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    Nasty Jack: A Roaring Tale of the Sea, 1800
    Nasty Jack: A Roaring Tale of the Sea, 1800
    Nasty Jack: A Roaring Tale of the Sea, 1800
    Ebook491 pages8 hours

    Nasty Jack: A Roaring Tale of the Sea, 1800

    By N. Beetham Stark

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    About this ebook

    This book is set during the Napoleonic Wars. Jack Lampray is the opposite of a conscientious young British naval officer. He hates his older brother, Norman, and sets out to destroy him. He wants to inherit Eagle Crest, the family home, and leave Norman out in the cold.

    When his father disapproves of Jack’s lady friend, Jack is sent away to sea to serve under a friend of his fathers. Brother Norman soon follows. Jack manages to smile all the while, but secretly plans to level misery on his crew when no one is looking. He tries to kill brother Norman several times but fails each time.

    Jack’s mean personality encourages his crew to secretly do him in when the officers are looking the other way. If there is anything evil that a man could do aboard ship, Jack has plans to do it. He even succeeds in cuckolding his captain aboard ship when the poor man has brought his wife aboard so he can get her with child.

    Stu is a friend of Jacks, not by choice so much as because of a morbid fascination with the man and how he can continually fool so many people and get away with it. Most of the officers see Jack as a model officer. Stu stays with Jack to the bitter end taking notes on his perverted mind, preparing to write this story of his pathetic life.

    Eventually Jack becomes disillusioned with the British Navy and leaves, taking a number of East Enders with him. They become pirates, but call themselves “privateersmen.” Eventually Jack ends up in China in the opium dens and becomes addicted. He is already suffering from venereal disease and is most sickly.

    Stu tries to conserve what little money they have left and takes him back to the Caribbean to die in a naval hospital. Before he dies, Jack falls desperately in love with a beautiful nurse. He learns with his last breath who she really is. Stu goes on to write Jack’s story and becomes a credible historian.
    Not recommended for persons under the age of 18.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherN. Beetham Stark
    Release dateJun 15, 2011
    ISBN9781458197122
    Nasty Jack: A Roaring Tale of the Sea, 1800
    Author

    N. Beetham Stark

    Nellie Beetham Stark was born November 20, 1933, in Norwich, Connecticut to Theodore and Dorothy Pendleton Beetham. She attended the Norwich Free Academy and later Connecticut College in New London, CT before graduating with a MA and a Ph.D. degree in Botany (Ecology) from Duke University.Stark worked for the U.S. Forest Service as a botanist for six years and then joined the Desert Research Institute in Reno, Nevada where she worked on desert and forest ecology and later tropical nutrient cycling. She has consulted in many countries, working for some time in Russia, Australia and South America. She developed the theory that explains why tropical white sand soils cannot grow good food crops and described the decline processes of soils. She has also developed a science of surethology, or survival behavior which describes how humans must adapt to their environments if they hope to survive long term. She has 96 professional publications and has published in four languages.Her life long hobby has been English history, with emphasis on naval history. Her family came originally from Tristan Da Cunha in the South Atlantic in the early 1900’s. Her grandfather was a whale ship captain for a time which spurred her interest in naval history. She also paints pictures of sailing ships which she has used as covers for her historical novels. She has built several scale models of sailing ships and does extensive research on ships and naval history, traveling to England once yearly.Stark was awarded the Connecticut Medal by Connecticut College in 1986 and the Distinguished Native Daughter Award for South Eastern Connecticut in 1985. She was named outstanding Forestry Professor three times by the students of the University of Montana, School of Forestry.Today she writes historical novels, mostly set in England. She has published some 21 novels in the past twenty years, mostly on the internet. She lives on a farm in Oregon and raises hay and cows.Stark's two most popular book series are:Early Irish-English History1. The Twins of Torsh, 44 A.D. to 90 A.D.1. Rolf "The Red" MacCanna, 796-8462. An Irishman's Revenge, 1066-11124. Brothers 4, 1180-12165. Edward's Right Hand, 1272-13076. We Three Kings, 1377-1422The Napoleonic Wars at Sea (Benjamin Rundel)1. Humble Launching - A Story of a Little Boy Growing Up at Sea, 17872. Midshipman Rundel - The Wandering Midshipman, 17953. Mediterranean Madness - The Luckless Leftenant Rundel, 17974. The Adventures of Leftenant Rundel, 1797-17995. Forever Leftenant Rundel, 1800-18036. Captain Rundel I – Trafalgar and Beyond, 1803-18067. Captain Rundel II – Give Me a Fair Wind, 1806-18098. Captain Rundel III – Bend Me a Sail, 1810-18139. Admiral Rundel – 1814-1846

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      Book preview

      Nasty Jack - N. Beetham Stark

      Nasty Jack

      A Rousing Sea Story

      An Historical Novel

      by N. Beetham Stark

      * * * * *

      Discover other titles by N. Beetham Stark at

      Smashwords.com or at NBeethamStark.com.

