Harry adopted a mocking tone, knowing they could be overhead, and indicated the approaching shore. Too late, brother, your reputation with these people will always be that of a base creature."

  James timed his pause to perfection, allowing Harry's words to take effect, before replying, I shall bear my mortification easily, brother."

  Heads that had shown signs of a nod, stopped abruptly.

  Commands were being yelled from the quarter-deck as the Sw~fisure reduced sail. The breeze had been full of the scent of the land, though it bore little relation to Evelyn's elysian description. It consisted of a burnt smell of baked earth, mixed with the odours of wild rosemary and thyme, still with the tang of the sea. But it had changed abruptly as they entered the harbour to the unpleasant odours that one would find in any great seaport.

  "There are some sleek craft here, said Harry, calling his brother's attention to the ships he'd spotted earlier. James scanned the harbour, looking from one ship to another, without being able to identify the fast from the rest.

  "See, over there. Harry pointed his finger and James followed his gaze. Several boats were tied up close together. Even James recognized that they were of a more graceful shape than most of the other vessels. Harry reeled off their details. Schooners, two- and three masted barques. Ketch-rigged sloops, chasse Lnar~es. James was soon hopelessly lost, not knowing to which ships Harry was referring. He turned, and was pleased to note that Pender looked equally perplexed.

  "I wonder of any of them are for sale, said Harry finally.

  "I hope that is something that can wait till tomorrow, brother. I, for one, am looking forward to some of the comforts associated with being ashore, like a solid surface beneath my feet."

  "A lubber to the last, James."

  "And proud of it, brother."

  Harry suddenly flung his arm out, his action causing more than his brother to look in the direction he was pointing. They saw, emerging from behind a cluster of merchantmen, a sloop, with the tricolour flying stiffly from the sternpost. Awnings were rigged over the deck and poop, making it impossible to determine what was happening aboard. But Harry had no doubt they were under observation. The side of the Swflsure was soon lined with officers and men, naked in their curiosity at the first real sight of their enemy.

  "Better see to our things, Pender. I must ask Barnes for the use of a ship's boat. He turned to James. Let us hope that your wit, or ship's gossip, does not leave us to seek out the services of a Genoese bum boat."

  Pender went off down the companionway.

  "It's beautiful, Harry, said James, waving his arm to take in the great arc of the mountain and the harbour within.

  "I was going to bring Caroline to Italy, he continued. The smile disappeared from Harry's face. She used to get so excited when I described it to her. The palaces, the colours, the temperament of the inhabitants.

  He turned towards his brother, his face stiff, masking the pain he felt. But it was not to be, Harry. Our stupid convention maintains that she must stay with her dull and drunken husband. Did you know he was nearly penniless when he wed her? Now he has control of her portion, he's spending her money in the same reckless way that he dissipated his own. She would have so enjoyed this."

  Harry didn't lack sympathy. But he did wonder how his brother would have explained to Lady Caroline Farrar some of the exploits he had undertaken in this selfsame Italy while on his Grand Tour. James had spent most of his time in Venice, simply the most dissolute city in Europe, gambling, drinking, and doing his very best to seduce as many women as he could in the time available. He had even smuggled himself into one of the Venetian music schools, set up to teach orphan girls to play a musical instrument. Supposedly places of virtue, they benefited from a Latin lack of hypocrisy, with tutors, most of whom had taken holy orders, living openly with some of the girls they taught. But being full of young women nominally under the care of the Church, they were extremely difficult places for an outsider to enter.

  He put these uncharitable thoughts aside. That's the first time you've mentioned her openly since we left England."

  James sighed gently. Yes. Surely that marks an improvement. But I cannot say that it truly feels like it. Perhaps when he has run through another fortune he will be less careful of his matrimonial honour."

  "Best not to dwell on it, James."

  "Dwell on it! James laughed. Not a minute of the day goes by that I do not think of her. Still, enough of this melancholy. He pulled himself up, rubbing his face with his hands. It makes for poor company. It strikes me, Harry, that if we are going to hang about in these parts, we had best inform Arthur. You know what a fussy old woman he is."

