She spread herself open for him and propped her feet on the opposite seat while he half-knelt before her, his knees precariously perched on the seat between her legs, and gripped her buttocks. ’Oh, God, yes!" she whispered happily as he slid into her deeply. His knees slipped off the upholstery, but his feet were firmly planted against the front of the opposite bench. giving him purchase so he could thrust into her. Once engaged, he became excited and drove hard, partly for the enjoyment, partly to take his anger out on her for press-ganging him into leaving Lucy at the ball. Aemilia didn't care if he was performing with a knife at his throat, lost in her own joy and delighting in crying out just loud enough to tantalize their black coachman on top of the box. That also excited him, and he forced her to turn and present to him after her first pleasuring, still iron-hard and eager to gain revenge. He exploded into her, hoping that she was impregnated and forced into an unhappy marriage with one of her "better prospects." Wants servicing, does she? I'll give the bitch service! She was nimble and eager for more after some cooing and sighing, and he bulled her allover the coach for the rest of the trip, slamming into her hard, and ending with her head down into his groin as he sat on the seat and watched the suggestion of a planter's house loom up from the darkness. He ordered the coachee to stop for a while as he filled her once more, even though she was beginning to protest by then. She was shaken by the time he handed her down, and scurried into her home without looking at him. He shut the coach door and climbed up by the coachee, snapping the whip to speed their passage back to English Harbor.
"The things one is forced to do for one's admiral," Alan said as he entered a dockside inn and found Ashburn still up, dozing over a pipe and a glass of wine. ’With that little country-put?" Keith asked, jealously. "Just got back. Damn troll like to have had the skin off my back," Alan said, motioning for the waiter. He was dehydrated by his exertions, and badly in need of ale. "How was the rest of the ball?’
‘Wonderful," Keith said. "Ozzard got stinking drunk and had to be carried home. Lucy stayed 'til about one and then went home with her aunt. Far as I know, Sir Onsley is still tippling port with the dockyard captain and that ugly old general." The door slammed open and a roistering party of Army officers staggered in, hooting loudly, calling for drink, service and spare women. Lieutenant Wyndham was with them, as well as the little Ensign Ames who had been at-table with Lewrie at dinner, plus two more lieutenants and a captain of some years named O'Boyle. ’We want your best, not common swill," O'Boyle said as he swayed over a table. "Not the usual stuff you trot out for sailors an' whores.’
’And we'll only pay for what we like," Wyndham added to the cheers of his mates. "Here, I don't like this glass!" It went into the fireplace, raising another cheer. Several naval officers began to look for their hats. ’Sufferin' Jesus," Ashburn said. "There goes a fairly nice public house. Behold our Army, the Drury Lane Fencibles!’
‘Wonder what got them out of Hyde Park?" Alan speculated. "Gambling debts?’
‘That was good enough for Admiral Rodney.’
’This will do, barely," the ensign told the publican. "Though it's piss compared to the cases we brought with us. ’
‘I don't need no trouble with the watch, now, sirs," the publican told them, grovelling and trying to watch all of them at the same time. "Maybe ya might be findin' yer own better ta drink at this late hour.’
’There's a cod's-head I know," Wyndham shouted, pointing at Keith and Alan. "Ashburn, and little Cap'n Queernabs… Lewrie or something, ain't it?’
‘Your servant, sirs," Keith said, raising his glass to them. "Come have a drink on the 12th Foot," Wyndham said, which set the officers off on a regimental ditty that made no sense at all, set to a nonsensical tune that resembled "The World Turned Upside Down.’
’They look like they can pay," Keith said. "Want to?’
‘Free wine. Never refuse a treat.’
It seemed that they were all from London, or close thereabouts, so they spent a lively half hour reviewing plays, raree shows, gossip, and comparing mutton they had bulled' The 12th Foot had given up a half-battalion, a grenadier company and two line companies, which were to transship to St. Kitts to upgrade the defenses. The rest were still enjoying the pleasures of London, and this batch was mortally offended that they had been thought dispensable. The captain was Irish, which meant that he felt disposed of by the more fashionable officers, and was morose as a Paddy could be after having been sent to fight a war, while his English compatriots still rogered and swaggered through the towns back home.
