Sounds of shouting and shattering wood echoed from the marines’ quarters below. Eirene and I rushed down to find two redcoats engaged in a violent melee while their comrades goaded them on. One, a short and muscular fellow, had his opponent, a lithe, lanky marine pinned on a table by the neck, slowly choking him. Before he could pass out, the thin man grabbed a nearby pewter mug and whacked the shorter man in the face with it, making him lose his grip.
“Aren’t you going to stop them?” asked Eirene, with a tone of concern.
“Shh,” I said. “We shall wait for just the right moment.”
The taller marine threw his adversary off of him and sent him staggering into the crowd behind him, who just threw him back to continue the fight.
Now, the stocky marine had a cut just above his eye from where the mug hit him, and the wound was quickly beginning to swell. Undaunted, he threw slow but powerful punches at his skinny opponent, who tried his best to duck and weave through all of them. However, the ship’s tight quarters did not leave much room for movement.
Soon, the skinny fellow found himself pressed up against a wall, with no room to maneuver. A bone shattering straight punch slammed into his face, knocking out a couple of teeth.
“STOP!” I yelled, just before the short man could follow up with a second blow. “Krov za krov, blood for blood. Is basis for oldest form of… leytenant what is word?”
“Conflict resolution, sir.”
“Yes, khan-flick resolution. But, me, as your offitser, needs to know why you were fighting. Now, tell me what start this?”
Neither of the two combatants spoke. I sensed neither wished to incriminate the other.
“You see, you are as brothers, no one wants to say anything to papa. But, I will have answers, or you two will both be punished.”
Still, silence.
“What your names? By least, you can tell me those.”
“I’m Private Howarth, sir,” said the short, muscular marine. “The sod with the missing teeth over yonder is Private Debenham.”
“That damn tooth had been bothering me for donkey’s years anyway. You saved me a trip to the tooth-drawer – you have my thanks, mate!”
There were those unfamiliar English words again, and once more I had to rely on Eirene to translate.
“I want you to be as rude to them as if they had struck the Czarina herself,” I said. “I need to get my point across.”
“That, I can do, sir,” she said with a smile.
“So,” I continued as Eirene translated, “Private Howarth and Private Debenham, you call yourselves men of the Royal Marines, but you have chosen to settle your dispute as boys. It would be fitting then, that I punish you like boys.” I paused to let that sink in. “For your punishment, you shall be whacked across the ass with a paddle by all of the men.”
“Is that all?” said Debenham.
“But you will never know when it will be,” I said with a grin. “You may go to bed tonight to be roused from your sleep, whisked off and tied down in the hold – or it could be weeks from now while you two are on duty, or at mealtime, or answering nature’s call.”
The two looked at each other the same way that two brothers would when they knew that they were both guilty.
“Now tell me why you were fighting.”
“It was his fault!” they chorused, both pointing to the other man.
Eirene tried hard to hold back a laugh. I shook my head and pointed to Private Howarth,
“Explain.”
“Well, you see, sir, it began when we was settling down for supper. It was peas and lobscouse… again. If it pleases you, sir, perhaps you could convince him to serve us some other kind of victuals. We would greatly…”
“Get to the point.”
“Right then – that night, when I drank from me ration of grog, I noticed that it had a peculiar flavor.” At this, the men behind us began to snicker like schoolboys. “There was piss in me drink!” The snickering erupted into boisterous guffaws.
I slammed the wall with my scabbard and the room fell silent again.
“Continue.”
“Right, so as I was saying, there was piss in me drink, and Private Debenham was sitting right across from me, looking like he’d just ate a whole lemon, trying so hard he was not to let out a giggle. So I says to him, ‘What, you having a laugh there, mate?’ And he says to me, ‘You like that? It came from me personal reserve!’”
The room started sniggering again, but I gave the men a look that would sear to the bone. The room was quiet once more.
“The next person that shows his teeth will lose them. Private Debenham, did you piss in this man’s drink?”
“Indeed, I did, sir,” he replied with a smirk, “I think it’s only fitting for a thief to get his just reward.”
