Reefs and Shoals

ships without going all the way to Cuba or the Spanish Main. D’ye see what I’m drivin’ at?”

Hereford might not have; he sat perfectly content with his cup on his chest and stomach, blinking beatifically.

“If stolen ships were brought into Savannah under pretense of false registries, or sold here to un-suspecting buyers in need of new bottoms, would you have any way of knowing, Mister Hereford?” Lewrie asked.

“Unless someone familiar with such a vessel saw her at anchor in the river under a new flag, and brought that to my attention, no, Sir Alan,” Hereford easily admitted. “Only if a British-flagged ship were contracted to be sold to an American buyer would I become involved, merely to note the transfer of ownership, flag, and registry, and assist the Crown subject selling her with my best advice as to the particular details of such a sale… and perhaps suggest ways that he not be gulled by a low offer, hmm?”

“You are on good terms with the chandlers, the import-export trading firms here at Savannah, sir?” Lewrie went on, wondering just what Hereford did do to earn his salt at Crown expense.

“Reasonably so, Sir Alan,” Hereford told him as he snapped his fingers at Ulysses to pour him a fresh cup of hot tea. “Though, they are in trade, and for the most part are an avaricious and common lot, the epitome of the fabled sharp-practiced Yankee trader, even though one could expect that the heat and humidity of Savannah’s clime would engender a torpor which slows their frenetic greed, haw haw! A batch of ‘chaw-bacons’… or ‘chaw- baccies ’, more to the point! I do not associate with them on a daily basis.”

For which they surely thank the Lord! Lewrie thought.

“But, have any of them struck you as more sharp-practiced than most, sir?” Lewrie pressed, wondering if he could extract a positive and informative answer from the top-lofty idler before sundown. “Do you keep your ear to the ground, so to speak, as to which might be engaged in smuggling, or supplying enemy privateers on the sly, should the opportunity fall in his lap? Keep tabs on them?”

“As I said earlier, Sir Alan, and must point out again, criminal behaviour by American traders and chandlers is a matter for the American authorities,” Hereford told him, getting a bit testy as he shifted in his chair. “That would be beyond my purview, and to probe into their doings, well! That would smack of spying on them, sir! An activity that no gentleman would conduct in one’s host nation! The very idea!” Hereford harumphed, and openly glowered, as if Lewrie had touched upon his honour, and was impatiently waiting for an apology for making such a suggestion.

You ain’t worth a tuppenny shit! Lewrie fumed to himself, trying to keep a level expression on his face.

“I see,” Lewrie said after a long blink and a sigh. “Well, I was ordered to come and make your acquaintance, Mister Hereford, and to discover to you Admiralty’s suspicions, and that, I believe, I have done. All Foreign Office can ask of you is that you keep your eyes open, and advert to the American authorities, and our Ambassador at Washington City, any suspicious activities. That ain’t spyin’, ’cause you’d be helping Brother Johnathon enforce his touchy sense of neutrality, and I trust ye won’t think it so. As soon as the tide in the river turns, it might be best did I set off to re-join my ship… unless you think that a shore supper with some of the prominent citizens of Savannah could be arranged on short notice? In that case, I would take lodgings for the night somewhere, and set off tomorrow morning.”

That’s a hint, ye thick turd! Lewrie thought.

“I fear that the suddenness of your un-anticipated arrival may not admit of such a supper gathering, Sir Alan,” Mr. Hereford quickly said, sounding relieved that Lewrie would toddle off and leave him to his rest once more. “Now, had you given me two or three days notice, I could have accommodated you, and shown the ‘country-put’ locals what an English gentleman looks like, ha ha! They will raise cheers for the so-called Common Man, but would dearly love knighthoods and titles of their own. Show them what they gave up with their damn-fool rebellion, and what little dignities they got from their independence, what?”

Hereford gulped the last of his tea and stood, beaming at one and all, sure that the interview was over, quite jolly once more.

