The King`s Coat

They kissed once more, a lingering kiss full of promised passion to come, before parting and making tiny adjusnnents to their dress. He offered her his arm and they reentered the salon just as the men began to leave the dining rooms to join the ladies for coffee.

Mr. Beauman spotted her right off and came across the room to join them, a frown on his face. Lucy evidently knew that look from many years' experience of his temper, and chattered with him briefly before hurrying to her aunt. 'Missed you over the port, lad,' Mr. Beauman said. 'Wanted to get you alone for a while and have a chat. Veranda good for you?’

‘Aye, sir…' The older man led him back out to the veranda. Alan retrieved his half-empty cup of coffee and sipped at it. 'Been gettin' letters from Lucy, from her aunt 'bout you.

Turned the lass's head good n' proper. ’

‘I have become fond of your daughter, Mister Beauman. At first I was grateful for all her concern and care when I was ill. But once I was well enough to get around and hold a real conversation with her, well.. ‘. ’An' you want to talk about somethin' more than dandn' with the lass,' Beauman said. ’I would be most honored if I could come calling on her, sir, in the event that I get to Kingston.’

’The shit you say!' Beauman barked. ’Aye, sir.' Lewrie winced. ’She's barely turned seventeen!’

‘I am aware of that, sir.’

’What are you, eighteen? Boy with a Cambridge fortune, just a midshipman, an' those're two-a-penny. ’

‘Your brother-in-law, Sir Onsley, must have told you I have prospects, Mister Beauman. It's true, I'm only a midshipman now, but that is now, not what I hope to accomplish. ’

‘Got lands back home? Rents 0' yer own?' Beauman carried on. 'You in line to inherit? Parents substantial people?’

‘No, sir.’

’Onsley sez there's gossip ya had to join the Navy to make somethin' of yerself. That true?' Good God, I really am fucked… He nodded yes to that question, not trusting himself to speak. 'Don't rightly hold that against ya, lad.' Beauman smiled. 'Had to come out to the Indies to make a man of meself, make my own way. Woulda gone to hell on my own back home. But, see this my way, yer a pretty fella, pretty enough to turn the girl's poor head, but yer not the solid type 0' match I'd trust to keep her proper. There's nothin' goin' to come of this. Sorry, lad. Nothin' personal.’

’I may not be ideal now, sir. But I'm not asking permission to marry tomorrow. I mean to gain my commission first, and there is the war still to be fought. Allow me to write her, and to call. If she finds someone more pleasing in the meantime, then that is Providence. I would not press any sort of suit until I felt I could meet your standards as a suitor, or doom her to a shabby life to suit my pleasure,' he lied, desperately glib. ’How often you think you might get to Jamaica?’

‘Perhaps once a year, sir, at best.’

’Hmm. Tell ya what, you make somethin' of yerself. I'll allow you to write. And if you get to Jamaica, you can come callin'. But you'll not be doin' anythin' to disturb the peace 0' my family 'till say I'm satisfied with yer prospects.’

’1 give you my solemn word on that, sir.’

I know what he's thinking, Lewrie thought. Creampot love I or Lucy will grow out of. Out of sight, out of mind, while he throws his sort of bachelor up to her. He may not know it, but we're as good as engaged right now… ’Good enough,' Beauman told him. 'Old Onsley's right, you've got bottom, boy. My advice to ya.’

’Aye, sir?’

‘Whoever ya end up married to, never have daughters. ’

‘I'n take that to heart, Mister Beauman.' Alan smiled in relief. 'May I go tell Lucy the news?’

‘Aye, run along.’

Lucy was glowing with delight at his report, and Lady Maude was cooing and fanning herself in joy. Sir Onsley frowned a lot, said a bit how married officers were lost to the Navy, which got him a withering glare from Lady Maude, which he had to splutter his way free of by reminding her that he was a post-captain when they'd wed.

The rest of the evening was a glimpse of Paradise itself, for Lucy told all her girl acquaintances, they told all the young men at the ball, and everyone assumed it was a much more formal arrangement than it really was. Older couples beamed at them foolishly and remarked on what a splendid couple they would be.

On his part Alan completely forgot about his fears conceming Captain Bevan and Sir George Sinclair. With Lucy at his side they were no more than fleabites from a traveler's bed; nothing to get exercised about. His future was assured once the war was over, and the Navy was little more than a slight aggravation to be borne until then.

Once her father and Lucy left, Alan had no more reason to stay at the ball, so he visited the kitchens for a bundle of food to sate his now-roaring appetite. The cooks and stewards remembered him from his previous stint of duty, so he left with a substantial basket of goodies and two bottles of champagne.

This he and young Carey, who had stayed behind aboard, devoured happily in the quiet darkness of their mess.

Once in bed, he was so busy thinking on his prospects that he was still awake two hours later when Avery and Forrester staggered to their hammocks, tipsy and trying to shush each other like a pair of lamebrained housebreakers trying to smash through a wall without waking the house's owner.

They dropped their shoes, dropped their chest lids, clanked their dirks trying to find spare pegs, giggled, belched, farted, thumped into each other and apologized profusely, hummed their favorite tunes, slung their hammocks and tumbled out at least once with loud crashes and began to curse everything roundly. Carey found it so entertaining that he ended up shrieking with laughter at their bungling.

And once the mess area was filled by nothing but drunken snores, Alan still lay awake, closer to contentment than he had been in two full years, listening to the ship breathe around him, and the watch bell up forward chiming the half-hour, until he too drowsed off, quite pleased with himself.

Chapter 13

Passing the word for Mister Lewrie,' a Marine sentry bawled.

Alan was aloft with Toliver, one of the bosun's mates, checking over the foret' gallant mast after it had been hoisted into place to see if the standing rigging was set up properly. He scrambled down to the gangway and jogged aft to answer the summons, passing Forrester on the way. Forrester grinned evilly at him as he passed and gave him a sniff that Alan had come to know as a sign of complete satisfaction.

Damme, what does that bacon-fed thatch-gallows know that I don't? he wondered. He looked too happy for my liking. Oh God, is this when he starts getting his own back? He instantly had visions of being transferred to the flagship and being triced up to a grating for daring to enter the Navy, or for offending Sir George or Forrester. ’Calling for me?' Lewrie asked the sentry. 'Cap'n wants ta see yer, sir.’

’Aye, thank you.’

There was little he could do to make himself more presentable in a stained working-rig uniform. He straightened his neckcloth, tucked in his shirt so a large tar stain would not show, and went below and aft to the passage to Treghues' cabins. ’You wished to see me, sir?' Treghues was seated in his coach, the dining space to starboard of his bed cabin. He was having his breakfast, neatly dressed, freshly shaved and surrounded by good- quality furniture and plate. His cabin servant bustled to pour him a second cup of coffee. ’You may go, Judkin.’

’Aye aye, sir:' Oh shit, I'm in the quag now, Alan thought as the servant left, closing the fragile door behind him. ’I had a most distressing conversation with Captain Bevan and Sir George about you last night, Lewrie,' Treghues told him, frowning over his beef and eggs. 'Is it true that you did not join the Navy willingly?’

‘Aye, sir,' Alan said after a long moment. ’I had heard talk of a young lady, so I naturally thought it was a star-crossed affair. But now I am told that you were banished before a magistrate could have you up on a charge of raping your own sister.' The prim Treghues hissed. ’That's… that's not strictly true, sir.’

’Either it is or it isn't. There's no such thing as half-rape, boy. Any more than anyone can be half-pregnant. Is it true?’

‘If you would let me try to explain, sir… it's not a thing that is 'yes' or '00'-' Alan equivocated. 'I can only