneath his feet. The flyer waved, the gryphon tipped its wings, and they flew off.

  "The first thing you must do whenever you come aboard a ship is report to the officer of the watch," Roger said, starting off down the deck. "That would be Lieutenant Swann."

  Roger led them to a knot of officers who seemed to be in charge of the preparations for getting underway, calling out orders and pointing out tasks for individual sailors. In the midst of this knot stood the lieutenant, a tall young man with a sharply hooked nose.

  "It's our new ensign, sir." Roger nudged him forward.

  The lieutenant paused in his orders long enough to look Alexander over from head to toe. His face, however, was inscrutable.

  "Mr. Hope reporting, sir." Alexander stammered, and then managed an awkward salute.

  "Very good, Mr. Hope," Lieutenant Swann said. "Welcome to the Resolution. I see you've already met Mr. Higson ... and one of our gryphons."

  "Yes, sir." Alexander felt himself go red. The lieutenant must have noticed his not-very-brave dive to the deck.

  "As you can see, Mr. Hope, we are very busy getting underway with the tide. A ship this size needs to ride the outgoing tide to sea because we can't hoist much sail in the harbor. That's your first lesson in seamanship. Meanwhile, Mr. Higson here will get you acquainted with the Resolution."

  "Thank you, sir." But the lieutenant had already turned his attention to another task at hand.

  "Come on, then," Roger said cheerfully, taking Alexander by the elbow. The other ensign always seemed to have a ready smile.

  "Don't we have to help with the ship?"

  "Oh, there will be time for that, believe me. Besides, what good can you possibly do without knowing at least a little about the ship? So come along."

  "Aye, aye." Alexander found himself smiling, and realized it was the first time he had done so in days. His face actually felt sore from the effort, as if the muscles were out of practice.

  The ship was already getting underway. Only a few patches of sail had been lowered, and Alexander puzzled over that until he realized the lieutenant had said it was the tide moving the ship. Alexander couldn't quite get used to the idea that the solid-looking wooden deck beneath his feet was anything but secure as the whole ship rocked gently in the swell off the English Channel.

  "Boat to stern!" someone cried.

  Alexander followed the gazes of the sailors, who seemed in some consternation and excitement about the tiny sailing dingy that was overtaking them. Someone half-stood in the bow, waving his arms and shouting. "Ahoy the ship!"

  A ladder was lowered, and a very flustered civilian came aboard. He was tall and gangly, dressed in a well-made but worn brown suit.

  "Who's that?" Alexander wondered.

  "Must be the ensigns' tutor. Another minute or two and that little sailing dingy never would have caught the Resolution. We’d have had had no teacher then. Lucky for him, not so lucky for us!"

  As the two boys moved about the deck, Alexander cast one watchful eye skyward, but there was no sign of the gryphon.

  "Why did that flyer call me ‘snotty?’" Alexander asked.

  "Oh, that's just a nickname for ensigns in general," Roger replied. "You see, the younger ones are always wiping their noses on their sleeves. That makes you a snotty. Get it?"

  "Indeed." Silently, Alexander vowed that he would always use a proper handkerchief. He really didn't care to be called a snotty.

  "The problem with being an ensign is that one doesn't always get much in the way of proper respect. Most of the hands are grown men, and it's only natural to resent being told what to do by someone younger. But you can't show them any weakness or allow them to show you disrespect or you'll never be any kind of ship's officer."

  "All right." Alexander thought about how the big sailor in the skiff had treated him. The man had made no secret of the fact that he didn't think much of ensigns. Worse yet, Alexander realized, he had let him get away with it.

  "The officers are of mixed opinion when it comes to ensigns," Roger went on. "You see, they tend to think of themselves as having been perfect when they were our age and officers in training, so they view ensigns with a certain amount of ... what would be the best way to phrase it—"

  For some reason, Alexander thought of the expression that frequently crossed his uncle's face whenever he was lecturing him. "Disgust?"

  "Exactly." Roger grinned. "You catch on fast, don't you?"

  "Lieutenant Swann seems like a good man."

  "Aye, one of the best. He has more patience than most for ensigns. He'll even try to teach you a thing or two when there's time."

  "What about Captain Bellingham?"

  Roger stopped in his tracks. "Do you believe in God?" he asked in a hushed voice.

  "Why, of course I do."

  "The best way I can explain the captain is this: God may rule Heaven, but Captain Bellingham rules the Resolution. Let's just say you don't want to do anything foolish so that you end up meeting God or the Captain any sooner than necessary. Now come on, let me give you a proper tour."

  Roger disappeared down a hatch, and Alexander followed. He had never been on a ship before, and to his surprise, instead of stairs going down there was a kind of ladder. Roger went down it in an instant as easily as if the narrow ladder had been a grand staircase, but Alexander stopped, turned around, and went hand over hand, one foot and one rung at a time. When he got to the bottom, Roger was standing there, laughing.

  "You are a proper land-lubber, aren't you!"

