"Down By The Sally Gardens," he recognised, pausing in his writing, smiling to himself since he'd learned a thing or two himself, learned to play a few new airs on his battered, but straightened tin-whistle.
"Boat ahoy!"
"Aye, aye!"
"Marines! By the left… quick-march!".
Though the crew had settled into a trouble-free Navy routine-for the most part-summoning Marines to the entry-port boded ominous. That "Aye, aye!" might mean the presence of an officer in the approaching boat. Or it might be Thomas McCann, come back from his tar and chains! There was a stamp by the door, the rap of his sentry's musket butt. "Midshipman Nicholas… SAH!"
"Come."
"Captain, sir!" Little Mr. Nicholas burst out, flushed and excited, "the First Officer Mister Langlie's respects, sir, and I am bid to inform you that we've a visitor arriving… a soldier! A real general, he appears, sir!"
"Good, God," Lewrie replied, with a frown, startled to his feet, and grasped for his coat that hung on the back of his chair.
He only knew one general… his father! And what the Devil was he doing in Harwich? Lewrie feared the worst; there had been no fresh letters from Anglesgreen since he had taken Proteus over to Holland… whilst recent bumf from his solicitor, tailor, Coutts's Bank, chandlers, and such had come aboard with Langlie and Devereux. Despite his own letters home, there'd been no replies, and he could explain that away only so long with the urgency of the spring planting season.
He dashed out of his great-cabins, up the starboard ladder to the gangway and entry-port, as the Marines formed up and Lt. Langlie had Bosun Pendarves shrilling like a starved harpy on his silver call to assemble the crew. "Present! Ship's comp'ny… off hats, face to starboard, and… salute!" Langlie bellowed.
A cocked military hat loomed over the lip of the entry-port, the bosun's calls tweetled a long, complicated trilling… gold lace then appeared. Damme, it is my father, Lewrie thought with a deeper frown.
Sir Hugo Saint George Willoughby got safely to the deck, almost spryly, gaily, and stepped inboard, grandly doffing his hat to one and all, with a condescending smile on his phyz, like a hero might at the theatre, cheered and clapped for his most recent exploit and basking in his glory from a loge-box before the curtain rose.
"How-dy do, sir… Charmed, I'm certain, young sir…," Sir Hugo said, as officers and midshipmen were named to him. "Ah!" he finally cried, "there's my son. Embrace me, lad… and give ye joy!" making Lewrie feel like a schoolboy just back from his first term at boarding school. And about as embarrassed.
"What in the world are you doin' here? What's happening at home? You'd not come 'less there was something horrid…" Lewrie babbled as he suffered himself to be bear-hugged, bounced and dandled, thumped on the back so hard, for a moment he could conjure that someone had died and left him a huge bundle; he could not imagine his father acting so "paternal," else!
"Patience, lad," Sir Hugo muttered in his ear, "and all will be told. Everyone's well. No worries on that score." He released Lewrie at last, stepped back, and whinnied louder for everyone's ear, "Why, I haven't seen you in ages, and here you are, back safe… and famous, I am bound! I'm dry as dust too. Warmish summer, ain't it. Good t'see me, too, eh wot?"
"We can retire to my cabins," Lewrie said, getting the hint. "This way… Father. Lookin' fit and full o' cream, as you always do. What about some champagne? Aspinall, break out some 'bubbly.' "
The drunken old fart! Lewrie thought.
"Ah, capital, my boy… simply capital!"
"Well, aren't ye goin' to congratulate your pater, me boy?" Sir Hugo asked, once they were below and out of public view. "Uhm… for what, sir?" Lewrie had to ask, pouring him a glass and keeping his eyes fixed on his sire. It was an old habit-always know where his paws were, else he'd pick you cleaner than Sally Blue-and twice as neatly!
Sir Hugo smirked as he reached up to tap his gaudy epaulets.
"Major-General, me lad, just as I told ye, haw!" He beamed like a well-fed buzzard, "Thanks of Parliament too."
"Ah… congratulations," Lewrie replied. "Just who'd you kill?"
"Haw-haw!" Sir Hugo guffawed, tweaking at the fabric of his new and fashionably snug breeches, "No, for my duty suppressing your Nore mutiny. Arrived just after your ship scampered… under General Grey and Buckner's replacement, Admiral Lord Keith."
"Keith Elphinstone, when I knew him at Toulon," Alan supplied, handing his father a tall stem of champagne. "Balls of brass too."
"The very one," Sir Hugo quite cheerfully agreed. "I brought our Yeomen Militia up t'London, got brigaded with some Kentish regiments and got the brigade when the first'un fell off his charger… howlin' drunk. Man can't handle his drink surely can't handle his troops."
"First I've heard." Lewrie found cause to snicker, despite continuing fears that a tragic shoe was about to be dropped. "Though that tipple was as important to the Army as gun-oil."
"Bit of a muddle for a while," Sir Hugo preened on. "One damn' regiment went surly on us near Woolwich… some others traipsed into camp with only half their muster. Rot, sir! Radical, Republican rot, worse'n ever I'd imagine in England! But we put it right, stiffened the Tilbury forts' garrisons, reclaimed some ships that had mutinied … up the Thames… marched down to Sheerness and put spine in the town. Damme, though!" Sir Hugo wheezed in pleasing reverie, "missed the sight on the King's birthday, Alan! Everyone firin' th' hundred-gun salute… mutineers, too, damn their eyes… made the ramparts at Garrison Point collapse! One gun would've done it, and thank God we never had t'cannonade the mutineers for real!"
"But it's over, now," Lewrie said, sipping at his own champagne and feeling impatience to get past the "pleasantries."
"Almost. Some courts-martial still a'waitin'. Hellish docket, d'ye see. That Parker fellow went for the high jump. After that, we marched off for home. Got presented at court, my way back through the City, when the Thanks, and the promotion, came. 'His Nobs' the King, he thinks high of you… that letter you wrote him."
"He does?" Lewrie could only gasp.
"Well, those whores of yours became, ah… 'certain loyal and patriotic women of Sheerness,' but… all in all, he thinks you're th' knacky sort. Never hurts… when he's in his right mind, that is."
"Well, well…!" Lewrie had to gasp again and sit down.
"Now… about personal doin's…" Sir Hugo said, sobering and cocking his head at Aspinall, who was puttering and hovering.
"Aspinall, do you go on deck, for a while. My father and I wish to chat private for a spell," Lewrie bade, tensing once more.
"Damme, never saw ye as a ship captain, Alan… in the Far East, the best ye had was a dog's manger for quarters," Sir Hugo said, as he peered about appreciatively, not innocently though-there was a tad too much of the smirk to his face for that. "Navy lives right well, I must say!"
" 'A poor thing, but mine own,' " Lewrie quoted, shifting uneasily in his chair.
"Fine, quiet… damn' near stylish place t'put the leg over any willin' mort, I'm bound." Sir Hugo leered on. "Damme!"
Toulon, attracted by Sir Hugo's idly swinging, highly polished boot, had come to greet the new face; he leapt into Sir Hugo's lap and swished his tail right-chearly, reaching up to bat at those glittery gold epaulets with their tantalising gilt cord tassels.
"Nice, kitty…" Sir Hugo glowered. "Now, bugger off!"
Damned near cross-eyed in perplexity, and with a tiny "ummph" of disappointment, Toulon did, though Sir Hugo hadn't moved a muscle.
"Father, what…?"
"Always were fonder o' quim than yer av'rage feller, I recall," Sir Hugo frowned, studying his son over the rim of his glass. "Mad for it, from yer first breeches."