The French Admiral (51 page)

“Your prayers for me would be most welcome, Caroline,” Alan said, looking at her and seeing the hesitant nature of her smile. That's not teasing, that's fishing for information, by God, he thought.

“This seafaring life leaves little room for young ladies, much to my regret,” he added quickly. “There is no one back in England. Even if there had been, I've not been back in nearly two years.”

“But there is the admiral's relation, is there not? Surely, she is kindly disposed towards you, and you her, or you would not have fought to defend her honor.” She almost stammered this out, trying to appear nonchalant and only slightly interested.

“No one in her family could ever be enthused about the prospects of a two-a-penny midshipman.” He shrugged. “I believe she is in Jamaica now, back with her family. We exchange letters now and then, but . . .”

“I only ask because of the sisterly affection I feel towards you, and the gratitude for saving Gov and Burge at Yorktown,” she insisted, also shrugging most eloquently. “You'll be off across the ocean soon, and we shall never see each other again. Is that not the way of life, that people meet and part so quickly? I and my family shall always hold you in our memories, but . . .”

“It doesn't have to be that way,” Alan said, placing his hand over hers, and he was excited to feel her fingers spread to take hold of his. “Should you still feel the need of diverting moments, we could correspond. If you are willing, I shall ask your parents for permission to write you, and you may keep me informed as to Governour and Burgess, and how your father and mother keep. Why let aimless life dictate to us?”

“'Scuse me, Mister Lewrie, but the last cast o' the log shows no change. Still adoin' five an' a half knots.”

“Thank you, Mister Weems,” Alan almost barked at him.

“If ya'd be wantin' anything else, sir?” Weems went on. “Almost time to check the lookouts, an' tour below decks with the master-at-arms.”

“Thank you, Weems, but that will be all for now. I shall join you shortly!” Alan said, biting his cheek to keep from screaming for the idiot to drop straight to hell.

“Aye, sir.”

Alan turned back to Caroline and was amazed to see that she was gazing straight ahead at the bows, one side of her mouth turned up in an attempt to keep from laughing out loud. Once Weems was aft by the wheel, she let go and began to shake with silent glee, and their eyes met in a shared amusement, but she did not let go of his hand; in fact, returned squeeze for squeeze.

“Did I sound half as ridiculous as I thought I did?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said frankly. “Pretty ridiculous.” But there was no harm in her critique, or at least Alan felt none. “People who can laugh at themselves are rare, Alan. You're very refreshing.”

“Well, some people have more to laugh at than others,” he admitted easily. “Seriously, do you think your parents would mind if we wrote?”

“I think they would feel honored. As would I. If they did not approve, then I am the final judge, after all. I would hope we could always be friends and correspondents.”

“That sounds delightful to me,” Alan replied warmly. “Dammit, you are so easy to talk to. So easy to know.”

“I was just about to say the very same thing about you, Alan.” They stood there, hand in hand for long moments, staring at each other and smiling foolishly until she lowered her eyes and grew shy.

“Well, it must be getting late,” she said sadly.

As if in confirmation, four bells chimed from the belfry.

“And you must be freezing up here on deck. You should be snug in your bed,” Alan murmured, feeling the urge to tuck the both of them into the same narrow hanging cot and pull the blankets up to their necks.

“I must own to sleepiness, at last.”

“Nothing like being bored to make you sleep well.”

“Not bored at all!” she replied, her breath coming a bit quicker.

“Lots to do in the morning, packing up and getting ready to leave the ship. We'll cross the bar just before noon, if the wind holds. Let me walk you aft and see you safely into the cabins.”

“I would appreciate that,” she said.

He led her arm in arm past the helm and the crew, who all took a sudden interest in the rigging, the rails, or the horizon as they passed—all but the ship's boy, who snuffled and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, getting his last look at the awfully beautiful young lady who had touched him so gently, as no one else in his miserable, short life, as though she was a waking fantasy.

They stopped at the top of the ladder that led through the upper hatch to the cabins, stood holding hands for a moment longer, and leaned close together as the ship rolled on a slight surge. Of one mind, they stumbled together, and she raised those great eyes to meet his.

He bent forward and their lips brushed shyly, not too far forward, for she raised her face higher and met him. Her arms took his sleeves, and he put an arm about her waist with as much trepidation as if she were made of porcelain and would shatter at his touch. One of her gloved hands went to the back of his neck, then stroked his cheek, while the other kept a death grip on his arm. They shuffled forward a little more, pressing their lips together, cold lips and hot breath at first, then icy skin and warm lips, then breaking away; she because of the power of the feeling she felt, and Alan because he did not want her to feel ravished.

“Good night, Caroline,” he muttered huskily. “Sleep soundly.”

“Good night, Alan,” she whispered back, sliding her hand down to his for one last firm squeeze, then she was gone below into the dark.

Something to be said for gawky women, Alan thought, his head in a spin from the warmth and the intense passion that had come on him of a sudden. Her faint scent was still in his nostrils, so fresh and clean and light, his bare hand was still warm from her grip, and he savored the feel of her long body drawn so close to his, wanted to go back and crush her to him and take her true measure. He had not felt like that in a long time, had never felt that overpowering rush to the brain that went with the rush to the groin he was used to. He could not put a name to it, for it was not in his experience, but it was something more than dumb lust.

Did I feel like that with Lucy Beauman? he wondered. I think I did, but that was months ago, and she's not here, nor will I see her anytime soon. God, don't tell me I'm swooning for the mort! She's not got two shillings to rub together, and most like never shall. No future for me with a girl with no prospects. Still, she's so sweet!