  "Good idea, said Harry. He did not continue, since he saw no point in getting into a discussion about their brother-in-law, Lord Drumdryan. James disliked Arthur, seeing him as a penniless usurper lording it in the family home. But then James had first encountered him as a young boy. He'd never quite got over the fact that his beloved sister, Anne, who had raised him after the death of their mother, had married in the first place. To have gone and married a man who saw it as part of his duty to interfere in James upbringing had guaranteed a clash of personalities.

  Harry, while keen to avoid him, had nothing but gratitude for Arthur's industry. He did all those things that Harry should have undertaken as his father's heir, not only leaving him free to pursue his own pleasures, but managing affairs in such a way that the family patrimony increased, in terms of both wealth and power. And having met him when fully grown, he had a chance to appreciate Arthur's mordant wit. Added to which, much as he loved his sister, he did not hold her in the same high esteem as his brothc~.

  But James had the right of it. He must inform his sister's husband if they intended to stay any time. For Arthur, on the basis of Harry's last letter, sent from Gibraltar, would be expecting them home. Harry did not doubt that, left to cope, Anne's husband would continue to manage their affairs in the same exemplary fashion he had shown hitherto. Arthur would meet with the great on their behalf, and lacking wealth him seW would take great, and justified pleasure, in doing so.

  "When you do write, you must take care to send him my warmest regards. James's voice held the same tone of wicked irony that he had used to address the officers of the Sw~ftsure.

  Was it those barbs and rumours coming home to roost, or really the requirements of the service? Barnes, who had come on deck to see the ship anchored, smiled coldly at Harry's request for transport. No boat would be available to take them ashore, every one seemingly pressed to help load supplies. Harry could do nothing but nod, and walk away.

  Noisily the crew went through the drill. Soon the Sw~flsure was anchored head and stern, rocking on the slight swell. As if to rub home the insult one or two of the ship's officers had gone off as soon as they were at single anchor, leaving their fellows to complete the task. The other ship's boats were put to work, but the suspicion of deliberate malice hung in the air.

  They had to wait on deck surrounded by their luggage, strenuously containing their impatience, hoping for a wherry. But they were fully occupied. Even the victualling agent, a portly fellow who spoke thickly accented English, complained about the time it had taken him to get out to the ship. Women piled aboard, gabbling away in Italian, and throwing meaningful looks at those working on the deck, before going below. The watch on duty, fully occupied in the loading of stores, plied to with a will, waiting for the chance to get down to the sweating and heaving main-deck, and enjoy the pleasure they had been so long denied.

  "I imagine it's getting crowded down there, said James, as he watched several vendors and yet another boatload of 14'omen come aboard and disappear below.

  "You should have a look, said Harry. It will be quite a sight."

  "I wouldn't if'n I were you, said Pender, who had come on deck looking slightly bemused. New to the Navy, he had never seen what it was like in a ship when the captain was lax about letting women aboard.

  "I ain't seen nothing like it in my life, he continued. They're putting more strain on the hull than a full gale. It's a wonder the barky don't sink."

  "Isn't that what happened to the Royal George in the year 8o? asked James.

  "It's never been officially admitted as the cause, said Harry.

  The Royal George, a second-rate of ninety guns, had been at Spit-head, fresh back from a cruise, and the hands just paid. The carpenter had informed the captain of a leak below the waterline and, with the ship sitting in a dead calm water, he asked for that it be heaved over so that he could come at it. This had been achieved by the shifting of stores and guns to produce a list to starboard. Then someone had spotted some shoals of mackerel in a frenzy, no doubt being preyed upon by bigger fish and trying to escape. The smooth surface of the water to starboard had erupted, with a hundred square yards of leaping fish. All the visitors aboard, men as well as women, unused to such a sight, had rushed to the side to look through the open gun ports, already close to the waterline. No exact toll had ever been established, but as well as the crew of seven hundred men, it had been reckoned that when she capsized she had somewhere in the region of seven hundred women on board, proper wives some of them, but mostly the local women that had themselves rowed out to every newly arrived ship. The Royal George went down like a stone. Some two hundred souls were plucked from the water, including the carpenter and his mates.

