The French Admiral (36 page)

“Johnny cake and jerky.” Governour laughed softly. “Catch crabs and fish for a stew. Alan,” he called out, bringing Lewrie back into their conversation, “how long to repair the boats?”

“Oh . . .” Lewrie pondered, having trouble lifting the glass to his lips. He concentrated on it hard. “Two days. Three at the outside. You would be amazed by what a British sailor can do.”

“That long?” Governour said, obviously disappointed.

“Might take less. I don't know,” Alan confessed.

“Two days, then,” Burgess calculated. “Time enough to dry out all our powder. We're as helpless as kittens right now.”

“There is that,” Governour agreed. “We have the one box of cartouches that stayed dry, but that wouldn't make three decent volleys. Lot of smoke for all the labor we shall be doing. I hope it does not attract any curiosity from further up the neck.”

Their voices droned on, putting Alan to sleep once more. His head slumped down on his chest and his grip on the wine glass loosened until a small trickle into his crotch woke him up with a start.

“Better get to bed,” Governour said, rising to his feet. “You must be done to a frazzle by now.”

“No, not yet,” Alan countered stubbornly, forcing himself to stand as well. He slurped down the rest of the wine and headed out for the hall to go out back and find a spot where he could take a quick wash. He met the family of the house as they came down the last flight of stairs on the way to their supper in the dining room.

“Evening, ma'am.” Alan smiled at their unwilling hostess.

“Sir,” Mrs. Hayley said, nodding primly. Rodney glared daggers at him.

“Pardon me delaying your supper, ma'am, but would you have some washing facilities?” Alan asked her.

“Ask of the kitchen staff, sir,” she replied stiffly.

“Thank you, ma'am.”

“You shall not dine with us?” the younger sister Nancy asked.

“No!” Mrs. Hayley decided quickly, echoed by the son, and earning the woman a withering glance to even suggest such a traitorous thing.

“I thank you for your kind hospitality, ma'am,” Alan said, addressing himself to the sister. “But as Lieutenant Chiswick said, we won't intrude on your privacy. I expect our supper will be much later. Duties, you know.”

“I've told the cook to set up a table in the parlor for you, sir.” Mrs. Hayley softened slightly. “I will not sit down to table with Tories or oppressors who usurp my property.”

“Then I shall not delay you further, ma'am,” Alan said, stung by the hostility and confused by how it waxed and waned by circumstances.

There was a laundry shed out behind the kitchens, and a black maid to stoke up a fire and set some hot water to steeping. Alan discovered a large tub as big as a fresh-water cask aboard ship that had been cut in half for use as a bathing tub. The servants filled it with well water, poured in the buckets of steaming hot water, and provided soap and towels and a lantern, the youngest woman giggling unashamedly as Alan peeled off his coat and waistcoat, until he shooed her out and finished undressing.

He stepped over the side and sank down into the hot water, giving off a moan of pleasure as he settled down chest-deep. All the salt sores and boils a seaman could expect to gather began to yelp painfully to his weary brain. He lathered up the soap with a rag, enjoying the sting of the lye and the pleasant scent of Hungary Water that had been added to the mixture when it was made. He stood and scrubbed every inch of his skin with soap, undid his queue and washed his hair, then found the buckets of fresh water with which to rinse, lifting them high and pouring them over his head.

“God, that did wonders!” He chuckled as he toweled down. The water had gone grayish brown from all the dirt he had accumulated. There was a knock on the door, the latch lifted, and the young slave girl came back in with a bundle of fresh clothes. Alan yelped in alarm and held the towel close around him.

“Miz Nancy say I fetch ya some frayush linen, suh,” the girl tittered, cocking one hip at him like a weapon. “They's planny ta th' house an' no mens aroun' ta wahr 'em.”

“Uh, thank you,” Alan replied.

“I take yer duhty thangs an' warsh 'em fer ya, suh.”

He had to cross to his clothing and empty his pockets while the maid slunk closer, humming to herself and grinning lasciviously.

“Ah kin sponge this hyar coat down, suh. Have ta warsh evathin' aylse. Miz Nancy give ya britches an' clean stockin's ta wayur.”

“That was most kind of her,” Alan said, trying to keep the towel up with one hand and search his pockets with the other.

“You a real purty mans, suh,” the girl crooned softly. “They calls me Sookie, they does. Laws, ah 'speck ah ain't seen sich a purty mans 'bout the place in a coon's age.”

“Is that a long time?” Alan huffed. Fuck it, she's only a slave, to hell with modesty, he thought, letting the towel care for itself while he finished emptying his pockets. “What about your overseer, or the boy?”