“Explain yourself.”
“Private Howarth, for some time now, has been taking my rations of rum and grog—”
“That you’ve been hoarding,” said Howarth with a chuckle.
“That I’ve been saving for a special occasion! He deserved to be taught a lesson!”
“And now the lesson is over,” I said. “Both of you have drawn blood and I trust that the matter will not be brought up again. That is punishment enough for me.”
“What about beating us as boys?”
“There is no need. Brothers will always fight each other, for that is what brothers do. Now I ask you, Private Debenham, would you lay down your life for Private Howarth, whom you call a thief?”
“Without a moment’s hesitation, sir.”
“Good, and you Private Howarth, would you do the same for this man who pissed in your drink?”
“Well I might let the enemy get a nick in, but he wouldn’t die on my watch, sir.”
“And that is the point I would like to underscore. I have seen how you British fight. It does not make sense, and your technique exposes you to all manner of attacks from the enemy. Gentlemen, I am a Cossack, and in my culture, we place emphasis on freedom above all things – freedom to live as we wish, freedom to go where we please, and most importantly, at least to my mind, freedom to act according to our own whims. You marines do not have any of this.”
“But sir,” said Private Howarth, “Sergeant MacRae says that without military discipline we’d be naught but mindless rabble with firelocks.”
“Private Howarth, your enemies are nothing but rabble with bows and firelocks. Look how they decimated you during your last action. No, your techniques are a sure way to a quick death. You have lost twenty men, and I will not allow you to lose any more.”
“And how will you do that, sir?” said Debenham, “Will you have us sent home? Because the way I see it, that’s the only way to preserve all our lives. But I’m not one to go back to a life of manual labor, no sir. I’d rather die here amongst me mates.”
“No one is going home, Private Debenham. Believe me, I would like to see the steppes of my homeland again, but the Almighty has had us meet for a reason. Get some rest tonight. We awake and assemble every marine abovedeck at first light tomorrow. Be sure to inform the sergeant.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“What are we to do, sir?”
“Right now, you know how to fight and die. I shall teach you how to fight and live.”
The moment I stepped out of the marines’ quarters, I heard a hushed multitude of murmuring from the lads belowdecks. Satisfied that I would leave them sleeping uneasy and curious that night, I decided to retire to my quarters.
“You did well, Your Nobility,” I said to Eirene, giving her a soft pat on the back. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and a self-assured half smile that made me feel all sorts of giddy inside.
“I thought our captain told you not to use the Russian form of address.”
“What, should I talk to you like I talk to Andrei Vasilyevich?”
“You mean as an equal? Well, you’ll have no complaints from me.”
It was very evident that she should be treated as my equal. Judging by the men’s reactions, she was a far more skillful orator than Andrei had ever been, and being out here in the open seas on an adventure had made her a far cry from the “toy soldier” she once was at home.
Before we settled down for the night, I wished to thank her for all she had done for me that day. I removed my hat and made an attempt to kiss her hand, but she clicked her heels together and gave me a salute instead, before heading off to her own quarters and shutting the door. I chuckled at her silly game and went to sleep in my own quarters.
As I lay down on my cot, I heard Eirene’s muffled voice from through the thin partition between our cabins. I leaned closer to listen to her, and realized she was reciting the names of the marines in the log book, along with the attributes that the previous officer had scribbled in the lines. I let out a contented sigh, knowing that she was just as committed to this effort as I was. I recalled babushka’s old stories of the Cossack women who would accompany their lovers to battle, muskets and sabers in hand. There has never been a Cossack woman captured in battle… and with that recollection, my mind grew dark.
In my mind’s eye, I saw visions of long ago – my mother wielding my dead father’s lance in defiance against the Tatars. There was no hope, she was surrounded in the field and they cut her down while they laughed – this small woman alone against a dozen horsemen. I watched from a secret place under a wagon behind our home, scared and helpless as they beat her and raped her, trying desperately to keep my sobbing quiet… but alas, I could not. They dragged me out from under the cart and made me watch as they fed mama’s corpse to their dogs. I grit my teeth at the memory and rolled in my cot, fantasizing about feeding the Tatars to each other, until the gentle rolling motion of the boat made me drift off to sleep.
