Paladin's War

by Peter Greene

Ever so slightly, he caught the eye of Hayes and nodded.

  “Abandon ship!” bellowed Gray as loud as a hurricane. “Overboard! Now!”

  Gray grabbed Williams and tossed the boy into the water. Cardew and Adams immediately went over the side.

  Using the marlin spike that he had loosened from its position at the rail, Hayes immediately struck the enemy closest to him in the temple. He grabbed the man’s sword and immediately cut the hawser, freeing the stern anchor line. At the exact same moment, Gray produced one of his fine pistols, took aim, and sent a ball directly into the line holding the bow anchor.

  Free of constraint, the Echo lurched forward, sending many on both sides of the conflict to the deck.

  “I said over the bloody rail, Echoes! Or damn you all!” boomed Gray, livid that so few had gone overboard as of yet.

  Hayes, done with his duty at the rope, reached an arm out to each side, grabbed Sherland and Hill by the collars, and tossed them over board. Wilson grabbed Neil and pushed him over the rail. Others immediately followed.

  Aggar, seeing that his plan was being challenged, bellowed the order, “We need the men in the tops! Address them!”

  His men immediately aimed their weapons to the sails and rigging, preventing many from escaping.

  “Aggar!” yelled Gray, who now stood on top of the rail.

  Aggar turned and pointed a pistol at Gray. However, the Englishman had produced his second pistol and fired. Narrowly avoiding the blast, Aggar dropped to the deck.

  Gray turned to jump, then looked up. A bit of luck, finally! he said to himself as the moon set behind the cliffs, plunging all into almost complete darkness. The view from the Echo of the swimming men was fast becoming shrouded in fog and darkness as the ship exited the bay. He smiled and leapt into the water.

  Aboard, the men in the tops were taken under control and worked the sails as best they could. The Echo was now almost completely out of the inlet, steadily slipping away into the dark sea.

  “The English commander and at least a dozen men must have made it ashore, Captain Aggar,” said Cherepanyanko, the tall, blond lieutenant.

  Aggar cupped his hands and called to the unseen shore, laughing. “Very well, Captain Gray! Bravo! Though, you leave me with no anchors, so I must leave you—leave you to die in this forsaken place! Nowhere to go and no way to get there! Thank you most kindly for this beautiful lady!”

  Gray had indeed made it to the rocky shoreline, exhausted from his strenuous swim in the heavy uniform he wore. He quickly assisted several other men—some wounded, others just having trouble climbing the rocks that dotted the coast. He took a moment to glance out to sea.

  Through the mist, he saw the stern of the Echo disappear into the night, hearing only the continuing laughter of her new commander.

  2

  Ice Cream

  “It is gooey. It is cold. It is sweet,” she said, her eyes blindfolded, but not too tightly, “and I believe it is…chocolate!”

  The ice cream concoctions Jonathan Moore and Delain Dowdeswell had just begun to devour were the specialty of M. Graham’s Tea and Sweets, the establishment being highly recommended by Mrs. Walker, Miss Barbara Thompson, and even Lady Bracknell. Jonathan quickly appropriated a scoop of the towering dessert that was in front of Delain, even though he had a tower of equal size in front of himself. He swallowed the stolen spoonful immediately.

  “Correct! It is chocolate! Your sense of taste extends beyond your obviously fine choice of jewelry, Miss Dowdeswell,” Jonathan Moore replied with a smile on his face.

  Delain also smiled and removed the silk scarf she had permitted Jonathan to tie about her eyes, allowing her to guess the flavor of the first ice cream she had ever enjoyed. Had it been almost a year since Jonathan had asked her to join him for this experience? It seemed a world away—and it literally was.

  “The jewelry, Mister Moore,” she responded, “was chosen for me, actually, by a fine young man I met in the Bahamian Islands. Presents, as a matter of fact.” She paused, a smile growing on her face. “Not much to look at, actually.”

  Jonathan furrowed his brow. Did she mean the jewels were nothing to look at, or was it the young man who was less than attractive? Either way, the playful insult was against him.