  "Does the Admiralty ever admit that it or its officers can be at fault? asked James.

  Harry smiled. The Admiralty, never. The officers? Rarely. And they hang or shoot them when they do."

  James thumped the bulwark impatiently. How long before we get a boat?"

  "We'll have to wait till the watch on duty have had their fun before any of them become available. And then they will only take us ashore if Barnes tells them to. After what Pender says, I doubt they'll volunteer."

  "Then I may as well go and see this phenomenon."

  James strode to the companionway and went down to the main-deck. The scene that greeted him was astounding. Traders had set up stalls between the guns, selling all manner of things, including trinkets which the hands were being encouraged to buy for the whores. Food and drink were freely available, and all the while, over guns and mess tables, in full view of their uninterested companions, some of whom were reaching over their recumbent mates to buy various articles, sailors and their consorts were engaged in every manner of sexual congress. The noise was like that of a city street, with men and women singing and laughing, the traders crying out to sell their wares, voices raised in praise and anger, and over it all the grunts and cries of ecstacy, real or imagined, from the copulating couples.

  No stranger to the low life of London, where you could add to this picture people begging and dying, horses, dogs, and all manner of animals with their attendant filth, the scene still made a deep impression on him. Men were outrageously drunk, staggering around carrying flagons of the local spirit, spilling as much as they consumed. Not an officer to be seen anywhere, which surprised him, since this mob would be of precious little use when the time came to resume their duties.

  Those officers still aboard were, of course, gratifying their own wants, be it with a bottle or a doxie, though in a more private setting.

  He was tempted to get out his sketch pad and record this mayhem, thinking that should he ever be tempted to paint the last days of Sodom and Gomorrah then this before him, with a very slight change of costume, was the perfect setting. A sailor being sick by his boots finally turned him away, and took him back to the quarter-deck.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Harry was talking to Captain Barnes, who seemed to have consumed a fair quantity of the local wine himself. The victualling agent stood impatiently to one side, sheaves of papers in his fat hands.

  "You must wait, sir. For the business of the Navy takes precedence over that of a private citizen."

  As James approached he could tell that Harry was angry, just as the Captain's swaying frame left him in no doubt that the man was very drunk. Barnes should have provided them with a boat as a matter of common courtesy. It had nothing to do with relationships with admirals, their luck in the matter of captures, nor with their choice of profession. He knew that, even if his brother had chosen to play down the slight. It smacked of petty revenge, though he could not help a twinge of guilt for having deliberately made matters worse. And it seemed that Harry had put aside his pride in order to ask the man again. No wonder he was angry.

  "It is an interesting interpretation of the duty of the Navy to fill the ship full of drink and women."

  Barnes stiffened at this rebuke. But his reply, intended to put Harry in his place, lost most of its force by being slurred. You're no longer a serving officer, sir, perhaps you have forgotten the responsibilities attendant on that."

  Barnes turned to include James in the conversation, giving him a drunken leer. Must let the hands have their fun, Mr. Ludlow. Then they will go to work with a proper will."

  Harry smiled grimly. You do not fear that when the ladies depart, Captain, a fair number of your crew will go with them?"

  Barnes did not see the fat victualling agent nod vigorously at these words.

  "We will lose a few, for sure, he replied, putting his hand on the bulwark to steady himself. But we'd lose those anyway. They'll find it mighty hard to make do ashore, here in a foreign port. Even if they do run, we'll have them back in a day or two."

  Harry glanced quite deliberately at the section of the port with its barques and schooners tied up to various buoys. Barnes did not follow his gaze, and Harry decided it was not his place to point out to a serving naval officer that with the presence of a number of English privateers in the harbour, not to mention a French warship, he had precious little chance of getting back any man who chose to desert.

  "Barge putting off from the fort, cried a midshiphian.

  Harry turned to look as Barnes, ignoring the pleas of the victualling agent, still vainly waving his papers, peered towards the main harbour. This was dominated by the round fort, bristling with cannon, at the base of the mole. An over-decorated barge, with a huge colourful pennant flapping at the stern, and smart, livened sailors at the oars, was racing towards the Sw~ftsure. Someone important was paying them a call.

