Reefs and Shoals (5 page)

“With whom, sir?” Sewallis asked, checking his pace.

“Lady I met in London last Spring, at the palace when I was presented to the King and got knighted,” Lewrie said, though he winced to have blabbed her existence. “Sister of Viscount Percy Stangbourne, and quite nice. I’d saved Lord Percy’s intended aboard one of the ships in that convoy in the South Atlantic, years ago, when I had
Proteus,
and we took the
L’Uranie
frigate. Didn’t know either of ’em from Adam, but … up they popped at the
levee
, and…”

Damme, how much o’
that
can ye tell, without mentionin’ that Eudoxia Durschenko, the circus, and how she made cow’s-eyes at me?
Lewrie thought. That part of his life was
terra incognita
to his children … so far. They might even still believe that he had been a faithful husband to their late mother!

“They reside here in Portsmouth?” Sewallis queried.

“Uh, no. Their country seat’s near Reading and Henley,” Lewrie tried to breeze off, “but they have a grand house in Grosvenor Street. You’d like Percy. He raised a cavalry regiment, all on his own, and got it taken onto Army List last Summer, and posted to the Kent coast.
Damned
fine horseman, it goes without sayin’ … her, too. Huntin’ and steeple-chasin’ … God only
knows
how many acres they own, or where.”
Stop babblin’!
he silently chid himself.

“You are
seeing
her, sir?” Sewallis asked, looking stricken.

“We’ve become friends,” Lewrie cautiously allowed.

“Oh. I see,” Sewallis replied. “It has been three years, now, since Mother … even so…”

“I’d not wish t’hide her under a bushel basket, but … if you don’t care to, we won’t.”

“Well, ehm … I’d…” Sewallis said, groping to express his true feelings. After another deep, pent breath, he, very gravely, added, “This comes as most surprising, sir. Had you written about her … the lady’s existence … first, to prepare the ground, as it were?”

“It’s still early days, and ’til lately, there wasn’t much to write
about,
” Lewrie lied, a bit rankled that one of his sons would even think to dictate his personal life, or enforce the lack of one. “Perhaps a brief hour over tea? After we’ve had you at a tailor shop, of course. Can’t have the heir of a Knight and Baronet showin’ up in rags, now can we?”

“No, sir, I suppose not,” Sewallis answered. “If you wish, then I would be pleased to meet your Mistress Stangbourne.”

No, you bloody aren’t!
Lewrie scoffed to himself.

“Fine, then,” he said, instead. “Damme, but there’s a tale to amuse ye, the how of gettin’ a title t’boot.”

“I look forward to hearing it, sir,” Sewallis replied,
seemingly
in better takings.

“Damme, but it’s cold up here! Do I keep you any longer, after all your boat-work in this foul weather, you’ll catch your death. And I should be going back aboard
Reliant,
anyway. Thaw yourself out in the fug of your Midshipmen’s cockpit. Your fellow Mids’ll have a bowl of hot punch, surely.”

“I expect so, sir … Father,” Sewallis said, grinning at last. “And, in port at least, Captain Rodgers allows us the use of a Franklin stove. For a few hours each day.”

“Oh, don’t get me started on bloody Franklin stoves!” Lewrie cried. “There’s another long, sad tale that ended up costin’ me dear! Well, then, ’til I make arrangements with Captain Rodgers for a shore liberty for ye, I’ll take my leave.”

“’Til then, Father … sir,” Sewallis said, doffing his hat in a formal salute, with a slight bow from the waist.

Lewrie doffed his own cocked hat to his son, as well, a grave exchange from one naval officer to another.

Even if Lewrie still thought his son had made a bad decision, one that he might come to regret.

CHAPTER FIVE

The “hour over tea” with Sewallis, Lewrie, and Lydia had become a late second breakfast that had lasted a bit longer than two hours. Not that it could be described as a resounding success, for Sewallis had had his “grave face” on, like a wary investor offered a “fail-safe” stock. He’d been polite, and had
seemed
to thaw when Lydia had shown interest in his seafaring life, so far, but the wheels had come off when Lydia had ventured into talk of her brother, and his engagement to a “circus person,” Eudoxia Durschenko.