  “Miss Dowdeswell, I can assure you that those jewels you are wearing are not only handsome, but exotic. The silver dolphin with the blue jewel for an eye, which you have cleverly turned into a bracelet, comes from one of the finer shops in Piccadilly, just near here a block or two. And the turtle, the one you are wearing around your dainty neck, comes from Ribeira Grande in the Canary Island archipelago. Exotic indeed—and beautiful.”

  “Is it my neck that is beautiful or the necklace?” she asked, taking in another spoonful of the delicious frozen treat.

  Jonathan smiled, knowing he had turned the tables.

  “The necklace, of course. Truly a work of art.”

  “Mister Moore,” said the young lady, still playfully, “if you weren’t a gentleman and a young midshipman in His Majesty’s Navy, one of high standing and recognition, I would believe that your last comment was somewhat…boorish.”

  “And if you were not the respected daughter of the Governor of the Bahamas, the Honorable Lord Dowdeswell, a hero of the Crown,” Jonathan said, “I would think you were fishing for compliments. But that would be beneath you.”

  “Never think a compliment is beneath anyone, Mister Moore. You will know what I mean—if ever you should receive one.”

  This made Jonathan laugh aloud.

  Though Delain Dowdeswell had only been a resident of London for a few months, being sent from Nassau by her father to become “refined” in polite society, Jonathan knew that any attempt to change her in any way would end in utter failure. He had always believed Delain was a lady, proper and polite, from the first time he saw her. It was when she was away from her retainers and was rappelling down the side of an ancient fort, saving sea turtles on the beaches of Conception Island, or firing a cannon from a revitalized fort near the south seas of Africa, that the real Delain Dowdeswell, adventurer, came into her own. These actions would be remarkable for any grown man but were truly astounding when applied to a young lady. And it was because of these feats and more that Jonathan discovered his true affection for the blond-haired, irrepressible fourteen-year-old with a penchant for adventure.

  “Delain, I see the polite society of London that you have now been exposed to for the past six months has not affected your sense of humor.”

  “I won’t let them—as I am sure you expected, Mister Moore.”

  “I have learned that when it comes to you, Miss Dowdeswell, one cannot expect anything. One must simply accept the fact that one is going along for the ride.”

  This was the reason Delain enjoyed his company and attention. She knew that above all others, he accepted her for what she was, and that was a kindred spirit. Delain looked into Jonathan’s eyes and smiled as she considered him.

  To many in London and most of England, Jonathan Moore, also at the age of fourteen, had accomplished much more than men five times his age. Growing up separated from his parents on the streets of London, he was above all else a survivor. Being searched for and found by friends of his father, at the time an imprisoned British Navy captain being held in France, Jonathan was accepted into the family of HMS Poseidon. There, he became an integral part in the success of that crew’s mission. That fateful ship was commanded by Captain William Walker. He was made a lord by the king himself, in gratitude for his recovery of a huge sum of Spanish gold and the capture of the prize of the French fleet, the now renamed HMS Danielle, a seventy-four-gun battleship. All admitted that without Jonathan, the mission would have been less than successful. His industry, fortitude, and aspiration to learn resulted in a promotion to midshipman’s rank. His patience and desire to find his lost heritage rewarded him with a special gift: a reunion with his widowed father, now Admiral Nathaniel Moore. At the conclusion of that series of
events, Jonathan and the crew arrived at the Bahamian Islands for the refitting of their ship. A ball was held at the governor’s mansion in Nassau to celebrate their accomplishment, and it was there that Midshipman Jonathan Moore made the acquaintance of Delain Dowdeswell, the governor’s daughter.

  The following year, the crew of the Danielle returned to Delain’s island home and, after a series of small ventures, accepted the assignment of bringing the Ladies Dowdeswell—Delain and her two sisters, Rebecca and Penelope—to London. Her father had said they had outgrown the small island and now required exposure to the refinements of the world’s most important city to become true ladies. Though the adventure that awaited Delain in London held promise, the mission to which Jonathan and the crew of the Danielle were suddenly assigned seemed to hold potentially more excitement. Delain, predictably, became a stowaway, and one thing led to another.

