The King`s Coat

from asking questions of other midshipmen passed for lieutenant, that he could make a fair showing at the exam.

Sir Hugo may have done me the greatest favor of my life by making me go to sea, he realized.

But standing slightly behind and to one side of Sir George Sinclair was his flag captain, someone Lewrie had known under less auspicious circumstances, and the laurel wreath of success was snatched out of his fingers.

He almost snapped the stem of his wineglass. Not now, not him! Lewrie shivered. Good Christ! It was Captain Bevan, the very officer who had dragged him from his father's house. Captain Bevan, who knew enough of his background and the alleged reason for his banishment to ruin him forever. Captain Bevan, the man who had been his jailer in that damned post-chaise to Portsmouth and had shoved him into Ariadne! 'That would not be Captain Bevan with him, Sir Onsley?' Alan said, ready to run or throw up or both. ’Aye, his flag captain. Know him?' Sir Onsley asked. 'We've met,' Lewrie mumbled, sinking in a bleak despair. Lewrie could not escape being led across the salon to Commodore Sinclair's circle. Up close, the man had that predatory look that Mrs. HiIIwood possessed, but Lewrie felt he was not going to get the same sort of gentle treatment. ’Sir George.’

’Sir Onsley.' It was the sound of talons rustling. ’Here's another of your band, off Desperate. Midshipman Alan Lewrie,' Sir ansley said proudly. 'Commodore Sir George Sinclair, Mr. Lewrie.’

’Your servant, Sir George,' Alan said, summoning up what was left of his nerves, and trying to look plucky and direct. 'Ah yes, Lewrie.' Sir George smiled thinly, which smile was as quickly gone. 'I've heard of you. ’

‘Another one of my promising lads, Sir George, like your nephew,' Treghues said. 'When he puts his mind to it, of course, ha ha. ’

‘January of last year, was it not, Mister Lewrie?' Sir George asked with a sniff. The Navy, the rape, the Gordon Riots, what? Lewrie fumbled at such a surprising question. 'Aye, sir. January of' 80.’

’Is that your recollection, Bevan?' Sir George asked his aide. ’I remember it most distinctly, Sir George,' Captain Bevan said, bestowing upon his chief a benign look, then turning to face Lewrie. 'Yes,' Sir George intoned dryly. 'Poor old Bales.’

Sir ansley and Cmdr. Treghues were mystified by this exchange, and Lewrie rushed to sort things out for them. 'Captain Bevan was the officer who obtained me my first berth in Ariadne. He was also kind enough to see me safely to Portsmouth and helped me stock my kit. I wish to extend to you my hearty thanks for doing so, Captain Bevan. I have learned so much in the Navy, first under Captain Bales in poor Ariadne, from Sir Onsley, and now Commander Treghues. I feel so grateful for your assistance in discovering my new career. Having had a bit of success, and gaining so much knowledge has been an… an inspiring experience. Not to mention, uplifting.’

They know I'm raving, he told himself. They'll get the leg irons first, and then the poking sticks. Lewrie, you can lie like a butcher's dog. Oh, you arse-kissing, vile wretch… Please God they eat this shit up like plum duff… ’Really,' Sir George drawled, drawing the word out like a rapier. 'He is keen, and a fast learner,' Treghues said offhandedly, not wanting to praise Lewrie publicly now that Sir George was reacting to him much as he would regard a drunken hand at the gratings. ’Well, I shall keep my eye on him, then,' Sir George said with just the hint of a thaw, but it wasn't the sort of smile that would give a man much cheer. It reminded Alan of a judge finding a new way to pronounce 'transportation for life' after a full docket.

The interview died after that as Lewrie stumbled off, trying to find a graceful way to say goodbye to such an equivocal dismissal. He chased down a servant and loaded up on wine, fast. The first went down in a rush and he began on the second. ’Merciful God in heaven,' he most miserably croaked. 'I am so well and truly fucked-’

‘ 'Ere, you watch yer mouth around a lady, ya dirty little Navy guttersnipe,' a gentleman standing close enough to hear said as he shook his fist at him. His wife stood by, face pruned in pious outrage. ’I am so sorry for disturbing your good lady, sir,' Lewrie said in surprise, but thinking fast. 'I have just had the most shocking news from home. Do forgive me but I was beyond all temperance.’