“Hmmp, Missa Dan'l, he got his fav'rite,” Sookie sulked. “An' Missa Rodney, his momma keep a leash on him. An' Miz Sarah, she done sol' mos'a the purty slaves. Not much come down the road no mo', 'cept them Franch mens an sich.”

“What French men?” Alan asked, “How do you know they're French?”

“Why, Lordy, they's awavin' they han's an' bowin' an' kissin' so ovah Miz Sarah an' Miz Nancy, ah nevuh seen sich goin's on! Ize Miz Nancy's gal, suh. Ah seen me lo'sa mens ack the fool ovuh the ladies, but ah ain't seen nuffin' lak dat! All blue an' yaller unifo'ms, an' thezh hyar big tall caps look lak sewin' thimbles.”

“Hussars?” Alan wondered at the girl's description of a shako. “So they come down the road a lot, do they? When were they last here?”

“Ah . . . ah, don't recolleck, suh.” She paused, having said too much.

“Tell me, damn you!” Alan insisted, taking her arm.

“Two, three days back,” Sookie finally told him. “They come down hyar ta sniff 'round the white wimmens. Took off the las'a the field bucks las' time. You ain't gonna hu't me none, is ya, suh, fer tellin' ya 'bout 'em? Miz Sarah'd have me whopped iffen she knew ah tol' ya.”

“I won't tell on you, Sookie,” he said, releasing her.

“Ah allus git me a spell wif a sargen' when they come. His name be Al-Bear, an' he allus gimme a whole shillin' ta let him top me. Ah cain' tell what he sayin' half the time, but he's some kinda buck, my, my! Ah'd do it wif you fer a shillin', iffen you was a mind ta.”

At that moment, had Sookie been a perfumed and powdered Queen of Sheba in his private harem (secretly one of Alan's favorite fantasies) he could not have mounted her to save his life. Damme, the Frogs and the Rebels have been here, and they might come back before we can sail!

“I'd normally be honored, Sookie,” he told her quickly. “But I've my men to look after, I can't do anything they can't.”

“Ya warn Miz Nancy, don'tcha?” Sookie said, put out by his reticence and misunderstanding his reasons.

“Well . . .”

“She would'n say no ta a purty mans lak yer-self, suh.”

“She wouldn't?” Alan asked, stopping his activities.

“Them Franch's an' sich what comes down hyar stays the night mos' times. Ah knows what goes on in them rooms upstairs.” Sookie grinned. “Takes los'a money ta keep this place agoin', it sho do, suh.”

“She does it for money?”

“Nossuh, but iffen one o' huh lovers warnta give huh somepin', she don' say no. Miz Sarah now'n agin, too, even she is a dried-up thang.”

“Hard times would indeed make a rat eat red onions,” Alan said, remembering Governour's comment.

“Sho nuff, suh!” Sookie snickered with him. “You sho you don' warna take a poke at me?”

“Perhaps tomorrow night, Sookie, I am rather tired.”

“Ah tells Miz Nancy, then, you warn huh?” the consummate little businesswoman asked, picking up the dirty clothing once more.

“Aye, that would be interesting.” Alan smiled, almost shoving the maid out the door. He dressed quickly into fresh stockings, a pair of buff breeches that were too loose on him, a clean linen shirt and neckcloth, and a faded white waistcoat also much too large, idly wondering who they had belonged to before he got them.

His supper was waiting in the parlor before the fire. Two lanterns were lit on the mantel above the fireplace, and the fire was now a cheery blaze that threw off enough heat to take away the autumn chill of the house. The kitchen servant had laid out boiled mutton, a cold ham, boiled corn and beans, more bread, and a crock of fresh butter.

“You look a lot more elegant than when you left,” Burgess teased as he sat down. “And the aroma is better as well.”

“I have learned something,” Alan whispered, raising a hand to shush them. “Our hostesses received French soldiers, not two or three days ago. One's a whore on the side, the older is a schemer who accepts favors in trade to keep this plantation alive and in style.”

Alan described what the maid Sookie had told him and then sat back to let the soldiers make up their own minds.

“Blue and yellow uniforms, and hussar fur turbans,” Governour said, chewing. “Lauzun's Legion. Cavalry, foot and light artillery. They're Poles, Germans, and renegade Irish, maybe some Scots as well who followed Charles over the water. Used for foreign service such as Senegal. Tough as nails, I'm told. They were up north in Newport with de Barras last year.”

