Purgatory of the Werewolf - The Wolf of Dorian Gray (Book 2)

Chapter 7 - H.M.S. Victory Part 1

Dorian stepped from the simple carriage that had carried him to the waiting Portsmouth docks before dawn. The air was brisk and frigid, with the scene before him bustling with activity. Seamen in groups of two or three hurried towards their waiting ships. Last minute deliveries of provisions were furiously underway. The giant wooden crates and heavy oaken barrels required teams of men to unload and transport them to platforms by the waiting ships. There they were covered in netting and hoisted aboard before being stowed below deck.

He paid the driver and lowered the one small, simple oak chest of belongings allowed to the low-ranking seamen. He was dressed in the crew's standard issue slops. These consisted of loose white trousers that ended just above the ankle and a matching white linen shirt. The uniform was finished with wool-grey pea jacket, black scarf, and a brown round top-hat that immediately identified his lack of rank or position.

He looked to the side and saw Lord Crawley arriving in a separate, more luxurious carriage. Lord Crawley pointedly avoided his gaze. The two men would keep their distance and pretend not to know each other at first. As a Midshipman's mate, Lord Crawley would be berthing in the officer's quarters rather than with the lower crew members. That meant he was allowed two large mahogany trunks and would be afforded much more comfortable sleeping quarters. The dress of the Midshipman's mate was of finer linen breeches cut to a knee-high length, which Lord Crawley had adorned with several gold buttons. He wore a fringed linen shirt and a deep-blue frock coat with white trimming and several more gold buttons. His collar and sleeves were decorated with white half-stripes that indicated his rank. His uniform ended in a blue, cocked officer's hat that was also lined in gold.

The sun continued to rise in an ominous ball of fire as the light reflected off the water to illuminate the H.M.S. Victory. She was nearly seventy meters in length with three sails and a beam measuring over fifteen meters in width. Her hull was made from thick, dark-brown oak wood and was trimmed in a fresh yellow paint. The top of the mainmast was over sixty-two meters above the waterline. The vessel could reach a speed of eleven knots and hold eight hundred and fifty men.

He had read about the ship's impressive one hundred and four gun complement. The Victory was a first-rate ship of the line with a fearsome reputation in battle. It was not hard to see why. The gun deck held thirty of the two and three-fourths long pattern Blomefield cannons. These each shot a fifteen-kilogram cannon ball. They were commonly referred to as 32-pounders. The middle gun deck held twenty-eight of the two and one-half ton long guns which each shot an eleven-kilogram shot. The upper gun deck held thirty of the one and seven-tenths ton short guns. These would fire a five-kilogram shot. Twelve more of these were placed on the quarterdeck. The forecastle held two medium length cannons of the same and two of the devastating thirty-one-kilogram carronade.

These large-caliber cannons were cast iron and could deal terrible damage at short-range. The shot was packaged for maximum destruction and could fire a combination of round shot, bar shot, grape shot, and canister shot.

Lifting his chest, Dorian moved down the quay and towards the ship. As he drew closer, the air filled with the smell of tobacco and tar. A seaman passed by and took a quick swig from a weathered cask that held the sweet aroma of rum.

He approached a table where the Paymaster and Clerk sat with the ship's register. The Paymaster had a grizzled face, darkened and weathered by many years at sea. He wore long sideburns and a short beard which was still mostly black with a smattering of gray hairs. In his left ear was a simple loop of gold. His broad shoulders were covered in a blue frock coat with gold buttons and two white stripes on his sleeve and collar. These indicated his rank as a warrant officer, though his coat was currently opened wide to expose his linen shirt and ample midsection. As Dorian approached, the Paymaster produced a pair of French pince-nez glasses. They had no earpieces and were held on the nose by the curvature of the metal center piece. He had removed the cocked officer's hat from his head to expose a balding dome of hair.

He placed the glasses on his face and looked down at the register with a bored expression. "Rank and name?"

Dorian floundered for a moment as he struggled to recall his new surname.

"Be quick about it seaman! I don't have all day."

"Yes, sir. It's Seaman Dorian Lynch, at your service."

He marked an 'x' by the name in his register and gestured to a contract that the clerk next to him had unrolled. The clerk was a much younger man with only the beginnings of a beard on his face. He was dressed similarly but with only one white stripe on his uniform. He still wore the cocked officer's hat and had on a set of thin metal spectacles that went over his ears.

The clerk turned the contract towards Dorian with a cautious smile and offered him a wooden dip pen with a metal nib. The contract seemed of the standard sort, with the seal of the Royal Navy affixed at the bottom.

The Paymaster sighed and spoke as if reciting a speech too-often rehearsed. "If you are unable to read, the Articles of Agreement simply state that you agree to serve under the command of the Lord Captain Elgin for the period of one year. You agree to be subject to all laws, regulations, and punishments governing the crew. You will perform all duties as ordered. You will defend the honor of the Victory, the Captain, the Royal Navy, and Her Majesty the Queen. If called upon to fight, you will do so including offering your life in service to the Queen. You will be assigned to the rigging and stand the third watch. Your pay will be twenty pounds fifty, which I as Paymaster will hold for you until the end of your service. Sign here if you agree to these terms."

What had he gotten himself into? Dorian thought it best to remain silent and simply sign his name with an 'x'.

"Welcome aboard Seaman Lynch. You will address me as Lieutenant Paymaster Blundell. The clerk here is Sub-Lieutenant Purcell. He will issue you one seaman's kit and a standard issue mattress. You will also receive a signing advance of four pounds twenty. I strongly advise you to refrain from betting with the crew. If you need anything, speak to Purcell here and he will record your request in his ledger."

"Thank you, sir." Dorian clumsily made a salute by touching a clenched fist to his brow as he had seen other seamen do when addressing an officer. That earned a satisfied look from the Paymaster. Dorian took the coins that Sub-Lieutenant Purcell counted out and continued along the pier towards the brow to board the vessel.

Lady Helena looked on from the window of a lavishly appointed, four-horse carriage. She had ignored Lucious' plea to stay inside this morning. Instead she had ignored her lingering cough and bundled up as much as possible. Lucious begrudgingly obeyed her orders to follow Dorian's carriage from a distance. She needed to make sure with her own eyes that Dorian boarded the ship and left port.