The King`s Coat

He poured himself a full bumper, and topped Alan's glass as well. 'I shall be going back to English Harbor before dawn. Have your chest packed and ready and we'll find you something to keep you busy.’

’Thank you, Sir Onsley. I am pleased you would find me useful. ‘

‘You can handle a boat? Ride? Know something about stores? ‘

‘Aye, sir.’

’Excellent,' Sir Onsley said with a firm nod. 'Well, heel taps, and then I'm for bed. I shall leave word for you to be wakened. ’

‘Aye aye, sir.’

For the next month, Alan was busy, up at dawn and out on the roads on a strong little mare, carrying messages and orders from the flag to the dockyard, to the batteries and the other military encampments on the island. And when not in the saddle he was given charge of a finely trimmed and manned rowing boat.

His launch visited each ship in harbor as it anived, went aboard just before departure with last-minute orders, plied between flag and the dock. He was seconded to the dockyard superintendent as well, and got ink stains on his hands from inventories, from supervising working parties, from visiting warships due supplies to see that they got what was authorized and no more.

Frankly, he looked on it as loathsome quill-pushing, but he did what he was told since it gave him a certain freedom. He berthed on old Ariadne once more, now full of aniving or transient officers and men, and since he knew the island better than the anivais he turned into an evening guide to the better entertainments, confirming once more his belief that he would make a topping pimp. It continually amazed him how little Warrant and Commission Officers much older than he did not know about women, and how to get them.

There was also a certain delight to be taken in being the Voice of Authority. He was one of Admiral Matthews' bearers of bad tidings and glad tidings. Even if it was proxy power, it was power. Lordly post, captains tensed up when he was piped through the entry port, especially if they had been remiss in their duties. Lieutenants tried to milk him for information almost from the moment he headed aft, and he enjoyed dropping the most obtuse hints for them to ponder while withholding the true import of the messages he carried in enigmatic silence, going about his duties in a splendid new uniform with the supercilious air of a flag lieutenant.

But after about a month it all began to pale. There was no chance for him to make any profits from the lucrative trade in naval stores such as the dockyard people reaped in bribes and graft. He could not visit the deck of some seedily maintained and poorly run warship with her round-shot rusty and her rigging hanging in untidy bights, without wishing to jump in and start kicking a bosun's mate's arse, or giving the quartergunners hell for neglecting their guns. He could not go aboard a smartly run ship just in with prizes, full of tales of derring-do, without envying the shabby but competent demeanor of her midshipmen, who looked upon him as a toy grenadier painted up like a tart.

There was no future ashore for an ambitious, somewhat competent and resourceful fellow such as he, and he was being rubbed up against the fact like a puppy in his piddle.

He went for long rides, until the little mare would breathe as hard as one of those steam machines he had heard about, and his legs ached and grumbled. He continued to practice swordsmanship every time he had free until an old naval cutlass could be swung about like a toy sword and his new hanger did indeed feel light as a feather.

He taught the intricacies of gambling at cards to other midshipmen with a steady income from home, increased his purse. He found himself a doxy in town and paid for her room and his frequent visits, warning her that if he got the pox from her he would have her nose off before the disease did, and was about three-quarters sure that she did not entertain others when he was gone, which was about as good as could be expected from a bawd.

He was not exactly bored. But he was not exactly happy, either. The crowning humiliation of being a shore sailor, no greater than a whip jack, was when Lady Maude decided to sponsor a ball and dinner. Alan was loaned by Sir Onsley to be her clerk and had to suffer the twittering idiocy of Lady Maude and the other naval wives as he did up their shopping lists, their dinner plans, their music choices, and then issue the invitations, copying the same words over and over again in his best round hand. No midshipmen could be spared from the flagship or the dockyard for that duty-it was all his, since he was no loss to the demands of the Navy.

