The dying diva warbled again.
Didn't know he liked German operas, Lewrie fearfully thought at the mere mention of "enquiries." One look aboard by the Beaumans, and he'd meet up with "Captain Swing," and why the Hell had he thought the theft of a dozen slaves, no matter how perishing-bad he'd needed hands to man his ship, could escape notice forever? A semi-drunken evening with "Kit" Cashman after the defeat and withdrawal from Saint-Domingue, as Cashman was closing his accounts and preparing to emigrate; "Kit" sniggering as they schemed a way to punish the Beaumans, and, indeed, it was meant to be an expensive, parting jape against them, hitting them where it would hurt them the worst… in their pocket books! A way for Lewrie to flesh out his under-strength crew, with
Cashman even offering to urge some of his White ex-soldiers from the disbanded regiment to sign aboard as Marines…!
"Such scurrilous charges 'gainst a Commission Sea Officer, and one so successful, and valuable to the Crown, well!" Capt. Nicely had sniffed again with prim anger. "Baseless charges, of course… Well, we feel that the repute of the Royal Navy should not be tainted with such, so… that is why we thought it best, all round, were you, and Proteus, to be sent away on other duties, Lewrie." As he said that, Capt. Nicely had squirmed on his chair like a Hindoo fakir trying for a comfortable spot on his bed of nails.
"Ah, hmm," Lewrie had responded with an audible gulp of relief. "So, how far d'ye think I…?"
"There's despatches in need of transport to Halifax," Nicely said with a vague wave of his hand, and a cutty-eyed expression on his face. "Hellishly boresome place, Halifax. Fogs, rocks, and shoals… deuced hot summers for that far north, mosquitoes big as wrens, swarms of them as thick as, well… fogs. Nothing much there, but for their dockyard and store houses. What the town was settled for, to service ships on the North American Station, and a seasonal haven for line-of-battle ships from our station, as well. Excellent yard facilities, I know, though. And, isn't Proteus in need of a bottom cleaning, and a re-coppering? "
"Well, there is that, sir," Lewrie had perked up.
"Of course, with our liners from the Caribbean ready to head up that way, soon, Halifax might be a tad too busy fulfilling their needs, so you may end up swinging round the anchor for a considerable bit of time, before they get round to your case."
Oh, don't say case! Lewrie had most illogically thought, ready to titter with relief; Did I say "case "? Silly old me!
"So, I should look to closing my shore accounts, d'ye mean, sir?" Lewrie asked, sure then that his departure would be something quicker than "instanter," and he didn't need to add dunnings from tailors and chandlers to his troubles.
"May you achieve all that by dawn tomorrow, it'd be best."
"Dawn! Ah ha," Lewrie had gloomed, with a benumbed nod.
"Frivolous, detestable, spiteful…" Capt. Nicely had mumbled, intent on nibbling Georgia "pee-cans," giving them his whole attention, unable to look at Lewrie, or unwilling to do so. And Lewrie wasn't so sure whether Nicely had been griping about the Beaumans, or him! He'd also noticed that Nicely hadn't, or couldn't, put Lewrie to a question of whether the Beaumans' suspicions were true. What Nicely didn't know, he could not testify to in a court of law, should it come to it!
"Well, of course they are, sir!" Lewrie had spat.
Nicely had squirmed some more, his eyes nicking about as if in search of a basin of water and a towel, like a Roman governor about to remand a felon back to the Court of The Sanhedrin-or so Lewrie's fervid imagination could conjure at that instant.
"Sail under Admiralty Orders," Nicely had grunted, "fly colours of an 'independent ship,' all that."
"Written orders, sir?" Lewrie had had wit enough to press. The last thing he needed was to be charged with stealing his own frigate!
"Oh, most assuredly, sir," Capt. Nicely had chirped. Meaning that Vice-Adm. Parker would treat his departure as a trivial matter of a minor refit for a hard-used frigate, which could carry despatches to Halifax at the same time, and could later swear that he'd known not a blessed thing about any legal charges. Nicely's signature would not be on those orders, either; nor would Lord Balcarres's, or Peel's, or anyone else's. "Can't have you just swanning off whenever… damme!"
Nicely might have said more anent the matter, but was startled by faint brushings of fur against his well-blacked, fashionable boots, as Lewrie's cats, Toulon and Chalky, took that moment to gird up their not very considerable courage to make musky rencontre of their former cabin-mate.
Though the cats had made a fuss over Nicely when he'd first gotten aboard to supplant Lewrie, once their master was gone it was another matter, and they'd tormented the man… mostly with piss! Stockings, shoes, linens, sheets, and mattress, dressing robe abandoned on the back of a chair, uniforms laid out near to-hand atop his sea-chests, and the contents of the chests, too, if carelessly left open… all had gotten Toulon's and Chalky's "liquid blessings"! Teeth and wee claws had marked Nicely's boots, sword-belt, and leather scabbard covering, too, and his bright brass or gilt brassards, buttons, or sword fixtures had gone a gangrenous shade of green by the time Lewrie had come back aboard.
"Why, those…!" Nicely had barked, like to lift his boots from assault, draw his knees to his chest, or climb atop his chair and let out a screech like a lady who'd seen a mouse. "Why… there are the little darlings," he'd pretended to coo, instead, after he'd gotten past the urge to kick them as far as the stern transom settee. Only to be polite to his host!
"Aspinall?" Lewrie had called out. "I assume we've nothing more private to discuss, Captain Nicely, so I might…?"
"Aye, have him in," Nicely had quickly agreed.
"Thought you were keeping an eye on the cats, lad," Lewrie said as his steward returned.
"Oh, I woz, sir. 'Twoz feedin' 'em tasty scraps, but…"
"If you'd… herd 'em aft, for a bit longer, I'd be grateful," Lewrie had gently bade him.
"O' course, sir. Here, lads! Come, Toulon! Come, Chalky, an' here's more bacon shreds for ye, there's th' good littl'un!" Aspinall coaxed, as they trotted for the day-cabin, tails fully erect. Once by Lewrie's desk, though, the cats did take a moment to gloat over their little shoulders, lick their chops, and seem to grin at each other as if highly pleased with themselves!
"I'll see you to the deck, if that is all you, ah…" Lewrie offered, dabbing his mouth with a napkin and rising.
"Ah, well, aye," Nicely had replied with a sigh, setting aside his own napkin, and getting to his own feet. "One last thing, sir."
"Aye?"
"Sir Hyde, and Lord Balcarres, both bade me relate to you that they appreciate all you've achieved since coming under their command, Lewrie," Nicely had whispered to him. "They, and I, think you much too valuable an officer to be sacrificed. Though we all consider you the damnedest fool… should the Beaumans' suspicions hold even a drop of water. Sir Hyde particularly stressed his approval of your fighting qualities, your, ah… unorthodox way of achieving whatever you're set to accomplish. We, all of us, wish you to know that, should you have need of patronage in future, you may… should the Beau-mans insist on laying false charges… count on our support."