      Nasty Jack: A Rousing Sea Story

      Written by N. Beetham Stark

      Copyright 2010 by N. Beetham Stark

      Cover art by N. Beetham Stark

      Published by Smashwords, Inc.

      ISBN 978-1-4581-9712-2

      All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form

      without the written permission of the author or trust agents.

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

      * * * * *

      Dedication: This book is dedicated to Tintagon, Tarsie and Picotso.

      We cannot change history. All that can change is our perception of past events. History is what actually happened and it is done, past. We may influence the direction that events will take in the future, but history is written in stone and there is no eraser that can change it.

      N. Beetham Stark

      Acknowledgements

      The author is grateful to the Royal Naval Museum, the National Maritime Museum and the Lancaster Maritime Museum for information used in reconstructing the events portrayed in this book. While the work is fiction, many of the things that happened are in keeping with the history of the time. Inspiration came from reading works by C.S. Forester, Dudley Pope and Patrick O’Brien and others.

      Table of Contents

      Preface

      Chapter 1 – Launched on Friday the 13th

      Chapter 2 – A Kindly Face

      Chapter 3 – The Pig Scandal

      Chapter 4 – Fratricide?

      Chapter 5 – The Glorious First of June

      Chapter 6 – He Has Arisen

      Chapter 7 – The Swift

      Chapter 8 – A Babe in Arms, or Jack Can’t

      Chapter 9 – A Lady in Disguise?

      Chapter 10 – That Awful Exam

      Chapter 11 – Revenge and Frustration

      Chapter 12 – The Nasty Little Buggers

      Chapter 13 – The French Conundrum

      Chapter 14 – The Cutting Out Exercise

      Chapter 15 – The Admiralty

      Chapter 16 – I Am My Brother’s Keeper and I’ll Keep Him as I Wish!

      Chapter 17 – Turnabout is Fair Play

      Chapter 18 – The Good Life? OR Saved by The Menu!

      Chapter 19 – Murder on the Maine

      Chapter 20 – Raising Hell in the Caribbean

      Chapter 21 – Becalmed in an Angry Sea

      Chapter 22 – A Ship in Distress, S.M.S.!

      Chapter 23 – Pirated by a Pirate!

      Chapter 24 – Macau

      Chapter 25 – Inherit the Land – R.I.P.

      Postscript

      About the Author

      About the Book

      Preface

      My name is Stewart Pilkington. I am probably the only true friend that Jack ever had. Jack and I really had nothing in common. I was, in fact, his opposite, but sometimes opposites attract. I met him first aboard the H.M.S. Queen Charlotte.

      He was a new midshipman and somewhat out of his element. I found him fascinating because of his unparalleled capacity for evil and mischief! I have always been interested in medicine and particularly the human mind. Jack’s mind was like no other that I have ever known. He seemed to thrive on the pain of others and I never saw him flinch when he knowingly inflicted pain on one of his fellow seamen. I have seen him skewer a sailor with a cutlass and laugh at his agony, kicking savagely at the fallen body. One constantly thought that, he’ll get his turn at pain someday and soon!

      Jack was a master of deception. When the officers were looking, he was a perfect gentleman, on time, polite, harsh with his men, but not overly so and always friendly, smiling and congenial. Every officer liked him, his peers hated him and the crewmen hated him more than they would dare to say. I spoke with some of the men from his division about him one day and they would say not a word good or bad about him. They were frightened of him, scared for their lives.

      When he was with his division and there were no other officers around to observe, he treated them like bilge water, berating even their best efforts and always criticizing their actions. You’re too slow there, Harry, shape up! The lobster backs hated him too, even though he had no jurisdiction over them. They saw in him the evil that can make an oppressive officer and they tried to thwart his wrong doings as often as they could, mainly to get him set ashore and permanently beached.

      Yet I have seen dispatches written by our captain that painted a very different picture of Mr. Jack Lamprey. I once heard the Admiral say that, If we had more men like young Jack here, we’d soon be free of this bothersome war with Napoleon.

      After serving on and off with Jack for twelve years, I had to write his story. He was simply too much of an enigma to be lost in the clouds of time! His actions needed to be chronicled as much as did those of Lord Nelson who was a very different man. Others can learn from his mistakes and perhaps if other future officers read about Jack, they will not want to follow his course, but will steer a more productive course that will benefit mankind.

      Jack was a blight on the British Navy and it is a miracle that we succeeded as far as we did with the likes of him in command. Eventually, as always occurs, his evil caught up with him and he died an agonizing death, both psychologically and physically. He ‘runs’ from the Navy when the going gets too tough and races straight into one disaster after another. Yet he was promoted before any of us and lived a short but exciting life. I came along just for the excitement.

