ch4:the HMS Chelsea

                                                   Chapter Four

I have taken a whitened chicken bone, from which the unfortunate animal was used as dinner a few nights ago. The farmer seemed more than happy to give up one for the cause of the King. From this bone I have begun to carve a small Celtic charm, my brother's wife taught me the meanings of several and I have chosen the luck charm. It is said that the more you wear it, the more luck you will have. Duncan taught me everything he taught Daniel, including how to carve. It was only about three quarters of an inch wide on all sides, and the details were difficult with my wide blade, but it was turning out well. When I had finished the outline and cut the shape out of the rest of the bone, I took a lump of coarse dirt from the roadside and began polishing the edges to round it out.  
I sat in the entrance way to my tent after a long day's march, and the rain had begun to pour down. There was not much else to do in the camp besides drilling, so I had plenty of time to make the charm. When the polishing was finished, I reached into my bag and pulled out my sash. Pulling three loose threads from the cut edge, I tied them together at one end and then braided them down to the other end. I took the charm and looped the braid through the top hole in the design, and then tied it around my neck and dropped it down the front of my shirt. I felt it through the cloth and put my hand over it. "Thank you Duncan, goodbye."
I heave a sigh and wipe the moisture from my eye. Tomorrow, we are told, will be the last day of marching, we will be in Portsmouth by mid afternoon and from there on to the ships. I have never been on a ship before, only small fishing boats, and I wonder what its like. Matty walks by on his way to supper, I jump up and join him, and I will ask him.
"Have you ever been on a ship, Matty?"
"Me? No, never."
"I wonder what it's like." said I
"Chris has been on one before." Matty smiled as we ducked out of the rain into the mess tent. "He sailed from Ireland to join up."
Hmm, that's right. I will ask him then. We get in line and two steaming plates are put in front of us, as well as two tankards full of water. No ale for the drummers, humph. We turn from the line and search for Michael and Chris. They are spotted across the tent, but Nicholas and his gang are sitting between us and them. I look at Matty and head off to take the long way around; we've had mostly no trouble with him, but they are growing bolder; and even though we are equals, he is older and stronger. So we avoid him and his English pals.
"I swear, if I was the cook in this place, Ah'd have made us all a nice big pot o' porridge, never mind this shite!" I swore when taking my seat.
"Oh, so yer a chef now, as well as a sword master?" laughed Chris.
"Aye, Ah'll kill you wi' mae sword in one hand and cut you up and put yer pieces in my stew with my dirk in the other!" I joked back. Matty's eyes widened at this and ducked his head down. "What's the matter, Matty?"
He looked nervous, but spoke anyway. "Is it true...I mean, Nicholas told me I shouldn't be in your company because..." He paused. My brow furrowed, had the Fifer found out my secret? I urged Matty to continue with a nod. "Because he said the Scottish eat their enemies..."
I looked at Chris and Michael, we three burst out laughing at the nonsense of the claim. Matty ducked his head back down and stared at his food. I clapped him on the back.
"Matthew Davies, don't you ever listen tae a word that Nicholas says, got it?" He nodded. "Good, 'cause listen, not ever would I eat my enemies, had I any."
"No?" He looked up at me.
"Never. not even to eat Nicholas." I paused. "He's too stringy." This time all four of us laughed. So we passed the evening, laughing and joking, Chris told stories of Ireland, Michael told stories of England, Matty told stories of Wales; and I listened. Chris snuck us ales, and we laughed at Matty's first taste. our tongues loosened with the alcohol and our revelry was long. two ales later, Michael stood and raised his glass.
"Gents, to our company!" we all shouted 'Aye!' and raised our glasses as well. "And to our final night alone! Tomorrow we meet our captain, our company, and our new fifer!" A swig by all, then a slightly tipsy Matty added:
"May he be a be*urp*etter companion than our current one!" and lord, did we agree.
Finally, the late hour and the drinks consumed forced us to part, and away to our tents went the musical section of Laurie's company, 43rd regiment. I welcomed the bed that greeted me in my own little space.

