Then, she swerved from the parade's course, right to the doors of a venerable old posting house frequented by naval officers. Right onto the sidewalk she forced her horse.
"Kapitan Lewrie!" she gaily cried. "Zdrasvutyeh! Hello, again! Black fellow, Rodney, is healed up, da? Little shooter is well?"
"Mistress Eudoxia," Lewrie nervously replied, doffing his hat to her, though with one eye on her father, for Arslan Durschenko had brought his horse to a stop quite nearby, and he did hold a musket in his hand, and it might be loaded, and…! "Seaman Rodney is now fine. Fit as a fiddle!" And the crowd about him began to whisper, then cry out, that that-there Navy man was "Black Alan" Lewrie, by Jingo, "The Emancipator," and "Hero of the South Atlantic," wot woz in all o' them tracts an' sich!
"I s'pose your circus will do well, now that…" Lewrie began to say, but Eudoxia got that impish look in her big, almond-shaped amber eyes, making Lewrie glance at her father, who was scowling fiercely by then, and starting to wheel his horse's head round, and…!
"Bravest man in all Navy!" Eudoxia loudly declared. "Kapitan is my hero!" A moment before she leaned down, took him by an epaulet, and kissed him smack on the mouth… with a sly bit of tongue to boot, it here must be noted, as the crowd went wild with amusement.
Oh, Christ, don't do that, not now, not…! Lewrie frantically thought, though (it here must be noted as well) he did not find the experience completely disagreeable.
"Mummy, who's that lady kissing Papa?" his daughter Charlotte crossly demanded as his children, and his wife Caroline, bustled from the inn's doors. "Why's she dressed like that? Is she foreign or…?"
"Why, I do not know, dear, but I am certain we shall discover who she is, soon!" Caroline Lewrie drawled, fixing her husband with a very jaundiced glare. Middle son Hugh guffawed, his eyes alight with instant hero-worship of the famous Eudoxia, right before his eyes in the flesh (so to speak), whilst Lewrie's eldest, Sewallis, ever a cautious lad, merely gawked and turned red.
"Is jenai Wife?" Eudoxia asked, turning on her sugary charm. "Mistress Lewrie, wife of bravest kapitan in whole world, who savink us from Fransooski bas… bad peoples, spasiha. Kapitan Lewrie speak of you and dyed… children so often! Is right word, 'often'? I am honour-ed to be meetink you!" she gushed. "You comink to circus, you and children? Will be bolshoi show!"
"We will see," Caroline coolly rejoined. "Honoured to meet you as well, since I've read so much about you, Mistress… Eudoxia?"
"Must go, now," Eudoxia said. "Wantink to say bootyeh zdarovi to Kapitan Lewrie one last time. Meanink 'bless you,' yes? For all he do for us. Dosvidanya, Kapitan. Paka snova!"
"Have a grand tour of Britain, Mistress Durschenko," Lewrie bade her in turn, doffing his hat and making a leg to keep it formal, and innocent. Eudoxia kneed her horse and made him perform a kneeling bow to Lewrie, to the further amazement of the crowd, as she swept something like a formal Eastern salaam while seated on his back, too.
"And that means…?" Caroline warily enquired.
" 'Goodbye,' and 'see you'… I think, in Russian, my dear," he told her, thanking God that Caroline's only foreign tongue was a little French, for "Paka snova"-"See you, again!"-had been delivered with such a light in Eudoxia's eyes, laden with so much impish promise.
"And, shall' we attend the circus, Alan?" Caroline icily posed. "Well… I'm certain the children would enjoy it, dear," Lewrie replied with as much off-handed blitheness as he could muster, actually managing to look his wife in her eyes, 'stead of blinking too much.
"Oh, Mummy, could we?" Charlotte squealed, about to bounce out of her shoes, and her face as squinted as when she needed to pee; and Hugh and Sewallis clamoured for it, too. "We've never seen a circus!"
"We shall see, children," Caroline told them. "I'm sure that it would be educational. Though, perhaps it might prove too exciting for some of us," she added, a brow cocked in her husband's direction. "I believe your father has seen it several times, already, and, what with all that is needful to commission his new ship, might have no time to spare for further attendance."
"Well…" Lewrie glibly rejoined, shrugging again, higher. And I never laid a finger on the mort! he thought; Well, maybe a hand, a lip or two, but… damned if I did, damned if I didn't, and Carohne'll think the worst o' me, either way. Gawd, but this is going t 'be a long reconciliation! Ain 't I a bloody hero? Ain't that worth something, in my own house?
"Come along, children," Caroline serenely instructed, gathering her brood, her regal air parting the press of the crowd before them as sure as Moses parted the Red Sea. "Come, Alan!" she bade her husband with a trifle less patience as he lagged behind a little, wondering for a second or two whether she meant him to be in their company, after all. "We're going to the chandlers' shops for your needs… dearest. Or so I thought," she said for the benefit of the close-pressed spectators.
"Oh, o' course, my dear," Lewrie replied, joining them at last. He linked arms with her, and plastered as much of an untroubled expression on his phyz as Caroline wore on hers.
"But, what about the circus, Mummy?" Little Charlotte whined.
"Oh, we shall attend, dears," Caroline vowed, turning to smile at her children. "Of course, we shall. Your father will take us… for are we not a family, after all?"
Thank bloody Christ! Lewrie thought with glad relief; There is a thaw maybe. Then, began to contemplate how un-interested, aloof, and semi-bored he must act at the performance that night, and make his wife actually believe it!
AFTERWORD
At one time in the far-distant past, I rather naively assumed that I had Alan Lewrie's career in the Royal Navy plotted out with an appearance in a series of major events from his entry into the Fleet in 1780, all the way through to 1815.
Wrong, wrong, wrong! The more I associate with the rogue, the further afield I end up departing from that early stab at a curriculum vitae. It's as if my rubber bracelet, which bears the initials W.W.L.D.-What Would Lewrie Do-was ensorcelled by a cut-rate wizard down on Lower Broad here in Nashville, quite near Tootsie's Orchid Lounge and the Old Ryman Theatre, so that Lewrie's perverse streak of "Oh no, let's go there!" sometimes takes over. It could be worse; I could have been possessed by the ghost of Hank Williams, and drunk myself to an early death, years ago!
This all started quite innocently when I ran across a mention in a reference book about a British circus and theatrical troupe that had sailed to America in 1797, and had had a wildly successful year's tour down the coast of the United States, from New England to Savannah, and Lewrie, and I, both said, "Hmmm," about the same time. Him first, me first, I'm still not quite sure, but the thought of actresses, agile acrobats, bareback riders (which had a very sexual connotation in the eighteenth century-figure it out for yourself!), skimpily clad aerialists, breathy little "theatrical" ingenues, and actresses! Did I mention actresses? The only drawback was the clowns and mimes… along with the "Zoo-Doo" left by a menagerie of exotic beasts.