      William Hearst, Ship’s Surgeon (Alias Stewart Pilkington)

      Chapter 1 – Launched on Friday the 13th

      A thick, cloying fog hung over Norfolk like a wet cloak after a downpour. The early October morning was silent, not even the rustling of fall leaves could be heard.

      Then, out of the peace the air was rent with a horrible shriek of pain, a scream to waken the dead. It was the scream of a woman in crippling pain and was followed shortly by the yowling of a new-born babe.

      Young Jack came into the world with a mighty howl on Friday, the 13 th of 1778. So impatient was he to get on with his life that he clawed his way out of the womb, leaving his mother a bloody mess. She, Agatha Lamprey, always a frail woman, died shortly after from excessive loss of blood and post partum depression. Jack was cousin to naval hero Benjamin Rundel. Both men were born within a few weeks of one another, but there the similarities ended.

      Jack’s father, Squire Oliver Lamprey, took the babe in hand and named him, John Jacob Lamprey. Then, as his wife breathed her last, he wrapped Jack in a blanket and took him to the mid wife who said she knew a woman who was breast feeding and could care for him. That was after the infant had managed to give his father a good face washing with his first attempt to relieve his bladder. It is no surprise that he favoured his older son, Norman, since Jack took from him the only woman that he had ever loved.

      Jack spent the first two years of his life with Lizzie Dowd. She took care of him, but she had no love for the child and wasn’t ashamed to admit it to friends. During that time, Jack had no contact with his older brother Norman.

      By the time that Jack was two, Lizzie had tired of caring for him and returned him to his father saying that he was the ‘spawn of the devil.’ His father looked into his hazel eyes and saw something there that he didn’t recognize as belonging to him! The child had a demonic stare that drove fear into people’s hearts, yet his face bore a charming smile. Squire Lamprey advertised for a nanny and soon hired one Pliny Vaughn, a widowed woman of about thirty. But Pliny could see no evil in the child. Almost immediately she fell in love with him and they became fast friends.

      At times the friendship wore thin when Jack played tricks on Pliny, although she always seemed to forgive him. Once he put a frog in her bed and she came screaming out into the hall at night, her eyes as large as peach pits. Then he tied her cat over a rail fence by its own tail so that it clawed itself to death. He thought it was great fun. He poured molasses in the foot of her bed once. The ants found it before Pliny did! That elicited a strong response, bordering on murder! And he told everyone that she had false teeth and that her hair was really white but she dyed it with tree bark to make it brown. The snake in the pantry was harmless, but Pliny responded to it as if were a deadly cobra. And then there was the poison letter. When Jack was old enough to write, he composed an elaborate love letter and had it delivered to Pliny, who was not exactly a pretty woman or likely to be anyone’s love passion. Pliny was so taken by the letter, which was signed by one ‘Sir Richard Parkington, Valiant Knight of His Majesty’s Court’, that she carried it next to her heart for months and Jack had to stifle his laughter because he knew it was there. In the letter he had promised to come for her on a tall white stallion to take her away to some place where they could be together. Pliny spent days looking out over the bleak winter landscape of Ranworth in Norfolk expecting to see a knight in shining armor headed for the Lamprey estate and his beloved Pliny! Jack never dared to tell Pliny what he had done, but he now knew that the written word could have great power. He watched Pliny slowly sink into depression from which she never really recovered. At least she didn’t bother Jack during those years of depression. But if the truth were known, Pliny was the only woman to ever truly love Jack, but he was too young and insensitive to understand that at the time.

      The estate east of Ranworth was a perfect place for a boy to grow up. There were hundreds of acres of forest and open fields where a lad could ride and hunt or fish. The stables were full of fine horses and Jack had everything that any child could desire, except freedom. Jack became a fine fisherman, often riding to a branch of the Yare to wet his line. But his studies were in disarray. He seemed not at all interested in learning to read or write, that is, not until he discovered that the knowledge to read and write gave him power over people. Then things changed and he began to pay more attention to his studies, but always with the thought that he might do some mischief with that certain knowledge. At first Squire Lamprey hired a private tutor for his sons. He would do anything to keep the lad out from under foot. It seems that the Squire had little love for his youngest son but he adored Norman, his first born. He always blamed his wife’s death on the aggressive, troublesome Jack and did everything that he could to get him grown up and away from ‘Viking Crest,’ which was the name of his estate.

      But it was Norman, his older brother who received the brunt of Jack’s sadistic humour. Norman was only a year older than Jack, but he was a very different sort. He was taller, thin, with stringy blond hair, pale blue eyes and a pasty white, pimpled complexion. His face was long and he always looked as if he had just stepped out of the bath, spit, clean and polished. His voice was high like a girl’s and he took mincing short steps which made him much less a man in Jack’s eyes.

