Admiral Rodney had gone home with his fabulous prize fieet, so Treghues had to settle for lesser lights, and led them first to Sir ansley. Their former admiral looked even fatter than ever, ever-strangling in a neckcloth too tight for him, and Lady Maude had chosen a bilious purple-and-grey satin sackgown, a poor comparison to her complexion. If it weren't for Sir 00sley's uniform they would have looked like servants. ’Sir Oosley… Lady Maude. Your servant, sir.. ‘. ’Oh, Alan Lewrie," Lady Maude said. "My, they feed you well in Desperate. You must have grown another inch since we saw you last.’
’We have been living quite well for a cruiser, Lady Maude. ’
‘Mister Lewrie," Sir ansley said, offering his hand. "You are looking 'Bristol Fashion,' I must say.’
’Thank you, Sir Onsley. I… I was most distressed to hear you and Lady Maude would be going back to England," Lewrie began, trying to make his prepared speech sound natural. "May I say that I shall always be grateful for your and Lady Maude's many kindnesses and considerations. I hope your voyage is tranquil, and your next post rewarding. ’
‘Thankee, Mister Lewrie. Most kind," Sir Onsley said. "I'll miss the islands, damme if! won't. But, you have to make way for younger men.’
’I am certain the islands shall miss you, too, Sir Onsley. I'm sure I speak for many who served under you." He smiled. Yes, they'll miss the sight of Glarton sitting out there like the Pharos, Lewrie thought. ’Be odd not to have a sea command after all these years," Sir Onsley maundered on, now well into his wine cups. ’Sir George Sinclair would have to be a most impressive officer to replace you, sir. Or match our record of success in reducing the number of privateers and all," Lewrie said, wondering if he really knew when to stop toadying before even Sir Onsley noticed. ’We have stuck a dry bone in Brother Jonathan's throat, have we not?" Sir Onsley chuckled. Dead-lazy or not, Sir Onsley was going home rich as Croesus from prize money reaped by his squadron. ’Only thing I regret is I'm going to miss the last act out here," Sir Onsley said. "Here, walk with me and we'll have some wine, boy. Do you know anything about DeGrasse?" Something to eat? Lewrie thought. "No, sir.’
’Damn crafty Frog admiral. Left Brest back in the spring and he got down to Martinique with a huge convoy and a fleet of line-of-battle ships. Sam Hood's crossed swords with him once so far, pretty much of a draw. But he's here for a purpose, and it won't be good when it comes. Met Sam Hood yet?’
‘No, sir.’
’Then come with me.’
And before Lewrie knew it, he was bowing to that worthy, who looked down that long nose at him. Sir Onsley bubbled on about Lewrie's record and what ship he was in at present. "Yes, Mister Lewrie," Hood said with a meager smile. "Believe I read something about Ariadne. Knew Bales long ago, you know. And it was Parrot, I believe, before Desperate?’
‘Aye, sir," Lewrie said, almost quivering with excitement.
The admiral had indeed actually heard something of him. "Damn glad to meet you, Mister Lewrie. You keep up that sort of work," Hood told him, before shifting his eyes away. "I shall, sir," Lewrie promised. allowing himself to be led off by Sir Onsley. "Put in a word for you. Never hurts for him to remember what you look like," Sir Onsley said, now firmly playing naval politics. "He must have a thousand midshipmen, but he'll know you.’
And you'll be on the Board at the Admiralty, giving advice and support to Hood, so he's amenable to a good relationship with you, but at what price? Lewrie speculated, sipping his wine, noticing for the first time that it was champagne and as cold as mortal sin. ’Ah, I see Treghues has already found our new commodore," Sir Onsley noted, jutting his chin across the room to point at Alan's captain and a thin, reedy stick of a man in a coat a bit too faded to be fashionable at a ball. Still, it was laced as a captain's coat, but for the buttons set in threes. Sir George Sinclair wore a tight periwig with close side curls, emphasizing the skin as dark as any foredeck hand, making those sharp eyes and down-turned hook of a nose appear even more daunting. ’A real taut hand, is Sinclair," Sir Onsley continued. "Put up his first broad pendant when the French came in in '78, and was a real terror off Bordeaux, I'm told. Got knighted at Quiberon Bay in the last war and earned it three times over. We are not close, but I did have a chance to mention a few people by way of recommendation. I do not think you would mind if Sir George knew of my regard for you.’
’Not at all, sir. Your thoughtfulness at a time like this is… I cannot find the words, Sir Onsley.’
