The "New" Boatswain

Braggs was incompetent in more areas than anyone else on the ship. Last week, he’d tied the captain’s dinghy to the stern with a knot so poorly executed that it came undone the moment the ship hit a swell. They’d watched the small boat drift away into the fog, never to be seen again. The week before that, he’d somehow managed to get lost between the galley and the main deck. He’d wandered into the cargo hold instead. Thirty minutes later, he emerged covered in flour, insisting he’d taken a shortcut.

Gully had been assigned to mop the corridor outside the Captain’s Cabin—a task he normally despised for its tedium, but one that occasionally yielded interesting information. The old salt had learned long ago that captains and quartermasters often forgot that thin wooden walls did little to contain their voices, especially when they’d been sampling the rum stores.

He pushed his mop in slow strokes, ears perked for any useful conversation.

“The men are getting restless,” came Quartermaster Pike’s gravelly voice through the door. “We haven’t seen action in near three weeks. They need something to occupy their minds, or we’ll have mutiny on our hands.”

Captain Redmond’s deep laugh rumbled through the walls. “Mutiny? From this lot? They’re too comfortable with their daily rations and their hammocks. But I take your point, Pike. The men do need... entertainment.”

A pause. Liquid poured into cups. Glass clinked on wood.

“What about young Braggs?” the captain continued, his voice taking on a mischievous tone.

Gully’s mop stopped mid-stroke.

“Ha ha ha, maybe Braggs should become the new boatswain,” the captain said, barely containing his amusement.

Gully leaned closer to the door. Surely the captain wasn’t serious. Braggs? As boatswain? The man who just last week had somehow managed to drop an entire barrel of fresh water through a gap in the deck boards?

“I think Braggs would be perfect for... what, exactly?” the quartermaster said, his voice thick with skepticism even through his chuckle.

“For giving the men a good laugh, of course! And how should we tell him?”

“The only way a pirate can! With a chest full of air and a beard full of rum,” the captain said, slapping what sounded like his knee.

The two men dissolved into laughter.

Gully straightened up. They were discussing details, planning an announcement. He abandoned his mop and bucket and ran through the ship’s narrow passages, his bare feet slapping against the damp wood.

He found Connor on the gun deck, checking the rigging on one of the cannons.

“Connor! You won’t believe what I just heard!” Gully gasped. “It’s about Braggs. The captain—he’s going to make him boatswain!”

Connor’s eyes went wide. “Braggs? Our Braggs?”

“I heard the captain and quartermaster discussing it just now. They’re planning some grand announcement.”

Connor’s face split into a wide grin. “Where is he? We need to tell him!”

They found him in the galley, stirring a large pot. Braggs looked up as they approached, and his face immediately fell into worry.

“Connor? What’s wrong?”

Connor’s words came tumbling out in a rapid-fire stream. “Braggs—captain—boatswain—promotion—Gully heard—”

“Slow down, Connor,” Gully said, stepping forward. “Let me tell him.”

“Braggs, my boy,” Gully began, his weathered face serious but his eyes twinkling with excitement. “I was outside the captain’s cabin not half an hour ago, and I heard him talking with Pike. They were discussing who should be the new boatswain, seeing as how old Merrick is retiring at the next port.”

Braggs set down his spoon, giving Gully his full attention.

“And?” Braggs prompted.

“And they said your name, lad. The captain himself said you should be the new boatswain. They were discussing how to tell you, planning some kind of grand announcement. Braggs, you’re getting promoted!”