“Well, they are here now,” Alan reminded him. “And their officers think this the most entertaining spot in two counties. We had better get to work and get out of here soon as dammit before they get the urge to come visiting the widows again.”

“And prepare some positions should they come in strength,” Burgess added. “Hell, cavalry! They would ride right over us!”

“Keep your voice down, dear brother,” Governour said. “We do not want our hostesses to know we are worried about anything. One show of fear and they'd find a way to get word to the other end of the peninsula and do for us. We have to keep up a bold front. How much gold do you have, Alan?”

“About one hundred guineas,” Alan admitted, which brought a look of consternation to each Chiswick brother at his wealth.

“Stap me, we could buy the whole damned county for twenty!” Burgess exclaimed. “Think the ladies'd be more amenable to our presence if we flat out bribed 'em?”

“We cannot admit that weakness,” Governour countered. “But if we seem to be a source of money, for victuals and such, they might wait for a while before trying to send out an alarm. Even so, we have to close down traffic up the peninsula so tight, a mouse couldn't get by.”

“And lay some preparations to receive their cavalry.”

“Yes, Burgess,” Governour gloomed. “If all else fails, we will have to fight them—and beat them.”

“What, the whole of Lauzun's Legion?” Alan wondered aloud.

“Not at first, perhaps a troop at a time. Alan, this girl Sookie, she is a good source of information? Could you get any more out of her?”

“Not really.” Allan frowned. “She'd reveal anything for a crown, but she knows nothing. It's her mistress that would know more, but there's no way to make her talk.”

“You said she was a coquette, taking favors,” Governour said.

“Well, yes.”

“As I remember, you gain a lot of information from the whores,” the younger Chiswick grinned. “Like you did in Charleston.”

“You must reveal nothing to her of our plans, but you must learn more about those French troops who visit here, how many come at any time, how they're armed,” Governour said. “Your man Feather and that sailor, Coe, can keep the work on the boats going, but we must have information. You work on that while Burgess and I build up some defenses at the narrows and in the woods.”

“Well, if that is what's needed,” Alan said. He shrugged. Damme, I've put the leg over lots of times for pleasure, but this is the first time I've ever been ordered to do it in the line of duty!

CHAPTER 12

A
fter
being awakened from a drugged sleep on a straw pallet in the front parlor at four in the morning, Lewrie put his seamen to work on the boats. They dragged them ashore onto X-shaped cradles so they could get to the keels, screened from sight with brush, should any patrolling boats enter the narrow inlet and began to repair them.

Alan's barge was in the most obvious need of fixing; most of the morning was spent ripping out her broken strakes, stiffening her broken ribs, and nailing pieces of long tobacco-barrel staves into the gaps, while other hands began the work of shaping heavier timbers for the keels. The household was awakened by the sound of one of their outbuildings being demolished for timbers, yielding two twelve-foot-long beams, eight inches on a side. The beams were adzed down on either end to improve their shape for traveling through a liquid medium, tapering to blunt points much like the beginning of very long and narrow log canoes. A start was made on a center trough in each beam with augers drilled down to a depth that would accept the shallow wooden barge keels, to be routed out later with small axes and chisels.

Other seamen chopped down four decent pine trees for masts and began to strip them of limbs and bark. Round holes were cut into the thwarts that Feather and his older seaman considered the best for holding a mast erect in the most advantageous position for boat trim and efficiency of sail pressure, and pieces were shaped as mast steps for the keelsons.

All in all, it was a profitable morning's work. The lower parts of the extemporized masts would have to be filed down to a smaller diameter, the steps would have to be nailed in, the scavenged barn siding—one-by-six board for the splash guards on the gunwales—still had to be sized and fitted (and were soaking in seawater to soften for bending to match the gunwales), but they had made a good start.

A large pot of pine tar was simmering over a fire, which they would use to pay over the repairs and the entire bottoms of both boats after dinner so that they would not leak any longer; or at least not as badly as they had before.

Alan went back to the house in a much happier frame of mind for his midday meal, thinking that a day and a half would see them off that cruel coast and across the bay, where they could expect to be rescued by a passing British ship. The maid Sookie met him, still flirting heavily even though he had rejected her. But she had his uniform for him.

Once changed, he sat down to a good lunch on the front terrace, where the cook had moved their dining table, it being a lovely fall day, too pretty to spend inside. Governour and Burgess joined him, removing their red tunics before sitting down at table.

“Our hostesses do not dine with us, I see,” Governour said ironically. “They were on the back patio. Probably don't want to breathe the same air with us in the house.”

