The French Admiral Read Free

elements, and you’re a stout enough buck to keep him safe. And sometimes show enough sense to avoid bad situations. Even if our captain . . . well.” Cheatham might have said more regarding their lord and master’s puritanical streak, his sudden aversion to Lewrie that no one had yet found a reason for, but that would have been open insubordination about the officer appointed by the Crown over every aspect of their lives. It also would have been injurious to good discipline, especially said in front of the hands who were now working up a ruddy sweat at the oars.
    â€œI’ll not let him come to harm, sir,” Alan said sincerely, “or get anyone in trouble. My word on it, sir.”
    â€œVery well,” Cheatham said.
    â€¢ • •
    It had all, indeed, begun innocently enough, like most things that Alan Lewrie had gotten into. They had climbed to the wharf at the tip of the town’s battery, and had made their way to a public house for a pint or two of cool ale. While there, they had discovered the location of the best house that could offer a good meal, had repaired to an establishment named by the publican and had eaten a magnificent dinner such as they had not seen in weeks.
    They shared a middling-sized beef steak that came sizzling from the grill on a pewter platter, split a roast chicken between them, crammed themselves with piping hot local bread made of corn meal and dripping with fresh butter, and had imbibed a bottle each of sinfully good wine, which being a rarity in the Carolinas, was also sinfully expensive. To clear their heads of wine fumes for the main activities of the leave, they had finished off with fresh-made pie and coffee.
    â€œAnythin’ else, suhs?” the waiter asked them, bringing a second pot of coffee. “A pipe fer ya?”
    â€œNot for me,” Avery said, wondering what a well set up fellow of approximately their own age was doing not in King’s uniform.
    â€œWhere would one find some sport at this time of day?” Alan asked, opening the face of his silver and gold damascened pocket watch.
    â€œYa’ll want sportin’ ladies, ah take it?” the waiter leered, hoping for a better tip. To their nodded assents, he went on, “This time o’ day, most the good houses is closed, suhs. But they’s some guhls ah know jus’ down from the country that’re . . . obligin’ sorts,” he said, tipping them with a wink.
    â€œLast time I was here I went to a place called Maude’s,” Avery said with his best man-of-the-world air, or a good attempt at one.
    â€œArmy moved onta Wilmin’ton, so did Maude’s, suh,” the waiter told them.
    â€œMother Lil’s?” Alan asked, remembering his earlier adventure.
    â€œGot ruint, suh. Parish didn’t lahk ’em makin’ such a row ever’ naght. Patrols busted ’em up. Ain’t been the same since.”
    â€œWe could always fall back on your widows, Alan,” David said.
    â€œNot if we have to be back at the end of the first dog,” Lewrie said. “That might do for me, but not for you. Had we several days, an introduction might do you good, but not for such a short acquaintance.”
    â€œLady Jane’s, suh,” the waiter said with a knowing leer.
    â€œI mind a Lady Jane’s that used to be in Savannah,” Alan said, after thinking back on the gossip he had dredged up in his last visit.
    â€œTha’s the one, suh. Got a nahce li’l place up the Cooper bank, lotsa pretty young guhls. Two ah toldja ’bout works there. You tell ’em Mayhew said ’twas alright, they treat yuh special, seein’ it’s yer birthday an’all.”
    They decided on the place, paid the bill, and left Mayhew a shilling for his information and directions. Once out on the bustling street, they had to stick to the shade to avoid the direct heat of the sun, which was as fierce as any latitude