More wine was called for, and the empties went smash into the fireplace. Gradually, the noise drove most of the other naval sort of customers away into the night. ’Lewrie," Lieutenant Wyndham said suddenly. "Now I remember you. You were at the ball this evening.’
’Aye, I was.’
’With that tasty little dish Lucy Beauman. Gentlemen, you remember the blond tit I taught cards to?" Wyndham asked, and received their drunken and heartfelt assent. "A lovely piece, was she not?’
‘Admiral Sir Onsley Matthews' niece, yes," Alan said, looking at Keith, who was beginning to sense trouble as well. ’I'm told you've been dashing, Lewrie," Wyndham said. "Particularly dashing, I believe was the lady's term for it. Burned a privateer all up with your own little hands. Saved a ship of the line, too.’
’Alan has been busy since coming to the Indies," Keith interposed quickly. "I was in Ariadne with him, both midshipmen at the time. Let me tell you-’
‘In fact, that was all I heard from that bitch," Wyndham broke in. "And I don't want to hear any more of it.’
’Here, now," Alan said evenly. ’I shall make it a point to taste her pleasures, even if she is a lowbred island trull. Gentlemen, charge your glasses. Let's drink to my next mutton!’
‘Warren," the Irish captain warned. His mates had gone silent at the provocation. "No, I want us all to drink to Lucy Beauman," Wyndham insisted, swaying to his feet. "I'll play the upright man and break that little dell, though she wouldn't be fit company at home without half a crown for socket-money. Unless Mister Lewrie here has already strummed with her, then I won't go over a shilling.’
Alan tipped his wineglass and spilled it on the table. Keith did the same and they both rose together. "I shall speak for both of us, sir," Keith said, almost grinding his teeth. "Such billingsgate about a fine young lady we would never drink to, even if she were unknown to us. That you slander a lady of our acquaintance is a shameful example of your lack of wit and manners. I trust your regiment is not known for it." Keith kept a firm hand on Lewrie's wrist as he spoke after seeing the flush of anger on his face. ’Good night, sirs," Keith finished, almost dragging Lewrie off for the door. "Come on, damn you! I am ordering you, lieutenant to midshipman, not as your friend, you little idiot!" he whispered. ’I should have known the Navy would go all pious on us," Wyndham sneered, flinging his wineglass at them. "Tawdry lot of Bartholomew Babies! Aye, drag his cowardly cooler out of this place before he might have to blaze with me. What he says he did, and what he really did, are two different things. Just like the Navy-" Wyndham guffawed. ’Warren, I am ordering you to sit down and shut up!" the captain said, grabbing Wyndham's arm while the other lieutenants and ensigns looked on. ’Are you calling me a coward, sir?" Alan turned abruptly and shook off Ashburn's hand. "Talk of the wine table is no reason for meeting," the little ensign said. "I am sure Warren does not really mean-’
‘Don't tell me anything, Ames!" Wyndham snarled. ’Being ill-received by the young lady in question is no reason to provoke a duel, either," Ashburn said. "Perhaps his pride is pinching him. Let's allow him to sleep it off, shall we?’
‘Fuck you, you cod's-head!" Wyndham said. "Yes, I think that Mister Lewrie is a coward! A coward and a liar and a manfucking Molly, just like everybody else in the Navy is a bugger in disguise-’
‘Warren!" from the ensign named Ames. ’And I think his precious Lucy Beauman is a poxy whore… ’
‘We need t
o meet, sir," Alan replied icily in the shocked silence that followed Wyndham's accusations. The onlookers gave a groan, whether of pain or delight it was hard to tell. ’Alan!" Ashburn barked in his best quarterdeck voice. "No, Keith. There's been enough," Alan said, stepping back up to the table. "I, sir, consider you a piss-proud cully. You're a butcher's dog with no nutmegs for a real fighting regiment. You're a bastardly guJlion with a Cambridge fortune, and a great damme-boy with your fellow bucks, but you're the pigignorant git of a threepenny upright.. ‘.
