pair of Hessian boots. He could not resist the temptation of having the London shop sew on tiny gold-fringed tassels. A dark blue coat, with a dark-blue stand-up collar and broad blue lapels, instead of a lieutenant's white ones. There were two bands of gold lace encircling his cuffs, set with three gilt fouled-anchor buttons. The collar, front, top, and bottom, bore a wide band of gold lace; as did the two outside pocket flaps, along with even more set-in-three gilt buttons. The lapels' outer edges, and tops and bottom seams, were gold-laced, and nine gilt buttons to either lapel allowed it to be worn open, or closed in foul weather.
Another thing to rue, he thought suddenly. Going to London to assure his confirmation, and smarm his way through the junior clerks below-stairs, the basement moles who had pored over all his records of service, 'tsk-tsk- ing' over every undotted I or slovenly crossed T.
Then off to Coutts's Bank with prize-money certificates, off to see his solicitor, Matthew Mountjoy, who handled his affairs ashore; both the farm and his dealings with the financial side of the Admiralty-and his creditors. Feeling relief, and guilt, that he was called by duty from the bosom of his family after only one night with them in hired lodgings in Portsmouth. And before any trace of his affair with Phoebe showed on his face!
The pleasures of shopping, like a wealthy gentleman, free of a demand upon his time. Of
He'd have a Gill's, no other. Wilkinson was all right, he thought, but a Gill's he'd had before, and it had never failed him. Until he'd been forced to surrender it to that puffed up, piss-proud young Frog, Col. Napoleone Bonaparte. Oh, there was the slim, straight rapierlike smallsword he'd taken from the French captain, when he'd taken
It
Black leather grip wrapped in gilt wire, a slim, gilt-steel swept hilt with a large oval guard to protect his fingers. There were no seashells this time, but a fairly plain pattern of stylized oak leaves. The scabbard was black leather, with gilt furnishings. They had soldered a coin-silver plaque to the outer face of the upper furnishing, with a pair of crossed cannon over a fouled anchor engraved, wreathed in oak leaf. Almost like the design of his old watch fob… which was now the prize of some garlic-breathed French sergeant of Lancers, too, unfortunately!
New watch and fob, new grogram boat cloak, shaggy watch coat, dressing robes for warm or cold weather… it had turned into
Then, recruiting drove him from their arms, setting up his own rendezvous, printing fliers to summon calf- headed cullys who wished to go to sea, dealing with the local regulating captain of the Impress Service. The dockyard officials, the port admiral… to find the rope and timber to restock
'Anchor's hove short, sir. Up and down!' Knolles called Lewrie from his reverie.
'Very well, Mister Knolles. Brace for the heavy heave. Topmen aloft. Free tops'ls only. Spanker, jibs and tops'ls. Inner, outer flying, and fore topmast stays'l from the foc's'le… main topmast staysl and mizzen t'gallant stays'l. Should this perverse wind head us, I don't wish us fighting the square-s'ls all the way aground, on the Isle of Wight. Rough on the quick-work.
'Aye, sir!' Knolles grinned in agreement.
'Wait to ring up or fish the anchors to the catheads, Mister Knolles.
'Aye aye, sir. Mister Porter, Mister Cony!'
'Won't be elegant, but…' Lewrie shrugged to his sailing master, Mister Edward Buchanon, a swart and laconic- looking soul come down from the Medway to be appointed into
'Aye, Cap'um.' Buchanon nodded solemnly, with only a glint of delight in his eyes to betray him. ' 'Tis better t'be safe'n sorry, I says. Sloop o' war's
'I most certainly will, Mister Buchanon, and thankee kindly for your wise suggestion,' Lewrie happily agreed.
'Heave, and in sight!' The call came from the forecastle, as the best bower arose from the depths, trailing a storm cloud of mud and sand, and the stench of weed. Pawls clacked in the capstans, now rumbling as the hands trotted around them, bare feet drumming. Sails rustled and blocks cried as canvas sprouted on standing stays and on the tops'l yards high aloft.
'Der rutter, ve haff, Kapitan,' Brauer, the pale-blond Hamburg German informed him.
'Lay her full-and-by, close to the wind as she'll bear, till we have a goodly speed, then,' Lewrie told him, with relief in his voice. They
'Well, the lee tops'l braces, and belay!' Lewrie could hear Cony shouting from the waist to the gangway brace- tenders.
Lookin' fine, Will Cony, Alan told himself proudly; lookin' fine.
Cony had filled out a bit from the stripling volunteer he'd met aboard the
'Three knots, sir!' Mister Midshipman Spendlove shouted from the taffrails, where he and his new mate, Midshipman Hyde, had just taken a cast of the log.
'Headed, by God. Mister Knolles, ready about?' Lewrie called.