H. M. S. Cockerel by Dewey Lambdin Read Free Book Online

tableware did from the maids. He ran his fingers over the slightly tarnished silver lions-head pommel, the dark blue hilt wrapped in silver wire, the belt hook on the chase, the front and side handguards formed like argent seashells.
    He half-drew it to test its edge against a thumbnail. But it was a Gill’s, a fine blade, and had lost none of its keenness. No matter how long it had hung, neglected and idle.

B O O K I I
Nee vero ipse metus curasque resolvere ductor, sed maria
aspectans “heu qui datus iste deorum sorte labor nobis!”
    Now verily did the leader himself forget all fears
and cares, but gazing on the seas, “Alas,” he cried,
“how hard a task is here set us by heaven’s will!”
    Argonautica
Book IV, 703–705
Valerius Flaccus

C H A P T E R 1
    I f great London also bore loathsome reeks of its own particular devising, at least they were urbane and cosmopolitan. And Lewrie, in his mounting excitement to be returning to the city of his birth, and gateway to the wider world beyond, took no notice of them. Farm lands and villages got closer together, villages became towns, until once they had passed Guildford, the conurbations crowded each other until they seemed one vast burgeoning of the capital, brimming over with bustling enterprise, like a boiling pot.
    Lodging was almost impossible to find. All the coaching inns were full, as were the private residences which would let rooms, and the use of the parlours, to guests. Sparsely furnished rooming houses were out of the question. Even those dubious “rooms to let”—which usually signified hourly rates for the sporting crowd— were taken by officers of both Army and Navy being called back to their colours.
    They finally alit upon a hideously expensive posting house just before dark, after hours of rumbling through the streets. It was near King’s College and Somerset House, on Catherine Street, just off the Strand. Being a posting house, though, accustomed to travelers who came to town in their own coaches, it could be expected to be clean and quiet enough to suit the most fastidious high gentry or titled visitor, and set a decent table.
    At twelve shillings sixpence a day, it ought to, Lewrie carped, to himself; that’s more’n twice my active-commission lieutenant’s pay!
    They.
    Caroline never failed to amaze him. Where he had expected the tears and recriminations of an abandoned wife, accusations of running away from familial responsibilities . . .
    Damme, she was packed herself and ready to travel near as fast as I was, he thought admiringly. Babes bustled off to Granny Charlotte and off we jounced! Himself, Cony, Bodkins as coachee, Caroline and her maidservant, all jumbling together as the closed coach clattered over winter-hard roads so crossrutted they were fortunate to still have a collective tooth in their heads!
    Once settled, Lewrie wrote a letter to his solicitor, Matthew Mountjoy, to make arrangements for Caroline’s, and the farm’s, allowance whilst he was at sea. He also penned a note on his account with Coutts & Co., bankers, for ready funds, and future drafts to be sent overseas; all of which Cony would deliver on the morrow.
    Then a quick, quiet supper and up to bed, so he would be well rested for his appearance at the Admiralty. He donned his night-shirt and slipped into a warm bedstead, wondering how often in future he’d have the luxury of retiring completely undressed, of enjoying a full night’s sleep, instead of two- and three-hour snatches between crises. Wondering what sort of ship he’d be assigned to . . . a frigate was his dearest wish. How slow and cumbersome a 3rd Rate ship of the line is by comparison, how plodding and dull, and . . . hello?
    Caroline snuffed the candles (beeswax, a round half-dozen to the room, and each charged for what three would cost in the country!) and slid in beside him. Her head found its usual resting place upon his