CONSEQUENCE & POTENTIAL
AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN
The surgeon and carpenter tried to fit some contraption onto Jack’s leg when an unruly mop of black hair came up behind them. He sprang to attention. Or rather, he tried to.
“OW!”
The carpenter caught him. “Ya shudda waited till I got all the belts tightened, Jack.”
“As you were, gentlemen.”
Jack collapsed on the bed. “Oof.”
The carpenter and surgeon relaxed. “Aye, Commodore.”
“Good morning. Report.”
“Aye, sir.” The surgeon glanced at Jack and turned back to the Commodore. “He slept well through the night. No fever this morning. The cook brought him a decent breakfast of bacon and porridge. He ate all of it and kept it down.”
Rodgers arched a brow, then turned to the carpenter. “You?”
“Aye, sir.” The carpenter kneeled down next to Jack. “I measured him up and fashioned this leg brace for him. I’m just about done with the fitting.”
“Very well. How does it feel, Mister Pyle?”
“Uh... I... think it’s okay. Still feels like there’re rocks inside, but it doesn’t hurt as much. How long do I need to wear this thing? It’s gonna make it hard to tend to my duties.”
“Very well. I’ll talk to you about that in a moment. I need to speak to the surgeon.”
Jack watched the two men walk over to the surgeon’s locker. He leaned forward, but heard nothing.
The carpenter nodded at the straps. “Jack, I want to make sure you can get this off and on again yourself.”
“Okay.” Jack was fairly competent with it all on the first go. The six leather straps wrapped around the back of his leg, came up the inside and attached to the buckle on the outside. He pulled each one tight and used the hole the carpenter had just punched for him.
The carpenter checked each buckle, nodded approvingly, and motioned for Jack to stand. “Slowly now. It will take a few times to get comfortable.”
As he stood, the straps didn’t bother him, but the metal rods did. “Comfortable?” He sighed. “Well, not yet. But thank you.”
“Yer welcome, lad. Come see me if you need it adjusted.”
Jack simply nodded as the man walked away. “Great. Just great. Oh!”
The Commodore held up his hand as he returned to Jack. “As you were.”
“Aye, sir.” Jack sat back down. His eyes widened a bit as the Commodore pulled a stool over next to him and sat down. Uh oh.
“We need to talk, Jack.”
Jack took a long breath and let out a long sigh. “He told me about my knee and the brace. But when I asked him how long I’d have to wear it, he said he didn’t know.”
Rodgers nodded and moved the stool a little closer to Jack. “Therein lies the rub. It’s my duty to be the one to tell you the consequences of your injury.”
Jack bit his lip. “How bad is it?”
The Commodore took a slow breath and looked Jack dead in the eye. “The surgeon says you won’t be able to climb the rigging again until you heal, and he doesn’t know when you might climb ladders again without help.”
No! His body stiffened. “No. Please. I don’t want to leave the ship.”
“Jack. In the years you’ve served with me, there is one thing I’ve learned about you.” He pointed to the deck. “This. This right here is where God himself meant you to be.”
“But?”
“No buts. Well, maybe one butt.” Rodgers smiled and nodded toward Jack’s hip. “I want a second opinion before I decide on a course of action. There may even be an opportunity here.”
“Sir?”
“A friend of mine is a physician and a professor of natural philosophy at St. John’s College. I’ll ask him to examine you and see what he can figure out. For whatever amount of time you take to heal properly, you will pursue an education.”
“Thank you, sir!”
Rodgers once again tried to tame his hair. “Now, I can’t promise that you will do everything you once did. But. I can promise this. The Navy will never muster you out unless you want to be. I will make certain of that.”
Jack smiled through gritted teeth. “You mean I could still have to leave the ship?”
“Aye, lad.” The Commodore’s eyes bored into Jack’s. “But that time comes for every sailor. Sometimes later than we think. Sometimes sooner than we fear. And sometimes it provides unexpected opportunities.”
