I must go down to the sea again - an Age of Sail quest

[X]Plan Get Those Officers!

Officers. You need officers first.

"Auxentius, take my respects to Lieutenant Eusoneus and ask her to come to me directly--I am after Mister Piteras!" With that, you are out the door. You remember dimly where Mister Piteras is lodging and go running through the snowy streets in an entirely undignified manner and arrive with rosy nose and cheeks. You pound on the door and a sour looking landlady answers the door.

"...You don't need to break it down, myx."

"No time for that! Is Mister Piteras in?"

"...He's taking his breakfast in the parlor. Who shall I say is calling?" She squints at you for a moment, clearly not trusting this out of breath naval ragamuffin she sees before her.

"Commander Marinos, if you please."

"Alright. Come in and I'll let him know." You stand in the front hallway stamping your feet and rubbing your hands together against the cold. In your rush, you've left your gloves back at your lodgings. Oops. No matter! A moment later, the landlady returns.

"He'll see you. Through there, myx." You tromp through the doorway in your boots, leaving a bit of melting snow behind you. PIteras is in his shirt sleeves and halfway through a rasher of bacon and some eggs. He stands as you enter.

"Commander, this is a pleasant surprise."

"Master Piteras, I give you joy! I've a ship! And she is in need of a master!" He blinks at you, as if he doesn't quite believe what he's hearing.

"A ship? Truly?"

"Yes! A beautiful little ship-rigged sloop, the Dolphin! I haven't had time to go aboard yet--I got my orders from the Admiral not an hour ago, my dear man. What do you say, will you sail with me again?"

"Bless me. Of course I will, myx. Of course!" He reaches across the table and shakes your hand vigorously, his face blooming into a bright smile. "Gods be good, you have the luck everyone wishes they had, you know that?"

"Don't I just. I need to assemble my officers first, but I shall send you more details by a letter--and if you would be so kind as to seek out your brother warrant officers? You know them better than I. Though I dare say some will want to retire from a life at sea." You chuckle quietly. Some of them had enough money to do so now, after all.

"I shall do my best, myx. I think that I can persuade Ioannis aboard at least," he says, referring to your long suffering carpenter. "We may need a new gunner, though. I'll see you aboard." You shake hands one last time and then you head back out onto the street to head back to your lodging. When you arrive, Sofia is already there, looking damned cheerful in her new lieutenant's coat and warming herself by your fire.

"Commander!" She turns and gives you a slight bow.

"Mister Thabo said that this was an issue of some importance," she glances over as the large man breezes into the room much more quietly than anyone has any right to and sets down a pot of tea and two cups before retreating.

"It is! It is indeed. First let me offer my congratulations on your promotion. It suits you!" She glows with happiness at the praise as you continue. "You see, I had thought that with the Lydia gone we were all to be cast ashore. Fortune has smiled on us though. The admiral has given me the sloop Dolphin and I need officers. A first lieutenant, in fact. What do you say?"

"Myx! Of course, myx!" Her face blossoms into a wide smile.

"That's what I thought. Now, I'm giving you a chance here--you're young, you're a new lieutenant. By all rights I should get someone more senior and experienced--but I think you can handle the responsibility. Show me my faith isn't misplaced." You clap her on the shoulder and she nods.

"I won't let you down, myx."

"That's what I like to hear. Mister Piteras is gathering the warrant officers, though I suspect we'll need a new gunner. The old one was, well. Old." You laugh.

"Yes, myx. I'll get my baggage aboard as soon as possible." Sofia replies.

"Good. Once the purser reports aboard, we need to open the books and enlist a crew--preference to old Lydias of course. Make arrangements for your baggage and then come along with me. I want to have a look at her." At that, Sofia's eyes get even brighter, which you didn't think possible.

"Of course! Mister Thabo, you don't mind sending word to my lodgings for me, do you?"

"Not at all, Miss Eusoneus. I'm already managing Myx Marinos' things, I'm sure I can manage yours as well." He winks at the pair of you and with that the two of you are back out into the snow. The cold feels like nothing as you hurry down to the harbor and commandeer a boat. As you're rowed out towards the Dolphin you can't help the ebullient feeling of excitement. Your career seems to have expanded madly in the last few months--it's a miracle, really.