      Early on Jack found pleasure in harassing Norman. His first attack was to put fresh horse puckey on the seat of his father’s chair. When the old man sat down to dinner, Jack was no where to be seen, but it was Norman who came walking through the door just as the trousers hit the soft stuff! Norman got a whipping, but Jack thought that his father was rather soft on Norman all the same. Norman protested that he knew nothing of the deed.

      That plan went off so well that Jack soon tried some others. He put a mouse in a bag that held onions so that when Pliny opened the bag, she let out a scream. Jack saw to it that Norman had just been sent to the galley to fetch a stick of wood for the Squire. Norman got another caning.

      Then Jack put a wild boar in the wood near the place where Norman always hunted. It seems that Jack engineered a snare that was effective in restraining the boar as he hid nearby. Once he had the animal, he was able to drag it to the nearby wood where Norman hunted. But it was the Squire who encountered the animal and had to do him in. He fretted for days that there had never been a wild boar in his wood, not in all his years! Norman knew nothing of the animal and since his father couldn’t believe that little Jack had brought the animal to the farm by himself, it had to be Norman’s doings. Norman’s derriere suffered again. It got so that Norman would barely speak to Jack. Almost anything that happened was blamed on poor Norman. Pliny took Jack’s side whenever she dared.

      One day Squire Lamprey was speaking with Squire Middleton as they met in the pub in town.

      You know, Wilbur, I seem to have to discipline my son Norman almost every week, but Jack never gets into trouble. I cane Norman regularly, but I can’t help but think that I am expending my energy on the wrong boy. Somehow I think that Jack is behind a good bit of this mischief, but I can never prove anything on him. He’s a clever sort.

      Perhaps you need to watch the two boys more closely, Oliver.

      But that’s just it! I do keep a close eye on Norman and he seems devoted to his studies, a regular good boy. I can’t watch them both at once, you know. It’s too much for any man and Jack has so much accursed energy that I could never keep up with him. So I watch Norman and suddenly there is something wrong and he’s the only one there to blame!

      It’s beyond me, Oliver. You seem to have sired two very different boys. I would never suspect Norman of mischief, not anything serious anyway. But the mischief continued. Jack set up an elaborate plan to ensnare his unsuspecting brother each week, and each week Norman was caned. The constant whippings began to wear on him, causing his to lose confidence in himself. He became withdrawn and morose.

      Even in school, Jack managed to slip Norman’s exam paper away and replace it with a dud that had a lot of nonsense on it. It was so bad that the teacher, Mr. Wilson, thought that Norman was acting smart and he gave the lad a caning. Norman swore that he had never seen that paper before, but no one believed him. Jack was so energetic, so handsome and so self-confident that he was beyond suspicion. It was the effeminate Norman who always got the worst of every situation.

      When Jack’s lessons in ciphering lagged the lad became belligerent, playing tricks on his tutor. The old man, Trevor Silcott, packed up his bags and left, saying that he could do no more good for young Jack. Jack was happy because he despised the old coot and wanted to spend his time riding, hunting and fishing. But his father quickly put an end to freedom by enrolling Jack in the local school under a stern taskmaster, William Waddington. Norman now went to school as well, and they were referred to by the boys as, ‘Jack and his sister.’ Not long after Jack came to know the names of the boys in his class, he became their undisputed leader and a rash of mischief broke out. Eleven fine young men, all about twelve years old, who had never even ruffled a hair on old Waddington’s head until now, suddenly erupted into such mischief that no one could believe what was happening.

      The first thing that Jack led them into was to escape from school during a break. They ran off to the coast to walk the beaches. Come on boys. It’s permitted. Norman said that we could have the afternoon off! It was a hike of nearly ten miles to Hemsby, but they stole food and blankets and it was a warm spring. Once the boys arrived on the strand, Jack took over their education and began to teach them things about the sea, most of which he knew nothing about. Most of all, he knew nothing about the treacherous currents in that area and the tendency for the seas to suddenly roll in high and dangerous. When the local constable found them, they were swimming skinny naked in the surf, daring each other to go farther and farther out to sea. Their clothes had already been washed out to sea. The waves poured in, pounding on the strand like huge fists. One boy went too far out, trying to outdo Jack and was caught in the undertow and drowned. Jack showed no remorse. He was gleeful at the thought that old Skinner was so stupid that he would go out so far from shore.

      The constable rounded up eleven naked, wet boys and marched them back to town. He grumbled loudly when he had to put them up for a night in a local Inn. The body of the dead boy was brought along with them on the back of the constable’s horse. The scene when his parents arrived was awful to behold. Such grief can only be shown by people who are older and have only one child with no hope of ever getting another! The lads hung their heads sadly when their parents came to get them the next day, they were naked as plucked chickens! But Jack flaunted his personal parts about as if they were something special. He showed no remorse for having led the boys astray.