“Any suggestions as to lodgings, sir?” Lewrie asked as he stood as well. There was no way he could stomach the thought of sharing the Consul’s residence, even for one night, sure that they’d come to blows before midnight if he did, but Hereford should make the offer.

“There are some few lodging houses, though none that rise to the level of amenities that a gentleman such as yourself could abide, Sir Alan,” Hereford was quick to warn. “Even the lone inn with aspirations to quality, I found, before obtaining a wee residence in town, offers hard, thin beds, perfectly tawdry and squalid furnishings, and your choice of lice, fleas, or bed bugs. The food is insufferably bad, to boot.”

“Surely not that bad, sir,” Lewrie said, as if bandying jovial words.

“I would offer you and your Midshipman the hospitality of my residence, but for the fact that I am in the process of re-plastering and re-painting at the moment,” Hereford told him, almost but not quite looking sorrowful that he could not dine them in and offer beds.

“I came up-river with my Purser and a party of five hands from my boat crew, so…” Lewrie said as they made their way to the outer office.

“There would have been no room for them, in any event,” Mister Hereford said with a shake of his head. “If you lodged them at one of the sailors’ inns, well…” It seemed that Mr. Cadbury, a man engaged in “business” aboard a warship, and lived and died on the slim profits earned ’twixt buying and selling, was one of these abysmal people in “trade”, too, to Hereford’s lofty lights.

“No matter, then,” Lewrie said as they reached the door to the hallway, which the slave Ulysses held open for their departure, and seemed as eager to see the back of them as his master; perhaps he needed a longer nap before dinner, as well. “Never been to Savannah,” Lewrie lied. He had been up-river with despatches, once, from Tybee Roads when British forces still held it. “Perhaps Mister Entwhistle and I could hire a carriage for a brief tour before dinner. I am told that the city’s layout by Governor Oglethorpe is most impressive.”

“A most inventive and creative gentleman, he was,” Mr. Hereford agreed. “His plans for Savannah were quite inspired… though, one does wish that he created his Eden anywhere else but here, hey?”

“Good day to you, Mister Hereford, and thank you for receiving me on such short notice,” Lewrie said in parting, “You have been most helpful.”

“Sorry that I could not be more so in aid of your quest, Sir Alan,” Hereford said. “Good day to you, and may you have a safe and successful passage.”

They bowed themselves away, the door closed, and Lewrie could imagine long, deep sighs of relief from both Hereford and his slave, before he and Midshipman Entwhistle trotted down the stairs and to the street.

“Might I ask, sir,” Entwhistle hesitantly said, “if you found him as useless as I did?”

“That I despise him for a pus-gutted, slovenly, arrogant, idle waste of the Crown’s money as ever I clapped eyes on, sir?” Lewrie hooted. “Aye, I do find him useless. So useless and un-informative, in point of fact, that I could easily suspect him of bein’ hand-in-glove with criminal traders and enemy privateers, if anyone gave me a strong hint in that direction. What a goose-berry bastard he is!

“Not that we should speak ill of our compatriots in Foreign Office, Mister Entwhistle, God forfend!” Lewrie added with mock solemnity, with a hand on his heart. Entwhistle was all but cackling out loud.

“Hold my coat for a bit, Mister Entwhistle,” Lewrie bade as he peeled it off, and slipped the bright blue satin sash clear of his body, then plucked the enamelled silver star from the coat, stowing them in the side-pockets before donning his coat once more. “Bloody silliness… wasted on his sort. Most-like wasted on the people of Savannah, too. Makes me feel like a monkey on a leash!”

Entwhistle looked a bit scandalised that his captain put little stock in the hard-won marks of distinction that every young officer-to-be desired, but said nothing.

“There’re more picturesque public squares in Savannah than you and I have had hot dinners, Mister Entwhistle,” Lewrie told him with a grin, “and all of ’em, and the broad streets between, lined with mansions as grand as Grosvenor Street in London. Let’s go find the Purser and our hands, and have us a carriage tour!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO