Report

Once more the windows of the Admiralty were ablaze with light in the early morning hours. A letter had arrived from HMS Sheik Yassouf where a mutiny seemed to have broken out! Written by the ship's chaplain, the letter pointed out that her Captain had taken his mistress aboard and rarely left his cabin, leaving everything to her 1 st Lieutenant, who ran the ship on spit-and-polish lines, with a defaulter's list as long as her mainsail yardarm! Bad blood in the gunroom, too – the 1 st Lieutenant was not on speaking terms with most of the other inhabitants since the incident of the lamb chops (with the ship riding at anchor off Portsmouth in foul weather a servant had stumbled, dropping a plateful of lamb chops in the 1 st Lieutenant's lap. Hearing him curse the man in extremely vile terms both the Chaplain and the Major of Marines had intervened. In the ensuing argument the 1 st Lieutenant had stabbed his finger in the direction of the Major's eyes and, taking a step backwards, the latter had slipped on a spot of grease and fallen so unlucky that he broke his neck). In his closing remarks the Chaplain stressed the fact that the men were still loyal and willing, asking only to be given an officer they could respect. What they got was a new Major of Marines who turned out to have been at school with her 1 st Lieutenant and who brought his old classmate a reply from the admiralty – a commendation for putting down the mutiny and a draft on Hoare's for 350 Guineas to buy more blacking for the yards!

Meanwhile, HMS Jupiter and HMS Waakzamheit had gone for a cruise in the North Sea. Despite the inclement weather WKM stayed on deck and later presented his captain with some watercolour impressions of Helgoland, which the Captain sold to a Dutchman for 700 Guineas, which he split with WKM. The wind standing fair for the Shetlands, HMS Waakzamheit then asked permission to leave. Arriving at her destination, JS took the ship's slop chest fund and bought up all the woolen sweaters he could get and had them distributed among the hands. This earned him a promotion (which he refused – again!) and a MiD. MW got 300 Guineas (and a bright red scarf with HMS Waakzamheit on it).

Meanwhile, HMS Mars was at anchor in the Pool of London and all was quiet aboard – most of her people were enjoying the fleshpots of London and even eager beaver AG was having a good time, dining at his captain's table. Talking shop was usually frowned on but when the Captain came out with a story about the Spanish Armada his officers followed his lead ... until AG innocently remarked: “But HMS Mars is just a sitting duck!”. Alas, this marked the end of what had been a convivial gathering. The Captain immediately offered the loyal toast, the table was cleared with remarkable speed, the Marines were called out to scour the city and bring back as many of her people as they could round up in sixty minutes. One and half hour later HMS Mars was going downstream ... ten days later saw her in the chops of the Bay of Biskay, a French blockade runner under her guns. After the prize was secured the Captain of HMS Mars retired to his cabin to calculate his share (more than 400 Guineas) and to write his official letter. The letter was duly printed in The Gazette and the Lords of the Admiralty immediately fell in with the author's suggestion that AG should “get his step” and fill the vacancy left by the death of HMS Salisbury 's commander. At the same time, however, their Lordships made it quite clear (even to the meanest understanding) that a peerage was very much out of the question ...!

Meanwhile ... HMS Belle Poule was cruising off Gibraltar and had a good time, moderate winds and very fine weather. FF told his 1 st Lieutenant to carry on and settled back in his deck chair, propped up his feet on the gallery and went to read Homer's “Illiad” in the original. JWK did just that, and did it well – he even managed to squeeze 200 Guineas out of a passing fisherman. MAD spent most of the month writing up his encounter with the French when he was in HMS Swordfish and made a creditable fist of it. At the same time, HMS Alexander was pelting down the Med with dispatches for the British embassy at Smyrna. Passing Crete it came to blow a bit – nothing she couldn't take but JA (who was officer of the watch) espied a galley with a broken mast, floundering and near sinking (impossible to row straight in this choppy sea). Turns out it was Emir Pascha and a selection of Thous on a pleasure cruise! Two short boards brought HMS Alexander alongside to take Emir Pascha and his entourage aboard, leaving the crew of the galley behind to fend for themselves as best they could. Her captain did not like it and called Emir Pascha a lot of names (in the privacy of his mind) but changed his tune a forthnight later when the Ambassador at Smyrna spoke the words: “Arise, Sir Enneight!” and handed him a diamond agraffe (valued at 900 Guineas). Two days later JA received a visit aboard from the Keeper of Thous who informed him that a certain young person was pining for him in the Serail. JA knew perfectly well whom he meant – a very comely young thing with red hair and a freckled face that had made eyes at him during her stay aboard. With infinite regret JA explained to the Keeper that the thing was quite impossible ... ship to sail at once ... Blue Peter already set ... and accepted a purse of six thousand Piastres (approx. 1.100 Guineas) instead.

