Cast Adrift - Book 03

"Excuse me, Mr. Carruthers," William said. "I believe that is my cue. We may have visitors with our port."

"There, sir," Matthew said as his captain emerged into the Mediterranean sun and accepted the proffered telescope. "Off the starboard bow. They've backed their sails and manned the decks. Seem a little short-handed though, sir."

"They no doubt want us to understand their friendly attentions. They are lowering down a boat. Prepare to welcome aboard a captain, bos'n."

"Aye-aye, sir."

The bosun's whistle was followed by the stamp of marines as an honor guard assembled to welcome the French commander aboard.

"Monsieur le capitaine," William said with a deep bow as the small, round man hoisted himself aboard.

"Captain. I am Phillippe de L'Arment. On be'alf of ‘is Majesty's government, I turn over to you the Incroyable.

"Merci, monsieur. Je suis . . ."

"Captain, I speak ze English quite well. But I thank you for your effort."

"Excellent. William Stanhope, sir, at your service. May I offer you some port, Captain? I am afraid you have arrived just after our supper hour, but I hope to have the opportunity to entertain you tomorrow. Is that your entire crew on deck?"

"Oui, Captain. There was a – how you say? – struggle for the ship. Those who follow Bonaparte were eventually evicted, although the cost was ‘igh. Rather than wait for more men, we decided to sail from port with a smaller crew."

"As a representative of His Royal Majesty's navy, I thank you for doing so, sir. Please come with me."

The wind backed into the north overnight and it took the ships three more days to reach Otranto, in the very southeast of Italy. The city and its C-shaped port had once been a duché grand-fief de l'Empire in Napoleon's Kingdom of Naples. It was now simply another port in the firm control of the British Navy.

********** "Pikers," Captain Sir William Stanhope said. "Dragged you out of a game of whist. Found you at your club. Hah! Gentlemen, I was on my bridal tour when the Admiralty's messenger reached me to tell me of Boney's escape." The three post-captains with whom he sat at a quayside trattoria two nights later were all senior to him, each of them with well over the three years of seniority that William would need before he could add the second epaulette to his uniform. They were all friends, however, and all comfortably bore his good-natured teasing. "I believe Samuel Johnson referred to it as the honeymoon," Captain Farquhar said. "‘The first month after marriage, when there is nothing but tenderness and pleasure.'" "In my case it was barely a quarter of a moon with my honey," William said. "We were married on the twenty-fifth. Boney bolted on the twenty-sixth. Thank God it took some time for the news to reach England." "I didn't know you had married," Captain Adams said, extending his hand. "Congratulations, young fellow." "Thank you, sir," William said as they shook hands. Captain Adams was the most senior of the three men with whom he was drinking. "One of those extraordinarily attractive young women that were always hanging on you in London?" Captain Carter asked. "This young dog, friends, always seemed to have two or three women vying for the next dance. "No, sir." William blushed. "My brother's widow. Lady Caroline Stanhope." "Not the Lioness?" Adams asked. "Yes, sir." "The Lioness?" Farquhar asked. "You was in the Caribbean then, Farquhar," Adams said. "She is the woman who saved our friend's bacon here when he tried to take L'Empereur. I saw her at St. James with you. An exceptionally beautiful woman. And she killed two Frenchies herself, didn't she?" "One, sir. Nursed the other back to health." "So she knows something of the naval life then, eh?" asked Carter. "She does," William acknowledged. "Not all of it favorable, though. She and Geoffrey were married for less than a fortnight when his ship had to put to sea. He died before he could return home. So you can only imagine how worried she is about me, having left her in nearly identical circumstances." "Surely you have heard from her since you left," Farquhar said. "We have been out here for three months now." "Yes, of course," William said with a smile. Her letters were perhaps unlike those received by any other officer in His Majesty's navy. Her first letter had informed him that she had decided to leave her funds invested with Charles Langhorne, a former naval officer whose success in steam propulsion was causing consternation throughout the older hands at the Admiralty. It was a businesslike letter and William was particularly delighted that she had nowhere asked him for his advice. Her second letter, informing him of his father's death from the long-term effects of the blow to his temple during the robbery on New Year's Eve, was much more emotional. She told of how Michael had held the Earl's hand during his last evening and how he had refused to die until Caroline forgave him for all that he had done. When she demurred, telling him that there was nothing to forgive, he had grown agitated. She had finally granted his request and the old man had died with a smile on his face. Her most recent letter had asked that, if his journeys took him anywhere near Otranto, the very port in which he now sat, he obtain a drawing of the castle and perhaps another of the entire port. Walpole's The Castle of Otranto was one of her favorite books. She would love to get a better idea of its setting. All three of the letters had contained the usual appeals that he take care of himself, that he take no unnecessary risks, and that he not try to beat Napoleon all by himself. All three contained Lucy's love for Matthew. All three expressed the wish that this war would end soon, and end forever. But all three shone with his wife's intelligence, her sense of humour, and her compassion. Sir William – Lord Stanhope now in truth, although he had told none of the other post-captains that – looked out across the water, lost in thought. "Lord Stanhope!"

