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him to go back, to speak gently to her and have her smile at
him again. But pride forbade him. He had nothing left but his
pride, neither ship nor stores nor now hope, and he refused
to allow any of it to make him crawl.
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Captain's Surrender
by Alex Beecroft
Chapter 15
The light of the hot tropic sun flooded through the windows
of the orangery and glinted from the rope of pearls which
Emily had wound into her corn gold hair. Peter uncrossed his
ankles and looked for inspiration at the tawny surface of his
tea, trying to think of something to say. Miss Jones was in
wonderful looks today, with a very attractive blush glowing on
her cheeks, but she seemed less outspoken than he had
known her to be before. He could not conclude in his mind
whether this was a good sign or a bad.
"So tell me again about your latest acquisitions," said
Summersgill, rising to help himself from the plate of sugared
fruit which sat on the table between them. Summersgill had a
more rounded look to him now. It seemed that the punishing
climate suited him. "I understand it was the thirty-two which
was smuggling arms?"
Peter blessed him for his tact. As he had already been
through the exact cargo manifest and the potential contacts
at either end of the trade route with Summersgill in his
professional capacity, this could only be a rescue from the
way his mind went blank when expected to be witty and
entertaining.
"The Macedonian, yes," Peter said. "I had a tip off from
one of the men at the docks I took his brother on recently as
cook, and in gratitude, he suggested the ship should be
watched. We intercepted it a little over fifty miles off shore
from Boston, and when we made our signal, rather than
prepare for inspection, they bolted for shore.
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"But the Seahorse, as you know, is a fine ship for sailing
close hauled, and had fully two points on her. We came up
close into the wind, caught her within three miles and gave
her a raking broadside, stern to stem. She surrendered at
once, and once we got on board it was clear why powder
barrels five deep on every deck. The wonder of it was that
she hadn't gone sky high with our first shots."
The warm, bright room became, in his mind, the cool
brilliance of his quarterdeck. He could almost feel the life of
the ship beneath him, hear the cheers, see again the
berserker joy on Josh's face as he returned from the boarding
party with a bruise on his face where the Macedonian's
captain had tried fighting back with a crowbar and a blaze of
fierce beauty in his brown eyes.
Thinking of Josh, Peter smiled to himself, proud that the
young midshipman had proved not only an exemplary first
lieutenant, but shown himself, on this trip, more than capable
of captaining a ship of his own.
Though that thought had its own bitterness. If the
Macedonian was brought into the service, he knew he should
recommend Josh for her commander. But at the thought,
Peter suddenly understood why his lover had been so needy
recently. Time had reached the point where it would be
natural for them to part; to purchase houses of their own, to
captain ships of their own, to speak to one another only on
those rare occasions when they were both on shore together.
He didn't know why this came as a shock. Nor why it
should suddenly strike him now, here of all places. It had
always been meant as a strictly temporary arrangement, of
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by Alex Beecroft
course. But he had somehow also managed to avoid the
thought of it ever ending, to avoid the thought that he might
one day have to choose to give Josh up in order to take a wife
and remain faithful to her.
For he couldn't have both. Could he?
A tap on his knee, and he looked up, startled to find
Summersgill's eyes trained on him in some concern and Emily
watching him with a new born curiosity.
"Are you well?" Summersgill asked gently.
"I'm sorry." Peter shook his head and tried out one of his
more polite smiles. He looked at Summersgill's kindly face,
and then the subdued beauty of his daughter. Emily's
expression was quite composed, but her fingers were pulling
the petals from one of the table dressings, scattering them on
the tablecloth like huge drops of blood. No, he thought,
looking at her and seeing for the first time some sort of
discomfort, nobly borne, he could not have both. That would
be unfair to both, and besides, damaging to his own honor.
Even so, he didn't want to think about it yet. There were
some weeks ... months ... perhaps even years yet before the
decision would become impossible to put off any longer, and
with that comforting thought, he roused himself to be civil
and make an effort.
"Do forgive me; I must be excessively dull today, unable
to talk about anything but battles. Tell me, Miss Jones, did
you finish reading Julia de Roubigne? I hoped its abolitionist
sentiments would appeal, even if Mackenzie's language is a
little ... affected."
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Captain's Surrender
by Alex Beecroft
Emily looked up with surprise and gave him a smile that,
by its sweetness, set into contrast the forced gestures she
had used towards him previously. It almost made him wonder
if, perhaps, she had not liked him before, which was a
sobering sentiment. But if that was so, he consoled himself,
she did seem to be coming around. The pleasure of putting
delight on Summersgill's face, and of raising Emily's subdued
spirits to something more like their usual pitch, made him
forget Josh once more and exercise his mind upon literature
for the rest of the visit.
He left with a promise to return and a feeling of
satisfaction that everything was going very much to plan.
* * * *
"Reverend Jenson," Captain Walker welcomed his guest to
dinner and fed him on turtle soup, beef and lamb, roast and
stewed and flavored with spices, a brace of birds he had shot
with his own gun, plum duff, figgy dowdy, jellies of lime and
oranges, and a resplendent pineapple, accompanied by tea
and coffee, madeira, claret, Nantes and Aguardiente. They
were alone for the meal except, of course, for the phalanx of
servants and he did not scruple to talk business over the
meat.
"I hope you will not mind if I address a delicate topic? It is
a scandal, sir, how our reluctance to even think about this sin
is our greatest hurdle to dealing with it, but I know of you as
a man of principle. I read eagerly in the Times of your
prosecution of that villainous fellow Franklin."
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by Alex Beecroft
"Oh," Reverend Jenson put down his knife and fork and
nodded with an air of understanding, "now I see why you did
not extend your invitation to my wife. Yes, it is a topic from
which the ladies should be protected with the greatest care.
That they should not know it exists at all has always been my
ideal, but I take your point. Our reticence should not become
a shield behind which these disgusting practices can shelter.
"I remember," he continued, his face glowing with pride,
"that in my father's day, the Society for the Reformation of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]