The Midshipman Prince (18 page)

      
“No, not at all; at least I am not trying to be. All I am saying is that we are strapped to that wheel. Its purpose is to turn, and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it. Today you can be as high as you can be, tomorrow as low as you can go. Tonight we succeed and we blow past a bored sentry without being seen. Tomorrow we might be watching our entrails spill out on the ground, complements of a rebel bayonet.

      
“There is nothing we can do about it either way, Lucas. Nothing at all.”

      
“Jesus, you sound so pessimistic.”

      
“Pessimistic?? Oh, good God, no. It’s glorious, Lucas, absolutely glorious. While I admit, we’re just along for the ride—what an incredible ride it is. Didn’t you feel it tonight?
 

      
“When we were in the water and the sentry was taking a leak, and we had that damn rat swimming past us, and we had to remain motionless... didn’t you feel it?”

      
“Feel what? Stop talking in riddles.”

      
“Christ, Lucas, have you ever—and I mean
ever
—felt more alive than at that moment. Are you telling me your eyesight was not keener, your hearing not more acute, your sense of smell and touch and taste—all as sharp as a knife’s edge? You didn’t sense that?”

      
“Well, yeah, I guess I did.”

      
“And was it not glorious?”

      
Walker bit back a smart remark. Besides, Smith was trying to make a larger point here and he wanted to understand it. “You make it sound like a game.”

      
“No, it’s not a game. That sentry really would have killed one or more of us if he had caught us. On the other hand, it
is
a game. A wild, wonderful, one.

      
“And if it’s a game... All I know is that I want to be a part of it. I want to play it until I can play no longer. Can you think of any possible way of spending your life that would be better than that?”

      
Walker continued walking in silence. He listened to the night sounds as they passed through woods and fields and to the crunch of his footsteps on the earth and stone of the roadbed. He smelled the unseen plants and trees. He marveled at the unbelievable canvas of stars above him. And, he thought hard about what Smith had said.
 

* * *

      
Sometime just before dawn they came across the Gloucester Road and turned north. With the morning sun came welcome relief to bodies that had been exposed too long to the night chill. They slipped into a stand of trees and bedded down as best they could. Smith had the first watch but it wasn’t more than two hours before he was shaking the others awake.

      
“Up! Everyone up. Someone’s coming,” Smith whispered. The four moved to a nearby group of shrubs and peered through.

      
“Down the road, about a half mile. By that rise.”

      
It was visible more by the plume of dust than anything else; but, sure enough, something was there. In a few minutes, they could make out a horse drawn cart.

      
“It’s a blagger,” Smith hissed.

      
“A what?” asked Walker.

      
“A blagger. Profiteer. Total scum. These are people who provide the soldiers with all the things the army is supposed to provide them, but doesn’t.”

      
“That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

      
“You don’t understand. The reason the men don’t have those things is because the blaggers have siphoned them off with everything from bribery to outright theft. You see, it’s not the big items they go after. They don’t steal muskets, they steal the cleaning kits and spare parts the men need to keep the muskets working. They don’t steal food but if you want a kettle to cook it in—see the blagger. Want shoes? Want a new blanket? A sewing kit? Want paper and ink to write home? See the blagger and he’ll sell it to you... at ten to twenty times the actual cost. They’re bastards.”

      
While the group was watching the road Walker heard a rustle and saw Susan pull Sidney Smith aside. They were having an animated conversation, but Susan seemed to have the last word. They returned to the lookout spot.

      
“You two stay here—and I mean
stay here
, no matter what you see—or think you see,” Susan said. And, with no further explanation, Susan and Sidney stood up, went to the road, and started walking down it. Sidney was walking ahead as if he could care less whether Susan followed or not; Susan followed with a dejected shuffle.

      
The blagger soon pulled alongside and after some initial conversation began a dialog with Smith. After a few moments, Smith pulled Susan over by the wrist and said something to her. She seemed to cringe. Smith then batted her on the back of the head—hard—snapping her head forward. Both Walker and Hanover tensed but stayed where they were. Slowly Susan lifted her skirt displaying two very pale but rather shapely legs.

      
The blagger got down from the wagon. He seemed to be all smiles, but it was hard to tell at that distance through the multiple chins on his puffy face. Hitching up his pants around his belly, he handed something to Smith, and then grabbed Susan to kiss her. She coquettishly pushed him off and indicated a stand of trees fifty yards or so on the other side of the road. Smith leaned against the wagon casually examining his fingernails as they went off.