Alan had always been able to wound with the choice word, and he must have stung something in Wyndham's background. The young man blazed up and, without thinking, slapped him hard across the face. ’Excellent," Lewrie said. "A slur on my character, a slur on the innocence of a young lady, and striking a gentleman. The sooner the better, as far as I am concerned, sirs.’
’You will witness that he scoured me beyond all temperance," Lieutenant Wyndham declared. "Captain O'Boyle, I request that you arrange this for me.’
’I must talk to the major, Warren," 0' Boyle muttered. "But I'll tell you you're a God-cursed fool for doing this. ’
‘Lieutenant Ashburn, would you negotiate for me?" Alan said. ’Aye, and what weapons would you prefer, Mister Lewrie?’
‘Naval cutlasses," Lewrie decided after a long moment. "That's no weapon for a gentleman to use. Why don't we blaze?" Wyndham sneered. ’A man who would strike another can have no objections, can he?" Ashburn said. "Captain O'Boyle, your party has issued a mortal and grievous series of slanders, sir. The choice of weapons, and the place, is ours, is it not?’
‘Aye, even by the Irish Code," O'Boyle admitted. ’I shall communicate with you further, sir, after my principal and I have informed our commanding officers," Ashburn promised. ’I shall await you, sir," O'Boyle said with a bow.
There are 365 beaches on Antigua, one for every day of the year for a sybarite intent on enjoying the gifts of sun and wind and water. Lewrie's coach rolled up to the low overlook at one of them on the north end of the island two days later, just at low tide, when the sand would be firm underfoot. He had with him Keith Ashburn, a naval surgeon, and Captain Osmonde of the Marines, formerly of Ariadne and now captain of Marines in the eighty-gun Telemachus. Osmonde had drilled Lewrie hard for those two days to get him in shape.
Wyndham and his party were already waiting; 0' Boyle his second, a regimental surgeon and his friend Ames. There was also an Army officer from the garrison, a Major Overstreet, who would referee. There was a small fire burning, and the regimental surgeon's tools and instruments were already boiling to lessen the shock of cold steel to the flesh of the loser. ’Admiral Matthews gave me a message, Mister Lewrie," Osmonde said as he flicked some invisible dirt from his uniform after they had stepped down. ’Aye?" Alan asked, ice-cold and already very thirsty. "While he deplores the idea of dueling, he deplores the insult to his niece even more. I doubt if your feelings matter to him… but he told me to tell you that his hopes are with you. ’
‘That was kind of him, sir," Alan said, disappointed. "For a while I thought he would not allow us to meet.’
’I think their commander tipped the scales, smug little bastard. Thought Miss Beauman was a common dell, no matter who her uncle was." Osmonde laughed without humor. "The lad's built like a young bull.’
He indicated the enemy below on the beach-Lieutenant Wyndham was a thick and stocky fellow, bluff and hardlooking. ’Somewhat of a duellist. Fought two with pistols, killed his man both times. Only once with a blade, won it but no fatality. ’
‘You do little to reassure me, sir," Alan said. A servant offered him a mug of small beer, which he drank at greedily. ’Keep nothing on your stomach," Osmonde advised. "It will sour on you soon enough and turn heavy as lead.’
’Aye, sir.’
’Wet your lips and tongue but don't swallow much. I know that thirst, boy, but you can have all you want to drink once this is over," Osmonde cautioned. "Hopefully… ’
‘Aye, sir," nodding, hoping and praying that was so. ’One thing in your favor I have learned," Osmonde said as they descended the overlook to the beach. "Your foe is very fond of the bottle. Puts it down like small beer, and he's spent the last five weeks aboard ship doing nothing but getting cupshot and lying about. He's been ashore less than a week, and the heat is affecting him. Now you're recovered from the Yellow Jack, you've been riding hard, fencing hard, kept yourself fitter than him. I'd wear him down. Fend him off, 'ti! he begins to drag. Were you fencing with the usual choice of weapon, he might still have the stronger and quicker wrist, but a navy cutlass will wear him down fast enough.’
’Yes," Alan intoned, barely hearing Osmonde for the rush of blood in his head and the sound of his breath rushing in and out so full of life. Why did I want to defend the silly mort, he thought queasily. I've no honor, and everybody seems to know it. ’I trust that you have become a dangerous man, Mister Lewrie," Captain Osmonde said, pumping his hand. "And my best wishes to you.’
