The Midshipman Prince Read Online Free PDF Page B

Board.”
     
           Walker just sat there with total disbelief coursing through his body. It was only with considerable effort that he was able to return his attention to Captain Hudson.
     
           “...as you will also be the Ship’s Surgeon.”
     
           “What? Ship’s Surgeon,” Walker protested. “I am not a physician.”
     
           “I never said you were,” replied Hudson. “Indeed, if you recall, I never said you were a scientist either. But, after that stunt you pulled yesterday—and I have no idea how you did that—the men think you are a physician, and that’s what’s important. They think you can literally raise people from the dead, Mr. Walker. Imagine that.
     
           “So, if I may continue... The Ship’s Surgeon that was assigned to us was indisposed when we left Charleston.”
     
           “He had been dead drunk for 20 days,” sniffed Rooney.
     
           “Was indisposed,” repeated the captain. “We need a Ship’s Surgeon, and so, you’re it. You will have a good surgeon’s mate and two loblolly boys under you.
     
           “You will be paid as a surgeon—5 pounds per month, plus 5 pounds for every 100 cases of venereal disease you treat. You will sleep in the Fourth Lieutenant’s cabin and dine in the officers’ mess. When we get into the next port that has a packet going to England, I will forward both appointments to the Sick and Wounded Board at the Admiralty for approval. They will, of course, reject them both out of hand; but, meanwhile...”
     
           “And what if I refuse to perform these duties?” asked Walker.
     
           The steel now came unsheathed in Hudson’s gray-green eyes as they bored into Walker. He leaned forward on the table: “Then I will place you in irons in the hold, among the ships rats, on bread and water for the duration of this cruise. When we reach port—which might be a month or more from now—I will transfer you to similar princely accommodations on a ship headed for England. Once in England you will be placed aboard the prison brig in Portsmouth Harbor until your trial as an American spy is called and you are hung—unless, of course, someone carelessly forgets to give you a trial at all and simply hangs you to keep in practice. Am I making myself clear, Mr. Walker?”
     
           “You are indeed, sir. Quite clear.”
     
           “One more thing. I am assigning Mr. Smith here as your ‘Sea Daddy.’ His job will be to bring you up to speed on this ship and her operations as quickly as possible. A cram course, if you will, in being... a REAL officer.” The irony was dripping from Hudson’s voice.
     
           “There we have it. Are there any questions?”
     
           “No,” Walker replied.
     
           “That’s ‘No SIR,’ Mr. Walker,” snapped Rooney.
     
           “No, SIR... Sir.”
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     
     
     
     
           “ALL RIGHT. Let’s go over it again. Tell me about shrouds.”
     
           “Shrouds are the lines that extend from each masthead to the starboard and larboard side of the ship. They support the mast.
     
           “What supports the masts fore and aft?”
     
           “The backstays and the forestays,” he said smiling. “I knew you were going to ask that.”
     
           It was early afternoon on a glorious late summer day. The sky was such a bright blue that it almost hurt your eyes to look at it. Below was a darker blue extending as far as the eye could see, and way up high there were wisps of white clouds to provide little accent marks to the scene. The Richmond was cruising along at 5 or 6 knots under mere topsails, riding the southerly breezes and the recently named “Gulf Stream” current. She was making the sounds that all wooden ships make while underway—the sounds of wood rubbing against wood—ranging from low harmonics