Dewey Lambdin - A King`s Trade

He shuffled some more, as a steward in livery entered with tray and pot to replace the used cups and empty tea-pot, then silently went out like a zephyr of summer wind.

"Proteus is fairly new, but has seen rather more action than one may expect, milord…"

"Lewrie was her first, and only, captain," Sir Andrew stated, as if trying to tweak the Earl Spencer, leaning towards him and grinning.

"The Surveyors think she will require a total refit," Sir Evan Nepean continued. "Four to six months' work. Might you wish Captain Lewrie to sit ashore on half-pay that long, milord?"

"By God I do not!" the First Lord barked. "There's no telling what Deviltry the man's capable of with that much idle time available him. And… there is the, ah… possibility of being tried for his theft of slaves on Jamaica. 'Out of sight, out of mind' seems apt, at this moment. I will not knight a man who stands a chance of being put in the dock a few months later. Nor will I allow the papers and public time to discover what sort of man he really is. A new ship something larger and suitable, of a certainty. Preferably, one able to sail far from England, and possible embarrassment, Sir Evan."

Exactly what the Foreign Office appointee to the Privy Council suggested might be best for the Crown, Nepean thought, hiding his sly grin. "Ah. In two more months or so, milord, Sir Andrew, an eighteen-pounder gunned Fifth Rate frigate will be returned from the dockyards at Portsmouth, and ready for re-commissioning. She is the HMS Savage, originally built in '93, just after the start of the war, and in very good structural condition, barring the usual problems with her bottom, and such. Her former captain has already been reassigned, so…"

"Two whole months with him ashore and unemployed, though," the First Lord mused with a suspicious frown. "Then, however long it will take him to gather a new crew…"

"There would be no delay in it, either, milord," Nepean brightly added, "for we are in possession of a letter from both the officers and crew of Proteus… even the Marines and cabin steward lads, expressing their wish to remain under Captain Lewrie, entire."

"Remarkable," Adm. Sir Andrew Hammond allowed. He was Royal Navy, man and boy, and knew what sort of officer might elicit such loyalty, even if the First Lord, a civilian, did not appreciate it. "We could pay off Proteus into the Portsmouth yard… where she currently is anchored, I believe? Then turn over Proteus's people into Savage. Quite neat, milord. And, with little reason for Lewrie to come up to London… into the clutches of the newspapers, hmm?"

"Oh my, yes!" the First Lord quickly, enthusiastically, agreed. "Make it so, Sir Evan. Now, as to the next matter on our agenda…"

The exotic beasts, the jugglers and acrobats, the fire-eater and his bursts of flame from his mouth, the capering clowns and their pig bladders and antics, and the clattering waggons painted in fresh bright red and yellow drew such a crowd as any that the Marine garrison from Portsmouth Dockyards had ever drawn. The circus's band, replenished by new musicians and outfitted in garishly-trimmed uniforms more imposing than the Army List of generals (including all retired ones), oom-pahhed, crashed, drummed, and tooted along at the head of the parade, children of the town deserting the kerbings for the cobblestones to prance and march along with them, goggle-eyed and shrieking with utter delight at such a wonder! H'elefinks, lions, dancing bears, zebras, and God knew what-all, and some of them, like the performers in their show costumes, had fought the filthy French, and won, for didn't all the newspapers say so, all the flyers printed by the circus, too, say it?

It wasn't just any tawdry old circus and theatrical troupe, it was Wigmore's Travelling Extravaganza, honoured with a proclamation by the Crown, with Thanks of Parliament to boot, back from deepest, darkest Africa, bigger and better than ever, and, "Oh, Mummy! We must see it! We must attend, puhlease?"

Individual blossoms, whole nose-gays, were flung at the parading performers and beasts, even the hyena and the anteaters, and the red-arsed baboons in their waggon cage, the same sort of accolades given a regiment just back from a victorious campaign, and there was good old Daniel Wigmore on a fine horse, tipping his hat to one and all, a patch-eyed "foreign-looking cove" with a rifle-musket in one hand, and one of his squawling lion cubs on his saddle's pommel, a cove who could swing to face backwards, turn a flip on his horse's back, slide down to hang on the side of his mount like a wild Red American Indian, and gallop up the street like the very wind, huzzah!

And, that remarkably beautiful girl on the white horse, riding astride, in breeches and boots so snug you could see…! and children's eyes were covered, and women tittered into handkerchiefs, but my!, but she was a horsewoman, too, and with that spiky crown, that flowing mane of curly black hair, and that bow, my Gawd! She was the lovely Eudoxia, slayer of a dozen, two-dozen, odious Frenchmen intent upon her ravishing, or worse, and when she stood on her mount's bare back, everyone cheered, whistled, and fell in love with her daring, and her bravery.

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!"