  She and Jonathan, along with their particular friend, Sean Flagon, had the opportunity to turn the tide of a key action in the war against Napoleon. Her role of actually firing more than one cannon in the battle had even been mentioned in the newspapers of the great cities of Europe, making her somewhat of a celebrity. To her parents, however, there was a mixture of pride and confusion—though mostly horror—at her very unladylike behavior. Jonathan, who was with her the entire time, was completely accepting of her part and treated her as an equal conspirator in the actions.

  As Delain considered Jonathan in his smart, navy-blue-and-silver-trimmed midshipman’s uniform, she saw herself had she been born a man: a brave young soul, inquisitive and smart, fearless and competitive, someone always looking forward to the next adventure. She certainly had these desires now; however, as a man, she would be able to pursue such a life without ridicule for being the improper gender.

  “We have seen and done much, Miss Dowdeswell,” Jonathan said, surprising Delain, as if he had been reading her thoughts.

  “Indeed we have,” she replied.

  “Is the minor adventure of living in the great city of London yet to your liking?” Jonathan asked.

  “It has its attractions—namely, ice cream,” she responded, looking at the now-dwindling tower. “Though I have found that none of the ladies I meet here do more than sit and…look pretty.” She took another spoonful.

  “An easy accomplishment for you, Miss Delain,” Jonathan said, somewhat under his breath.

  “Pardon?” she said through the scoop.

  “What have you seen that you do find interesting?” Jonathan continued, ignoring her question entirely.

  She thought for a moment. There were so many things that she did not relish about the crowded city. Her new school was actually not as hands-on as she had experienced in the islands, having her own tutor and the entire coastline as her laboratory. Her time was now filled with supposedly stimulating events arranged by her aunt, Lady Bracknell. There were teas and luncheons and visits to the massive library on the edge of town.

  What became a worse torture than anything imaginable was the Swedish finishing school she attended near the Bracknell Estate. The simple history, mathematics, and English studies were not the issue; it was the dancing, manners, and etiquette lessons, learning to walk in a certain way, to present oneself in a ladylike manner, and to say the proper things as required by mannerly people. These drove Delain to madness. It wasn’t that she was against learning these things or that she found them difficult. Her mother had taught her well, and as all who met Delain could attest, she could turn on the charm at will and become a princess if need be. It was the fact that her teachers droned on about poise and posture and refinement so repeatedly that Delain felt her only purpose in life was to sit as rigid as a statue and smile.

  “I have fired cannon at passing French warships, Mister Moore,” she answered, “and I have recaptured a stolen British gunboat off the coast of—”

  “Yes, I was there. Do you not remember?”

  “Indeed. That was part of the fun! And because of those experiences, well, London will need to become much more stimulating to keep me interested. But I do find the people very fascinating. Take that man there, by the corner, with the gray coat and the small packet.”

  Jonathan looked out the window of the ice cream shop and observed the man. He was taller than average height and a little plump. He had a small, unkempt beard covering only his chin, and all his facial hair was gray. He checked the time with his watch. He looked as average as any Londoner.

  “He is quite unremarkable, isn’t he?” Jonathan asked.

  “His coat is too long for this time of year, Jonathan, and his beard is not trimmed tightly. His shoes seem a tad muddy, yet he wears an expensive wool coat, and his pocket watch looks to be golden. How does one have all those refinements and yet—”

  “Have an ill-kept beard? Yes, mildly amusing,” Jonathan commented.

  “And that other man there, looking at him from behind the boards in the alleyway? He looks like a thief or at least a scoundrel! See how he eyes the bearded man?”

  “A scoundrel? My! That is a harsh word,” said Jonathan, laughing.

  “We might witness a crime, Jonathan!” said Delain, dropping her pretense of ladylike addresses and calling Jonathan by his first name, a practice both followed when any situation or adventure became heated.

  They watched in silence; however, the bearded man simply walked onward. The man in the alley only watched until his subject turned a corner, and then he followed him from a distance.

  Jonathan and Delain continued observing, pointing out others that happened by, laughing, and trying to create entire histories to go along with some of the more interesting-looking people.