  Harry looked back at the Captain, forcing himself to smile. It may well be quite late before we get ashore, Captain Barnes. I wonder if I can beg one indulgence that you will be happy to grant?"

  Barnes stiffened in the way drunken people do, suddenly wary.

  "You may not be aware that I'm carrying a certain amount of specie."

  Barnes face stiffened, then showed the slightest flicker of distaste, as though the possession of money was somehow bad form.

  Harry indicated the sea-chests and boxes piled in the middle of the deck, with Pender perched on top. Since we will be going ashore in a strange port, quite possibly in darkness, I wonder if you would be kind enough to let me leave my valuables, and our sea-chests, aboard the SwWsure. I can send for them in the morning."

  The proper response would have been for Barnes to insist that, being delayed to such an extent, they should all spend another night aboard ship. But he merely nodded, acceding to Harry's request,

  without even acknowledging the hint that had been implicit in it, before turning away and heading for his cabin.

  "Do remind me to curb my tongue, said James, as Barnes walked back to his quarters. A little respect would have gone a long way."

  Harrylaughed, causing the retreating captain to hesitate slightly. He then spoke loudly enough to be heard all over the deck Curb your tongue, brother. For what? And as to respect. There's precious little worthy of respect on this deck."

  "An interesting idea, Harry, yet not unique to you. I have often observed that people who give advice rarely follow it themselves."

  James made a dumb show of sudden realization. But if you're trying to get the Captain to sling us off the ship, I'd rather be a touch further inshore."

  "Pender, snapped Harry, looking hard at the approaching barge. Get our dunnage off the deck. Ask the wardroom steward to let you stow it in the lieutenant's storeroom. A chain round the casket again, with the lock secured to an eyebolt."

  Pender nodded, rushing to obey as the whistles blew and a guard was mounted to welcome the visitor in the gaudy barge. Several officers and midshipmen, in a worse state than their captain, lined the deck to receive him, and the poor victualling agent, still ignored, was pushed aside to stand, with the Ludlows, out of the way. Harry looked down at the barge as it glided alongside, noting that the crew s livery, as well as the gilding on the boat itself, appeared a good deal less gorgeous close to. Yet it was clearly the conveyance of someone important, for he had an escort of soldiers as well. Harry glanced at the marines lined up on the quarter-deck. They, at least, were sober and properly turned out, their white belts stark against the bright red of their uniform coats.

  The object of all this fuss was sitting in a velvet-covered armchair at the rear of the barge, immaculately attired in a coat of dark blue silk, his face hidden by a large tricorn hat fringed with short white feathers. A junior officer leapt aboard to apprise them of their visitor's rank, and Barnes was sent for immediately. The Captain came on deck still hauling on his full-dress uniform coat.

  "Who have we here? said James, looking over the side.

  "A senior officer, I imagine, replied Harry, looking at the flag at the rear of the barge. It bore the red crossed shield of the Genoese

  Republic, and the right to fly that on any boat implied the presence of an admiral at least.

  Sure that all due ceremony was being observed, the junior officer indicated that the important visitor should come aboard. The man left his chair and climbed the ladder on the ship's side with practised ease. Pipes blew, and as he swept off his hat, in a salute to the quarter-deck, Harry was at last able to see his face.

  Middle aged and dark skinned, even for an Italian, with jet-black hair tied with a red silk queue. He had a full face, and the skin, severely cratered, bore the unmistakable signs of smallpox, the marks even more pronounced on his prominent nose. Barnes raised his hat to return the salute, and welcomed his guest aboard. The visitor spotted the victualling agent, and called him over. They exchanged a few rapid sentences in Italian. Harry thought he saw the visitor's head turn in their direction. Barnes spoke sharply to the victualling agent, who had pulled a sheaf of papers from his pocket, before taking his newly arrived guest off to his cabin. The victualling agent walked towards them, papers in hand, looking somewhat crestfallen.