  Before Alexander could answer, the other ensign darted away. The deck here was wide and spacious, but not especially high. Alexander could easily reach up and touch the ceiling. The entire deck was lined with massive cannons, each with a barrel longer than a man. The hatches over the gun ports were closed, which shut out the light and made the interior of the deck dark and gloomy, but the hatches were ill-fitting enough to let in the winter cold. Alexander could hear the winter wind whistling and tugging at the gaps. The air here smelled dank and damp like seawater and gun powder and stale sweat, but also, somehow, a bit like a barn.

  "Twenty-eight guns, in case you haven't counted," Roger announced. “That’s not counting the smaller guns on the deck itself."

  Alexander noticed sea chests between the cannons, but the way they were decorated with stencils and actual artwork made him think that they were not for storing ammunition. Then he noticed that a few hammocks were slung between the guns. He looked more closely, and saw that men were slumbering in one or two of the hammocks. Blood-red uniforms were hung here and there on hooks.

  "The marines sleep in here when they're not on watch," Roger whispered, seeing that Alexander had noticed the hammocks. "A word to the wise is that the marines keep to themselves. This section of the deck is their territory—when we don't need the guns to fight a battle."

  "Why are there marines on the ship?"

  "Oh, they're handy for boarding ships and amphibious landings," Roger said. He lowered his voice again. "Also, nobody likes to talk about it, but the marines are here to protect the officers and the ship if there's a mutiny, so you can understand why they don't mix much with the sailors."

  "Mutiny?" Alexander’s head reeled all over again. What had he gotten himself into?

  "Oh, don't worry a
bout that. It hasn't happened in a while, and Captain Bellingham is not the sort to inspire mutiny. Come on."

  They crossed to the far end of the gun deck, where there was a large iron door, almost like he might have expected to see in a prison.

  "Is that the brig?" he asked. He had heard about such things, where mutineers and the like were kept.

  Roger laughed. "Only if you're really, really bad. Then I suppose the captain might have you fed to one of these creatures."

  Before Alexander could ask the next logical question—what creatures?—he heard a noise coming from the caged area. It was somewhere between a growl and a hawk-like shriek—hard to describe exactly, except that it was a beastly noise.

  "What was that?"

  "Gryphon," Roger said. "Sounds hungry, doesn't it? You should see these things at feeding time. Quite ghastly, really."

  Alexander stared through the barred doorway, straining to catch a glimpse of the gryphon. There were lanterns, but the gloom below decks was so thick that it was hard to make out anything definite. However, he could definitely tell that there were beastly shapes on the other side of the door. He was suddenly quite glad for the iron gate separating them. He just hoped that the bars were quite thick enough.

  "Are the marines here to protect the gryphons as well?"

  Roger laughed at that. "Once you've seen one of these devil-beaks up close, you'll realize that they don't need much help from the marines when it comes to protection. You wouldn't, either, if you had claws like bayonets and a beak sharp as a scythe."

  As they watched, two crewmen wearing flyer uniforms went past. "Here to see the devil-beaks?" one of the men asked. "Come on through the gate if you please, young sirs."

  Alexander might have thought better of it, but Roger accepted the invitation with a grin. One of the men closed and locked the gate behind them. "They've been fed today, but it's a precaution. The marines have been known to get touchy about the gate being left open, you see. They worry about the devil-beaks getting loose."

  Alexander gulped back his fear. Roger didn't seem particularly afraid, so he wouldn't be, either. The two flyer crewmen set to work winding a windlass that lowered a section of the ship's side, like a drawbridge. The platform jutted into empty air and Alexander was mystified at first. He took a step closer, wondering what was out there, but all he could glimpse was sea and sky. Cold winter wind blew in.

  "That’s the gryphon port," Roger explained, as if reading his thoughts.

  "Sir, I'd stand back if I were you," one of the flyer crew said.

  Alexander had barely moved out of the way when there was a beating of wings and a screech, and then something landed heavily on the outstretched platform. To his astonishment, a beaked head appeared, and then the massive winged torso of the gryphon. The creature seemed too big to fit through the gryphon port, but then it folded its wings and stepped inside. A rider had flattened himself to the gryphon's back to duck under the doorway, but now that the beast was inside the ship he leaped lightly down from the saddle. Alexander immediately recognized him as the blond-haired boy who had swooped at him up on deck. The flyer was lightly built, and not quite as tall as Alexander. The flyer had to stand on his tiptoes as he reached up and scratched the gryphon's horse-like ears. "Good boy, Lemondrop," said the flyer, and the beast narrowed its yellow eyes to slits and purred with satisfaction. "We're off to sea at last, with no more of this infernal waiting."

  For the first time, the boy noticed them standing there. "Who are you?"

  "I'm the one you had a good laugh at up there on the deck!" Alexander hadn't expected himself to be so angry, and the tone of his voice surprised him. The gryphon gave him its full attention and uttered a low growl.

  "Easy, Lemondrop." The boy patted the gryphon's nose fondly. Alexander found himself staring in curiosity at the boy, who, though not especially big, was almost breathtakingly handsome, with fine, classic features, almost like a Greek statue brought to life. Alexander didn't normally notice such things, but there was just something about the boy that made one stare. Part of it was also that he had very blue eyes, as intensely bright in their own way as the gryphon's. "He's very protective. Just like a big dog, really. I'm sorry, by the way, if I gave offense up there on deck. I was just having a bit of fun. You sailors have a notoriously poor sense of humor."