The four captains looked up to see another of their fraternity approaching. "Captain," William acknowledged. "I took the liberty of calling on Lady Stanhope before I was sent out," the newcomer said. "She gave me a letter for you." "Thank you, sir. You see how worried she is, gentlemen. She sends young Torrington here to check up on me. Excuse me a moment." "It is you, Torrington," Captain Carter said. "One of my former mids, gentlemen. What desperate straits the navy must be in now." Carter laughed to remove the sting from his jest and invited Captain Torrington to take a chair and wet the swab while William read his letter. Dearest: This will be a short letter as I have no wish to allow this odious man to occupy a seat in our parlor any longer than etiquette requires. He tells me he is to have your ship. If he is correct, please convey my sympathy and concern to your crew. Hurry home, darling. Lucy sends her dearest love to Matthew. William smiled and put the letter into an inner pocket of his coat. The other men were all looking at him. "She's nearly prostrate with anxiety," he said. "She says you are to have the Classic, Captain Torrington." Torrington blushed. Allowing one's predecessor to learn that he had been relieved by anything other than an official communication was bad manners indeed. "I may have intimated, my Lord, my understandable pride in being given command of a vessel with such a well-deserved reputation as yours." The other captains rolled their eyes. More likely he had simply been boasting to an attractive woman. "My orders, sir?" Lord Stanhope held out his hand and Torrington handed him yet another letter. "Yes, yes, yes," William said, scanning the formalities until he reached the letter's most important sentence. "Ah, here we are. Directed to return to Gibraltar, there to take command of His Majesty's Ship Fortissimus." "Fortissimus!" Captain Adams banged his fist on the table, his face wreathed in broad smile. "Is there no end to your luck?" "I have not heard of her," William said. "A new 48-gun frigate, built to match the American's larger ships. A sweet sailer from what I've been told." "Well, gentlemen, it seems she will meet me at the Gib. In the meantime, to Captain Torrington!" "To Captain Torrington," they all echoed, raising their glasses. "May the Classic be as lucky for him as she has been for me." "Hear, hear." "Thank you, Sir William," Captain Torrington said with a flush. "Captain, sir." William looked up to see Matthew Cooper standing a respectful distance behind Captain Adams, a puzzled expression on his face. "Matthew, we are to have a new ship," William said with a smile. "Aye, sir," Matthew said. "Is something wrong, Matthew? You're hovering like a worried hen." "It's them Frenchies, sir." "The Incroyable?" "Aye, sir. They've been leaving their ship." "Leaving?" "Aye, sir. Boats have been slipping out all night. Which me and the purser's been watching ‘em from the dock." "Instead of finding a tavern?" Adams roared with laughter. "What sort of men do you have on that ship of yours, Stanhope?" "Observant ones, sir," William said quietly as he stood up. "We've been tricked. Launch's crew, Matthew. Three minutes." "A trick?" Carter asked. "Why would a crew of Royalists desert a ship in the middle of a crowded harbor, gentlemen?" William asked. "They're Frenchies," Farquhar said with a shrug. He looked around to his fellow captains but only the newly minted Torrington rewarded his wit with a laugh. Carter still looked puzzled. Captain Adams, however, was staring at William with considerable alarm. His ship, the 75-gun Audacious, was the closest to the Incroyable. "They would not, of course," he said. "But a crew of Boney's men . . ." "Exactly, sir. I was responsible for bringing the ship into the harbor. I must now see it out. Excuse me, gentlemen." "Launch's crew reports ready, sir," Matthew yelled from the quay. William took off at a run and leapt into the boat as his coxswain was untying its rope. "You understand what's happening, Matthew?" "Aye, sir. That French ship is being set to blow, sir." "You're already a step ahead of three post-captains, Matthew. We may make sailors out of them yet. Now row, men, row! The sooner we get on her, the sooner we can get off." They reached the French ship within five minutes and swarmed up the sides, surprising those few Frenchmen who had yet to desert the ship. They included Captain de L'Arment, who now found himself at the end of William's pistol. "You are too late, Monsieur," he said with a snarl. "In ‘alf an ‘our your fleet, she will be gone." "Half an hour, thank you, sir. How kind of you to use slow-match." "The