He shuddered with more than winter chill as he thought of how shy he had behaved with her, knowing it was not part of his nature to be so backward with women. Even allowing for the fact that he could not take her below and bed her, could not have at her on deck where there was no privacy, could still feel Governour's sharp eyes on the back of his neck, could picture being caught in mid-ravish by Captain Treghues, and had not the slightest intention of ever being in the same hemisphere with her after leaving Charleston, he could not explain it.

Next afternoon, the evacuation fleet reached Charleston, and there was a long bustle to clear all the passengers off the ship. The Chiswicks were among the last to debark, with Mr. Chiswick seeming sprier than in past, as though eager to get ashore and see his sons, or take his pleasures in the larger city. Treghues was hovering around them, but Alan did get to say his good-byes before they were hoisted over the side and into a waiting boat with their belongings. Caroline was fetching in a blue velvet gown, her hair tied back loosely and her eyes shining.

“Mistress Chiswick, allow me to say how delighted I was that I could enjoy your company aboard the
Desperate
these two days past,” Treghues said, doffing his hat to her. He had turned out in his best coat, had shaved closely, and was immaculate from head to toe, fit to appear at the Admiralty or the palace. “All my best wishes go with you and your parents for better fortune in future.”

“Thank you, Captain Treghues,” Caroline replied.

“I would appreciate your informing me of your progress,” Treghues went on, almost squirming with unfamiliar embarrassment as his crew bustled about to assist her into the bosun's chair. “As I told you and your father at supper last night, there may be much I could do to alleviate your distress, perhaps aid in finding your brothers suitable commissions in the regular forces. Governour, pardon my familiarity at using his Christian name, ha-ha, your elder brother sounds like a proper Tartar, the sort we need in a good regiment. And your second brother, Burgess, if he has, as you said, any interest in the Sea Service, there is always the possibility of a berth as a marine lieutenant.”

“We would appreciate any interest you could take in us, Captain,” Caroline replied. “I cannot speak for my brothers. After Yorktown, I do not know how enamored they are of a continued military career. And truthfully, we do not know where we shall light if the rebellion has any more successes.”

“I could write and keep in touch,” Treghues suggested. “And, in the meantime, allow me to present you with this, a token only, you know, but every little bit helps, ha-ha.”

Treghues was trying to press a small purse of money on her, and Caroline was blushing with embarrassment as well.

“I could not accept such a gift, sir,” she said directly, though not eager to pass up free guineas, not in their straitened financial condition. “I wish you had made offer to my father. He is head of our house still, sir. And as to writing to us, that is also his decision, and I am governed by my father's will.”

“As a God-fearing girl should be, in faith,” Treghues agreed, booming too loud and firm. “I commend your spirit, Mistress Chiswick, but please believe that I lay no conditions on the acceptance of such a paltry gift, but only do it from a heart . . . a sense of admiration of your plucky . . . er, spirit in the face of adversity.”

God, I almost feel sorry for the artless bugger, Alan thought grinning in silent amusement. It's a wonder there's a Treghues alive if that's the way they court their women. He couldn't get fucked in a buttock shop!

“What conditions could you lay, sir?” Caroline asked archly, getting a little vexed and anxious to be in the boat with her father, who could be heard grumbling about something already.

“A thousand pardons, Mistress Chiswick, if I offend by generosity, but it is a sin of excess only in the sense that . . .” Treghues blundered on, not knowing how to stop or get himself out of the hole he had dug with his tongue. “You would do me a great honor if I knew you and yours were secure for a time. What else could a fellow Christian mean to another?”

“Then I shall accept, sir, though it is not my place to do so,” she finally said, as long as there were no strings attached to that purse. “And I shall consider it a loan made in fellowship and human kindness, as all mercy should be.”

“Just as long as you do not consider me a
total
Samaritan, I beg of you, Mistress Chiswick,” Treghues said, sounding almost humble.

“I shall not, sir. And I thank you kindly for all your ministrations to us in our time of need and salvation,” she said.

“I shall keep you and your family close in my thoughts and in my prayers, Mistress Chiswick,” Treghues said, taking her hand.

“And we you, sir. Ah, Mister Lewrie.”

“Mistress Chiswick,” he said formally, though their eyes danced at the sight of each other as he doffed his cocked hat.

“Bless you for everything you have done for us, Mister Lewrie.” She spoke warmly, though she tried to hide her emotions as the captain was still standing there like a catch-fart waiting for an errand. “We shall never forget you.”

“My regards to Gov and Burge when next you meet. Tell them to write to me and let me know how they're faring. And all my thanks to your parents for showing me true hospitality and what it is like to be in the bosom of a family once more,” Alan said, stepping close to her as she sat swaying in the bosun's chair before the hands tailed away on the stay tackle to lift her out of his life.

“Hoist away, bosun,” Treghues snapped.

Caroline looked annoyed as she began to reach for Alan but she was hoisted out of his grasp before their fingers could even begin to touch. He waved to her and she to him as she went up and over the side.

He stepped to the bulwark to watch her into the boat, and she looked up at him, pantomiming speech, saying “Write to me, please,” and much in that warm vein, while he returned her sentiments as well.

“As the Spaniards say,
Vaya Con Dios.
Go with God,” he shouted down to the Chiswicks, then mouthed silently “Caroline.”

He watched the civilians begin to row the loaded boat towards the shore, feeling suddenly deprived of her presence. Damme, I wish we'd had longer together, he suddenly thought. There goes the only girl I've ever met who was interesting to talk to for more than half an hour. Easy to talk to, comfortable like. And smart, smart as paint, and don't make no bones about it. A good, sweet nature. Maybe a little artless compared to most I've known, like a country girl. Holds herself so stiff, but I'll wager there's a passionate side hidden deep. Might be amusing to be the one to bring it out. Ah well, that'll be never. If only her daddy had some chink, she might be worth keeping up with.