“You saw her, Sewallis, when we all attended Daniel Wigmore’s circus,” Lewrie had breezily reminded him. “Met her face-to-face when they paraded through Portsmouth, too. Eudoxia rode her white stallion right up to us, remember?”

“Oh, that was she, sir?” Sewallis had said, “Rather racily and scantily clad.” He’d been purse-lipped and dis-approving of
that.

“She is fearless, I’ve come to learn,” Lydia had chimed in, “and a crack shot. When Percy brought her up to the country in the fall, we all went birding, and she out-shot me every time. Quite sweet, too.”

“You … hunt, ma’am?” Sewallis had all but gasped, though he’d kept his tone level. He’d dis-approved of women with guns, too.

Their long tea-time had gotten chillier and stiffer from there on, and it was with a shared sense of relief that Lewrie had seen his son to the docks, and back to his ship.

“Dear Lord, Alan, but I think you’ve reared a
parson,
” Lydia had chuckled when he’d returned. “A Methodist dissenter, at that! So far, I gather that he’s a ‘down’ on Percy’s gambling, Eudoxia, bawdy women, and my having guns! Such a stiff young man!”

*   *   *

Supper with Benjamin Rodgers went much better; at least
he
had kept an open mind, and when Lydia, who had been studying and reading every book she could find on seamanship, ships, and their handling since being dined aboard
Reliant
at Sheerness the previous Spring, could converse somewhat knowledgeably with two senior naval officers, Rodgers had become the soul of geniality and jollity. He’d listened with glee to tales of Percy’s amazing luck at gambling, and the doings of the rich and titled. He’d almost sounded as if he
did
devour the “Tattler” columns in the papers, despite what he’d said about them.

“Reading and Henley?” Rodgers had exclaimed. “Why, that’s in my bailiwick! My father’s an attorney in Reading, and I grew up there. Punting on the Thames is what led me to the Navy. Good Lord, yes, now I recall your father, too. Big, tall, rangy fellow … Your pardons, Mistress Stangbourne, but we children used to dread the Viscount for how fearsome-featured he was. Not the handsomest man in England, he was, Alan. Splendid rider, though, and a grand sportsman. We used to ride by Stangbourne Park quite often, though, on the way to a day of shooting at my uncle’s … an estate he called The Hermitage?”

“Gabriel Rodgers, of course!” Lydia had gushed quite animatedly. “I knew him well when I was a girl.”

They were “neighbourly”, knew the same people, no matter their class, and Lydia had met Rodgers’s new wife, too. All in all, they’d gotten on like a house afire.

“Quite like her, Alan,” Rodgers had said on the long cold walk back to the boat landing. “And, if the war ever ends, I’d be delighted to have a chance to shoot over
their
fields. Matter of fact, it’s good odds the house Susannah and I bought in Reading got run up with Stangbourne money and labour. The old Viscount dabbled in rents and real estate in a
huge
way!”

Lewrie had been delighted that Benjamin had sounded approving, too, if Sewallis didn’t. And the sea-change in Lydia’s manner with Rodgers had been a fine thing to see. He
knew
how guarded and leery Lydia was about how people took her, and to have seen her at ease and open, how “chirpy” and quick to laugh, had been a marvel.

Unless Benjamin had put on a complete sham, of course! Lewrie didn’t think him capable of such duplicity, but … oh, surely not! Lewrie had never detected a
speck
of guile in bluff, hearty Benjamin Rodgers!

*   *   *

That next morning had dawned cold, but clear. The thermometer in the great-cabins stood at fourty degrees by the end of breakfast, and the liquid barometer’s pale blue fluid had sunk down the long tube neck to indicate a coming high-pressure spell. One more cup of creamed and sugared coffee, and Lewrie would make an inspection of the ship in slop-trousers and his oldest coat, then change to go ashore for another delightful dinner, and a long afternoon with Lydia in her lodgings at the George. But …

“Midshipman Warburton, SAH!” the Marine sentry loudly cried.

“Enter,” Lewrie bade.

“Pardon, Captain, but there is a boat approaching,” Warburton reported. “And there appears to be an official fellow aboard her.”

“Admiralty pouch?” Lewrie asked, peering at the Mid, who had sprouted much like his son had, in the two years he’d been aboard the frigate; Warburton had been a cheeky sixteen-year-old when fitting out in 1803, and was now a
slyly
cheeky eighteen.

