Page 17 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

‘The Coastal Brigade office is there,’ Miss Neville pointed, ‘at the end of the quay. I don’t see any cutters anchored at present off the jetty, so perhaps you’ll not have any duties to perform just yet.’

‘I must report in any event. As I’m not sure how long that will take, could I have you ladies leave me at the office and rejoin you later? At a local inn, where I could offer you some refreshment, in thanks for driving with me today.’

As he made the offer, he sent another prayer blessing his sister for providing the coins that made that small gesture possible. The thought of the humiliation of not being able to do even that strengthened his resolve to swiftly find a new, income-generating occupation.

‘The Knight and Dragon keeps a fine table. Papa and I often stop there when we have business in Salters Bay.’

‘Oh, yes, do let us meet there!’ Miss Holton said. ‘Mrs Merriweather makes an excellent roast and apple tart!’

‘The Knight and Dragon it is, then,’ Greville agreed.

A few minutes later, they reached the quay and he stepped down, handing the reins over to Miss Neville. After the ladies drove off, he stood immobile, watching until the gig turned down the first street and disappeared from view.

Then, squaring his shoulders, he mounted the steps of the small seaside office where his chequered past and uncertain future were about to collide.

Chapter Seven

Greville entered the building to find a small, swarthy man in sailor’s garb seated on a stool behind a desk in the anteroom. One side of the man’s face was covered with a bandana, while his visible eye focused on the elaborate knot pattern he was creating with a length of twine. One of the hands plying the rope was missing two fingers, Greville noted.

As Greville walked over, the sailor jumped up and touched his forehead respectfully. ‘Kin I help you, sir?’

Greville noted further that the old sailor balanced on one wooden leg affixed below his knee. No question, then, why this seaman was moored in port. ‘Yes, Mr…?’

‘Gunner’s Mate Andrew Porter, sir, late of the Indie.’

‘Ah, Indefatigable, a fine ship! I’m Greville Anders, late of the Illustrious.’

Porter’s one eye brightened with interest. ‘Was you on board for her action against the Algerines a month or so back?’

‘Yes, I was.’

‘Ah, what a fine fight it were, or so I’ve been told! Had a dust-up with that ship and her captain back when we was battling the slave trade off the Africa coast. Fierce fighters. Carrying quite a cache of gold this time, I hear, instead of the poor Europeans they used to sell off to them harems and such.’

‘So it was rumoured. I took the sharp side of a cutlass before we breached the hold. Though I fared better than you, the wounds were bad enough that they shipped me back.’

‘Aye, luckier by half,’ the man acknowledged with a nod. ‘I couldn’t tell you’d been wounded, whereas there’ll be no more deep-water sailing for old Andrew, more’s the pity. But why are you not in uniform, sir?’

With him wearing gentleman’s dress, the sailor took him for an officer, Greville realised. ‘I was transferred off in the rags of the clothing in which I fought the action. I had no seaman’s trunk to follow me, nor spare uniforms; I was impressed as a landsman.’

The sailor’s eyes widened as he took in that information. ‘Thought we weren’t impressing no more, now that the war against Boney’s over. And it weren’t never legal to impress gentlemen.’

‘The circumstances of my entering the Navy were rather…unusual. In any event, proceedings are underway to have me honourably released from the service. In the meantime, I am to report to the commanding officer here.’

‘That would be Lieutenant Belcher,’ the sailor said. ‘I’ll tell him you’re here.

Greville was duly escorted into an inner office with a window overlooking the harbour. Behind the desk sat an older man in a naval lieutenant’s uniform. Since he was wearing civilian dress—and if cousin Nicky prevailed with the Navy Board, he would remain garbed that way—Greville did not salute.

After the gunner introduced them, Belcher said, ‘Mr Anders, what can I do for you?’

‘Technically, Lieutenant, I’m still a landsman attached to the Illustrious, although I expect soon to have word from the Admiralty Board directing that I be released from service.’

Belcher frowned. ‘You, sir, are obviously a gentleman. How did you come to do service as a common sailor?’

