A King`s Trade

suggests, sir.'

'Even more eager t'be aboard an Indiaman, perhaps, sir?' Capt. Philpott tacked on, sounding breezy, and trying hard not to smirk at his impious suggestion. 'Never can tell.'

Lewrie wasn't sure which comment made Treghues bristle up, go puce-faced, and bluster more… Graves's hint that strictness might prompt rebelliousness, Philpott's heretical idea, or Graves calling Lewrie 'good'!

'Aye, that circus,' Treghues seethed. 'Whacking good time you had ashore, did you, Captain Lewrie? At that circus, hmm?'

Damme, what does he know, and how did he learn it? Lewrie had to take pause to ask himself, crossing his legs the other way round to guard his 'wedding tackle.'

'An amusing, and innocent, distraction, Sir Tobias,' he replied. 'Half the audiences at Recife were children and their parents, and the local authorities seemed satisfied that nothing prurient or bawdy had insulted their rather austere sense of morality, sir.'

'I enjoyed it, too, sir,' Capt. Graves chimed in, as did Capt. Philpott a second later: 'Aye, it was innocent and amusing. And, I suspect, Sir Tobias, that were our sailors seated in their audiences, that'd be hours they'd not be spending in taverns or brothels. Half a day's liberty, watch and watch, say… Noon to Midnight. A fresh dinner, time enough for at least a mild drunk, then a bought supper and a ticket to a show, and… by the time the final curtain comes down, 'tis time to return aboard their ships, hmm?'

'Depends on local sunset, full dark,' Lewrie speculated, 'when they light their illuminations, I s'pose. Perhaps from Seven Bells o' the Forenoon 'til Seven Bells of the Evening Watch'd work better. The usual arrangement of two 'hostages' still aboard for each libertyman, their own run ashore dependent on t'other's behaviour, and return?'

'Wouldn't have to expend rations, do they debark before the rum issue, or call to messes,' Capt. Philpott slyly said. He and Graves had turned their attention upon each other to thrash out arrangements, as if the decision had been made in their favour, and Captain Treghues was no longer present. 'And wouldn't our 'Pussers' love that, hey?'

'Masters-At-Arms, Ships' Corporals, and Provost guards from the garrison to keep a wary eye on 'em, perhaps?' Lewrie further suggested.

'Aye, that'd work out well, Captain Lewrie,' Graves exclaimed, turning to include Treghues, at last. 'Garrison troops told-off as the Provosts might attend the shows in an official capacity, but…'

'Could watch 'em, in essence, for free!' Lewrie hooted.

'An easy arrangement to make with the garrison commander, I'd think, Sir Tobias,' Philpott chortled, turning to face Treghues with a puppy-eyed, eager child's expression, waiting upon Treghues's say-so, as they all did, with a 'please, Father, may we please?' expectancy.

Treghues stared them down, as stonily as the Egyptian Sphinx, lips down-curled, as pruned up as if he'd bitten into a sour citron. His fingers drummed on the desktop, nails chittering as if he wished to hone them for a clawing in the near future. He heaved a great sigh and leaned back in his chair to stare at the overhead and the painted and lacquered deck beams. Perhaps he was consulting the Almighty as to the best course of action, praying a silent apology to Him for being a weakling, imploring the Lord to keep his sinful sailors from too much exuberance ashore, or… calling down all the Pharaoh's plagues upon his contemporary Moseses, who pleaded to 'set their people free.'

'A third of each ship's complement, sailors and Marines, each day, sirs,' he glumly, sullenly, announced, at last. 'Two-thirds will bide aboard, dependent upon the libertymen's behaviour, and if those miscreants depart one jot or tittle from decorous comportment, then I will cancel all further liberties, hear me, sirs?'

'Very good, sir!' they almost managed to say in chorus.

'I will consult the tables to determine full dark, hereabouts,' he further decreed, 'does the circus require full dark for their performances… as good Captain Lewrie is so certain that they require,' Treghues could not help loftily sneering.

'Makes for a better experience, sir… like a darkened hall in Drury Lane draws the audience into the lit stage,' Lewrie explained to him, off-handedly. 'Or, so I am told,' he added, withering under that steely gaze.

'Do not interrupt, sir,' Treghues gravelled. 'As I was saying, perhaps an adjustment from Six Bells of the Forenoon to Six Bells of the Evening Watch… Eleven to Eleven, would suit, depending on what the tables say. I will send you word by dusk. In the meantime, you will see to wood and water for your ships. Liberty is… allowed.'

From behind the deal partitions and privacy curtains leading to his sleeping space and quarter-galleries came a faint, outraged 'Hmmph!' from Lady Treghues, and, for a moment, Lewrie wasn't sure if he didn't feel sorry for the poor fellow. It was one thing to be talked out of a firm decision (no matter how rigidly daft) by officers junior to him, but it was quite a rather grim other to have to beard that harridan in her 'den,' probably after making assurances to her that he would not allow sailors of his squadron access to Sin!

They rose and made their parting salutes, and Treghues rather languidly, perhaps even a tad weakly, waved them on their way. They had not quite attained the starboard gangway and entry-port, not even attained their own gigs or cutters, before Grafton's crew began muttering and buzzing, all atwitter with the glad news that they'd be going ashore, even before it could be announced officially. Such was usual aboard ships, though… what was whispered aft in gun-room or great-cabins had a way of spreading 'before the masts' by a nautical grapevine older than mythical Jason's good ship Argo. By the time Lewrie, as the least-senior officer, had settled himself on a stern thwart in his gig, with Cox'n Andrews ready to order 'Out Oars' (and didn't he have a huge grin on his face, too!) Grafton's people were beginning to cheer!

We 're going to the circus! Lewrie could not help thinking like a beamish tyke; We 're going to the circus, again, hurrah!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The circus, yes; Lewrie saw every performance-perhaps hoping for an aerialist to fall and kill a clown, or for Arslan Durschenko's lion to mistake his head for a chew toy at that climactic high point of his act-definitely to savour Eudoxia's archery and horsewomanship. Pigeons to skewer were a bit thin on the ground on St. Helena, but the seagulls used in their stead were equally delightful.

Lewrie doubted there were more than a corporal's guard standing watch on the ramparts of the cliffside forts guarding Rupert's or James's Valley, or manning the massive 32-pounder guns in the Mundens Fort that dominated the main harbour, for the audiences at every show were filled by red-coated soldiers. Even here on a bleak and remote outpost isle, Mr. Wigmore looked to be in the way of making a 'grand killing,' what with the garrison and the locals so eager for anything novel in their isolation, with the addition of the thousands of East India Company or Royal Navy sailors in port-not just the sailors from their convoy, but an additional eight Indiamen which had broken their passage after departing Cape Town, and had been waiting for the arrival of warships to escort them to England, along with the hundreds of passengers and 'John Company' officials there gathered.

Wigmore made the most of it, with the circus scheduled for the late mornings, and taking just long enough to whet appetites and very dry throats by the time performances ended (which pleased the taverns and inns to no end) and the comedies or dramas staged just after the sun went down.

There wasn't all that much timber available on St. Helena, so this time there were no tiers of shaky seats. Everyone had to sit on the ground or rocks, catch-as-catch-can, up the beginnings of a slope of a hill that framed the little one-street 'company' village, much like the sketches that amateur artists brought back from their Grand Tours of the Continent, and the edifying sights of tumble-down ruins of ancient Roman amphitheatres in the capitals of southern Europe.

It wasn't grand theatre, either, not when the lead performers were still smarting from their circus acts of a few