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At first bell the next morning, we were greeted by gentle weather and a calm sea. It was yet the fourth hour of the clock, and neither I, nor Eirene, nor the lookout in the crow’s nest could see anything on the horizon. With last night’s nightmares shoved firmly into the back of my head, I decided that it was as good a time as any to begin drills with the men.
My nightmares had prevented me from getting any restful sleep, and it was obvious to Eirene. She nudged me with her elbow and asked me if I was feeling like myself, to which I replied,
“I have been out here at sea for too long, and the monotonous rolling of the waves has made me… uneasy. I believe it’s time to break it up with a bit of chaos on board. Get Sergeant MacRae to form the men up.”
Once he received his orders, MacRae assembled all the men on deck. The lads were bleary-eyed and yawning, wholly unaccustomed to waking up this early. The sergeant himself, for some reason, still had the deep scowl on his face that I saw when I first met him, and looked just as fresh as Eirene.
“I take it you rested well, sergeant?” I said to him in Russian.
“Nae, sir. This is just me face. Hard to be kipper when ye’re in charge of this sorry lot. See there?” He pointed to a man whose head was drooping, “Giles! Ye feel like sitting doon, do ye? Would ye like to sit doon on me bayonet? Eh?! EH?! Wanker! Stand at fuckin’ attention ye damn useless cow!”
“No shouting,” I said, putting my hand on the sergeant’s shoulder. “We must not wake Captain Barrett.”
“Oh? Be this a bit of roguish tomfoolery, sir?”
“A bit like that, minus the tomfoolery.” I stepped in front of the men so that they could all hear me clearly. Eirene followed beside me, quick to translate. “This morning, I will be teaching you to fight as men who think for themselves. Your British masters have taught you the art of dying like men. I will teach you the art of killing like soldiers.”
As the men heard Eirene’s translation, they furrowed their brows and tightened their lips, but like good soldiers, kept looking straight ahead.
“We will not be shooting with powder, since we do not want to rouse the other officers, but we will still be conducting fire drills. Sergeant MacRae, what are the men to do when an enemy vessel is spotted on the horizon?”
“Sir, upon sighting a vessel that is confirmed to have hostile intent, the men shall proceed to the gundecks to hump ammunition with the ship’s gunners.”
I narrowed my eyes, “But these men are marines. Naval. Infantry.”
“Yes sir, but they cannae use their muskets at a distance of over fifty yards, so they help what they can.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I muttered. “Their arms will be so tired from lobbing cannonballs that they wouldn’t be able to hit a cottage at arm’s length. When do they use their firelocks then?”
“When the enemy comes within pistol range, sir. That’s when Cap’n Hamilton, God rest him, would sound the call to repel boarders, and then the bloody action would begin.”
“Thank you, sergeant. What do you think, Lieutenant Morse?”
Eirene furrowed her brow, “It seems rather… desperate of the men to take part in a task in which others are better trained for. Why should they not be up abovedeck the entire time?”
“I wholeheartedly agree. Sergeant, no one is to ever run down to the gundecks again under penalty of being charged for cowardice.”
“Sir?”
“We shall instead take cover behind the gunwales and wait for the enemy to get within range of our muskets.”
“Sir, I have to protest, what ye’re suggesting sounds to me like an act of a coward! Are we simply to wait, doing nary a damn fucking thing while the enemy approaches us and them gunners down in the gundecks be doing all the work?”
“We won’t be doing nothing, sergeant. We shall scan the enemy vessel and mark targets for when she comes, so that when she arrives, we can pick off her officers, gunners, and snipers… speaking of which…” I eyed a platform on the mainmast’s rigging above me, fitted with two swivel guns, similar to the ones on my old chaika, “Who is stationed up there?”
“One of the gunners, sir, he mans the swivel guns.”
“Well, by my reckoning, a second shooter up in that platform would make it twice as deadly. Send our best marksman up there to aid the swivel gunner.”