Jack took another long breath. “I think I understand, sir.”
“Very well.” Rodgers straightened his back. “Didn’t you have musket training with the Marines last week?”
“Aye, Commodore, I did.”
“What did Lieutenant Means tell you to do if something goes wrong?”
“Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.”
“Exactly!”
Jack tried to push himself up. “I’d like to prove I can do that right here on President.”
“Hmmmm.” Rodgers smiled, held his hat with both hands and rested his elbows on his knees. He turned his head to Jack and studied him for a moment. With a smirk, he lifted his head. “You remind me of myself when I was your age.”
“Sir?” Jack’s face contorted in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“It means I have to be direct and blunt at the same time.” The Commodore chuckled as he shook his head. “It is a cherished truth that sailors and marines must improvise, adapt, and overcome. That is even truer at home than it is at sea.”
“Aye, Commodore.” Jack nodded. “I understand that. I think.”
“One more thing, Jack.” Rodgers stood and turned to face him. “Recognizing, seizing, and exploiting an opportunity is a necessary attribute of a commanding officer.”
Jack put his weight on his crutches, leaned forward, and attempted to stand.
“As you were, Mr. Pyle.” Rodgers had shifted into his command voice, which carried throughout the dim and musty orlop deck. He reached into his pocket, removed a piece of parchment, and cleared his throat.
“Sir?” Jack plopped back down on the bunk.
“Mister Jack Pyle. You completed all of your basic training requirements and rendered exemplary service to this frigate and to her crew. Therefore, I appoint you to the rank of Midshipman, pending approval by the Senate of the United States.”
Jack’s heart jumped into his throat. Did I hear him right? “Huh?”
Hearty laughter erupted as several of the crew gathered around him.
The Commodore laughed as he ran his hand fruitlessly through his hair. Sighed. And regained his composure.
“Midshipman Pyle. Your first order is to rest until the surgeon releases you. When that occurs, Senior Midshipman Faust shall get you and your gear into the midshipman’s quarters. In the meantime, First Lieutenant Swift will prepare your course of training, and I will prepare your reading list. Do you understand these orders?”
“Aye, Sir. I do.” What just happened? Even seated, his knees shook, and he felt dizzy. Is this a dream? No, it can’t be. It smells like wet dogs down here.
“Very well. Congratulations, Midshipman. Now don’t make me regret it.” Rodgers smiled briefly, turned on his heel and quickly returned topside.
Jack shook his head vigorously to clear it before his brain melted. But all that did was make him woozy. So, he undid all the buckles on his brace, slid it off, and set it aside on his bunk. He downed the rather large dose of medicinal whiskey offered by the surgeon, swung his body into the bunk, and fell right to sleep.
###
Sometime later, Jack opened his eyes to faint sunlight filtering down into the lower decks of the ship. Propping himself up on his elbow, he swung his legs over the side of the bunk and reached for his brace. He bent his left knee just enough so he could pull it on and tighten the buckles and straps. The hard part was getting his trousers on over the thing. It was rather a bulky contraption. But the thing did its job, and Jack thought it would enable him to do at least some of his. He leaned toward the pair of crutches within his reach and stopped. Wait! Orders. Dang it.
A quick look around his dim corner of the deck revealed nothing, and the dank, stale air clung to his skin like a wool cloak. They said to stay in my bunk as long as possible, didn’t they? But even a hint of fresh air from the base of a ladder would be nice and not disobey the order. He grabbed his crutches and clomped toward the ladder.
“What are you doing?”
Jack jumped, forgetting his injury. Then stood at attention a little too fast. His knee felt like a sack of rocks hit it. “Ow! Oh! Sorry! Midshipman Faust!” And tried to hide a grimace, but his face flushed beet red. “I needed some fresh air, sir. Thought I might find some at the base of the ladder.”