’Oh, sorry, then.. ‘. ’Funny way of showing grief,' the woman said. Grief's the fucking word for it, he told himself. He began to wander the salon, nodding to everyone whether he knew them or not, asking himself what he had done to bring down such a fate on himself. He had studied hard, he had worked hard, he had almost-but-not- quite come to tolerate the Navy, he was not even a three-bottle man, and hadn't had any mutton for months, and could not understand why God could bring him so close to the edge of triumph and then dash him into the mud. ’Saving yourself for dinner, Lewrie?' Treghues asked him on his third aimless circuit of the salon. ’I'm sorry, sir?’

‘This isn't a drum,' Treghues told him. 'There's a sit-down meal coming. Are you half-seas over?' He scowled. 'Oh no, sir, I'm fine, really.’

’Slow down on the wine and go have a bite from the buffet, or I shall send you back aboard ship, and blast your supper and your dancing,' Treghues told him, not understanding what Sir George had against Lewrie, but determined to find out. ’Aye aye, sir, I… I shall join Avery and Forrester at the buffet, sir. They look to be having a fine time at the moment.' The buffet was groaning under a load of wonderful-looking and -smelling food for snacking. Avery and Forrester were tucking it in like famished dogs, standing side by side and amiable for once in their greed, slowly grazing down the tables. If his nerves had not already suffered such a shock as to be terminal to his appetite, the sight of Forrester at trough would have done it anyway.

Feeling that Treghues was still watching him, he joined them and took a plate and utensils, spooning up the first thing handy with no regard for what it was. ’Do try some of this, Alan,' Avery said. 'Some local kickshaw with honey and nuts on it. Could be rabbit. Forrester swears it's partridge.’

’Urn, yes,' Alan said after chewing a bite. 'Maybe duck?’

‘What a palate,' Forrester sneered. 'Salt-pork is more to your style.’

’Spreading yourself a bit broader than usual tonight, Francis'?' he shot back. 'You'll be needing new breeches if you keep on loading cargo like that.’

’You are so unbelievably common, Lewrie.’

’David, did you ever notice, right after eating you can't understand a word he says?’

‘Keeping his cheeks full, for later,' Avery surmised. ’Sucks it right up like a washdeck pump,' Alan said, studying Forrester closely. 'But whatever does he do with the little bones?’

‘Not sure, but it explains those low crunching noises in the middle of the night. ’

‘Have your little laughs,' Forrester said, 'and then I shall have mine. You'll be all-amort… ’

‘Whatever did he mean by that?' Lewrie wondered as Forrester moved away from them. ’I suppose he thinks he'll be going into the flagship.’

’Could we be so lucky?' Lewrie asked, feeling a ray of sunshine penetrating his gloom. 'Treghues and Sinclair are as thick as thieves, are they?’

‘His uncle will take care of him,' Avery hinted. ’No,' Lewrie said with a sudden chill. 'Forrester… ’

‘And Sinclair.' Avery was relentless. 'I damn near cried. ’

‘Sweet suffering God, this is hellish,' Lewrie whispered. 'I am ruined…’

’You?' Avery scoffed. 'Think he has any more love for me? I was the one played so many pranks on him. But he stands a good chance of being out of our lives. He'II be passed for lieutenant a lot quicker than us, but then he's gone. Thank the good Lord.’

Lewrie set his plate down and rubbed his forehead, lost in a viselike agony trying to puzzle things out so they made sense. 'Desperate could be the post of honor,' he told David. 'He might stay with us until a suitable big prize needed a master, and he would go into her. Immediate promotion, bought in, at least a lieutenant's command below the Rates.’

’That makes me ill to contemplate.’

Or Forrester could stay in Desperate, and I go to the flag, where Sir George hounds me to ruin because of Forrester's lies, and what happened in London, he thought gloomily. But plenty of men go to sea under a cloud, and as long as you're good at your job no one gives a groat what you've done before. Alright, so Sir George doesn't like me-that's no reason he would harm me. What would it profit him? Oh, God, what else can go wrong? 'Alan!' He turned to see Lucy Beauman dressed in a new gown of pale pink satin with an undergown of white lace, lots of ruched material on sleeves and bodice, her own hair in ringlets instead of a wig, all done up with flowers and maroon ribbons. ’Lucy… how truly magnificent and beautiful you look. ’