      A week later, Jack organized another attack on old Waddington. They dressed up a fat, old male pig in clothes that they stole from the school master’s wardrobe and paraded it through town with ‘Sir Waddington’ written on its back. Widow Laughton happened to see the pig and was disgusted at the sight. The pig was unusually large with a huge pendulous scrotum and was anything but a handsome specimen what with dirty black and white splotches all over its body. The boys knew that Waddington and Widow Laughton had been dating and they were sure that this would put some stress into the relationship. It did!

      Jack showed an endless amount of energy and a genius for mischief. He engineered the assault on the new bridge that was being built nearby, rendering the structure useless. The workmen would have killed him if they could have caught him, but he was fleet of foot and sly of mind. Amidst all of the misdeeds, Jack was becoming extremely good at manipulating numbers and he was even able to absorb some geometry. One could say that he was never motivated to learn unless he could see some advantage in it for himself. When it came to Latin and Greek, he told his friend, Homer Wilkes,

      I can see no use of these ancient languages. The dead Greeks teach me nothing that I want to know. I think that I’ll fail these worthless subjects at will. But he did get an occasional thrill out of the Canterbury Tales, even though he did not enjoy reading such antiquated language. In fact, some of his best schemes crept into his mind out of the pages of Chaucer’s works.

      One day Mr. Waddington met Squire Lamprey on the streets of Great Yarmouth.

      I say old chap, but your son Jack has a most unusual genius. If he puts his mind to good works, he will surely make a fine MP or perhaps one of our most able statesmen. He might even become First Lord of the Admiralty. But if he turns his energies to evil as I fear he intends to do, he’ll surely end up on the gallows as one of England’s most notorious criminals! We must direct this child so that his mind travels a course of right lest we lose his genius to evil.

      I quite agree William. But I can do nothing with him at home. Since he has turned fourteen, even Pliny can’t seem to influence him. He is growing apart from us and my threats fall on deaf ears. I am thinking of sending him off to sea as midshipman when he turns fifteen.

      Waddington breathed a sigh of relief. That meant that he would only have to put up with Jack for another six months.

      Right on old chap. He may be able to get the kind of guidance that he needs from his superior officers at sea. Discipline is severe in the Navy you know. Put him with Admiral John Jervis. He’s a man with a strong will that can surely break young Jack of his waywardness.

      Good advice sir and I shall do my best.

      But Jack was at it again. He had found a warehouse full of hay to be send off for the war effort. He torched the warehouse but got away so swiftly that when they came to look for him at home, he was sitting in bed reading a book! Norman had just walked by the warehouse before the flames erupted and was seen by half a dozen people near the warehouse. The Constable seized Norman and put him in jail for a whole month. Jack claimed to have been there in his bed reading all afternoon and no one had seen him near the warehouse. He was even able to tell them what he had read for the past two hours! By now the Constable and the Sheriff knew Jack very well but they couldn’t put him in the local keep because all the evidence pointed to poor Norman. Jack had stolen his first horse at age five and raped his first woman at fourteen! He wasn’t about to let anyone get in his way.

      The week after Norman was released from jail, his father sent him off to sea as a midshipman under Admiral John Jervis.

      One day Jack was talking to his friend, Homer.

      Jack, old boy, I don’t see how you get away with all of your wild pranks. I mean why do you always manage to blame everything on your brother, Norman? I’d never get away with that at my house.

      It’s simple, Homer. Norman is the oldest and is stupid. He will inherit the entire property of Viking Crest someday. And he’s a ninny. He’s no more suited to be a squire than is the barn cat! I should inherit all! I could make something of the Crest! That ninny will only let it run to ruin. The more trouble I can bring to his door, the less likely he is to inherit the Crest!

      But I don’t see how being so hard on him will make any difference.

      Wait and watch. I have a plan.

      By now the residents of Ranworth were quite fed up with Mr. Jack Lamprey, or his brother Norman, whichever it was. Many suspected that they were both involved in the local mischief. All but one would welcome Jack’s leaving for the sea. When Jack had just turned fourteen, he met a young lady about his own age in Ranworth. Their eyes met and Jack couldn’t take his eyes from her. She was a freckle-faced young girl named, Priscilla Longley. Her honey-coloured locks hung down on unusually broad shoulders and she was built more like a man than a woman, but she had a pleasant smile and deep blue eyes. Everyone called her ‘Miss Priss.’ She was a bit of a wild one too and the energy in Jack matched hers quite well, but she was a loner. Jack sensed that she didn’t show the same depth of feeling for him that he had for her. Within a week, Jack was hopelessly hooked on this young woman. He called on her every time that he could slip away and he spent many hours walking with her. Unlike the trollops at the tavern, Jack kept his hands off her, showing his feelings through his words. He told his friend Wilkes that, I don’t want to sully my bed before it’s time to lay on her. Jack had already conquered most of the single women in Ranworth and Great Yarmouth for his pleasure, but never for love. This was different. This was a new feeling that his friends told him was, ‘true love.’