They were the same age, and Jack was a couple of inches taller. But the senior midshipman still seemed imposing. He always presented himself as disciplined, sharply groomed, and impeccably dressed, even in the most casual of times. His black leather knee boots were meticulously polished, as were the scabbards that held his knife and sword. The knife was tight on his belt at his right hip. His sword was on a polished black leather sash and hung a little lower on his left.
“Relax, Jack. You’re one of us now. You can call me Davey.”
“Yes, sir.” Jack hesitated a moment, leaning back a little. “Davey.”
Davey chuckled. “Will you relax?”
“Yessir. er... I mean Davey.”
“Alright, Jack.” Davey smiled and shook his head slowly. “Anyway. Your hammock and belongings are in your area of the midshipman’s quarters.” He broke into a wide grin. “Right across from mine.”
Davey gave Jack’s elbow a light touch to direct him toward the midshipmen’s quarters. “The surgeon cleared you to relocate.”
“That’s something, at least.” Jack sighed. “No use for me trying to get up on deck?”
“Maybe.” Davey put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “We’re working on a way to get you topside.” He shrugged and pushed open a curtain, gesturing inside the compartment.
Jack nodded and clomped into the midshipmen’s quarters. As with the rest of the orlop deck, it was dark except for a lit lantern hanging by a pair of hammocks in the corner. Smells like wet dogs and sweat. Definitely not dreaming.
“We keep our sea chests over there,” Davey gestured toward a wall with several others. “It saves us some space. Your seabag is next to yours. Oh, First Lieutenant Swift put some books in the chest. And there is a small table up against the bulkhead that you can pull down for a desk.”
Jack nodded. “Very well. Thanks, Davey.” A couple of clomps took him to the chest. He popped it open. “Good heavens! That is a lot of books! How am I to get through them all?”
“Apparently, you can take as long as you want.”
“Huh?”
Davey grinned and shook his head as he tried to stifle his laughter. “The First Lieutenant said that those books are from the commodore’s personal library and are now yours with his compliments.”
Jack’s shoulders sunk. “Yes, I suppose I will have plenty of time to read them all.”
“Well, I have other duties to attend to or the Bosun will have my hide.” Davey grinned. “You are still under orders to rest. But...” He held up a finger, then reached over and pulled one book from the sea chest. Nodding approvingly, he handed it to him.
“The American Practical Navigator by Nathaniel Bowditch?”
“Aye, Jack.” Davey gave a mischievous smile. “If we can get you up on deck, First Lieutenant Swift intends for you to be somewhat useful.” He chuckled. “His words. Not mine.”
“Understood. May as well get to it.”
Davey nodded and turned to leave, pulling the curtain shut on his way out.
As the curtain closed, Jack sifted through the other books left for him. Many of them, as he expected, were on specific naval topics, including ship architecture, navigation, and tactics. But there were others which addressed a wide range of topics, and many of them quite old. Among these were Elements by Euclid, Arithmetica by Diophantus, and The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy by Sir Isaac Newton.
He held the last one in his hands for several minutes, just running his fingers over its gilded leather cover while his eyes misted over. Jack’s mother taught him to read when he turned five. Until the cholera took her, she made sure they read a Bible chapter together each morning. In the evenings, he read something different on his own. If only she could see him now, with this book in his hands. She would be proud to know that a national hero like John Rodgers believed in him.
With a sigh, he pulled the desk down from the wall and sat the navigation book upon it. He sorted through the remaining books and found titles that utterly surprised him. Rodgers had just gifted books his mother often talked about, but could never afford to purchase for him. The Iliad and The Odyssey by Homer, The Aeneid by Virgil, The Republic by Plato, The Divine Comedy by Dante, The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer, The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli, Paradise Lost by John Milton, Pilgrim’s Promise by John Bunyan, and Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe.
As he did with Newton’s book, he ran his fingers over Robinson Crusoe and traced the engraved title with the tip of his finger. Smiling, he replaced it and all the other books back into the sea chest. He propped the crutches against the wall, sat at the desk, opened The American Practical Navigator, hung the small lantern on a hook just above, loosened his brace, and began his studies.