magazine will never be opened in that time." "I don't doubt it," William said. "Now Matthew, get this lot over the side." "And let them escape, sir?" Matthew Cooper was outraged. "I'm sure the other captains won't let them get far, Matthew. And I have no men to devote to their imprisonment. The mainsail, men! Get ready to let her down! Are they away, Matthew?" "Aye-aye, sir." "Let slip the anchor, then. We haven't the time to weigh it. We need to get underway. Thank God the breeze is seaward tonight." Matthew hustled off to rid the vessel of its anchor while William dashed down the ladder to make sure that the Frenchmen hadn't left some opening to the magazine. He returned several minutes later and gave orders to unfurl the mainsail. Two more sails followed and the men returned to the deck. William ran to the wheel as he felt the ship lurch beneath him. It slowly began to pick up the wind. William pulled out his watch. "Fifteen minutes left, Matthew. The men back in the launch." "Aye-aye, sir." "Take them as far a leeward as you can. Head for the shore." "Me, sir? You want me to leave?" William glanced over at his coxswain. "It is suicide to stay here, Matthew. Someone needs to take them home." "But you, sir . . . And Lady Stanhope. I can't . . ." "You can, Matthew. You must. Tell her I love her. Take her the papers from my cabin. Now go. That's an order." "Aye, sir." "Oh and Matthew?" "Sir." "I love you too, Matthew." "And I, sir." "Now go." He looked back twice. The first time, the ship was still threading its way out of the other boats, both large and small. The second time he could barely make it out as it approached the southern arm of the harbor, headed toward the open sea. The first two explosions were small. Squinting, Matthew thought he could make out his captain on the foredeck in the light of the fire caused by the first. But then the second explosion set the aft part of the ship aflame. And the third, no less than thirty seconds later, blew the ship apart. ********** "With respect, sir," Lieutenant Jennings, first of the Classic, told his new captain. "The men insist that we must continue the search." "They insist, do thy?" Captain Torrington asked, a muscle below his eye furiously twitching. "Perhaps they did not hear me read myself in these five days past." "No, sir, they understand that you are the captain. But they request that I point out, sir, that after Lord Stanhope was lost, we lost three days to a storm. And that we have thus only actually searched for two days. Neither of which have taken us far from the harbor." "And is this your opinion as well, Mr. Jennings?" Torrington asked, nearly spitting the words. "I remind you, sir, that I am under orders to return this ship to the Gib." "No, sir," Jennings said. "I am yours to command, sir. But I fear the men are not mine to command. Perhaps, sir, you could order the ship back to sea, and on the way search the coast south of here." "Perhaps I could do that," Torrington agreed. "And the opposite coast, sir, across the Strait?" A frown spread over Torrington's young face again. "Lieutenant," he said gently, "I understand their love for Captain Stanhope. But the wind has been out of the Northwest for the past three days, ever since the explosion. He could not possibly have floated due east. And the men do not seriously propose that he could have survived all the way to Corfu, do they, or even further south?" "No, sir," Jennings said, biting his lip and shaking his head. "But a search, sir, even a perfunctory one, would endear you to the men." "Very well," Torrington said with a sigh. "Make it so, Mr. Jennings." "Aye-aye, sir." The men of the Classic took to the shrouds during every free moment they had, but failed to see any sign of Captain Lord Stanhope on the coast of Italy or the coast of Macedonia, or on the northern Ionian Islands. It was a morose ship that approached the British fortress at Gibraltar after a slow voyage up a surprisingly calm Med. "Our signal, sir," said the senior midshipman as they drew nearer. "P – E – A – S – E. Pease, sir. Pease pudding, maybe? Perhaps an invitation to dinner?" Captain Torrington and his mid heard a snort from Matthew Cooper. "You have a comment, Mr. Cooper?" the captain asked. "Peace, sir. They're signaling it's peace." "Peace?" Captain Torrington had never been good at reading signals. "Aye, sir," Cooper said. A cheer had already started to go around the ship. "Peace."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Caroline stirred sleepily in the luxurious sheets of her London home. Pushing her hips backward, she felt something between the two cheeks of her shapely rear end.