“Mrs. Hayley was exercised about our tearing down that shed,” the younger Chiswick said. “Alan, she said that if we were to tear her house down around her ears, some of that gold should be forthcoming.”

“What do you think a shed is worth, Burgess?”

“Oh, one guinea, at least.” Burgess shrugged and poured them all wine. “And perhaps one guinea a day for victuals and such. I cannot really blame them. They won't have a chicken left by the time we get through with them.”

“You're being awfully free with my guineas,” Alan complained.

“For which we shall gladly reimburse you as soon as we catch up with our paymasters,” Governour promised grandly. “We were in arrears before leaving Wilmington, so they owe us a good round sum by now.”

“How are the boats coming?” Burgess asked.

“Less said around the house, the better,” Governour cautioned. “After dinner we may take a stroll down to the woods where we may talk freely. Alan, have you had a chance to discover any information from Miss Nancy?”

“Not yet.” Alan sighed. “I was busy this morning. It may be tonight before I can begin my campaign with her.”

“Don't leave it too long,” Governour pressed, then shut up as a black serving wench brought out a heaping platter of fried chicken.

It didn't take as long as Alan had thought. Once he had taken a cup of suspiciously good, strongly brewed coffee, he went back toward the northern end of the plantation to rejoin his workers on the boats. But suddenly, there was Miss Nancy, strolling idly in the same direction, shielding her fashionably pale complexion from the autumn sunshine with a parasol. She was turned out in a dark green dress and had obviously spent some time at her morning toilet to make herself more attractive. She was making a great production of swaying her hips, stopping to see each late-flowering bush or meander about as though she was waiting for him to catch up with her, which he did. The sight of him, when she finally turned to face him, was full of sudden alarm.

“Lah, Mister Lewrie, ya gave me
such
a fright!” she gasped, as though totally unaware of his presence until that moment. Alan tried not to smile; she was about as subtle as an unruly mob of drunks. He had run into her sort before, and the artifice of courtship or the mechanics of the trade with high-classed prostitutes were no mysteries.

“I did not intend to startle you, ma'am,” Alan said, approaching her more closely. “Though I must own to appreciation of the color that my fright brought to your cheeks. And I am flattered that you would remember my name. I did not recall our having enough time to be formally introduced.”

“Oh my, yes, Sister mentioned your name ta me, sir,” she said, making motions as though she would have appreciated having her fan with her so she could flutter it before her face for more air.

“And you are Miss Nancy.” Alan grinned. “I wish to thank you for the loan of the clothes last night, and Sookie's tending to my uniform. From the greeting we received, I did not think any charity would be given to a King's officer.”

“I am so glad ya found my actions charitable, sir,” she simpered. “Tory or not, British or not, you are a young man far from home and not a personal enemy. How could I do any less for a fellow Christian?”

“It was most welcome, Miss Nancy.”

“Oh, please, Mister Lewrie, do not be sa formal! I am Nancy Jane Ledbetter. But why don't ya just call me Nancy?”

“I would not presume any gross informality, Miss Nancy,” he said, playing the gallant buck and enjoying the game. “While I may have your leave, I doubt if your sister would appreciate it, or her son.”

“Oh, pooh!” she pouted. “Sarah's such a prune since Elihu died. Not that they were that loving a couple when he was alive. Since he was killed, she's been vindictive ta everyone. What do your friends call you, Mister Lewrie?”

Little bastard, he thought wryly, but said, “'Tis Alan.”

“And where ya from, Alan?” she asked, beginning to stroll once more, spinning her parasol coquettishly.

When he told her London, she went into paroxysms of delight and begged to be told all about it, having always wanted to go there. Alan filled her in about St. James Parish and the Strand, the restaurants and the gaming houses, the theatre and what had been new and entertaining when he was last there, what the fashions were and all the gossip that a still-youngish woman would delight in had she the chance to see it.

He was careful, however, during his discourse, to steer her away from the woods at the back of the plantation and the creek where they were working on the barges. If she was disappointed, she gave no sign of it, allowing herself to be led more easterly on their stroll, toward another woodlot on the back of the property that overlooked the marsh.

“What a commotion ya'll started this morning, Alan!” she cried. “We were all roused from our beds thinking the Apocalypse had come. Sister was beside herself when she saw what ya'll had done ta her shed. I suppose ya had good reason.”

“Yes, we did,” Alan said.

“Ya building a boat or something?” she teased.

Damme if the jade ain't trying to interrogate me instead, he realized with a start. Think of something, laddie. You're a clever liar if needs be.