      The two young people rode their horses together and spent time at the river watching birds. When Jack’s friends heard that he was off bird watching or ‘twitching,’ they nearly laughed themselves silly.

      Old Jack, twitching! I can’t believe it, said one of his school mates. We haven’t had a good bit of mischief in over a month now and that’s too long." But none of the other boys had the genius for mischief that Jack had. So for several months, Ranworth and surroundings were quiet. There was no hint of mischief, no thefts, rapes or other pranks to occupy the attention of the local constable. In fact, some of the Ranworth town folks complained that life had become almost boring!

      Then it happened! Squire Lamprey announced at Christmas dinner that he had secured a position of midshipman for young Jack aboard the H.M.S. Conqueror under the wing of Admiral Sir John Jervis. He was to join the ship and his brother Norman at Portsmouth on 10 January, 1793. The old man handed him his commission with a shrewd smile that said, You’ll never darken my heart again, you young devil.

      Jack jumped out of his chair and let loose a string of expletives that rent the air like a hot knife through warm butter. Everyone cringed at his rage. He spat on the floor, threw his loaded plate against the wall, just missing Pliny, raced towards his father with clenched fists and hit the old man beside the head knocking him to the floor. Then he kicked his father brutally in the ribs. That should teach you to meddle in my life, old man! Finally, his anger spent, he turned and left the house. His words trailed off as he left the room.

      Father, how could you do this to me! You never told me that you were planning a naval career for me! You never consulted me! You have never cared one jot for what I wanted or needed! He stormed through the front door, slamming it with all his power. He would never return when his father was home. Behind his rage, most everyone knew that he was angry because he would be forced to leave Priscilla. He had now grown so used to her company that he couldn’t imagine life without her.

      Jack saddled his horse and rode through a pounding rain storm to Priscilla’s house. He had met her father before and he didn’t like the man at all. Now he appeared at their front door, soaked to the skin, demanding to see Priscilla. She came to the door, peering from behind the servant.

      Priscilla, I must speak with you in private, at once.

      Priscilla said nothing but ran for her shawl and put it over her head. The two young people ran to the nearby stables and sat down in the hay. Jack began to pour out his sad story.

      "Prissy, I am being sent by my father in a week to join Admiral John Jervis aboard the HMS Conqueror. I will sail with Norman and Captain Troubridge. I fear none of the cannons or the gunfire, but I do fear losing you. Will you marry me before I have to leave?"

      The girl looked at him as if he had lost all of his grape shot and was sitting there with a totally empty head. Her eyes grew narrow and she stared at him for sometime.

      Dear boy, we are no more than friends. We aren’t lovers. I don’t want to marry you or anyone. I’m sure my father would say that I’m too young anyway. What ever made you think that I felt that way about you? Yes, you’re fun to be with and you have an active mind that flows along the same channels that mine does, but we have nothing else in common.

      Jack sat there as if someone had delivered a broadside of grape shot to his middle. His eyes were wide open, staring, and he knew that he must, for the first time in his life, look like a total fool! Has she not sensed my love for her? How could two people share so much of life and not know more about one another? Not care for each other? I go off to perhaps be killed in war and she doesn’t even care a single jot!

      His thoughts were so painful that he closed his eyes to shut out the image of the woman that he had loved with his whole passion, up to two minutes ago. Now it was painful to even look at her. He had curbed his appetites for women for months so that he could save himself for her and now she dismissed him without even a show of guilt!

      So you’ll not have me as husband?

      Silly boy, she said patronizingly.

      Something in Jack exploded and in a second he had her down in the hay and was having his way with her. If she won’t have me, perhaps she will bear my son, the bitch! The whole process was over in a few seconds and he sat back, looking at Priscilla as his conquest, as he had looked at many another bar maid after a sultry night of conquest. There was no longer love in his eyes nor in his heart, only disdain and hatred. Jack rose up and turned away, walking as fast as he could out into the cold rain.

      He stayed with a friend, one Gilbert Gibbons, for the next week. When the time came, he saddled his horse and rode off towards Portsmouth. It would take him a week to make the ship. Then he arrived just in time. They were weighing anchor as he came to the docks. He summoned a boat and was rowed out to the ship, climbing aboard after the ship had got under way. Jack looked back at England. He had no ill feelings about leaving anyone there. He had been scorned by the one woman whom he loved and now he was ready to go forth to do dirty to the world, to make everyone pay for Priscilla’s rejection of him, especially the French. He was now ‘Nasty Jack.’

