“Drew walking the yard in a rainstorm?” Jacob laughed. “Not likely.”
“And where was Royce during all this?” Bristol asked.
Dime shook his head. “I dunno, didn’t see him till later when he turned up at the masthead.”
“Bernie was playing cards with him last night, wasn’t he? I heard Drew walked away with a big pot.”
“Now you’re saying Bernie killed him?” a third fellow, with a red kerchief, asked. Hadrian had never seen him before but guessed he must be the captain of the mizzenmast, as the top captains, along with the boatswains, seemed to dine together at the same table.
“No, but I’m saying the cook was there and he and Royce are mates, aren’t they? I think—” Jacob stopped short when he spotted Hadrian. “Bloody good thing you’re a better cook than your mate is a topman or Mr. Temple’s liable to chuck you both in the deep.”
Hadrian said nothing. He looked around for Royce but did not find him, which was not too surprising, as he guessed his friend would not want to be anywhere near food.
“Might want to let your mate know I’ve asked Bristol here to have a word with Mr. Beryl about him.”
“Beryl?” Bristol responded, puzzled. “I was gonna talk to Wesley.”
“Bugger that,” Jacob said. “Wesley’s useless. He’s a bleeding joke, ain’t he?”
“I can’t go over his head to Beryl,” Bristol said defensively. “Wesley was watch officer when it happened.”
“Are you barmy? What’re you scared of? Think Wesley’s gonna have at ya for going to Beryl? All Wesley will do is report you. That’s all he ever does. He’s a boy and hasn’t grown a spine yet in that midshipman’s uniform of his. Only reason he’s on the Storm is ’cause his daddy is Lord Belstrad.”
“We need to serve the midshipmen next,” Poe reminded Hadrian, urgently tugging at his sleeve. “They mess in the wardroom aft.”
Hadrian dropped off the messkid, hanging it from a hook the way he had seen Poe do, and gave Jacob one last glance only to find the fore captain grinning malevolently.
Far smaller and not much more comfortable than the crew’s quarters, the midshipmen’s mess was a tiny room aft on the berth deck that creaked loudly as the ship’s hull lurched in the waves. Normally, Basil delivered the food he cooked for the officers, but this morning he was kept particularly busy working on the lieutenants’ and captain’s meal and had asked Poe and Hadrian for help in delivering the food to the midshipmen’s mess.
“What are you doing in here?” the biggest midshipman asked abruptly as Hadrian and Poe entered. Hadrian almost answered when he realized the question was not addressed to him. Behind them, coming in late, was the young officer who had put Hadrian on report earlier. “You’re supposed to be on watch, Wesley.”
“Lieutenant Green relieved me a bit early so I could get some food while it was hot.”
“So you’ve come to force yourself in on your betters, is that it?” the big man asked, and got a round of laughter from those with him. This had to be Beryl, Hadrian guessed. He was by far the oldest of the midshipmen—by ten years or more. “You’re going to be nothing but a nuisance to the rest of us on this voyage, aren’t you, boy? Here we thought we could have a quiet meal without you disturbing us. What did you do, whine to Green about how your stomach was hurting because we didn’t let you have anything to eat last night?”
“No, I—” Wesley began.
“Shut it! I don’t want to hear your sniveling voice. You there, cook!” Beryl snapped. “Don’t serve Midshipman Wesley any food, not a biscuit crumb, do you understand?”
Hadrian nodded, guessing that Beryl somehow outranked Wesley despite both of them wearing midshipmen uniforms.
Wesley looked angry but said nothing. The boy turned away from the table toward his sea chest.
“Oh yes,” Beryl said, rising from the table and walking across the room to Wesley. As he did, Hadrian noticed an old scar down the side of Beryl’s face that looked to have nearly taken out his eye. “I’ve been meaning to go through your stuff to see if you had anything I might like.”
Wesley turned, closing his chest abruptly.
“Open it, boy, and let me have a look.”
“No, you have no right!”
Beryl’s toadies at the table jeered the boy and laughed.