Sail Away

by Lee Rowan

  “No sort at all, yet,” he admitted. “Allow me to present my shipmate, Lieutenant Marshall. Mr. Marshall, this is Mrs.….”

  “Brown,” she said, shaking Will’s hand. “Funny, isn’t it? All the fancy names for the stage, and here I am, plain Mrs. Alan Brown, and happier than I’d ever expected.”

  “He’s an Acting Lieutenant, Mrs. Brown, here in town for his promotion,” Will interjected. “Mr. Archer is the best man on the ship, and the best friend as well.”

  “How ever did you find me?” she asked.

  David pulled out a chair for her, and they all sat again. “Serendipity. At the theater they told me you married a pieman. This….” He glanced around at the small but beautifully kept dining room. “We came here because our cabman spoke highly of your Yorkshire pudding, but this is no pie wagon.”

  “Oh, we do still have the wagon.” She nodded toward the bar. “My brother-in-law, Fred, there, he takes that out in the evening when people are going home. My husband’s out with our son now—I was making soup and found a whole bag of onions had gone bad, so they’re off fetching some more. We had a big crowd in at midday.”

  “You left the stage?”

  She smiled wistfully, patting his hand. “It was a pretty dream, wasn’t it? But after you left, I started thinking about what I’d do in five years’ time, or ten, and I knew I’d always be cast as the comic maid or Juliet’s nurse. I haven’t that extra something the great ones have. And there was Alan, with his own little business, bringing me a pie every day after you’d gone—he’d thought I wouldn’t be interested, while I was with you. Silly man finally got up the nerve to ask if I’d walk out with him…. He wasn’t as smart and romantic as you, but he’s a good man and a sensible, hardworking one, and I could see we’d do well in harness. I knew that if I put the money I had from you together with what he’d saved, we could make a go of it. He didn’t want to take anything until I convinced him that this was what I wanted—a place of my own. Of our own.”

  “That helped, then?”

  “Helped?” She looked at Will. “He’s still like that, isn’t he? Doesn’t see what a dear thing he is.”

  “I think you are exactly right,” Will agreed.

  “Two against one is not fair,” David lamented.

  “You gave me a chance at freedom, m’dear,” she said, serious now, and in a voice that would not carry to the other tables. “You saw the sign outside? Alan insisted on that—both our names over the door, because it’s our business. I’m mistress of my own place now, and nobody’s understudy, thanks to you.”

  “It wasn’t that much,” he said. “You’d have—”

  “We’d still be pushing the pie wagons,” she said. “It may not have been much to you, but before that I had nothing. And it was enough, after a year, to put down on a lease.” She turned to Will. “He couldn’t have done better by me if he’d married me. That kind and generous, and you know I didn’t expect more than a little flirtation, him just a boy himself, and Quality. I didn’t want to lie about him, and I didn’t have to. Alan said he’d had girlfriends before me and didn’t expect he was my first. And he meant it! I do love him—he’s such a good man.” Nodding toward David, she said, “And so is he! We named our first boy Alan David, in his honor.”

  David could feel his face going red and cursed his fair coloring. “That wasn’t necessary,” he protested.

  “No, it wasn’t,” she agreed, getting to her feet. “And that’s what made it such a fine, generous thing for you to do. Now, you gents just sit back and enjoy that ale, and I’m sending you out our best dinner. Anything else you want, just ask—it’s on the house.” She winked at David with a cheeky grin. “’Cept one thing, love, ’cause I’m a respectable married woman now. But didn’t we have good times!”

  She was off with a bounce, and David was barely able to meet Will’s eyes. “If you love me,” he pleaded, “not a word of this once we’re back aboard.”

  “Of—” Will tried to be serious, but broke into helpless laughter. “Of course not. Gentlemen never tell. Oh, Davy, if you could see your face! But she’s right, you know. It was a wonderful thing you did.” His eyes flicked back in the direction she’d gone. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

  “That I’m not running a pie shop off Drury Lane, teaching my boy to buy wholesome produce?” He sighed. “No, Will. In the first place, I have no idea how to tell if an onion’s sound. I’m also nowhere near ready to be a father, and if I’d stayed, I would be one by now.”