“A sheltered wharf to land supplies,” he said. “We've pounded the Frogs and the Rebels into ruin up at Yorktown and broken the siege. You notice there is no more cannon fire? We expect more troops from New York soon, and then we'll round up what they have here.”

Her eyes widened even though she fought it, a moment's consternation, and then a calculating squint as she weighed this news.

“There had been foraging parties down our way,” she admitted. “I was under the impression that it was the other way 'round.”

“Well, what you hear from militia troops is always suspect until you see for yourself, don't ya know?” Alan said casually. “And if you'd run across some gasconading Frenchman, you'd think they won the war by themselves a year ago, when they haven't done much at all.”

“Oh, poor Sarah, I swear!” Nancy sniffed, digging into her bosom for a handkerchief to dab at her eyes as she quickly changed the topic. “She had
such
hopes that all this would finally be over. How can I tell her? She cannot bear it. And Rodney shall be so crushed that he lost his daddy, and I my Robert, in vain.”

“You were married?” he asked, waiting out the histrionics.

“Only in agreement about our future together, nothin' so formal as the banns,” Nancy said from behind her handkerchief. “And Rodney admired him so!”

“My condolences to you and your sister, then,” Alan said kindly. “I have lost good friends in this war as well. I am sure that you and your sister did have hopes the war would pass you by. I have heard many in the Colonies only want to stay out of danger, not favoring either side.”

“That other officer is so hard, ta blame us for our men-folk's politics,” Nancy cried. “Surely he must know women have no opinions.”

“Rest assured you shall be safe and this property shall not be ravaged. We shall pay for what we use,” Alan told her, wanting to get back to the main subject of his exercise with her. “Unlike the others.”

“That was sa kind of ya ta offer gold, Alan,” Nancy said. “The Continentals have but scrip, and no guarantee of that ever being honored. We could paper the walls with it and get more comfort. As ta that, I wish I could give Sister some assurances about the money. The shed and the stock that's been slaughtered sa far, and all that.”

“A little gold goes a long way, Nancy, especially in these times. We could settle up later. Have your sister present a list of what she thinks are fair prices to us.”

“I shall,” Nancy replied.

“It must have been hard on her, trying to run this farm and all those slaves by herself,” Alan expanded on his theme. “Now most of 'em have been sold off, haven't they? And I believe the rest went over to Gloucester at the request of the Rebels?”

“Y . . . yes,” Nancy replied, turning away and trying to remember how much Sarah had said at their first encounter the day before.

“Nothing in the storehouses, no hope of this year's crop and no way to get anything out past the blockade,” Alan went on softly. “And the herds much reduced. This war must have pinched you terribly.”

“We have managed,” Nancy said, plying her handkerchief again for a self-pitying weep. “Though it has been damned hard, never knowing where the funds would come from, or if there would be enough ta eat, even.”

“Yet you still set a fine table and have a good selection of wine. And that coffee at dinner!” Alan said. “I have not had the like aboard my ship in months. However did you get it?”

“We have, now and then, had ta depend on the kindness of our good neighbors,” Nancy announced with a straight face. “Things do get through your blockade, and there are kind gentlemen who think of us in our need.”

Alan laughed to himself. I wager there are!

Nancy turned away once more and began to stroll along the edge of the woodlot, heading for the environs of the main house, this time at a slow pace and without the flirtation she had shown before.

“Times will be better,” Alan said to bridge the sullen silence that had sprung up between them. “Once we have reclaimed Virginia for the Crown, you will be alright. Think of the new goods coming in.”

“Yes, that will be good,” she said, “but it would be even nicer ta think of all the goods going out. We haven't sold even a barrel of our crops since '77.”

“Yet they are not here,” Alan wondered, considering whether he should have observed that or not to her. Damme, this spying and prying is harder work than getting her interested in bed.

“Sent off inland for safety, up near Williamsburg,” Miss Nancy said quickly. “All the planters hereabouts do it.”

Was she lying, or did they have some ship captain who would take their tobacco to the Caribbean for transshipment to Europe? There was too much in the way of luxuries about the plantation that could not be easily explained away, but at the same time not enough luxuries to mark them as smugglers or profiteers; else why should they have to sell off the slaves? Alan did not mention the news that Governour and Burgess had given him about those huge warehouses full of tobacco further inland that Arnold and Phillips had burned during their rampage through Virginia back in the spring. Surely, she would have known about it—it would have represented a total loss for them. He decided to switch the conversation to more venal topics.