It was heady stuff to be endorsed as able by a man who now had distant control over the officers he would be answering to in future. Lewrie had not thought to wonder how well regarded Sir Onsley was when it came to choosing followers. But he had yet to hear that he was as inept as Admiral Rodney, so it might be alright for his career.
296 Dewey Lambdin He felt success falling like a laurel wreath in some fever dream, slow and catchable, right into his outstretched hands. He had won over Captain Bales, had convinced Kenyon of his ability-even if Kenyon was a Molly, Alan stilI respected his skills. He had caught Sir Onsley's eye as a comer, was well recommended to Admiral Hood (another comer), and now was most likely going to cap the evening by winning the same notice from his new admiral of the squadron! Why had he not joined the Navy years ago, so that he then could have been entered on ships' books for six years? There was a commission in the offing, and he knew, from asking questions of other midshipmen passed for lieutenant, that he could make a fair showing at the exam.
Sir Hugo may have done me the greatest favor of my life by making me go to sea, he realized.
But standing slightly behind and to one side of Sir George Sinclair was his flag captain, someone Lewrie had known under less auspicious circumstances, and the laurel wreath of success was snatched out of his fingers.
He almost snapped the stem of his wineglass. Not now, not him! Lewrie shivered. Good Christ! It was Captain Bevan, the very officer who had dragged him from his father's house. Captain Bevan, who knew enough of his background and the alleged reason for his banishment to ruin him forever. Captain Bevan, the man who had been his jailer in that damned post-chaise to Portsmouth and had shoved him into Ariadne! "That would not be Captain Bevan with him, Sir Onsley?" Alan said, ready to run or throw up or both. ’Aye, his flag captain. Know him?" Sir Onsley asked. "We've met," Lewrie mumbled, sinking in a bleak despair. Lewrie could not escape being led across the salon to Commodore Sinclair's circle. Up close, the man had that predatory look that Mrs. HiIIwood possessed, but Lewrie felt he was not going to get the same sort of gentle treatment. ’Sir George.’
’Sir Onsley." It was the sound of talons rustling. ’Here's another of your band, off Desperate. Midshipman Alan Lewrie," Sir ansley said proudly. "Commodore Sir George Sinclair, Mr. Lewrie.’
’Your servant, Sir George," Alan said, summoning up what was left of his nerves, and trying to look plucky and direct. "Ah yes, Lewrie." Sir George smiled thinly, which smile was as quickly gone. "I've heard of you. ’
‘Another one of my promising lads, Sir George, like your nephew," Treghues said. "When he puts his mind to it, of course, ha ha. ’
‘January of last year, was it not, Mister Lewrie?" Sir George asked with a sniff. The Navy, the rape, the Gordon Riots, what? Lewrie fumbled at such a surprising question. "Aye, sir. January of' 80.’
’Is that your recollection, Bevan?" Sir George asked his aide. ’I remember it most distinctly, Sir George," Captain Bevan said, bestowing upon his chief a benign look, then turning to face Lewrie. "Yes," Sir George intoned dryly. "Poor old Bales.’
Sir ansley and Cmdr. Treghues were mystified by this exchange, and Lewrie rushed to sort things out for them. "Captain Bevan was the officer who obtained me my first berth in Ariadne. He was also kind enough to see me safely to Portsmouth and helped me stock my kit. I wish to extend to you my hearty thanks for doing so, Captain Bevan. I have learned so much in the Navy, first under Captain Bales in poor Ariadne, from Sir Onsley, and now Commander Treghues. I feel so grateful for your ass
istance in discovering my new career. Having had a bit of success, and gaining so much knowledge has been an… an inspiring experience. Not to mention, uplifting.’
They know I'm raving, he told himself. They'll get the leg irons first, and then the poking sticks. Lewrie, you can lie like a butcher's dog. Oh, you arse-kissing, vile wretch… Please God they eat this shit up like plum duff… ’Really," Sir George drawled, drawing the word out like a rapier. "He is keen, and a fast learner," Treghues said offhandedly, not wanting to praise Lewrie publicly now that Sir George was reacting to him much as he would regard a drunken hand at the gratings. ’Well, I shall keep my eye on him, then," Sir George said with just the hint of a thaw, but it wasn't the sort of smile that would give a man much cheer. It reminded Alan of a judge finding a new way to pronounce "transportation for life" after a full docket.
The interview died after that as Lewrie stumbled off, trying to find a graceful way to say goodbye to such an equivocal dismissal. He chased down a servant and loaded up on wine, fast. The first went down in a rush and he began on the second. ’Merciful God in heaven," he most miserably croaked. "I am so well and truly fucked-’
‘ 'Ere, you watch yer mouth around a lady, ya dirty little Navy guttersnipe," a gentleman standing close enough to hear said as he shook his fist at him. His wife stood by, face pruned in pious outrage. ’I am so sorry for disturbing your good lady, sir," Lewrie said in surprise, but thinking fast. "I have just had the most shocking news from home. Do forgive me but I was beyond all temperance.’
’Oh, sorry, then.. ‘. ’Funny way of showing grief," the woman said. Grief's the fucking word for it, he told himself. He began to wander the salon, nodding to everyone whether he knew them or not, asking himself what he had done to bring down such a fate on himself. He had studied hard, he had worked hard, he had almost-but-not-quite come to tolerate the Navy, he was not even a three-bottle man, and hadn't had any mutton for months, and could not understand why God could bring him so close to the edge of triumph and then dash him into the mud. ’Saving yourself for dinner, Lewrie?" Treghues asked him on his third aimless circuit of the salon. ’I'm sorry, sir?’
‘This isn't a drum," Treghues told him. "There's a sit-down meal coming. Are you half-seas over?" He scowled. "Oh no, sir, I'm fine, really.’
’Slow down on the wine and go have a bite from the buffet, or I shall send you back aboard ship, and blast your supper and your dancing," Treghues told him, not understanding what Sir George had against Lewrie, but determined to find out. ’Aye aye, sir, I… I shall join Avery and Forrester at the buffet, sir. They look to be having a fine time at the moment." The buffet was groaning under a load of wonderful-looking and -smelling food for snacking. Avery and Forrester were tucking it in like famished dogs, standing side by side and amiable for once in their greed, slowly grazing down the tables. If his nerves had not already suffered such a shock as to be terminal to his appetite, the sight of Forrester at trough would have done it anyway.
Feeling that Treghues was still watching him, he joined them and took a plate and utensils, spooning up the first thing handy with no regard for what it was. ’Do try some of this, Alan," Avery said. "Some local kickshaw with honey and nuts on it. Could be rabbit. Forrester swears it's partridge.’
’Urn, yes," Alan said after chewing a bite. "Maybe duck?’
‘What a palate," Forrester sneered. "Salt-pork is more to your style.’
’Spreading yourself a bit broader than usual tonight, Francis'?" he shot back. "You'll be needing new breeches if you keep on loading cargo like that.’
’You are so unbelievably common, Lewrie.’
’David, did you ever notice, right after eating you can't understand a word he says?’
‘Keeping his cheeks full, for later," Avery surmised. ’Sucks it right up like a washdeck pump," Alan said, studying Forrester closely. "But whatever does he do with the little bones?’
‘Not sure, but it explains those low crunching noises in the middle of the night. ’
‘Have your little laughs," Forrester said, "and then I shall have mine. You'll be all-amort… ’
‘Whatever did he mean by that?" Lewrie wondered as Forrester moved away from them. ’I suppose he thinks he'll be going into the flagship.’
’Could we be so lucky?" Lewrie asked, feeling a ray of sunshine penetrating his gloom. "Treghues and Sinclair are as thick as thieves, are they?’
‘His uncle will take care of him," Avery hinted. ’No," Lewrie said with a sudden chill. "Forrester… ’
‘And Sinclair." Avery was relentless. "I damn near cried. ’
‘Sweet suffering God, this is hellish," Lewrie whispered. "I am ruined…’
’You?" Avery scoffed. "Think he has any more love for me? I was the one played so many pranks on him. But he stands a good chance of being out of our lives. He'II be passed for lieutenant a lot quicker than us, but then he's gone. Thank the good Lord.’
Lewrie set his plate down and rubbed his forehead, lost in a viselike agony trying to puzzle things out so they made sense. "Desperate could be the post of honor," he told David. "He might stay with us until a suitable big prize needed a master, and he would go into her. Immediate promotion, bought in, at least a lieutenant's command below the Rates.’
’That makes me ill to contemplate.’
Or Forrester could stay in Desperate, and I go to the flag, where Sir George hounds me to ruin because of Forrester's lies, and what happened in London, he thought gloomily. But plenty of men go to sea under a cloud, and as long as you're good at your job no one gives a groat what you've done before. Alright, so Sir George doesn't like me-that's no reason he would harm me. What would it profit him? Oh, God, what else can go wrong? "Alan!" He turned to see Lucy Beauman dressed in a new gown of pale pink satin with an undergown of white lace, lots of ruched material on sleeves and bodice, her own hair in ringlets instead of a wig, all done up with flowers and maroon ribbons. ’Lucy… how truly magnificent and beautiful you look. ’
‘Oh, Alan," she said, taking his hands. David coughed to break the spell. ’Excuse my manners… David Avery, Miss Lucy Beauman, Admiral Sir Onsley Matthews' niece. Lucy, this is my shipmate, Midshipman David Avery.’
’Your servant, ma'am," David said, making a graceful leg, and dribbling food from his unattended plate behind him. Thank God for one good thing that has happened to me this evening, Alan thought happily, flushing with pleasure at seeing her once more, and aching with sudden longing as well. Every time he was reunited with her he found her more womanly, more desirable, more lovely, if such a thing was possible. ’Alan, Mister Avery, I should like you to meet my father." Right, thankee, God, Alan almost said aloud. ’Your servant, Mister Beauman, sir.’
Ph-e Beauman was squat as a toad, crammed into a bright green velvet coat, a longer-skirted old-style waistcoat awash in silver brocade, buff breeches and hose, with calves as thick as tillerheads. And the high-roached, elaborately curled bag wig he wore fairly screamed "Country" -of the worst huntin', shootin', ridin', drinkin', tenant-tramplin', dog-lovin' View Halloo variety.
This lovely girl is daughter to… that? Alan couldn't accept it. "You're Lewrie, hey?" said Mister Beauman once they had both been bowed to. "Heard a lot about you.’
He has much in common with Sir George, Alan thought unhappily; he has heard of me. I cannot imagine a more ghastly evening… ’Like a lad with gumption. Chopped that fella, hey? With good reason, 0' course.’
’I could not in good conscience let his remarks pass, sir," Lewrie told him, happy to hear that Lucy's father sounded approving of his duel. Nothing like defending a daughter to placate a daddy. "The less said about his scurrilous remarks, the better, though, with the ladies present.’
’Onsley sez yer a comer. That so?’
‘I am very grateful for Sir Onsley's and Lady Maude's good opinion, Mister Beauman. They are wonderful people. ’
‘Aye, that's so. That's so," Mr. Beauman agreed, snaking himself a glass of wine fr
om the buffet. "And you come on business to Antigua, sir?’
‘Hell, the Matthewses are sailing for home, lad. The slave revolt's been put down, and Portland Bight's healthier than Antigua in the summer. I've come to fetch Lucy home.’
’I had not thought that far ahead about the consequences, sir," he said, sharing a heartbreaking look of confirmation from Lucy. "I am sure you're pleased to be able to receive her back into your family in safety and peace-’
‘Aye, true," Beauman nodded heavily, changing glasses for a full one. "Bubbly Frog trash. Got your juju bag?’
‘Yes, sir, I do.’
’Sambo nonsense," Beauman Sr. chuckled. "Still, any luck's better than none, hey?" Does this man ever speak in complete sentences? Alan wondered. They were interrupted by the dinner gong, and the most important people began to pair off to file into the long dining rooms. "Mister Beauman, if you are to fetch Lucy home, and I shall be sailing north in a few days, this ball may be our last chance to converse for some time. With your permission, of course, I should like to dance with your daughter.’
’Me, too," Avery said in a barely audible mutter behind him. "Aye, if she's willin'," Beauman agreed.
There were farewell speeches about Sir ansley, welcoming speeches about Sir George, a word or two from Admiral Hood, many toasts and much food. With her father beside her, Lucy could not indulge in one of those long-distance romances of eyes and shrugs, so Lewrie had to content himself with his table companions, and a damned dull lot they were. The food he could barely taste, and did little more than mangle what little he allowed on his plate. His appetite was quite gone.
Am I going to be ruined? And if I am, then what am I to do for a living? I could stay in the Navy, but if this war ends I'll have no chance of being retained. And they don't give half-pay to midshipmen. Hell, without Sir ansley's help there's no way I can make my lieutenancy. Even as a Commission Sea Officer, I'd be turned out on the beach, and half-pay is more like quarterpay, it's a joke. But, if I married Lucy Beauman I'd be a ledcaptain, a poor relation, but that's worth more than half-pay, even worth more than a post-captain's command. Either way, bless her, she's the key to prosperity after the war…
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