  “Sobering thought,” Will said.

  “Indeed. But as sweet as it was…. That was years ago. She was right. We did have good times, but we’d never have been happy together, and it would’ve broken my mother’s heart to have grandchildren she couldn’t brag about to her friends. I don’t think I would have liked it much either.” He met Will’s eyes, and held them. “If I had stayed… I would never have met you.”

  “That would have been my loss.”

  He seemed about to say something more, but the girl who’d brought their beer came up bearing a tray with a round loaf and two crockery bowls. “Onion soup! I know that don’t sound like much, but Mrs. Brown learnt it from a French cook, and it’s my favorite. You just try it!”

  “She sounds like my father’s housekeeper,” Will said when the girl was out of earshot. “I wouldn’t dare not like it.”

  David had already ventured a taste, letting the sweet-and-savory flavors dazzle his palate. He tore a chunk of bread off the loaf and dunked it shamelessly. “Don’t worry. It’s delicious. One day I may have to send my own cook here to beg her for the recipe.”

  Mary Brown may have had a simple name, but she—or her cook—had a genius for making plain food the best it could possibly be.

  When she came out to ask if they’d enjoyed the meal, Will leaned over and said in an undertone, “I was telling Lieutenant Archer he should have eloped with you, ma’am. If we were allowed ladies on board, I’d beg you to sign on as our ship’s cook.”

  “Mr. Marshall,” David said, “her customers would riot.”

  “Aye, and so would my family,” she said. She glanced up as the door opened, and smiled at the man who came in with a small boy. “There’s Mr. Brown now. I think maybe I’d best not introduce you. He’s a proud man, my Alan.”

  David nodded. “Of course. Thank you again for a wonderful meal, and the best of luck to both of you. I’m so glad to see how well you’ve done.”

  He smiled to himself as she greeted her husband and relieved him of one of several sacks of what were no doubt onions. The fellow was medium height, with light, thinning hair and a friendly, intelligent expression. The boy beside him had his mother’s dark coloring. He was so young it was impossible to guess which of them he’d look like when he grew up. They all disappeared into the kitchen, and David surreptitiously left a shilling on the table for young Susan. She deserved it, for letting him see that Marybelle had found her true prince—even if he had been pushing a pie wagon instead of riding on a white charger.

  “You’re far more handsome than Mr. Brown,” Will said.

  “I’m sure you think so, but he has a kind face. I’m glad of that. Let’s clear out before we cause any awkwardness.”

  “Are there any more sights we must see today?” Will asked as they stepped out into the afternoon heat. “It’s been a full day, and I am more than ready to sit down with a good book and call it an early night. There’s tomorrow to think about. Is that our cab?”

  “Yes. Let’s ask this cabman to come by at nine and take us to the Admiralty tomorrow morning. He seems dependable, and my only fear now is of having some delay at the last moment. Oh, and Will?”

  “Yes?”

  “On the way to the Lion… one more bookshop?”

  AS THEY entered the Red Lion, the innkeeper seemed to catch himself before handing over their room key. “Mr. Archer?”

  “Yes.”

  “This came for you while you were out. A footman in liv
ery!”

  Will raised an eyebrow.

  “Thank you. I suppose my mother’s in town after all,” David said absently, taking the sealed letter. “Did he wait for a reply?”

  “No, sir.”

  He broke the seal and scanned the note. Will caught a glimpse of beautiful copperplate script before Davy folded the missive. “Nothing we need do this evening,” Davy said as they headed up the stairs to their room, “other than write and accept, and I can fire that off in the morning—she might expect we’ll be out late. My mother has invited us to dinner tomorrow. She is in town, but my father is not, and my sister Mary is staying with her at the townhouse.”

