"Pah-pah, why must you go away?" she'd wept at one minute, then, "Why can't Mistress Gower and her husband and my nanny take care of me at our house?" the next. Followed by "Must I move in with Uncle Governour and Aunt Millicent?" Followed by "Will I keep my pony, my dolls, and my own bed? My puppy?" No matter how much Millicent assured her that all her things would be with her, that she could play every day with her cousins-hadn't it been grand, last summer, when she had stayed with them, after all? Hadn't they had ever so much fun? Don't you know we love you like our own?-Charlotte had been disconsolate and utterly bereft "But that was when Ma-Ma was coming back!" she'd stubbornly objected.
Pah-pah and Ma-Ma-that was Governour's and Millicent's doing. When he and Caroline had coached away, it had been Daddy and Mummy and she had been so gay, delighted to spend her time at their estate and play to her heart's desire, visiting her grandfather's estate daily.
Changin' her into their sort o' Miss Priss! Lewrie fumed.
Then had come the hateful vindictive, along with a fresh flood of tears and wails. "I'd still have my Ma-Ma if you hadn't taken her off to France! I'd still have my house, the way things were, but for you!"
She didn't have to add "I hate you, just go away!" to wound him any deeper as she'd stomped her feet, ignored all his attempts to explain it was the French who'd taken her mother; she had shrunk from his attempt to hug her and console her, then dashed from the parlour, and the house, screaming inarticulately, with a flying banshee's wail!
Recalling that all over again made Lewrie start fully awake and upright in bed, to scrub his face with both hands and wish for dawn, seeing again Millicent's stricken look and Governour's grim satisfaction!
Awakened at 6 A.M. to dress, scrub up, comb their hair, and (for the adults) to shave, and they were down to the dining room for breakfast, even more subdued than they had been at supper.
"Say good-byes here, Sewallis, father," Lewrie instructed. "Hugh and I will go on to the docks by ourselves, hey?"
They were English, of the country gentry, so public displays of emotion were not for them. Sir Hugo chucked Hugh under the chin and told him that he was proud of him and that he should be careful and follow all his orders and remember to uphold the Lewrie name and its honour. "Yer father's brought lustre to it, and ye can do no less."
"So long, Hugh," Sewallis said, his arms folded cross his chest and his chin up. "I'll write. You be sure to, too, right? Tell us of how you get along. You lucky imp."
"G'bye, Sewallis," Hugh said in return, sticking out his hand to shake. "Give my regards to the other lads at school. Put ink in the proctor's port, like we planned? And, when you go to grandfather's, make sure you see to my horse now and then. Well?"
"I've a cart for your dunnage," Lewrie said. "I'll be back in a bit. Have a bit of time before I go aboard Reliant and you coach back to London, and we can say our good-byes. Right? Ready, Hugh?"
"Aye, sir," Hugh replied, easily turning "nautical."
The carter trundled along before them as they strolled along behind, past the last of the civilian part of town to the dockyards and the warehouses, then to the docks. It was a raw day, with solid grey overcast clouds and a fitful April wind, damp and a bit chilly, strong enough to clatter halliards and blocks, and make the seabirds complain as Hugh and his father reached the stone stairs down to the boat landing.
"One for Pegasus!" Lewrie shouted to the bargees, selecting the nearest lug-sailed boat the size of his gig, and leaving it to its two-man crew and the carter to heave Hugh's sea-chest into it.
"Well…," Hugh muttered, childishly shuffling his feet in his new pair of Hessian boots, eager to be away yet loath to say a real, nigh-permanent farewell.
"God, how I hate this, Hugh!" Lewrie spat. "I know it's what ye want, what ye were fated for, as my second son, but still… it hurts t'see ye off. Navy's a damned hard life. No matter you're in great hands with Thom Charlton, I'll worry 'bout ye every day."
"I'll be fine, father, just you see," Hugh assured him, naпve despite all the cautions Lewrie had drummed into him. "We'll put the French in their place."
"Here," Lewrie said, reaching into his boat-cloak. "Your Navy pay as a Midshipman ain't much, so you'll be needin' some extra funds. Soon as ye report to Captain Charlton, give him this t'dole out t'ye. The Midshipmen's mess'll always have need to whip round for luxuries. Just don't let the others gull ye outta your money on foolishness or gamblin'. And don't let on you're better off than ye are, or you'll be the one they strip, right down to your bones." He gave him a note-of-hand and a small wash-leather purse containing ten pounds of coin. "And this."
From the small of his back, hooked to his own sword belt under his uniform coat, he withdrew a Midshipman's dirk in its scabbard.
"Wondered why I didn't buy ye one in London? That's because I was havin' my old one re-gilt. Leather of the scabbard's a bit worn, but that'd happen to a new'un, too, after a few months at sea."
"Your own dirk?" Hugh exclaimed, turning it over in his hands, drawing it and waving it in the weak sunshine, his eyes agleam in joy.
"Take good care of it, mind," Lewrie told him, and showed him how to slip it through the white leather frog on his belt, and how to thread the clam-shell catch into the slit in the leather. "There," he said further, satisfied that it was secure. "And when you attain your Lieutenancy, my old hanger will be yours, too."
"Your Napoleon hanger?" Hugh gasped. "No, Daddy… sir. Not that one. I'll not wear a sword that… murderer touched."
"This'un, then," Lewrie offered, patting the hanger that hung at his left side. "When the time comes."
Hugh looked relieved and nodded his beaming acceptance.
"Well then… might not've said it often enough, but you must remember that I love you, Hugh," Lewrie told him, wishing he could put his arms round the lad, kneel down, and give him a good squeeze. "And I am so proud of you I could bust. My regards to Thomas Charlton, and my thanks for taking you into his ship. S'pose it's time, though," he said, pulling out his watch to check the time. "Might take half an hour t'reach Pegasus on this wind, and it's best did you report just at Eight Bells, and the change of watch."
"Good-bye, Da… father. Sir." Hugh manfully said, sticking out his hand for an adult shake, though his eyes had suddenly gone a bit tearful. They shook, and, to shun the grief, Lewrie pulled him in to give him that last, brief hug, after all, and thump him on his back. "Remember all the pranks were played on me when I first joined. The molasses in the hammock… come hear the dog-fish bark? Gather dilberries from the main-top, and for God's sake, never go cryin' for a Marine Private Cheeks, and absolutely refuse if they play 'Building a Galley'!"
"I'll remember, sir," Hugh said with a shaky laugh as he stepped back, settled the fit of his coat, and doffed his hat in a salute, which Lewrie returned in equally grave manner. "Write me, often as you can. I'll write, as well."
"Good-bye, Hugh. Make us proud."
Then Hugh was down the slippery, green-coated stairs and into his boat. She shoved off, the lugsail raised as soon as the last of her dock lines was free. Lewrie stood with his hat aloft for another long minute, and Hugh gaily waved back at him with his, 'til the boat was fully under way, already shrunk to a toy. Another minute or so and it was almost lost in the early morning boat traffic.
And that was the end of a major part of Lewrie's life, his care for his children, his role of a father. Now what he had was a ship.