"Dear God, is that a uniform… wearin' a man?" Lewrie said in a soft, amused whisper.
"No, Alan, 'tis a corpse in fancy dress," Cashman growled.
CHAPTER THREE
God help him, Ledyard Beauman had never made an imposing figure in his life. Lewrie could recall the whippet-skinny little shit from '81 or '82 in his midshipman days, sporting exaggerated Macaroni fashions years after they'd gone out of style back in England, right down to the bright silk or satin shoes with tall red-painted heels, and gilt buckles paved with diamond chips. Now, even in full martial "fig"-minus his hundred-guinea smallsword-he more resembled a pathetic footman masquerading in his master's clothes as part of the mummers' crews on Christmas Eve, when times turn topsy-turvy 'twixt servants and masters; but without the innate authority or wit to play the Lord of Misrule.
Mr. Hendricks summoned principals and seconds to him, just by the last edge of the upper beach.
"Gentlemen, I feel bound by Christian duty to appeal to you one last time. Are you so determined, so prejudiced against conciliation, that no plea, no logic, might move you from your intent?" the dignified older fellow implored.
"I am determined, sir," Christopher Cashman quickly answered, in a cold, brusque manner.
"I, too, am… ready, sir," Ledyard Beauman said, though in a voice more fluttery, and fainter. His eyes were red and puffy, as if he had suffered a tormented, sleepless night, and they shimmered and darted, like a mouse seeking a bolt-hole. He did not quite shudder, he did not chatter his teeth in terror; his jaws were clamped much too tight for that, and his hands were hidden behind his back.
Near miss 'd stop his heart, Lewrie speculated; almost feeling a spurt of pity for Ledyard, who was trying to play up game: One 'Boh ' to a goose 'd make him fill his breeches! Surely, he must know how good Kit is! Has he ever blamed?
"Then it is my sad duty to allow you gentlemen to proceed," Mr. Hendricks declaimed. "Colonel Beauman, your post is to the north, and Colonel Cashman, yours is to the south. A toe-line has been drawn in the sands. The coin toss has awarded the first pair of pistols to Colonel Cashman. In a moment or so, when both are ready, each will take up a pistol from this case, strictly keeping it un-cocked until commanded. You will take up positions, either side of the toe-line, back-to-back. When I ascertain that you are, in all respects, prepared, I will charge you to cock your locks, and you will hold your pistols vertical. I will say 'begin your pace' and start a count, thusly… 'and one, and two, and three,' until I reach the number seven. That will represent fourteen paces, together, with a pace more between you to be determined at the toe-line, equalling the agreed fifteen paces.
"At the count of seven, mind, and not a jot before," Hendricks intoned, "you may turn and fire at your pleasure. I advert to you now, sirs, the man who turns to fire before the count of seven, it will be my, and the innocent party's second's, duty to shoot down. Do you understand me plainly in that regard, sirs?"
"Absolutely, sir," Cashman replied, breezily, this time, as if impatient to get it over with.
"I do, sir," Ledyard agreed, with a bob of his head, gulping as if just now realising how fatal this was going to be. Lewrie caught a faint whiff of brandy on the scant wind, and it wasn't from the surgeon's table. On close perusal, Lewrie could espy a wet stain on Ledyard Beauman's waist-coat. He had obviously partaken of a liberal measure of Dutch Courage back at his coach, poor Devil.
"Now, does the first to fire miss his aim, sirs, and the second delay his response, the first party must stand and receive," Hendricks further grimly cautioned, "as is expected of a proper gentleman."
"No worries," Cashman almost chuckled. Rather evilly, in fact.
Ledyard could but goggle and bob, gulping dry-mouthed.
"Do both parties miss on the first exchange, you will, upon my command, immediately turn your backs, keeping your fifteen paces separation and wait 'til your seconds fetch you a fresh pistol, which shall be uncocked, from those supplied by Colonel Beauman. Do you understand, Captain Lewrie? Captain Sellers? As soon as both parties are re-armed, I will call 'Ready' again, and a new count of three. At three you will be free to cock, turn, and fire once more. After that second exchange, assuming neither gentlemen is struck, a brief pause in the proceedings will be allowed while fresh pistols will be provided, and we shall begin, again, back-to-back at the touch-line, using the initial procedure. Is all that clearly understood by all participants?"
"Understood," Christopher coolly said.
"Ah, yes," Ledyard managed.
"It has been stipulated that this is, unfortunately, a duel to the death or incapacitation by a severe wound," Mr. Hendricks added. "Should one, or both, of you fall wounded, I, and Surgeon Trollope, will determine whether the injured party is able to rise and continue. This stipulation, demanded by Colonel Cashman, shall not admit of any superficial wounding to fulfill his desire for satisfaction."
"Barbaric," Hugh Beauman sourly sniffed, half to himself.
"Then why did your principal agree to it, sir?" Mr. Hendricks countered. "Proceedings shall be halted so the injured party may be examined, and queries made to determine whether both principals feel that honour has been satisfied. Should we continue after a wounding, I shall repeat my exposition of the original rules. The seconds…"
Lewrie perked up, and watched Capt. Sellers stiffen with importance, before turning his full attention to Hendricks's mournful face.
"You will each take up one pistol," Hendricks instructed sternly. "You will each take post to my right and left, apart from your principals, but slightly ahead of me. Your pistols will remain un-cocked until such time as either party commits a shameful act by turning early or attempting to violate the accepted rules of the code duello. Only then will it be your duty to protect your principal, and I assure you that / will fire, should such a heinous deed occur to mar the honour of the field. A second, should he commit such a violation, will also be shot down. Understood?"
"Perfectly, sir," Lewrie said, before turning to face Sellers and lift a quizzical, deriding brow at him. Sellers reddened, again, and tossed his head in anger.
"Are you both determined, then, let us be about it, sirs. Do you take positions, and we shall begin," Hendricks ended with a sigh.
Hendricks at the apex of a fatal triangle, slightly above the duellists at the top of the slope of hard sand; Lewrie and Sellers two paces lower than the referees, their places juggled until Hendricks was fussily satisfied. Beauman and Kit either side of that heel-dragged furrow in the sand, back-to-back but not touching, about a pace apart-also fussily placed by the demanding Hendricks.
Lewrie hoisted his borrowed Manton pistol to the vertical, his right arm pressed against his chest, the fire-lock safely un-cocked, and his body turned so that Hendricks could see his actions, turned to keep an eye on Ledyard Beauman when he paced up the beach; turned, to keep one wary eye on Sellers, too, who would be doing the same upon Cashman, and Lewrie, as well!
'Bye, Ledyard, Lewrie snarkily thought, seeing the man's ashen look toward his elder brother, a silly, lop-sided grin of dread, and farewell; write and tell us what Hell's like.