Troubled Waters

impish smile worthy of a Puck, and rubbing his chilled hands together in joy. 'We now possess all the affidavits and depositions necessary for your defence, sir, including a letter from your old friend, former Leftenant-Colonel Cashman, now of Wilmington… North or South Carolina, I can never keep which is which straight… stating that your Black volunteers intended to run away to sea as true volunteers, along with a dreadful account of how harsh were their lives had they not. Since he was a rueful slaveowner for a time himself, his account is most emotional, and compelling. I intend to have it read, just before putting your surviving Black sailors up to testify, so they may expand upon Cashman's…'

'Then you'd better grow wings, or learn t'swim like a seal, if that's yer intent, Mister MacDougall,' Lewrie all but yelped. 'I'm no longer in command, and Savage has a new captain. For all I know, she may have already completed re-storing, and sailed for God knows where!'

'Hmm, that'll never do,' MacDougall fussily prosed on, once he'd gotten his lower jaw back in place from a ghastly-looking gasp. 'Good God above! Well, has she departed, we'll simply have to get her back, that's all there is to it. I'll have a word with Admiralty, get Twigg to toddle over there and use his influence. Failing that, the lack of live witnesses could be grounds for a continuance 'til their return.'

'What?' Lewrie barked, astonished. 'Mean t'say, I could wait months… 'til next Hilary Term t'get this settled? Is she ordered halfway round the world, it might he years 'fore she's back!'

You silly, bloody, civilian sod! Lewrie silently fumed; I knew ye sounded too good t'be true, ye… Tom-Noddy! Just trot over and ask Admiralty t' whistle up a frigate? I'm good as hung… swingin' and danglin7 Don'tye know there's a war on, ye ignorant… Gawd!

'Alan has allies in Commons, and Lords,' Burgess said with a hopeful sound, somewhat akin to whistling past a graveyard to Lewrie's ears. 'A bit of pressure from politicians might help.'

'Exactly so, sir,' MacDougall rejoined, sounding like a fellow clutching straws, too. 'Wilberforce and his people, as well, who are in both Houses of Parliament, may employ their interest and patronage links with the Navy. They must be… oh, what is the military term for it, Mister Chiswick?'

'Mustered, sir?' Burgess eagerly supplied.

'Lashed aloft,' Lewrie sourly muttered under his breath, after he had gotten his breath back.

'Mustered. Exactly,' MacDougall perked up, as though this snag was but a minor quibble, soon to be amended. 'Ah, our drinks are here! I dare say, though, that, foul as the weather has been, there is a good possibility that Captain Lewrie's ship… former ship, is still tied up in port.'

Civilians/ Lewrie fumed some more, aghast at the fellow's lack of knowledge; and wondering, did the Beaumans prevail, could he have a quiet minute alone with the man, so he could strangle him to death; he must think we don't go t'sea in snowstorms, when it's too cold, or wet!

'Even without Captain Lewrie's Black sailors, there are the former body-servants of the Beaumans,' MacDougall blathered on after he had taken a sip or two of his hot, brandy-laced cider. 'They can tell the court horrific tales of how badly they were treated. Why, with any luck, they might have known some of the volunteers themselves, if they ever visited that particular Beauman plantation on Portland Bight, and may speak for them and their motives in 'stealing themselves' and seeking freedom in the Royal Navy.'

'Uhm…' Now Burgess was doubtful, and was about to explain the vast gulf 'twixt house slaves and field slaves, and the prejudices the well-dressed, well-fed, and lightly worked house servants held about their darker, more helpless kind. Burgess matched eyes with Lewrie, a fellow who had also seen real slavery in action. The arrival of a man in a blue apron and the house's unofficial livery with the slate menu bearing chalked-in specials interrupted him.

'Oh, good!' MacDougall exclaimed chearly. 'They have both the venison and the jugged hare today. Capital!'

Lewrie felt like lowering his head to the tabletop and banging away 'til he knocked himself temporarily senseless; that, or the urge to spend the rest of the day, and the evening, amassing a ragingly good drunk!

'Uhm, perhaps a dab of haste might be, ah…? Lewrie hinted. 'Oh, right. Sorry, Mister Sadler, but I will make it up to you. Do return to the office and write out a special plea for those members of Captain Lewrie's crew to be kept handy for their appearance before the Lord Justice,' MacDougall instructed, turning very business-like. 'We have the names and ranks already, from the depositions and witness list. Copy to Admiralty, copy to Lord Justice Oglethorpe, and a copy to Mister Twigg. Fast horse to Portsmouth with the orders to stay in port as soon as you receive them, mind. Twigg will be grand help in that.'

'Yes, sir,' Mr. Sadler said with a resigned sigh, then finished his hot drink, wiped the cocoa froth from his upper lip, and arose to reclaim his hat and greatcoat and gloves.

'Even if she sails, 'twill be the fault of the Admiralty that I cannot present my complete defence,' MacDougall gaily said, 'and solid proof will be at hand that the Lord Justice issued an order for her to be held. A continuance will naturally be granted, instanter. Now… how does the turtle soup all round sound to you, sirs?'

' 'Scuse me, sir,' another waiter intruded as the first began to scribble their desires. 'You'd be bein' a Captain Lewrie, sir? Lady said t'give ye this, sir.'

'A lady?' Lewrie found new cause to gawp aloud as he spun about on his chair and craned his neck to see who the lady in question was. All he could see in the chop-house's crowded tables, though, were men, and only the rare matron dining with her husband. He took the note and opened it, careful to act nonchalant; and not let either Burgess or his barrister get a peek at it over his shoulder.

The first couple of lines, though, were written in some incomprehensible script that put him in mind of his equally unfathomable lessons in Greek, long ago. For all he knew, it could be a bill from some foreigner's laundry service where'd he'd left a bundle years before and had never returned to reclaim, or pay for, yet…

Poor, darling man, I lern of trile to com, for taken Black felloes to mak them free, and am so angre they trect yoo so bad. Lern too yoo are

alone now.

I forgive yoo for break my heart.

Holy shit! he thought, stunned; it was Eudoxia who clobbered me!

I think much of yoo all time since yoo sail away to fite French. I miss yoor company and never we go shooting or hav outside dinner, race horses Ilk we say we do sum day in Africa. Time I see yoo last I say [something in Cyrillic] in yoor leters is paka snova… meaning is see you latter in Rossiya. Circus is winter over river. If yoo com I wood desire see yoo. New dramas and commedys. I hav the truble write in English, but may beyoo teech me beter? I pray for yoo and be in cort is trile begin.

Eudoxia

'A lady, hey?' Burgess enquired, trying not to sound too eager to know who it was from; he'd been in the middle of the lather 'tween Lewrie and his sister Caroline since getting back from India, and any new dalliance would only make things worse. Not that things were anywhere near good, already.

'An admirer who wishes me well in court, Burgess,' Lewrie lied, folding over the note again and slipping it into a coat pocket; not before the final line he'd first missed caught his eye.

I hit with snoball good, yes?

'And did the lady request a reply?' Lewrie asked the waiter who still hovered expectantly.

'Nossir,' the man said. 'Jus' popped in long 'nough t'point ye out and gimme th' note.'

'Thankee for deliverin' it,' Lewrie told him, digging into his breeches pocket for his coin purse, and giving the fellow a crown coin. He turned his full attention, pointedly so, to the other waiter who held the slate menu. 'Roast venison and jugged hare, did ye say? That does sound toothsome. Turtle soup for me, as well, t'begin with. Seeing it is Christmastime, I'd admire a bit of your goose with the raspberry jam sauce, somewhere along the way… a