"There she is, myx!" Sofia calls out. "Lord, isn't she a beauty?" You turn to look towards the ship as the little sloop hoves into view. And yes, yes she is a beauty. Your Dolphin. Almost 31 meters from stem to stern, 8 and a half meters in the beam, and from what you could see she carried 16 guns. Six pounders from the look of them as your boat bumped up against the hull and you scrambled aboard, then waited for Sofia to follow you. There was crash of muskets and shriek of bosun's whistles now--the only people aboard were a few workmen still finishing some of the refitting work. She was newly brought into the service and she was yours. You roamed through the ship, looking her over from the lowest part of the hold to the top of the main mast. Though with the miserably cold weather you didn't climb all the way to the top, but you wanted to! You felt giddy and it was hard to maintain the necessarily imperious demeanor demanded of you as a captain and once or twice you and Sofia descended into excited gesturing and conversation as you declaimed over her fine lines and comparative spaciousness of your new great cabin. You could stand up (thankfully, you are not tall) and couldn't touch both walls with your arms outstretched. Positively luxurious. At last, you are happy with your inspection and head back to shore.

A flurry of letters and notes and messages are sent back and forth and finally you are aboard again, this time with all your warrant and standing officers. Still no middies, but they could wait. More important things were yet to come. The workmen had eased her up against one of the piers to ensure an easy loading and the gangway was waiting to be put out to take aboard sailors. Mister Piteras was there, along with a new purser, a young person much like yourself who went by Lenthe Sphrantze, and of course a surgeon who was also unknown to you, a nervous looking fellow with spectacles by the name of Marcian Acominatus.

Then of course there were the standing officers, permanently assigned to your vessel. You had managed through good luck to retrieve your old carpenter, Ioannis Maniakes. A bos'un by the name of John Glycas was new to you, but he was a solid old fellow with many years at sea and you felt that he would manage well. The old gunner, alas, had taken his leave from the sea but you were more than happy with his replacement: a tall, angular young woman named Eryka Vatatze who looked quite at home in her uniform and had a rough edged feeling to her, though you discovered in conversation that she was a woman of letters who knew her philosophers quite well and had a fondness for fantastical novels. Lovely too, though you put those thoughts out of your mind immediately.

Then came the crew, which had to wait for the next day. You sat with Sofia and the purser, the ship's books open in front of you, and entered each sailor on the books as the came up, had them sign their name (or make their mark) and noted their rating. Surprisingly, you managed to get about twenty of your old Lydia crew, which made you feel a bit better about the prospects. With them, you had a solid core around which to form your new crew and you had no shortage of volunteers, considering the word that had gone around that you were a lucky captain who got prizes. In the end you had your picky and were able to assemble a crew of able sailors and turn away those who you felt wouldn't cut it.

At last you can begin the process of getting your stores on board. That proves trickier than expected. With things as they are, you find that the yards are almost picked clean and you have little leeway in trying to get all that you need to make the Dolphin ready for sea. Of particular frustration is the food. You have searched high and low for what you can, but many of the barrels of salt beef that are left in the warehouses are marked with stamps that indicate they are probably from the last war, which was a decade ago. And the barrels of biscuit are barely any better, as none of them are marked as younger than three years. Oh dear. You are frustrated by the manager of the Naval yard, who insists that he has no other supplies to offer you, though you do note that there are rather newer barrels shoved further into the back of one warehouse, which he says quite plainly you must be mistaken about as the older barrels are all that you have left. It is entirely possible that they are earmarked for someone else. It is equally possible that they are to be sold on the side to enrich the man. It does leave you with a bit of a dilemma, though. You need provisions if you're going to be ready for sea!

[ ] Grit your teeth and get on with it: Supplies are supplies. Even if the beef is a bit green it is still edible. You should know, you swear that some of the salt beef you had when you were before the mast was even older than the stuff you're being offered now and they are used to hard, maggoty biscuits. It might make the crew grumble, but it's better than having no food.
[ ] Grease some palms: You do have a lot of money. Perhaps if you offered a bit of extra incentive you might be able to get fresher supplies on board.
[ ] Dig into your purse: You are rather wealthy. You could probably simply bypass the yard and get fresh supplies directly from one of the suppliers without too much trouble, though it is likely to be much more expensive then just taking what you're given or offering a bit of, ahem, financial incentive.
[ ] Lodge an official complaint: If this bastard is holding out on you, you're going to let someone know about it. A letter of complaint to the admiral might put things back on the right track. But on the other hand, it's entirely possible that you will simply be told that the needs of the service outweigh any sort of demands you might have and you need to bloody well get on with it.
[ ] Write in: Got another idea? Put it here. Subject, of course, to QM veto if it is too outlandish.