      Chapter 2 – A Kindly Face

      Jack climbed nimbly up the battens and stepped through the tumblehome to be met by Lieutenant James Crawford. He managed an awkward salute.

      Midshipman Jack Lamprey reporting, ...sir.

      Welcome aboard, Midshipman Lamprey. Follow me and I’ll take you to the captain and later you’ll meet Admiral Sir John Jervis.

      Jack looked over his shoulder as his sea chest was being hoisted aboard. Then he fell in step behind the lieutenant. The latter greeted the sentry posted outside the captain’s door and begged admittance.

      Jack stepped into a low cabin. He wasn’t tall, only five foot nine, but he had to duck as he entered the cabin. There behind the desk sat a congenial looking older gentleman, smiling.

      Sir, Midshipman Jack Lamprey has just come aboard. Captain Thomas Troubridge was a tall, distinguished gentleman with a pleasant smile.

      Jack tried another awkward salute. I’ll get the hang of this soon enough, he thought.

      Welcome, Mr. Lamprey. I suppose that you’re related to Midshipman Norman Lamprey, brothers I believe?

      He spells the last part of his name ‘prey,’ while I spell mine ‘pray,’ sir.

      Jack knew that he had not answered the captain’s question directly, but he wished to distance himself as far as he could from his effeminate brother. He was anything but elated at having to serve with his brother, but at least they were of the same rank.

      I believe that your father is Squire Oliver, er Admiral I believe. It was I who convinced him that he should forgo the army and join the navy many years ago. I’m sure he has never regretted his decision. I hope that you will find a long and fruitful career here in the Navy, Mr. Lamprey. Lieutenant, take this man and assign him to the division left by Mr. Morris. Get him to sign the muster book as well. I’m sure he can do some good with those lubbers.

      Aye sir.

      Sir John Jervis has command of all of the Mediterranean Fleet. I’ll introduce you to him in a few days. For a few months more Lord Howe will be in charge of the Channel Fleet. You will bunk with the midshipmen and mess with them as well. Navigation lessons begin at 6 bells. Here is Midshipman John Mills. He will fill you in on details of your duties.

      Jack fell into his new duties somewhat awkwardly. After all, he had never taken orders from anyone before and it took some getting used to. The first time that he saw Norman was at mess that evening. Norman lifted his nose high, pretending not to see Jack. Jack retorted, Why Norman, old chap, you look stunning in your uniform. At that he managed to tip a plate of food into his brother’s lap, resulting in a loud outcry because the food was scalding hot. Norman pouted and stomped out of the cockpit to try to clean his uniform. He was due to stand his watch in five minutes. Now he’d have to go with no supper and smelling of fish.

      Jack introduced himself to the other midshipmen and shook hands all around, Mitchell Worthington, William Moss, Roger Pendleton, Cyril Smith and Nigel Herd. Jack complained that the food was not as good as he was used to at home, but immediately realized that with that statement he had branded himself as a complainer and a pantywaist like his brother. He would do no more of that.

      He was appalled at the tiny space of less than two feet allotted to him to sling his hammock. He said nothing and set a stern face, ready to endure whatever he had to in order to succeed in the Navy. He already could smell opportunity, many opportunities to get rid of his hated brother and to advance himself to captain. As soon as his foot hit the deck he was certain that he had to become a captain and rule his own ship. What better way for a bully to have a ball than to have 460 men under him whom he could press down as one would squash a spider under his thumb!

      Jack found sleeping difficult with so many snoring, stinking bodies crammed into so small a space, but he endured the discomforts manfully. For a while, he adopted a strategy that was not totally new to him. Before his superiors he pretended to be a fine fellow, always correct, always prompt, always polite, ever smiling. It was essential that he appear such to accomplish his goal of eliminating Norman.

      His first meeting with his division was traumatic. His men had been scraped from the bottom tiers of the goals of London and were a motley, undisciplined lot. This was hard for Jack since he too was undisciplined, but he had to play the role of the righteous young officer and so, he lit into the men of his division and bit like a bull dog after an intruder!

      The men stood arrayed before him midships in ragged lines. Jack walked up and down the lines, looking at his new charges. They were dirty, unshaven, slouching, their faces whiskered and their queues sloppy. Even by his standards, they were unacceptable as King’s men.

      He stopped, spread his legs in a bold stance and addressed them. You are a dirty lot of thieves, you are! he shouted. Look at you! Not a one of you has shaved in over a week and look there, his shirt is not tucked in, as he pointed to a young lad. And here is the remains of dinner on this man’s shirt! For shame! I want you all to clean up and look like able bodied seamen of His Majesty’s Navy. Return here in half an hour. I’ll flog any man who returns and is not acceptably clean and neat. Now get with it!