Meanwhile ... E.I.C. Shangri-La was anxious to complete the final leg of her journey and to drop anchor in the Pool. She had not made a good landfall, arriving just off Plymouth, and now adverse winds had her creeping past the South coast. Her captain was still recovering from a bout of dysentery (blue pills and a bolus thrice a day) and the ship was essentially in the hands of her 2 nd Lieutenant, who coaxed her past Bournemouth, Portsmouth (and the Isle of Wight) and Brighton and was awarded a MiD for his efforts. In his report he allowed that TOM (who was a dab hand with a sextant) and PC (who had exceptionally good eyesight and an encyclopaedic knowledge of this coast) had done most of the work (both N.A. +1). He was roaring drunk at the time, of course, because all the ship's paperwork (and what an amazing lot it was) had been stowed in the lowermost tier of her hold. When the purser (anxious to do his sums) had them roused out a couple of barrels got knocked about and some stove in – among them three of TOM's private sherry casks! TOM wasn't too happy about that but PC said something about the law of diminishing returns which made them both laugh and they sold the rest to a passing Man of War (bound for the West Indies) for no less than 1.300 Guineas!

Issue 12 Your Reporter - J.C. (Feeling much better, Thank you)

It's always the same isn't it – you're away from work for a few days and when you get back nothing's as you left it and it would seem that brigands have been in and ransacked your desk. My favourite pens, inkwell, and vellum stock are all missing, with no one here apparently aware of where it all could have possibly gone! Thieves in the night they say – funny how it was only my desk that they seemed to be interested in. I assume it was them that also moved my stool into the stable yard where I found it being used by the lads there instead of the usual bales that they have to sit on. Colleagues now say that this end of the office smells of horses. I bet they don't have to put up with this at The Clarion . Rant over – on with the report.

The manager of The Pit must be a happy man this month with no less than three new members on his books - Robin Timothy Marlowe, Pavel Pipovitch and Wesley Silver have all made their mark on the line and signed up to what would seem to be one of the busiest gentlemen's establishments in the City. Tyler Brock on the other hand has, it would seem, already tired of Lloyds and has moved on to The Singapore Sling. It would seem that Tyler tires of most things very quickly indeed – but more of that later. Robin decided to celebrate his arrival in London by hosting the first party of the month at his new club, and inviting his new friends Pavel and Wesley along to join in the festivities. Quite a raucous time was had by all – all three toasted each other and Robin and Pavel raised several tankards to their new postings upon HMS Berwickshire , before Pavel entertained all with singing some very catchy folk songs from his homeland. Not long after, John O'Groats was seen entering through the rather dense cloud emanating from Pavel's rather strange smelling cigarettes along with his new lady Diana Villiers and his constant companion Jock. It was a welcome return for John at the Pit and all the regulars were eager to hear of his exploits in foreign climes first hand, with Jock adding a dash of peril at the appropriate moments whenever it seemed that they were all “doomed”. John ended the first series of his tales letting the patrons know that there were yet more exploits to be heard over the coming weeks - I think his exact words were “Thank you, we're here for two more weeks – tell your friends. Don't forget to tip your waitress”. A strange phrase but I expect it is one that he picked up on his travels.

I know that I have only been away from City proceedings for a short while but I have already lost track of Tyler Brock's romantic liaisons. The London lothario has been seen on numerous occasions this month – the first time leaving the abode of Rebecca Morrison with a spring in his step and a small embroidered pouch in his hand. The contents of said pouch were unknown, but Tyler was seen to kiss the bag before tucking it into his belt and going on his merry way. I thought that maybe I could ask Rebecca exactly what brand of oriental wizardry Tyler had employed this time, having already shown his mastery of several arts from the East, but from where I was standing I could see Rebecca sitting by an upstairs window gazing wistfully at the clouds. I decided that maybe now would not be the best time to broach the subject – maybe later; but as it would seem, Tyler does seem to be having quite an effect on the society ladies as Rebecca employed a boy to take a letter to Queenhithe Dock where it would be delivered to Andrew Goodman aboard HMS Mars that very afternoon. One thing that Rebecca probably did not know is that most of the runners in the city are more than willing to divulge the contents of letters such as this to members of the press for a small consideration – we all have to make a living. I would not be so course as to relate the contents in their entirety but suffice it to say Andrew was informed that his services were no longer required. The Ward of Queenhithe is three districts over from The Gazette office here in Farringdon Without (Farringdon Within and Castle Baynard being in between), but I fairly thought that I heard the shouting from here. I sent a message to the Sports Supplement writer informing him that his services would probably be required come next month.

