I was just asked about the odd 'S' I use in Rothwell's letters home, so I thought I'd mention it here for anyone else wondering about it ( Read more... )

With all the difficulties of the past weeks, Rothwell hadn't kept up with any writing. Normally he kept a private journal, which was required of all midshipmen to learn how to keep ships' logs; but the real oversight had been a letter home, since it was possible his family might be hearing about the illness on the Dauntless and fear the worst. Of ( Read more... )

He didn't know how long he spent in critical recovery. It felt something like weeks but time was heavily distorted due to his state of mind and constant sleeping.

Eventually though, he was able to get up, and really look around. It was a dutch girl that went with him, offering her assistance to help keep him stable on his weak legs by taking his ( Read more... )

I thought I'd briefly mention how I'm writing these ( Read more... )

Rothwell drifted through the delirious fever. It was nothing like sleep, as most of it was lost to his mind altogether, and only spare, shifting sensations reached him at all. It was impossible to know if they were real or imagined, and he was incapable of considering the meaning of any of it.

Regaining consciousness wasn't a lot better. He was very ( Read more... )

The return of the warm weather always meant the return of mosquitos; it was an unfortunate fact of the Caribbean. This time, however, the Dauntless also had a far more deadly visitor.

The first victim of the yellow fever was the third Lieutenant. He was recovering from the flu, so his symptoms went unnoticed until he began to bleed from the gums and ( Read more... )

Mail sent from home was usually waiting in Nevis or Port Royal. The post at Nevis arrived toward the end of the month, and the mail at Port Royal two weeks later. Post was delivered by private commissioned ships in general, though the Navy owned a couple of packets as well. It was one of these, a little brig called Sparrow, that brought the post to ( Read more... )

In the two years since Rothwell had begun his life at sea, he had learned more than he could have possibly imagined. All of the rigging and lines made sense to him now; he knew what every sail was for. He had learned a great deal of daily ritual, both mundane and superstitious, and to keep himself awake at night during his watch no matter how ( Read more... )

It was a date he'd never forget, though he hadn't tried to set it to memory.

November 19, 1720.

The Dauntless was in Port Royal for repairs when a privateer sloop commanded by Captain Barret pulled into harbor, along with a captured sloop called the William. Rothwell was on the Dauntless itself at the time, and had a bit of a bird's eye view of the ( Read more... )

It wasn't until a couple of months had passed that Rothwell understood the society of the ship very well. In particular, it finally dawned on him that not all young boys his age were midshipmen; that many were just servants, or unrated young seamen. As a group they were all called 'young gentlemen' by the officers... or 'snotties' by the ratings. ( Read more... )