Reefs and Shoals

“Damn my eyes, Sewallis,” Lewrie said with a sigh, coming to a stop in the back-and-forth stroll. “When my father wrote and told me you’d run away to sea, I didn’t think you’d be up to it. You always struck me more suited to the Law or something suitable for the eldest son, and the heir to whatever I leave. I didn’t want this for you. A second son, like your brother, Hugh, aye, but that’s what he’s always wanted. I thought you’d be happier ashore, in your books, or…”

“I know, sir,” Sewallis glumly agreed. “I’ve known for a long time that I’m not as… rambunctious as Hugh. Not as suited to be like you. That you never quite knew what to do with me, when you were back from the sea, and…”

“Damme, d’ye think I loved ye less than your brother?” Lewrie exclaimed, aghast that Sewallis felt that way; aghast, too, to confess that sometimes, yes, he had. Hugh had been so much “all boy” that he had been so much easier to understand, and to relate to.

Sewallis said nothing to that; he just stood erect, shivering in the cold snow, and frowning.

“Hell if I did, Hell if I do, son!” Lewrie declared, flinging his arms round his eldest and pulling him close. “I love both of you, and I’m proud of both of you. I can’t say that I understand you, now and again, or approve of ev’rything you do.”

He stepped back, still gripping Sewallis by his upper arms.

“No father wants t’hear his children’ve gone and done something daft, Sewallis. Knowin’ how hard life at sea is, d’ye think I wished both my boys t’be at risk? D’ye think I don’t worry and fret over all that could harm either of you? When you see your first horse to the gallop, you went off to your first school…!”

“Thank you, Father,” Sewallis said at last, looking happy and relieved. “Thank you for that. I can stay aboard?”

“Benjamin Rodgers thinks you’re shapin’ well, and I trust his judgement, so, aye. You’re on your own bottom. And when he gives ye leave t’come ashore with me for a day, you’ll come back aboard much better dressed. We can’t let ye continue on so ‘rag-tag-and-bobtail’.”

“I must admit I look forward to a larger coat,” Sewallis said with an outright laugh.

“Let you stuff yourself at the George Inn, again, and fill up your sea-chest with goodies, too,” Lewrie promised. “Have scones and tea, or a huge breakfast before, with me and… uhm. With Mistress Stangbourne.”

“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,