Elsewhere this week it was Pavel's turn to act as host at the Pit, again with Robin Timothy Marlowe in attendance, where they simply continued exactly where they left off the week before – only difference being that Wesley Silver decided to abstain in favour of some rigorous weapon practice. Dae Dastardly was likewise engaged with ship-board duties in his new appointment as Master's Mate HMS Ferocious . But staying with the Pit, John O'Groats and Jock seemed to be drawing an even bigger crowd than last week – word must be spreading. Not only were the tales getting more exciting and dangerous (even more “doomed” moments from Jock), but John tantalized the patrons with a new drink that he had created whilst on his travels: A blend of rum and the liquid found inside large nuts found growing freely on some of the islands he visited. This rum and coconut mix he had originally named “Mariners Brew” as it proved very popular with the crew – but the name was shortened by the natives to “Maribrew” and this is how John introduced it to London society.

Our three new faces finally managed to drag themselves out of the Pit on the third week of the month and even though they went their separate ways they all had the same thing on their minds – romance. Robin gathered up a small collection of gifts (the shop owners decided to be discrete and not pass on details of exactly what he bought) and headed over to see Moll Flanders. Implying that she was special enough to catch the eye of a chap who had only been in town for a few weeks was enough to win Moll over and Robin was seen walking out with her that very afternoon. A different approach was used by Pavel when he called upon Alice Wonderland – singing a haunting Czech love ballad and then translating as best he could in his enchanting accent while presenting Alice with a traditional woven Cape brought with him from Prague quite simply swept her off her feet. Very stylish! I think it is a close run thing between Pavel and Wesley for the most romantic approach of the month. Wesley visited Sue Briquette bearing gifts of flowers, chocolates and jewelled earrings, but as he presented each in turn he stated that Sue's attributes far outstripped the merits of such baubles – “The bouquet of these flowers fades compared to the delicate perfume of your hair, the sweetness of these chocolates is but naught to the sweetness of your smile and the shine of these earrings cannot compete with the dazzling sparkle of your eyes”. I do believe that Sue fairly swooned against the doorframe and Wesley played the perfect gentleman and helped her to a chair.

As I said earlier, Tyler Brock does seem to tire easily of things these days and it was with some surprise that I saw him stepping out of a ladies doorway with that same spring and that same little pouch a week to the day since his first liaison this month – only difference being that it was a different door! I stepped back to the other side of the street and looked at the upper windows this time to see Ophelia Goolies with that same wistful look gazing at the sky. As Tyler deftly tripped off down the road I called to a nearby urchin, instructing him to stay nearby as I had the feeling that another letter would soon be winging its way towards HMS Ferocious and there would be a coin or two in it for him if he relayed details on to me afterwards. It was only a matter of a few hours later that one of the clerks informed me of a young visitor in the yard of The Gazette office. Stepping out back I spotted that very urchin that I had spoken to earlier on who informed me that I had been correct and he was required by the fine lady whose house we had been standing outside to take a letter to the docks and deliver it to a Mr Dastardly. I asked the boy to report as best he could Dae's response – “Brock again! He's doing this on bloody purpose! Of well, Hampstead Heath again I suppose”. He even made a rather good go at the accent. On my was back to my desk I made a point of informing our Sports Supplement writer that he would need to take a bigger pad with him.

Final week for John O'Groats and Jock at the Pit and the crowd showed no sign of subsiding, although I was starting to get the impression that Diana was starting to flag a little. I did manage to get a word with the manager of the premises who seemed delighted in the way things had gone; in fact he informed me that he thought he might ask his stars to reprise their story telling roles another time – “That Scottish bloke has gone down an absolute storm here, and what with Mr O'Groats' new drink pulling in the crowds I can see a future for this type of establishment. Yes, I think that fancy drinks and tales of peril related by a dour Scott will be all the rage in the future – I think that I'll name it after the lad and his stories, a ‘Jock-Tale Bar'. I can see it now”.

So it was in the beginning and so it shall be at the end. The month concluded exactly as it started with Robin, Pavel and Wesley back at the Pit – no doubt to update each other of their successes the week before. I know that the place did seem rather empty compared to the way it had been most of the month, but our now well established threesome still commanded attention as they relayed their own tales and toasted their new ladies. As we are on the subject of ladies I decided to tread the cobbles of the city and keep an eye out for Tyler Brock and his magic bag this week as I had the feeling that he could be out and about again – and as it turned out I was proven right! The surprise for me though was exactly where I found him – Back at the home of Jennifer Usher, his old mistress! As I was minding my own business there admiring one of the laurel trees close by I did overhear Tyler lamenting the error of his ways on the doorstep: “I made many mistakes and had many women, but I was always thinking of you, Jennifer – please give me a second chance”. Her heart melted and Tyler was invited inside, removing that small embroidered pouch from his belt as he went. I think I may have to offer a reward to the person who manages to discover the contents!

T yler's further liaisons will, of course, be reported in The Gazette .

Court martial