The next morning I woke to the sound of a loud groan, was it me? No, the sound came from outside my tent. I tucked my shirt into my breeches and pulled on my waistcoat, then I stuck my head out of the flap. There, with his head over the water trough and his hair dripping wet, knelt Matty.
"Oh, Matty, too much ale last night?" I asked as I stepped out. He only groaned again.
"Never, ever, let me do that again." Said he after another head dunking. "My poor head is splitting!"
"Ah, you'll get over it." I slapped him on the back. "Come on, let's get breakfast. You'll feel better afterward, I promise." I buttoned up my waistcoat and threw on my jacket.
We made our way to the mess tent and ate without incident, but when we headed outside to pack up for the march, a foot came out of nowhere and  I could not step over it in time, and down I went. Flipping over to my back, I look up into the face of Nicholas and some of his mates. Matty runs to try and help me up, but a big fellow grabs him by the arms and holds him fast.
"Not so tough without yer body guards, eh boyos?" An ugly grin spread across his face. "You know, I thinks you think you're better than uz, I does."
"We're all the same, Nicholas, Ah'm no higher than you." I said.
"Sure, but its you two what get to head off the company and wave your arses in our faces. And I know you enjoy it." He leans forward and growls the last part.
"Leave him alone!" Dear Matty fights against the arms holding him. Nicholas straightens and scowls down at me.
"Got your own personal-like servant do you?" I watched his fist ball up and readied for the blow, but instead he swiped it around and hit Matty in the gut.
I was up in a flash and my own fists readied when he turned back to me. "You have a problem fighting someone your own size? Ah'm thinking you're just a cowardly Sassanach, beating Matthew 'cause you know you can. I think you're afraid." I spat at his feet.
Nicholas' cheeks flared red and his eyes narrowed. "I'm not afraid of a bloody Jacobite."
I made as if to strike him, and his fist came back at me, at the last second I ducked and jumped around him. My fist came up and straight into the nose of the one holding Matty. There was a satisfying crunch and he let go. I grabbed Matty's arm and ran to the safety of our tents.
Later in the morning, when we had line up for the march, I made sure to give an extra wiggle of my tail in Nicholas's face, knowing he wouldn't touch us with Michael and Chris behind him.
So off we went, marching down the road in all the finery of the British army. Colonel March did not stop us for the midday meal, only a short water break, and so we gained time on our deadline. The heat of the day came and seemed to stay with us for eternity, but the houses were growing in number and farms were becoming scarce. By three o'clock the Regiments had reached a long hill, and when we came over the rise, there below us lay the city of Portsmouth. It was the largest I had ever seen, and the country child in me stared in awe. People along the road stopped and let us pass, waving and cheering as we did.
After we were dismissed from the line, Chris took us to the best pub in the harbour. He had sailed into Portsmouth from Ireland and so knew the city better than us. We entered 'The Wooden Anchor' with all our gear and sat at a table. The barkeep approached us and smiled
"Heading across the pond to take care of those colonials?" Asked he, and we nodded. "Well then, the first drink is on me." He looked at the number on my cap. "God bless the 43rd!" The boys all shouted their agreement and I smiled and nodded. Michael and Chris both ordered a beer and I ordered a dram of whiskey, by doing which earned a strange look, and Matty ordered a large glass of milk, and the strange look passed on to him.  
The barmaid brought the drinks and Chris winked at her, Matty smiled shyly and blushed when she patted him on the head. Michael had Katherine, his young wife at home, so smiled and thanked her, as did I.
I sat with the boys for a while and drank my dram, but soon I felt the need to explore. So I excused myself, left the pub, and headed for the docks. I was going to look for the ship that was to take our company to new England. Portsmouth was not small, and so the actual ports were not either; ships of every size and shape lined the wharf, hundreds of them. The ones heading to the colonies, however, were all lined up together and getting supplied, and there's where I spotted her, the HMS Chelsea. She was smaller than the others, but looked fast.
I noticed some boys standing by the gangway and headed down to them. Nodding to the tallest of them I spoke to him first. "You boys sailing oot on this ship?"
He looked me up and down and smiled, "That we are Scottie. tomorrow morning with the tide. Well," He looked down at the smallest boy who looked very similar to himself, "most of us will be leaving."
The younger one frowned. "It's not fair! I'm almost ten and mum says I have to wait until I'm twelve!"
His brother, or who I assumed to be his brother, shoved him aside and rolled his eyes. Then turned his attention back to me. "I take it your with the Regiment we're taking across the big pond, then?"
I nodded. "Colonel March assigned us to our ships this morning. Our company is being put on the Chelsea."
"Well, then, we'll be getting to know you well over the next month, wont we?" He extended a hand and I took it. "Name's Jeremy Smith, ships boy."
"Daniel McPherson, drummer boy, 43rd."
"These are the rest of the boys on the Chelsea, Jim Philips, Lucas Evans, and Kevin Jordan." I shook each boy's hand in turn. Each was between 11 and 14 years old. "My brother, as he stated before, is too young for the Navy."
The Boy stuck out his hand as well. "William Sydney Smith, at y'service." said he.
"You want tae go tae sea do ye, William?" I asked
"Indeed, someday I'll be a ship captain and sail the world, and beat up Frenchies, and be famous everywhere!"
I laughed. "I believe you will."  A whistle blew on the ship and the boys started  to board.
Jeremy had to shoo young William away and then turned to me, "See you tomorrow then, Scottie?" I nodded and turned back to the city. Tomorrow would be a big day, and I was ready for sleep.
I headed back to the Wooden Anchor and nodded to my mates, still sitting at their table. Michael had pulled out a small tin whistle and was playing a slow, sad song that I had never heard. I passed them by and headed up the stairs of the tavern to my rented room. Only when I was in my bed and my head on the pillow did I realize how tired I was. My eyes closed and did not open again until morning.