‘Apparently the ship was vastly undermanned due to an attack of virulent fever among the crew. Eager to set off immediately for the Algerine coast, the captain instructed the press gang to take every able-bodied man they could find. Once underway, he had neither the inclination nor the opportunity to send me back.’

‘If you were confined with the crew, ’tis little wonder you seek a discharge! Most are scurvy knaves, working only for their rum ration and out of fear of the lash.’

Greville’s initially favourable impression of the lieutenant abruptly declined. How could an officer expect to inspire the respect and allegiance of his crew, if he held them in so little respect? There had been one or two such officers among the wardroom of the Illustrious—all uniformly despised by the men.

‘True, there were slackers and malcontents, but the majority were good solid men,’ he replied. ‘The ship ran with an admirable efficiency that would not have been possible without a skilled crew performing their respective jobs as a unit.’

Belcher sniffed. ‘If the ship ran with “admirable efficiency”, it was because the captain knew how to get work out of scum. I’m astounded that you, who claim to be a gentleman, could have served for any time aboard ship and remain ignorant of so obvious a truth. Unless your common sense was tainted by the common associations you formed below decks?’ he proposed, chuckling a little at his own joke.

Greville was not amused. Association with hard-working common sailors had made him a better man than he’d been a year ago. His entire view of life had radically altered after spending months as one of the powerless at the mercy of those who exercised power—for good or ill.

Without the compassion and assistance of several of those ‘scurvy knaves’, he wouldn’t have survived the experience.

‘That wasn’t my impression of the men aboard the Illustrious, but I allow you your opinion.’

‘Oh, will you now?’ Belcher cried, drawing himself up stiffly, as if to move away from the contamination of Greville’s views. ‘That’s not the manner in which a sailor addresses a superior officer, a fact I advise you to remember for such time as you remain attached to the Navy. In fact, I’d be of a mind to discipline you for it, but as I haven’t yet received word from Admiralty apprising me of your exact position, for now, I will exercise leniency.’

He leaned towards Greville, a banty rooster ruffling his feathers. ‘Don’t count on it happening again, sirrah. In any event, given your scant experience, you can’t be entrusted with any naval duties. You shall remain in Salters Bay until Admiralty sends me word of their decision.’

‘Am I dismissed, then, Lieutenant?’

Ignoring Greville’s question, Belcher said, half to himself, ‘I’ve got Black John Kessel moving in, intimidating villagers, even attacking my revenue officers. I need more veteran sailors to man my cutters, and they send me a useless landsman with peculiar opinions.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Very well, Anders, you may go.’

By now as angry as Belcher, Greville inclined his head. ‘Lieutenant,’ he said by way of farewell, determined not to accord the man a ‘sir.’

As he turned to the door, the lieutenant said, ‘I suppose I should enquire if you need billeting? I can have Porter find you something in town since you are, apparently, still the Navy’s responsibility.’

‘No need to trouble yourself,’ Greville said. ‘I’ve been offered hospitality for the duration by Lord Bronning.’

The lieutenant was nodding absently, but at that name, his eyes snapped wide. ‘Lord Bronning?’ he echoed. ‘Can you mean…Miss Neville’s father?’

Greville suppressed a smile. Apparently the glorious Amanda had made a conquest here. ‘The same. You are acquainted with his lordship and Miss Neville?’

‘We’ve been introduced, though I’ve never been invited to Ashton Gr—’ Belcher halted abruptly, his ruddy colour deepening with indignation as he realised this man whom he disdained was on familiar terms with the most important family in the locality—and he was not.

‘A most handsome property,’ Greville said. It might be ignoble of him, but he was enjoying Belcher’s chagrin. ‘You must visit it, should you ever have the opportunity.’ Leaving the lieutenant with his open mouth gaping like a beached halibut, Greville walked to the door.

Gunner Porter sprang up as he reached the threshold. ‘Should I add Mr Anders to the duty roster, Lieutenant?’

‘No!’ Belcher barked. ‘I’m not sure what to do with such a person,’ he added, his aggrieved voice still vibrant with anger. Turning to Greville, he said, ‘I shall dispatch a letter to the Admiralty, enquiring about your case. Report back here in a week, Anders.’

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