  Will had a sudden notion. “I would like some tea, Davy. If I were to ask the man on duty to send up a tray, would he do so?”

  “Of course. Shall I come?”

  “No, I’ll only be a moment. You go on.” He hurried back downstairs. “Sir? We would like some tea sent up to our room, if you may. And… is there a writing desk I might use?”

  HE’D EXPECTED to find Davy with his nose buried in a book when he went back upstairs, but instead he was standing at the window, gazing down into the street three stories below. For a moment Will just watched with appreciation at the way the afternoon sun set that golden hair ablaze, and then he asked, “Enjoying the passing scene?”

  “Yes, but not quite as much as I’d thought I would.” He smiled apologetically. “I feel as though I’ve dragged you halfway across England to no purpose.”

  “What?”

  “I need to be here for the examination, true enough, but…. Will, it’s all been my own interests today, and tomorrow will be more of the same. Is there anything in London that interests you? Anything you would like to do?”

  Will’s heart melted. “Yes, but someone’s bringing tea in just a few minutes, and I don’t believe we’d have time.”

  “That’s not what I meant—be serious!”

  “That is what I mean, and I am serious!” He crossed the room swiftly and turned Davy back toward the window. “Look out there. It’s enormous—like nothing I had imagined. You were right; I was completely unprepared for all the bustle, and without you I’d have lost my shirt by now, and probably my trousers as well.”

  Davy smiled reluctantly. “That’d be a sight worth seeing.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir. But instead, I have a new uniform on order, an invitation to dine with a Countess, and I no longer feel like a grass-comber his first day aboard. If I’ve seemed to be in a bad mood, it’s simply that I’ve been overwhelmed. Everything is so new I wouldn’t know what to choose. And in any case, you didn’t drag me here, you ass. We’re here on Captain’s orders, remember?”

  Leaning against him, Davy relaxed. “Yes, I do. And try as I may, I can’t forget what’s coming up tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can to put that out of your mind,” Will promised. “At least for a while.”

  HE AWOKE very early the next morning. Gray dawn light showed through a crack in the curtains, and Davy lay heavy against him, still sound asleep. The attempt to distract him had gone extremely well. They’d barely had the energy to tidy up after themselves and climb into nightshirts. In August, no maid would come in to start a fire, but there was no point taking chances.

  What a week this was going to be! So much would depend on the next few hours, but after the examination, what? Dinner with the Countess. Good God. He had accepted Davy’s social standing as a given, but until now it had not seemed to be something that would affect him personally. Aboard ship they were merely two small cogs in a well-oiled mechanism of command. Here in London, he was the son of a commoner—yes, son of a clergyman, self-educated and respectable, but not a person of any importance.

  “Nelson’s father was a parson too,” Davy had told him. And Will had replied that Nelson’s godfather was a baron, and Nelson’s mother had a prime minister just two generations back in her family. Hardly the same thing!

  Still, their difference in social standing wouldn’t affect him much once they were back on the Calypso. Not unless the obviously well-connected Archer family decided to exert its power in promoting Davy’s career. The understanding between them had always been that Will would make post rank first and take Lieutenant Archer with him, but “interest” always carried more weight than merit. Not that Davy wasn’t just as deserving of promotion, but by his own admission, he was not ambitious to command. What might happen then?

  Will sighed. Life had been so very simple just a month ago. He doubted it would ever be simple again.

  Then he listened to his weary body and went back to sleep.

  IT SEEMED as though only a moment had passed before it was bright daylight and a maid was knocking at the door. Davy was too intense and focused—Will would not call it “nervy”—to eat much, so they made do with a couple of rolls and hot chocolate. That was all right. They would be finished at the Admiralty by noon, with any luck, and would then be able to pick up something to tide them over until dinner with… Davy’s mother. Will refused to let his mind keep repeating the phrase that made him feel as though he’d stepped into a novel.