“I could not see one, sir,” Warburton replied, “But…!” The fingers of his right hand were held up crossed for luck.

“Very well, Mister Warburton. Show the visitor aft when he’s come aboard,” Lewrie ordered.

Sailin’ orders, at long last?
Lewrie mused while he waited for the caller to show his face;
But orders for where?

Mid-January was a miserable time to be ordered to sea, and if it was their fate to join the blockade of the French or Spanish coasts and harbours, even the most-Sutherly latitudes would make little difference. Gales and storms off Cadiz or Ferrol would be as fierce as those found off Brest. Lewrie found that he’d involuntarily crossed his own fingers for luck … of a different kind of hope than Warburton’s!

He fought the urge to gulp down his coffee and rush to the deck with impatient curiosity, but there were times to
act
like a captain in the Royal Navy; he forced himself to sit and sip slowly.

“Admiralty messenger, SAH!” his Marine sentry cried.

“Enter,” Lewrie answered, striving for a bored drawl.

And won’t
that
perk up the ship’s people’s ears!
he thought.

“Captain Lewrie, sir,” the newcomer, a youngish and ill-featured fellow in dark blue “ditto” suitings began, “Daniel Gower, from Admiralty, with orders for you and the
Reliant
frigate.”

“Thank you, Mister Gower,” Lewrie said, rising to accept them in a sealed envelope. “Are they ‘Eyes Only’, or ‘To Be Opened Upon Attaining a particular Latitude’?” Lewrie japed, rolling his eyes.

“Why, no, sir. Quite straightforward, I assume,” the man said with one brow up in puzzlement.

“Hmph,” was Lewrie’s comment. “We’ve had our share of ‘cloak and dagger’,” he explained. “Thank you, Mister Gower. May I offer you anything? Coffee or tea?”

“No thank you, sir, but I’ve others to see,” the clerk said, tapping the large leather pouch slung at his side.

“Very well, sir.”

“Good day, Captain Lewrie.”

S’pose I can rip it open, right here and now,
Lewrie thought, and did so. He sat back down at his dining table to read them over, just as soon as that Gower fellow had left his cabins.

“Good God,” Lewrie muttered. “Privateers? No profit in that.”

Making the best of your way, you are to take HMS
Reliant,
sailing under Independent Orders, to the Bahamas and Bermuda, there to conduct operations against Spanish and French privateers engaged in predations upon convoys bound from the West Indies to Home Waters, specifically directing your efforts upon the Eastern coasts of Spanish Florida, where said privateers are believed to base themselves since the Declaration of a State of War by the Kingdom of Spain on December 12th of last year.

Upon arrival at Bermuda and the Bahamas, you are further authorised to take under your command any and all naval vessels Below the Rates which you deem suitable for such operations, and for this purpose you are granted the right to display the inferior Broad Pendant for the duration of the expedition.

“Pick and choose, lead me own little squadron? Whew!” Lewrie muttered, louder this time, and wondering what sort of minor warships could be had at Bermuda or in the Bahamas.

He would not be promoted to Commodore, nor would he be assigned a Flag-Captain to run
Reliant
for him whilst he mused, schemed and plotted the ruin of Frogs and Dons. His red broad pendant would bear the large white ball in the centre which would mark his frigate as a squadron flagship. But, to cover the Spanish port of St. Augustine, along with the many smaller settlements from the St. Mary’s River, the Northern boundary of Spanish Florida, to the great Tamiami Bay and the Keys to the South, Lewrie rather doubted that the little vessels of his putative squadron would ever be sailing in formal trail formation behind him, and that flying broad pendant would be more a sop to his ego, did he bother to look up and gawk.

In the course of your operations, you will not consider yourself strictly limited to Spanish Florida. You will also make a diligent effort to ascertain whether privateers of those nations now at war with Great Britain exploit the neutrality of the United States of America, and whether the authorities of the several states, and the authorities of the ports of Savannah, Beaufort and Port Royal, Charleston and Georgetown, Wilmington and the Cape Fear River, and the ports of New Bern and Beaufort round Cape Lookout shelter privateers, or may succour and support them in violation of neutrality laws.