  What the Midshipman and the governor’s daughter did not realize, is that they too were being observed by another couple from within the shop, and this couple never took their eyes off them. There were whispered guesses as to exactly what the youngsters were talking about, and if at any time they should be interrupted. But it was decided that their conversation was still in its early stages, and for now they should be left alone.

  When the youths turned back to what remained of their desserts, Jonathan became slightly nervous, and his breath started and stopped with small hesitations. Finally, Delain looked at him and opened her eyes as if to say, “Yes, what is it?”

  “Miss Dowdeswell,” Jonathan said, after clearing his throat and taking a large breath, “As you know I am to be stationed aboard HMS Paladin shortly—”

  “Yes,” said Delain, somewhat sadly. “And our dear Mister Flagon is to go along with you I understand.”

  “Yes, he and a few others you will remember are joining us,” Jonathan said. “As a small test of the newly formed crew, we are assigned a position in a yacht race of some dozen craft tomorrow. The race begins at Portsmouth Naval Yard and is to head along the coast until reaching Hastings and then proceed to a point east out to sea, where the Paladin will sit as a marker of sorts.”

  “You will not be racing?” asked Delain, somewhat disappointed.

  “Unfortunately, no,” answered Jonathan. “The yachts must pass to our stern before they make their way northward toward the finish line at Dover.”

  “Oh. The Paladin will act as a buoy?”

  Jonathan winced. Then he tried to hide his reaction.

  “Well, no, not exactly. I would never call the Paladin a buoy, however—”

  “Oh!” Delain gasped. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

  “Not an issue, Miss Dowdeswell. There will be reviewing platforms set up at the finish, and I was w-w-wondering, if you have the time, if you would like to attend the race with my father and Miss Thompson, and perhaps j-join a small group of us at Captain Walker’s home for dinner afterward. W-we are celebrating Mister Harrison’s promotion to commander. And I would enjo-enjoy your c-comp—”

  “Are you inviting me on a date, Mister Moore?” Delain asked, surprised.

  “Well, n-no, of course not! I mean yes, it is a…B-but that would mean if you see it
in such a way as y-you might—”

  “I would be delighted, Mister Moore,” she replied, smiling.

  At this tender moment, the watchers decided to interrupt the two youngsters. They stood and walked slowly and carefully toward them.

  “Jonathan? Delain?” said Admiral Nathaniel Moore. He stood straight and tall, looking handsome in his uniform, though still he was eclipsed by the beauty of Miss Barbara Thompson, who had accompanied him to the ice cream shop. They had enjoyed a new concoction called a banana split, a most delectable affair that both devoured with little pretense of manners.

  “Yes, Father,” Jonathan responded.

  “Yes, Admiral,” said Delain.

  “Did you enjoy your dessert?” asked Miss Thompson. “Was it all you expected?”

  Seeing the question was for her, Delain responded quickly. “Yes, indeed! I would like to have one a day if at all possible!”

  “My!” said Miss Thompson. “Wouldn’t we all?”

  “Now, my Londoners,” said the Admiral, “we have a busy afternoon and evening ahead—a big day tomorrow as well. Jonathan, you have fencing practice with Mister Harrison in an hour, and afterward you will need to make certain that you and Sean are well rested for your duties tomorrow.”

  “Where is Sean?” asked Delain.

  “He is with Hudson and Hicks at the firing range,” replied Admiral Moore. “It seems that in all your adventures he has never learned to handle a musket, and frankly, what good is a marine if he cannot fire a shot?”

  “Some are able to make bombs, as I understand,” said Miss Thompson, in a somewhat defensive tone. It was well known in their circle of friends that there was a particular motherly affection that she displayed for both boys. After Jonathan had been reunited with his father, and the subsequent “adoption” of Sean Flagon into the Moore family, Miss Thompson assumed a role of protector, teacher, and promoter. Though not their mother, not yet at least, she doted on them like one, and the boys blossomed under her tutelage. Many in society watched not only the boys but the couple of Admiral Moore and Barbara Thompson, expecting that any day they would announce their engagement.