Lewrie shed his uniform and undid his neckcloth, tossing it aside. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the sight of the gulls wheeling over their cove-sheltered beach, the play of sun on the bright green water. He shook himself all over to loosen his tenseness. This is what comes of getting involved with a chicka-biddy young girl. I should stick to whores. ’Gentlemen," Major Overstreet called them together. "That a blow was struck, and grievous insults exchanged notwithstanding, they were brought about by strong drink, and can be excusable. I charge both of you now, is there no way to settle this quarrel without recourse to steel?’
‘Only if Lieutenant Wyndham publicly recants his slurs on the lady in question, his slurs on me, and apologizes for striking me, sir," Alan stated as calmly as he could, feeling trapped and knowing in his heart that it was not going to be that way. He could see the swaggering, superior way Wyndham glared at him. ’I stand by my statements, sir," Wyndham replied. Overstreet sighed. "Then it is my sad duty to allow you to proceed. The weapons chosen by the aggrieved party are naval cutlasses. You shall both draw a weapon which your second shall offer you. You shall separate to the red pegs, which are five paces apart. You shall salute each other at my command, then take what guard you will and advance to touch blades. On my count you shall begin. I shall say one, and two, and three, begin. The duel shall continue until such time as one party has received his third cut. At that time I shall call you to cea.
e. Should honor be deemed satisfied, the duel will end. Should you not feel that your cause has been redeemed, your seconds shall inform me and the duel shall continue until such time as one or both of you has fallen. A disarm shall be considered a touch. Should either of you advance threateningly before my count, or fail to halt after the third cut at my call, or if one of you attempt to strike the other after disarming the other, the second of the offended party and I shall shoot him down. Do you wlderstand?" They both nodded, grim and pale. "Then take your weapons, please.’
Lewrie went to his peg, where Ashburn stood. He offered him a cutlass hilt-first. "Pray God for you, Alan," Keith whispered. "Now why don't you cut the swaggering duckfucker up'" Lewrie nodded to him and touched him on the shoulder wjth his free hand, then turned to face Lieutenant Wyndham, who was getting the feel of the heavy cutlass as though he had never handled one before. It was a plain weapon, heavy as sin, a simple chopping weapon with a wide blade and only one edge and a point of sorts at the end of the upward curve, like a caricature of an infantryman's hanger. The hand-guard was of flat steel with a ring guard and a wooden handle, which had been rubbed with dust to stanch the expected sweat. ’Salute," Overstreet called, raising a long double-barreled pistol at half-cock. Wyndham took up a graceful, balanced pose with one hand over his shoulder, perfect as a French sword instructor, his blade in quarte. Lewrie brought his own blade to octave and he had to smile at the incongruous sight of someone posing with a cutlass as though it was a foil. "I shall begin the count," Overstreet intoned. "One… and two… and three…
begin." They advanced with small steps, blades trembling with anticipation. First beat rang hesitantly as they explored. The army man opened with a thrust, which Lewrie beat aside, and then Wyndham responded with a cut -over. It was obvious that the lieutenant was a point man. They fenced in school style fora while, Lewrie trying Wyndham's disengage and parry style, eyes on Wyndham's own, his point, and the set of his feet.
Wyndham exploded with a sudden lunge. Lewrie parried it off high to his left, stepping aside the thrust in quartata, then swung at the unbalanced man and came a toucher of disemboweling Wyndham, who leaped back like a cat, eyes wide with surprise. Lewrie went to the attack with a feint thrust, beating aside the parry and lunged himself. Wyndham gave a grunt of alarm and stumbled backward to fallon the firm sand beach, while Lewrie spun past him and took up guard, waiting for him to regain his feet.
Lewrie understood what Osmonde had meant. What little small beer he had drunk was sloshing around in his belly like a sack of mercury, and his thirst was hellish. The exertion felt debilitating, and they had barely begun! But he found time to whirl his cutlass in mock salute and raise one eyebrow in a cocky grin as Lieutenant Wyndham got to his feet and began to advance once more.
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