"Mmmmm," she purred, grinding herself against it. Looking back over her shoulder, she realized that she would have to take care of herself this morning; he was sleeping like a log.

That was fine, too, she thought to herself. She tugged on her nightgown until it was bunched above her waist. The man behind her was already naked and, she discovered upon reaching through her thighs, already aroused. Wrapping her slender fingers around his organ, she bent it forward to allow her to slide it between her legs.

"Oh, darling," she whispered. She loved the way it felt just plowing back and forth along her furrow. With one finger vibrating against her clit, she used the fingers of her other hand to align the cock with her opening.

"Fuck me, darling," she whispered, using language that she had no intention of ever letting her husband hear. "Fuck me."

She felt her internal muscles massaging the prick that filled her core, matching the rhythm of the finger that pulsed, slowly at first and then with increasing speed, against her stiffened clit.

"Oh, oh, oh," she squeaked, her voice a barely audible soprano as she felt her climax break over her like the waves of the sea. She lay there, her body trembling, until she felt it subside.

"Thank you, lover," she whispered with a giggle to her still sleeping bedmate.

A knock at the door interrupted her. She quickly disentangled herself and put on a dressing gown.

"Yes?" she said, opening the door a crack.

"Captain Torrington to see you, ma'am, and the crew of the Classic."

"The entire crew?" Caroline asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is Mrs. Cooper about?"

"Not yet, ma'am," the girl said.

"Wake her up, then. Tell her of our visitors. And please tell them I will be down as soon as possible."

"Yes'm."

Caroline dressed hurriedly and with a last glance at the sleeping figure on the bed she descended the stairs to find out what such a large party meant.

She opened the door to find a solid mass of sailors. There were hundreds of them, all dressed in dark pants and shirts – dark uniforms for the officers – and all of them with particularly grim expressions on their faces.

"Captain Torrington, I give you joy of the peace. Won't you come inside? And you, Matthew? Lucy will be down any moment."

"Madam," Torrington answered, removing his hat and swallowing hard, "the men have asked me to allow Mr. Cooper to speak on their behalf."

Caroline turned to Matthew, puzzled by the absence of his usual good cheer.

"Lady Stan'ope," Matthew said with a deep, formal bow. "On behalf of the Classic, I am extremely sorry to have to tell you of the death of Captain Stan'ope."

"The death?" Caroline asked. She took a step backward, her hand on her breast.

"Perhaps we should go inside, Mr. Cooper," Captain Torrington murmured, "and talk to Lady Stanhope in private."

"Aye-aye, sir."

"Oh, no, no," Caroline insisted resolutely. "I will not separate you from these men."

"Very well, madam," Torrington said in a faltering voice.

"The captain asked that I give you this, madam," Matthew said.

He handed over a packet.

"It is a tradition, madam," Torrington explained, "to have a letter for one's wife in case one, er . . ."

"Just so, sir," Caroline said.

She pulled the letter from the packet and tore open the envelope.

"Perhaps you would like to read it in private," Torrington said.

"Heavens, no. I'm sure all the men would like to hear my husband's letter."

Caroline gave the ranks of somber seaman a brave smile before returning her attention to the letter.

"‘My dearest: If you are reading this letter, I will not be returning. I hope that I have died an honourable death and that you will be as proud of me as you were of my dear brother Geoffrey.'

"I do seem to be bad luck for the Stanhopes, don't I, Captain?" she said in an aside to a horrified Torrington. "‘No matter the manner of my death, however, you must know that I died with a heart filled with love for you and with your name on my lips.' Still, it didn't stop him from cutting short our bridal tour, did it? I'm surprised not to find that nonsense about him not loving me so much loved he not honour more."

She cast a covert glance at Captain Torrington and his widened eyes before continuing.

"Ah, here's the part. ‘To the extent that my gallant crew survives me, I would ask you use such fortune as I possess to make them comfortable. I have never served with a finer group of men and would be proud to call the lowest lubber among them my friend."