Lucy was there in the background, ignoring him for departing like a thief in the night without so much as a farewell note. Which made it much more pleasant to get away once the invitations were finished and go galloping or rowing to deliver them. The only sop to his feelings was that he was at least invited to attend.

He was tricked out perfectly in his best new blue coat, snow white shirt and waistcoat and breeches that had never known tar or slush, fine silk stockings and new gold-plated buckles on his well-blacked shoes. He might be a low addition to the ball but he thought he glittered properly. Very few other midshipmen had been invited, except for those that could sport 'The Honourable' before their names. In the mob of lieutenants, commanders, captains and a commodore or two, civilians took him for some sort of staff person, which was good for his ego; or a servant, which was not.

Admiralty House atop the hill was a sea of candlelight, a rich amber aura most flattering to all, especially the women. The men in their floured wigs looked bronzed as golden oak from the sun, even if half of them spent their lives in countinghouses.

Alan strolled about, sipping at a cold hock. There was still plenty of Greenland ice down in the storm-cellars packed in chaff and straw to last the summer. His hosts had even been so profligate with it as to float large blocks in the punchbowls.

He could see Lucy, the center of attention from a host of young admirers, and some not so young. There was even a pop-eyed commander with the face of a frog off a Sloop of War courting her. Lewrie had to admit that she looked luscious. Instead of her own hair she wore a high-piled white wig, a reddish gold satin gown faced with a pale yellow filigreed and embroidered silk undergown, making her seem older. ’Devilish-fine looking young thing,' Keith Ashburn said at his side. Lewrie turned to him. 'Hallo, Alan,. how do you keep?’

‘Main well, considering… yes, yes, she is.’

’Must have been a trial to be around her, knowing you, even if you did have the Yellow Jack. ’

‘That's why they ran me off. Thought I was looking a tad too robust to be near such a sweet young tit.’

’Ever try to get into her mutton? Sony.’

’No, I didn't,' Alan glowered, irked that he, of all people, would speak of her so casually. 'My apologies. But you wouldn't mind if I danced with her?’

‘Not at all.' Alan shrugged as though it made no difference to him, but was suddenly queasy with jealousy at the thought of someone else paying court to her, or discussing her like cheap merchandise.

He knew there was no future in it for his career, and knew that her sort of affection would involve marriage. What's more, he knew she was being ravishing to her circle of courtiers to get back at him, just as she had snubbed him earlier, and that his best course of action was to ignoie her and spark someone else for the evening so he would not appear to her to be a foolish cully over a chit of a girl. But he found himself drifting nearer, as though drawn into a maelstrom. ’I throw myself on your mercy, Miss Beauman,' Ashburn was pleading in mock seriousness. 'Allow me just the one dance this evening.’

’For such gallantry, Mister Ashburn, I shall make it two.' She laughed lightly. 'Have you met Lieutenant Warner of the Dido frigate? Commander Ozzard of Vzxen? Lieutenant Wyndham of the 12th Foot? Lieutenant Ashburn of Glatton … and Midshipman Lewrie of my uncle's staff?' she concluded, dismissively.

He was drawn into the conversational circle against his will, having stood close enough to Keith to look as if he was with him, and had to suffer the looks of the Commission Officers at his affrontery to poach on their private preserve. But when she needed a fresh cup of punch it was Alan that she drew to her and linked arms with to escort her to the buffets, leaving the others fuming. ’Is it not a beautiful evening for a party, Alan?' she asked as he fetched a fresh cup for her. 'It's so exciting… ’

‘Indeed. Everything is lovely,' he agreed with a smile. 'And does my new gown please you?’

‘I believe that you are the most beautiful young lady present. The gown is magnificent, as you are. ’

‘Why, thank you indeed, Alan,' she said, seeming really pleased. 'I should not expect such a pretty compliment from someone who would toss me aside so easily.’

’Your uncle, and the Service, required me to leave.’

’But without a word, not a note, not even a hint.. ‘. ’As I said-’