“And that means…?” Caroline warily enquired.
” ‘Goodbye,’ and ‘see you’… I think, in Russian, my dear,” he told her, thanking God that Caroline’s only foreign tongue was a little French, for “Paka snova”—”See you, again!”—had been delivered with such a light in Eudoxia’s eyes, laden with so much impish promise.
“And, shall we attend the circus, Alan?” Caroline icily posed.
“Well…I’m certain the children would enjoy it, dear,” Lewrie replied with as much off-handed blitheness as he could muster, actually managing to look his wife in her eyes, ‘stead of blinking too much.
“Oh, Mummy, could we?” Charlotte squealed, about to bounce out of her shoes, and her face as squinted as when she needed to pee; and Hugh and Sewallis clamoured for it, too. “We’ve never seen a circus!”
“We shall see, children,” Caroline told them. “I’m sure that it would be educational. Though, perhaps it might prove too exciting for some of us,” she added, a brow cocked in her husband’s direction. “I believe your father has seen it several times, already, and, what with all that is needful to commission his new ship, might have no time to spare for further attendance.”
“Well …” Lewrie glibly rejoined, shrugging again, higher.
And I never laid a finger on the mort! he thought; Well, maybe a hand, a lip or two, but… damned if I did, damned if I didn’t, and Caroline’ll think the worst o’ me, either way. Gawd, but this is going t’be a long reconciliation! Ain’t I a bloody hero? Ain’t that worth something, in my own house?
“Come along, children,” Caroline serenely instructed, gathering her brood, her regal air parting the press of the crowd before them as sure as Moses parted the Red Sea. “Come, Alan!” she bade her husband with a trifle less patience as he lagged behind a little, wondering for a second or two whether she meant him to be in their company, after all. “We’re going to the chandlers’ shops for your needs…dearest. Or so I thought,” she said for the benefit of the close-pressed spectators.
“Oh, o’ course, my dear,” Lewrie replied, joining them at last. He linked arms with her, and plastered as much of an untroubled expression on his phyz as Caroline wore on hers.
“But, what about the circus, Mummy?” Little Charlotte whined.
“Oh, we shall attend, dears,” Caroline vowed, turning to smile at her children. “Of course, we shall. Your father will take us…for are we not a family, after all?”
Thank bloody Christ! Lewrie thought with glad relief; There is a thaw… maybe. Then, began to contemplate how un-interested, aloof, and semi-bored he must act at the performance that night, and make his wife actually believe it!
AFTERWORD
At one time in the far-distant past, I rather naively assumed that I had Alan Lewrie’s career in the Royal Navy plotted out with an appearance in a series of major events from his entry into the Fleet in 1780, all the way through to 1815.
Wrong, wrong, wrong! The more I associate with the rogue, the further afield I end up departing from that early stab at a curriculum vitae. It’s as if my rubber bracelet, which bears the initials W.W.L.D.—What Would Lewrie Do—was ensorcelled by a cut-rate wizard down on Lower Broad here in Nashville, quite near Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge and the Old Ryman Theatre, so that Lewrie’s perverse streak of “Oh no, let’s go there!” sometimes takes over. It could be worse; I could have been possessed by the ghost of Hank Williams, and drunk myself to an early death, years ago!
This all started quite innocently when I ran across a mention in a reference book about a British circus and theatrical troupe that had sailed to America in 1797, and had had a wildly successful year’s tour down the coast of the United States, from New England to Savannah, and Lewrie, and I, both said, “Hmmm,” about the same time. Him first, me first, I’m still not quite sure, but the thought of actresses, agile acrobats, bareback riders (which had a very sexual connotation in the eighteenth century—figure it out for yourself!), skimpily clad aerialists, breathy little “theatrical” ingénues, and actresses! Did I mention actresses? The only drawback was the clowns and mimes… along with the “Zoo-Doo” left by a menagerie of exotic beasts.
As for those slaves…the Rev. William Wilberforce and other people whom Lewrie met in London before his little Odyssey were actual people who were in the relentlessly grim process of reforming every wee bit of English Society…the word “Respectable” didn’t even come into common usage ‘til the late 1790s, after Wilberforce and Hannah More got their talons into things. Sarah Trimmer really wrote dismayingly “cute” children’s books, damning all the old blood-and-guts and scare-them-to-sleep folk tales as too traumatic for such shrinking violets as British children. The first roots of the Politically Correct movement put out their first runners deep under the soil at that moment.
So successful were the Reformers, the Clapham Sect, the Evangelical Society, and the Society for the Abolition of Slavery that Britons became a very tight-assed people, just in time for the Victorian Age. To this day, you put up a sign demanding that Brits line up for something, and you’ll get a queue the likes not seen outside ticket offices for Super Bowl seats. As Hannah More gleefully said, “Slowly we shall take away all the bad old influences, ‘til the only thing they have to look upon is ourselves.” Or something very much like that, but you may get the gist. They were social engineers so successful that they made Lenin weep with envy.
Slavery in the British Isles disappeared in the 1750s, though rich business interests fought tooth and nail to keep the sugar, teas, and coffee crops coming in from the Caribbean. It was not ‘til 1807 that the slave trade was officially abolished throughout the British Empire, a ban honoured more with lip-service ‘til 1815, when the Napoleonic Wars ended, and the government could pay attention to enforcing its laws. A peacetime Royal Navy became active in policing the African coasts with anti-slavery patrols to stop the continued export of slaves by other countries. Slavery itself was not abolished in all British colonies until 1833.
While Lewrie is not much of a real musician with his wee penny-whistle, and I have had my bad moments with bagpipe lessons and badly-done banjo playing, both he and I like music. In the last few books, readers will have run across the titles of eighteenth-century tunes, and for those who haven’t been to the Smithville Old Time Fiddlers Jamboree, Uncle Dave Macon Days down in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, been to the Ryman and the Grand Ole Opry, or been fortunate enough to be my downstairs neighbours at one in the A.M. who just adore my CDs, let me cite a couple of them to put you in a “Lewrie state of mind.” Drink, low companions, seedy dives, and “women no better than they ought to be” are up to you, though.
“Smash the Windows” is by a group called The Virginia Company, a collection of pre-Revolutionary tavern music on authentic instruments. Write The Virginia Company, Box 1853, Williamsburg, VA 23187, or call (757) 229-3677.
Another is “Nottingham Ale—Tavern Music from Colonial Williamsburg,” recorded at the Raleigh Tavern. Contact the Williamsburg Foundation, Box 1776, Williamsburg, VA 23187-1776.
So, here’s Lewrie, a national hero, and actually sorta-kinda reconciled with his wife? But, will it all end up aboard Tom Turdman’s barge at Dung Wharf, as things involving Lewrie usually do? And, what is Zachariah Twigg really up to, and has Alan been set up as a ready-made martyr for the anti-slavery crowd, as Lewrie suspects? When will the Beaumans and their lawyers (boo, hiss!) arrive, and may Lewrie get his new frigate out to sea before they do? And, finally, just what did Eudoxia Durschenko have in mind when she bade him that enigmatic “paka snova”—”See you… again!”
“No, Lewrie, you can’t go to the circus, again, damn yer eyes!”
Or…maybe he might.
W.W.L.D., y’all.
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A King's Trade Page 43