  "Oh, please! There was nothing funny about it."

  "Says you. Ha! It actually was quite funny, at least from my point of view. The other sailors seemed to find it rather humorous too. Now, I know Mr. Higson here, but I haven't seen you before. You must be one of the new ensigns."

  "Alexander Hope."

  "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hope."

  "And you are?"

  "Lord Parkington." With that, the flyer turned away, took the gryphon by the halter, and led him deeper into the gryphon stables.

  Alexander looked at Roger, who simply shrugged and offered another of his quick grins, then led the way out of the gryphon deck. Alexander was only too happy to leave. The way those beasts looked at him with their yellow eyes made him nervous. There was something in the look that relayed the fact that they were hungry. Alexander reasoned that a gryphon was part lion, after all, and a lion didn't have many qualms about what it ate, whether it was sheep, goats ... or ensigns. He listened to the iron gate snick shut behind them with a certain amount of relief. Even the marines' quarters smelled better and seemed more inviting than the gryphon stables.

  "I've never met an actual lord before," Alexander said. "He seemed a bit high and mighty."

  Roger snorted. "That's just your typical flyer mentality," he said. "The way they act, you'd think each of them was flying around with the Resolution between his legs, instead of a single devil-beak."

  Alexander smiled at that ridiculous image. "Well, I suspect Lord Parkington might be a bit more haughty than most."

  "He's the earl of something or other. I can’t remember. His father died young, you see, which meant the title passed to him. What matters is that he’s a first cousin of the king."

  Alexander felt a pang. He knew a bit about losing one's father. He wondered if perhaps Lord Parkington had a stingy uncle who had sent him off to sea, though he suspected the circumstances might be different in a lordship's case.

  "Thank you for the tour," Alexander said. "This is quite a ship."

  "Quite a ship? Now, that's an understatement if ever I heard one." Roger appeared a little taken aback. "We're only getting started, you know. There’s so much to explain, plus I've got to get you settled in our new quarters. Come on!"

  CHAPTER THREE

  By the time they had finished touring Resolution, Alexander was thoroughly exhausted and feeling more than a little overwhelmed. He had seen the sea for the first time, been rowed out to a Royal Navy ship of the line, and met both a gryphon and an earl face to face. So much in one day, and the day was far from over.

  The Resolution had left the harbor, her sails unfurling to catch the full sea breeze. Driven by the wind, the massive ship now cut through the waves off the English Channel, sending up a salt spray that made the forward deck slippery with ice. The ship creaked and groaned like some living creature as wind fluttered the sails and whistled in the rigging. It was a contented sound, like a large dog might make when you scratched its belly. He knew Resolution was just a boat made of wood and iron and hemp, but the ship somehow seemed glad to be at sea again.

  The day was as cold and bitter as ever, but the overall mood of the ship and crew added warmth to the winter air. Alexander still felt disoriented by the roll of the ship in the open sea, but he was getting better at keeping his balance as he followed Roger up and down ladders, and across decks.

  Everywhere they went, the rest of the crew appeared to understand their duties. Men and boys were busy going about their business and running a dozen errands as if it were the most important thing they had ever done. It all seemed very mysterious to Alexander, who didn't have any duties at all.

  "You t
here, watch where you're going!" shouted an impatient young officer, who was busy overseeing a group of sailors pulling hard at a line that stretched toward the masts high above.

  Roger just laughed as they sidestepped the men, but Alexander felt his cheeks reddening again. He couldn't remember the last time he had been embarrassed this often during a single day.

  "Don't worry," Roger said. "You'll feel better once you get some food into you. It's almost dinnertime! While we're at it, we may as well show you where you're going to sleep."

  Roger strode confidently across the deck, dodging the busiest of the men, and Alexander did his best to follow in the ensign's wake. When Roger went below again, Alexander was right behind him. Somehow, they were in a different part of the ship altogether that Alexander hadn't seen before. H.M.S. Resolution just seemed to go on and on.

  "Here we are," Roger finally announced, and pointed out the way with a flourish. "The ensigns' quarters."

  Alexander entered a narrow, cramped room that was lit by several lanterns hanging from the low ceiling. A window at one end provided a view of Resolution's stern, where the white churn of the wake was just visible. Without the window, the room would have been quite claustrophobic. Several other boys wearing ensign uniforms sat around a large table, being served by a pair of rather grubby looking sailors. All eyes turned to stare at Alexander.

  "Hello everyone and meet the newest member of the madhouse!" Roger announced.

  "I'll have to set another place," grumbled one of the servers, moving off to rummage through several boxes and sets of shelves nearby. "Neptune knows if I can find a clean plate and cup."

  "And who might you be?" asked one of the ensigns off-handedly, spearing a roll with a large knife.

  "He's the one who performed such a splendid dive when that bloody gryphon swooped down," said a boy with an Irish accent. "Nice bit of athletics, that was!"

  Several of the ensigns laughed. "He's not the only one who's ever done that," someone added, and Alexander felt a bit better.