A King's Cutter by Richard Woodman Read Free Book Online

26th or I’ll have every foot patrol in Plymouth out for a deserter.’ Drinkwater saw the look of relief cross Tregembo’s face.
    ‘Thank ‘ee, zur, and a merry Christmas to you an’ Mrs Drinkwater.’
     
    Elizabeth arrived at last, wearied by her journey and worried over the possibility of war. They greeted each other shyly and there was a reticence about them, as if their previous intimacies were not to be repeated until released from their present preoccupations. But the wine warmed them and their own company insulated them at last against the world outside, so that it was breakfast of Christmas morning before Elizabeth first spoke of what troubled her.
    ‘Do you think war is likely, Nathaniel?’
    Drinkwater regarded the face before him, the frown on the broad sweep of the brow, the swimmingly beautiful brown eyes and the lower lip of her wide mouth caught apprehensively in her teeth. He was melted with pity for her, aware that for him war might have its terrible compensations and grim opportunities, whereas for her it offered the corrosion of waiting. Perhaps for the remainder of her life. He wanted to lie to her, to tell her everything would be all right, to soothe her fears with platitudes. But that would be contemptible. Leaving her with a false half-hope would be worse than the truth.
    He nodded. ‘Everyone is of the opinion that if the French invade Holland it is most likely. For my own part, Bess, I promise you this, I shall be circumspect and take no unnecessary risks. Here,’ he reached out for the coffee pot, ‘let us drink a toast to ourselves and to our future. I shall try for my commission and at the present rate of progress, retire a half-pay commander, superannuated through old age to bore you with tales of my exploits
    ‘ He saw her lips twist. Elizabeth, bless her, was gently mocking him.
    He grinned back. ‘I shall not be foolhardy, Bess, I promise.’
    ‘No, of course not,’ she said taking the coffee cup from him. And as he withdrew his hand the mark of the splinter was still visible on his palm.
     
    ‘Hannibal, sir, Captain Colpoys, just in from a cruise. Missed Christmas, poor devils.’ Both men regarded the battleship anchoring across the Sound.
    Griffiths nodded. ‘The big boy-o’s have all shaken the cobwebs from their topsails and are back to ground on their own chicken bones again. It’s time we put to sea again Mr Drinkwater. This is a time for little birds with keen eyes; the elephants can wait a while longer. D’you have my gig ready in ten minutes.’
    Waiting for Griffiths to return from the port admiral’s, Drinkwater paced the deck. The hands were making preparation to sail, skylarking until sent below by a fine drizzle, while he was oblivious of the grey pall that rolled up the Hamoaze.
    Farewells, he concluded, were damnable.
    Tregembo came aft and stood uncertainly next to him.
    ‘What is it Tregembo?’
    The seaman looked unhappily at his feet. ‘I was wondering, zur
    ‘
    ‘Don’t tell me you want leave of absence to see your doxy?’
    Tregembo hung his head in assent.
    ‘Damn it Tregembo, you’ll get her with child or catch pox. I’m damned if I’ll physic you!’ Drinkwater instantly regretted the unkindness caused by his own misery.
    ‘She ain’t like that, zur
    and I only want a quarter hour, zur.’
    Drinkwater thought of Elizabeth. ‘Damn it Tregembo, not a moment more then.’
    ‘Thank ‘ee, zur, thank ‘ee.’ Drinkwater watched him hurry off. Idly he wondered what the future held. The shots at Beaubigny might have formed a pretext for war, for Kestrel’s broadside had been an aggressive act. It was odd that the French had not made more of it, at least one of their men had been killed. But the advantages of peace were being protested by Pitt and such an insignificant cruiser as Kestrel could not be allowed to provide a casus belli. That, at least, had been the British position, and she had been kept refitting at Plymouth until the air