Dewey Lambdin - The French Admiral

"Aye, but what'd ya draw in yer schooner?" Monk asked, working on a quid of tobacco so vigorously it made Alan's jaws ache to watch him.

"A foot over one fathom, sir. But the main channel was far off to the larboard, ran right up alongside Eagle Island."

"Aye, if yer a coaster," Monk said. "The Thoroughfare, they calls it, but it's too shallow fer the likes o' us."

"And a half four."

"Helm aweather half a point," Monk said compromising.

"Six fathom, six fathom on this line," the larboard man called.

"Aye," Monk went on, puffing with relief to find deep water. "I s'pose ya know the main channel's on the west side, 'least 'til ya get ta Old Town Creek an' the Dram Tree?"

He pointed out a huge bearded cypress on the right bank farther upriver. "Bad shoal at Old Town Creek. Mosta the big ships don't go no further than Campbell Island an' the Dram Tree. Sailors take a dram afore hoistin' sail fer a long voyage from the Cape Fear. What's Campbell Island bear now?"

"Two points to larboard, sir."

"Captain, my respects, an' once past Campbell Island, I suggest we do anchor."

"Very well, Mister Monk," Treghues said lazily. "We'll round up into the wind, let go the best bower and back the mizzen tops'l to let the wind and tide end her up bows downriver. Mister Coke?"

"Aye, sir?" the bosun said.

"I'll not let her fall back too far from the bower, mind. Hang the kedge in the cutter and row her out to drop. Veer out half a cable aft and a half cable forrard. Take Mister Avery with one of your mates."

"Aye, sir."

Lewrie cast a glance at David Avery standing by the quarterdeck nettings overlooking the waist. Much like the change in attitude when Keith Ashburn had been made an acting lieutenant into Glatton , the squadron flagship when Alan's first ship Ariadne was condemned, it seemed as if a friendship was being tested once more. In the past, it had been Keith Ashburn who had placed the distance between them to protect the authority of his new commission. Here, it was Avery who was distancing himself from Lewrie, finding it difficult to say "Alan" instead of "Mr. Lewrie" or "sir," even in the mess. There did not seem to be any animosity, even though Avery had been in the Navy over four years and was still a midshipman, while Alan had risen like a comet to an acting mate in a little less than two. He was still friendly, but no longer close, and Alan regretted it. And there was little he could do about it without stepping out of role and playing favorites. Railsford had warned him of that one night when he had come on deck to catch a breeze. Best do it now, he had said, before new midshipmen come aboard, and you have no bad habits to break.

When they did receive new midshipmen, Alan and the new master's mate who would be appointed into Desperate would have to rule the mess, supervise the newlies, and keep order without playing favorites. It was sad, all the same, just another slice of naval life Alan detested.

"Mister Railsford, round her up into the wind, if you would be so kind, and bring her to," Treghues finally ordered. Desperate swung about in a tight turn, her helm hard over until her bows were pointed for the sea she had left. At a sharp arm gesture, the bower dropped into the water with a great splash and she began to pay off upriver, driven by tide and sea breeze on her backed mizzen tops'l, while everything else was handed or taken in by the topmen and fo'c's'le-men. They spent half an hour rowing out the kedge-anchor from the stern, letting her go and winching the ship forward onto her bower; they lashed the heavy cable to the mooring bitts and hauled in on the kedge-cable until they had her firmly moored in the river fore and aft. The shallow coasters they had escorted in had to take what moorings they could, since Desperate , as leading ship up channel, had taken the best mooring for herself, and devil take the hindmost.

"Mister Railsford, now we've the cutter free, my compliments to you, and would you depute for me ashore with Major Craig concerning his plans for evacuation. There are orders from General Leslie in Charleston to convey, as well," Treghues drawled.

"I should be delighted, sir."

"Um, excuse me, sir," Alan said.

"Aye, Mister Lewrie?" Treghues asked, turning to face him.

"If you would not mind, sir, I should like to go ashore with the first lieutenant," Alan said.

"Not ten days into your new rating, and you think you have earned a right to caterwaul through the streets of this unfortunate town?" The captain frowned. "You disappoint me, Mister Lewrie. I had thought you had learned your lesson about debauchery."

"Not debauchery, sir." Alan gaped in a fair approximation of shock, or what he hoped would pass for it. "It is the Chiswick family, sir. You mind them, the officers that came off Jenkins Neck with me? Their family is here in Wilmington at last report, and I have tidings and money from their sons to help their passage. I promised Lieutenant Chiswick I would look them up, if possible, sir."

"Hmm," Treghues murmured, cradling his jaw to study him. "On your sacred honor, this is true, sir?"

"Ton my sacred honor, sir," Alan swore. "I gave them my word, sir."

"Very well, then, but if you come back aboard the worse for wear, as you did in Charleston, I will not merely disrate you from master's mate, I'll put you forward as an ordinary seaman."

"I understand, sir," Alan said. And God, please don't let me run across anything tempting this time! he pleaded silently.

They landed at the foot of Market and Third Street, just below St. James church and the white house that Cornwallis had used as his headquarters. The church was in terrible shape compared to the last time Alan had seen it, but it was his destination, operating on the theory that Loyalists would be Church of England if they had any pretensions at all to gentility, and the parish vicar would know where the Chiswicks resided, if they were members.

He knocked on the door to the manse, and a wizened fellow came to open it, more a hedge-priest than anything else, dressed in black breeches and waistcoat gone rusty with age and abuse, and his linen and ample neck-stock a bit rusty as well, as though he had to wash and iron himself.

"Yes, what do you want, sir?" the man asked him, wiping his hands on a blue apron, and Alan wondered if the man was a curate or a publican doing double duty if the parish was not living enough.

"I am seeking information about a family named Chiswick, sir," he said. "I thought perhaps they might be temporary members of your parish. Is the vicar in?"

"The rector is out, sir." The man sniffed, eyeing the King's uniform up and down as though it were a distasteful sight to him. "And I know no one by the name of Chiswick, not in our regular parish."

"They came down from around Campbelltown," Alan prompted. "New arrivals to Wilmington."

"Oh." The man frowned. "And their reason for leaving that country?"

"I believe they were burned out," Alan said, getting a little put out with the man's effrontery.

"Loyalists, then." The man nodded, stiffening up and glowering.

"Here, this is Church of England still, is it not?"

"It is not, sir." The man huffed up his small frame as though insulted. "More to the point, Episcopal, but not Church of England . Had we been else, Tarleton and his troopers would not have used our nave for a stable, sir!"

"Then who ministers to the Tories?" Alan demanded.

"We do, when called, sir. We are Christians, you know."

"Couldn't tell it by me. Who would know, then?"

"Try across the street at the Burgwin House, if you can come away with your soul from Major Craig's torture cellars! Ask of your own kind! Good day to you, sir!" the little man said with satisfaction as he backed into the manse and closed the door.