Can it get any worse? Lewrie sadly asked himself.
"God Almighty!" he yelled down to the barge without thinking, in his quarterdeck voice. "Belay that language, or there'll be people at the gratings, come morning!"
"Vaht is meanink 'to kill him a chicken,' pajalsta?" a giggly Eudoxia just had to enquire, stalking up to Lewrie's side. It didn't help matters that today she sported a new pair of buff breeches as snug as a second skin, her knee-length moccasins with all the fringes, a tan linen shirt unbuttoned halfway to her navel, a bright yellow sash tied about her waist, and that damned hat with the long egret feather plume, to boot, and most-like looked about as outlandish and savage to the Reverend and his family as a Muskogee war chief.
"I'll explain later," Lewrie muttered from the side of his mouth, and trying to shush her with a hidden gesture.
"Alan, you knowink this fine soldier, da?" she blithely asked.
He couldn't snub her, could he? Well, he considered giving her a shove off the pier into the water, or the barge, but by then, every eye, every brow lifted in prim expectation, was on him, and her, just ready to pounce, and Lewrie had to follow through.
"Burgess, allow me to name to you Mistress Eudoxia Durschenko," Lewrie managed to get out, just knowing it would all turn to shit, no matter what he did. "Mistress Eudoxia, this is Major Burgess Chiswick of the East India Company Army, an old comrade of mine from the American Revolution, and my… brother-in-law."
"Mistress Eudoxia," Burgess smoothly replied, as if such things happened every day; perhaps he'd seen odder in India. He doffed his hat to her and made a presentable "leg." Eudoxia stuck out a hand, at first, before remembering the finer customs, and dipped him a shallow curtsy, which, in boots and breeches, looked perfectly scandalous, as she murmured, "Your servant, Major Cheese… sir!
"You are, ah… of local Cape Dutch extraction, Miss Eudoxia?" Burgess brightly enquired, in hopes of explaining her outre clothing to his travelling companions, perhaps to himself, as well.
"Nyet, Major Cheese… Week," Eudoxia proudly stated. "I am Russki! Russian. Vith Vigmore's Travellink Extravagazaa. I do bareback ridink, expert archery 'turn,' and some acting in comedies, and dramas! Is pity we finish our run of shows before you arrive. Now, Vigmore and Papa, who is beink lion tamer, are away on hunt for new beasts, but I learn African elephant is not good for performink. But, you come from India }" she gushed, all agog and feckless. "Land of tiger and ridink elephant? You see them? Hunt them? Oh, you must tell me all, Major Ch… sir! Your friends? Family?" Eudoxia asked, pointing to the churchman and his brood, unaware of how gauche it was. "They see elephant and tiger, too? You introduce me, da?"
"Uhm, ah…" Burgess dithered, caught in Lewrie's trap, after all. From the instant Eudoxia had opened her mouth, there had come a series of prim gasps; circus person! Bareback anything! And, horror of horrors, actress! If she'd said she rode a broomstick, boiled up potions to cast spells, ate children, and stuck hat-pins through all her cheeks whilst bussing Satan's fundament, she couldn't have given them a worse case of the "fantods"!
"Reverend Brothers, allow me to name to you Mistress Eudoxia… uhm, Durschenko. Mistress Eudoxia, may I name to you the Reverend Brothers… his wife, Mistress Brothers, and their daughter, Mistress Alicia Brothers. My fellow passengers on the Lord Stormont."
I don't know which of us is worse-fucked! Lewrie grimly thought as he watched the Brotherses' reaction to that! Him, or me, 'tis about equal shares!
I could trot out knowing Wilberforce, Clarkson, and old Hannah More, but I doubt it'd cosset 'em. No, they'd never believe it!
"Your servant, sir… madam… miss," Eudoxia said, smiling in anticipation of tales of India, her curtsies to each deeper, and more graceful, as if she was finally catching on. Then…
"Oh, but you are so pretty, Mistress Alicia!" she exclaimed, all but clapping her hands. "You comink from India, too? Did you ever ride elephant? Hunt tiger vith noble rajahs}"
"Why, thank you, but…!" the young lady stammered.
"Certainly not!" and "Never!" her parents huffed.
"I'd also like to name to you my brother-in-law, sir, ma'am… Miss Alicia," Burgess interjected, about ready to tug at his shirt collar and suddenly too-tight neck-stock. "Captain Alan Lewrie, of the Royal Navy."
"Reverend Brothers… Mistress Brothers… Miss Brothers," Lewrie purred, doffing his cocked hat and dipping a formal "leg." "Your servant."
"Sir!" from the husband. "Hmmph!" from the stodgy wife.
"Brother-in-law?" from Eudoxia, in a hellish-sharp tone.
Oh, shit! Lewrie miserably thought; I'm in the quag, now!
"Alan, you not tell me tiy jenati zamujem! You are married!"
"Aah…" was Lewrie's "spiffy" reply.
"Schto?" Eudoxia snapped, her colour up and her breasts heaving. "Chort! Hell-and-damn! Tiy gryazni sikkim siyn! Lying… peesa!"* (*"What?… Damn!… you [intimate case] dirty sonofabitch Lying… prick!")
And wher've I heard that before? Lewrie sadly asked himself as she glowered at him, hands on her hips, and probably wondering where she'd left her horsewhip, or her papa's daggers. A stamp of a boot on the pier, a gesture that involved flicking her thumb off her upper teeth (perfectly white and lovely, he noted!), followed by a last one she must have picked up in her travels, her forearm thrust at him, bent skyward, and a hand slapped into the crook of her elbow.
"Dosvidanya… viy sabaka!" † (†"Goodbye you [formal case] dog!") and she stomped off, gathered the reins of her waiting white gelding, and swung up into the saddle with a lithe spring and roll. She sawed the reins to turn "Lightning," and gave him her heels, drumming him into an instant mad gallop into town.
"Well, hmm," Burgess commented in the stricken silence that ensued. "Perhaps we'll see each other about town, before we sail, Alan, old fellow. For now, though…"
"Aye, before we sail, of a certainty," Lewrie gloomily replied. "Reverend… ma'am… miss," he intoned, doffing his hat again. The Brothers family gave him the "cut sublime" in return, suddenly intent on the clouds, the bay, and tidy little Cape Town.
Well… that's torn it. Lewrie bleakly thought as he watched them toddle off… rather more rapidly than properly languid; And here I didn't think it could get any worse. Fool, me! If Caroline hears o' this… which sure-to-God she will, less I can bribe Burgess t'keep mum/… I'm back sleepin' in the stables. Lord, is that "dominee do-little " in with Wilberforce an' his crowd, I'm in the quag up t 'my eyebrows with them, too!
He ambled (an impartial observer might have said stumbled!) over to the pier edge once more, to a stout combination piling and bollard against which he could lean (or slump, depending on your outlook) just by the stern of the ungainly barge.
"All done, sir!" Lt. Catterall proudly shouted up at him. "It is finished!"
"And ain't it, just," Lewrie wryly commented. "Very well done, Mister Catterall, lads!" he congratulated. "Secure all, ready to get under way. Ready, Mister Goosens? No time like the present."