      The men filed off like a bunch of errant school boys, headed for the pumps and the gun deck to shave and clean up. Jack stood his ground, waiting for five bells which would signify that the half hour was up. Lieutenant Conrad Bingham approached him. You may not want to threaten a flogging so lightly once you have seen what it does to a man’s back, Jack. Most who are flogged can never serve a gun again and are unable to heave on a line. I’d be careful if I were you, Mr. Lamprey.

      Aye sir. Jack thought that the warning was silly and disregarded it, but he would soon learn differently. The men filed back into line. One lad, a youngster, walked towards him.

      Permission to speak, sir.

      Granted. The lad went on to explain that he had no better shirt. Jack told him to get into line and he would overlook it. The lad did as he was told. Jack walked down the line. Shape up your line there. Can’t you stand next to one another properly? He looked at the one sailor who was wearing a torn shirt and had spoken to him earlier. Would you like King George to see you dressed in a dirty, torn shirt, sailor? Well, remember, aboard ship, I’m King George!

      Sorry sir, but I don’t own better.

      What’s your name, sailor?

      Jaimie Stevens, sir.

      Well, Mr. Stevens, I am going to have you flogged for not appearing clean and neat before an officer. Stand down, Mr. Stevens! Jack turned and summoned a marine. Take this man and put him in irons.

      There was a rumble among the men, an uneasy shuffling of feet. Now Jack had never yet heard the Articles of War read, so he didn’t know that he could not recommend a flogging to the captain for just any offense, particularly not for a torn shirt. He had a lot to learn! Again, Lieutenant Bingham came to his rescue.

      Mr. Lamprey, I believe that the man’s offense is actually failure to follow an order given by an officer. You can flog him for that.

      Jack turned a strange stare to the lieutenant and then called, Marines here! Take this man into custody for failure to obey an order of an officer. Put him in irons.

      His first day with his division was not turning out at all well. He managed to get them to swab the decks, but he had no idea how it was supposed to be done. He gave the order and then stood back. The men simply stared at him mulling about aimlessly.

      What’s wrong, you swine?

      One fellow spoke up cautiously, We need buckets an’ mops, sir.

      Well, get them then. Don’t stand there like dolts staring at me.

      It was then that Jack realized that the men of his division had just come aboard and that they didn’t know a halyard from a lanyard! He would have to teach them everything and he didn’t know a halyard from a lanyard himself!

      With the recent declaration of war between France and England, men of all backgrounds were being pressed into service and many brought little but muscle with them. The next day at four bells during the morning watch, the bosun called, All hands to witness punishment.

      The men came running from their duties and assembled midships to watch the flogging of poor Stevens. The captain had decided to let Jack have his flogging, presuming that he had to make an example of some poor fool in order to get his men to recognize discipline. Moreover, Jack learned that night at mess that the captain wanted Jack to see how serious a flogging was and what it did to a man so that he wouldn’t order senseless floggings again. He learned his lesson quickly.

      The bosun’s mate laid on twelve strokes with the cat, not shirking his duty in any way. Stevens, who was barely fifteen himself, fainted after the fourth blow and slumped into a sodden mass of shredded flesh. It was raining hard that day and when the flogging was over, everyone was glad to get in out of the cold rain. Lieutenant Bingham instructed Jack to accompany Stevens to the surgeon to see that he was properly treated for his wounds. Jack followed as several sailors helped Stevens to the sick bay. When they laid Stevens on the table face down, Jack saw for the first time the shredded, bloody mess that was left of the lad’s back. His muscles were laid open and in some places he could see bone. Now Jack was a tough fellow, but he fainted as he stared at the blood and shredded flesh.

      That night at mess, the midshipmen lit into him. Jack was glad that his brother Norman wasn’t there. He was always on watch when Jack went to mess after their first unpleasant encounter. Now you know what a flogging does to a man, eh, Jack! said Pendleton.

      William Moss added, And see you don’t end up with the cat-o-nine-tails stroking your back too, old Jack!

      The cat will never come near me, be assured gentlemen, said Jack.

      Probably not, Jack, since you faint at the sight of a little blood! said Smith with a grand howl of a laugh.

      Jack lay in his hammock that night thinking. He wanted to use his position here aboard ship to undo his brother Norman. If I am going to succeed, I had best tread lightly and try not to be my usual self. That’s going to be hard! His thoughts lulled him to sleep, but he was beginning to form a plan, one that would shock everyone and accomplish his ends, perhaps sooner than he wished.

      Jack didn’t order any more floggings, at least not for a while, but he spared his division no amount of tongue lashings. He would criticize their every move. Often he had to seek out another midshipman to find out how a duty should be performed, because he had no idea of his own. One day he was directed to send his men aloft to grease noisy,

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