“Beg pardon, sir, we donnae have a ‘best’ marksman.”
“What do you mean?” I frowned, “Have you never tested the men’s firing abilities?”
“Sir,” MacRae replied with a scowl as deep as mine, “We are Royal Marines. We lay fire on the enemy’s deck so the bastards donnae dare to advance on us. Our goal is nae accuracy, but volume of fire. We rain shot on the foemen until so much smoke fills the air that we cannae see our own hands in front of our faces, then we fix bayonets and slaughter the foe like sheep!”
“Hm,” I said, stroking my beard, “I see your logic, in that denying the enemy the ability to board is a worthwhile thing, but consider this: each one of your musket balls carries a man’s death with it, yes? Would you want it to go to waste into the wood or sails of the enemy ship?”
I reached out and grabbed a musket from a nearby marine who seemed to have been sleeping with his eyes open, for he jumped in shock as I took it from him. “I like your British muskets; they have something that my old fusil never had. If you look closely,” I said as I tapped my finger on the muzzle of the weapon, “You will see that there is a little protrusion at the end of your weapon.”
“Sir, that be the bayonet lug.”
“This, gentlemen, is your sighting device. I know it sounds like a novel idea, but if you aimed before you shot at the enemy, then you would be killing more of them instead of wasting your shots on the seagulls or the fish.”
“Sir,” hissed MacRae, “This be a violation of Royal Navy doctrine!”
“And your doctrine is a violation of common sense!”
I pointed to a random marine in the formation. The young man’s eyes, full of confusion and panic, locked with mine.
“You there! Point your weapon at me!”
Eirene, for the first time, refused to translate.
“Are you mad, Rodya? I can’t tell him to do that!”
“There is no other way to tell if they know how to aim their damn firelocks! Besides, the weapon shouldn’t be loaded in any case. Now, tell him.”
Eirene threw up her hands, “It’s your funeral, sir. Private – point your weapon at the captain.”
The marine raised his eyebrows at Eirene and looked at me. I nodded, then he looked at Eirene again, as if to ask for confirmation.
“Well, what are you waiting for, marine? Do as your captain commands!”
With shaking arms, the young marine very slowly raised his musket up to my eye. I could hear his teeth chattering as he did so. His aim was off. I grabbed the barrel of the rifle and the man yelped like a dog.
“Your aim is too high. If you would have fired you would have hit my hat. The sight must be flush with the barrel so that when you look down, you barely see any tube.” Disappointed in his squeamish demeanor, I swatted away his weapon and turned to the sergeant. “Sergeant MacRae, what is wrong with this man? Is he normally such a coward?”
“That is Private Appleton, sir. He’s about as gutless as they come; although I’d like very much to throw him to the sharks, the old cap’n would nae allow it. He’d likely surrender to a pile of driftwood, makes me wonder if he has any Italian in him.”
The men suppressed their chuckles, but I remained stone-faced. I looked Appleton dead in the eye and whispered to him so that only he could hear,
“You afraid death? Death love fear.”
“What was that, sir?” said Eirene, “I didn’t quite catch you.”
By the look in Appleton’s eyes, I was sure he understood me. I nodded at him. “Nothing to worry about, lieutenant. Now then, we shall continue.”
Over the next few hours, I trained the men in the important principles of warfare that I had learned on the steppes with my brothers. The men learned to take cover behind the gunwales, as well as use them to rest their muskets on for more accurate shots. They also learned to spread themselves out on the deck of the ship, for I told them that a mass of men in red uniforms was a very tempting target, and that as much as possible, the men should move from cover to cover to avoid being suppressed by the enemy. Sergeant MacRae was still slightly opposed to my methods of warfare, but he did see the value in some of the things I taught the men. By the time I was somewhat satisfied with the drill, the sun had begun to rise.
“Gentlemen,” I said as I looked over the tired, sleepy company of marines, “You take well to instruction. We shall continue this another day. I think it’s about time you all returned to your regular duties.”
That was before I heard the lookout cry, “Ship sighted off the starboard bow!”