  They took a cab to keep their uniforms neat. Will remembered well enough how much appearance mattered—and how painfully aware he’d been, just a month before he was due to face the Examining Board in Portsmouth, that the uniform he’d bought only the year before had grown too tight at the shoulders. He hadn’t the money to replace his midshipman’s coat and still have enough to buy the coveted uniform of a Lieutenant, so he’d wound up trading a week’s rum ration for the loan of a coat from a fellow who was larger—a little too much larger, but a couple of temporary tucks had produced an acceptable effect.

  Davy, of course, had no such problem. The tailor in Portsmouth had done a splendid job of restoration on both their dress uniforms, and Will was certain—even if he knew affection colored his opinion—that Acting Lieutenant Archer was the very image of a perfect Naval officer, right down to the silver buckles on his brilliantly polished shoes. If one were to paint a picture of the Admiralty, with its clean lines and imposing white walls towering over the streets, one would want to have a few handsome officers artistically placed about the grounds.

  He certainly looked the part as they approached the guard post at the Admiralty and gave their names and purpose to the officer on guard, whose uniform was every bit as impeccable as Davy’s. He glanced at the list and nodded. “Archer and Marshall. Straight ahead, gentlemen, and report to the duty officer in the entry hall.”

  Will was glad they’d allowed an extra half hour as they trod the long open courtyard between the gate and the pillared portico of the sacred precincts. He had a notion of how gladiators might have felt, out in the open with walls of marble all around them.

  “Gives them plenty of time to see who’s coming,” Davy said under his breath. “I can just hear them now: ‘Oh, Lord, it’s Grenbrook’s whelp—where’s the vat of boiling oil?’”

  Will supposed it must be nerves behind the humor. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Of course.”

  Or perhaps it was not only Davy who was nervous. Will felt a little out of place himself, and more than a bit of a scruff. “You have all your papers?”

  “Yes, and my commendations and my lucky admission token to Drury Lane in case I decide to chuck it all and run away to join the circus. And a clean handkerchief, Mama, so you needn’t worry about your little boy disgracing himself!” Davy chuckled. “I expect it’s going to be awful, Will, but honestly—there’s nothing left to worry about, and nothing more I can do to prepare. I’m as ready as I’m likely to be. If they decide that’s not enough, I think you’ll be more disappointed than I.”

  Another perfectly groomed officer met them at the door—without boiling oil—and escorted them to a hall with gleaming marble floors and a row of chairs along one wall, where they were instructed to sit. Their escort continued down the hall to a set of carved double doors—closed, of course—where he k
nocked, then walked away.

  “Efficient signals,” Davy commented. “But what would you expect in the Holy of Holies?”

  Will shot him a warning look. This was not the time for the impudent Archer sense of humor to make itself known.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Will! I’ll be meek as a nun’s hen in the presence of greatness.”

  “Polite, I believe.” He brushed a nonexistent speck of dust off Davy’s shoulder. “Meek, never.”

  Yet another perfect aide-de-camp opened the door to the inner sanctum. “Mr. Archer?”

  Davy drew in a quick breath and rose. “And they’re off!” he murmured.

  Will gave him a smile. “Good luck.”

  Davy only nodded and walked briskly down the hall, head up and colors flying.

  Will had never been so proud.

  THE QUESTIONS came at him for approximately an eternity, but much to Archer’s surprise, none of them were insurmountable. They were issued more rapidly than he would have liked, but that was fair too—there’d be no time for dithering in battle. This was as much a test of character as knowledge. The Navy would be remiss in its duty if it passed men who could not shoulder responsibility and hold up in the face of pressure.

  But there was still one thing he knew was coming—and at last, it arrived.

  “So,” Captain James said ponderously. “Sir Paul says you know your navigation. Well, then, sir….” He held out a slip of paper. “Cast your eyes upon these figgers and tell me where your ship is moored.”

  “You may use the chart if you like,” Captain McLain offered. He seemed the least fusty of the bunch, but none of the stern older men showed an ounce of humanity. Nor, Archer supposed, should they. This was a trial, not a fete. It was supposed to be difficult.