      
Within five minutes, Susan had returned alone and Smith was wildly gesturing to Walker and Hanover to come down.

      
“Get in,” Smith yelled as he took the reins and spurred the horse into action. The horse took off at a shambling trot which, given the horse’s condition, was probably full speed for him.

      
“What the hell’s going on?” Hanover demanded.

      
“I just sold Susan and we now have a horse and wagon.”

      
“You did WHAT!?” Walker demanded, his eyes open wide.

      
“Well, I didn’t really sell her; I sort of... rented her out. Got a nice price, too.”

      
Susan quickly jumped in the conversation. “Relax, Lucas. The gentleman and I just went for a little walk.”

      
“A little walk,” Walker sputtered, not knowing what else to say.

      
“Well, it seems he had some amorous intentions as well.”

      
“And what happened to this amorous gentlemen?”

      
“I am not sure exactly. I think a tree limb must have fallen on his head somehow,” she said innocently. “I have such terrible luck with men, you know.”

      
Walker was stunned. “Of all the stupid, idiotic, things to...”

      
“Wait a minute.” Hanover placed his hand on Walker’s arm. “What’s keeping this man from coming after us right now, or rather when he wakes up.”

      
Susan didn’t say a word. She just dropped a bundle on Hanover’s lap containing the man’s pants and shoes.

      
“Just how much
did
you get, Sidney?” Susan asked.

* * *

      
The four ambled along in the cart for the remainder of the day alternately sleeping and eating from the profiteer’s extensive provisions. Susan was up in the buckboard and Hanover was driving, each alone with their thoughts until Hanover finally spoke up.

      
“Where’re you from, Susan?”

      
“Where am I from? Portsmouth. Actually, from Portsmouth Common up on the north side of town.”

      
“Family?”

      
“Father’s dead, mother’s still in Portsmouth last I heard; but it’s been quite some time. Had a brother before me but he died while still an infant.”

      
“What did your father do?”

      
“Ah, we were a seagoing family, we were. My grandfather was a master carpenter at the shipyards. My father was an able seaman aboard the
Swiftsure
under Sir Thomas Stanhope. He died at the Battle of Quiberon just before I was born. Don’t know how. They never told us.”

      
“I am sorry to hear that. That must have been hard on your mother and you.”

      
“Oh, yes. My mother was in her late 20’s at the time—so she was far too old to attract another man. With no money coming in, we had a rough time all right. And, you know the worst of it?”

      
Hanover shook his head.

      
“As I said, my dad served with Sir Thomas on the
Swiftsure
which had one of the best prize records in the Mediterranean. With all that prize money he was, by our standards, a wealthy man. When he died, though, all that money was forfeit to the Crown. ‘How can we pay a dead man?’ they told us.” Susan was getting agitated now.

      
“Well, the man might be dead, but he died in the king’s service and he still has a family. Instead, the bastards just take the money for themselves. You’d think the king has enough money without grabbing a few pounds from widows who...”

      
Susan suddenly realized to whom she was talking. The king was Hanover’s father and the “bastards” in question were his relatives.

      
“Oh my God. I am sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to... that is, I guess I just started thinking of you as ‘Bill’ and I forgot...”

      
“Relax, Susan. I am Bill, and don’t you forget
that
or it’s liable to get us all killed. Besides,” he said with a smile, “I’d give a hundred pounds for some people I can think of to hear what you just said.” He then got a far away look in his eyes. “In fact, if I ever get back to England... they damn well will.

      
“Anyway, do go on. What happened then?”

      
“Well, mother eventually got work with some other women making slow-match in the ordinance shed at the shipyard. I think someone there remembered my grandfather and got her the job. Anyway, she’s worked there my whole life—21 years. I am afraid she’s doing poorly now, though. All those years of breathing those chemicals.”

      
“So, you were destined to go to sea somehow yourself?”

      
Susan laughed and showed her wonderful smile. “Oh, Lordy no. That’s the last thing my mother wanted. She wanted me to be a lady.”

      
“A lady?”

      
“Yes. Oh, not in the sense of highborn folks like the ladies you know, but a lady nonetheless. When I was a little girl she used to save every penny she could so on Sunday I could wear a dress with silk ribbons sewn on it. I mean,
real
silk, Bill. I don’t know how she afforded that. Anyway, she’d spend all Saturday night combing my hair, humming to herself, and then dress me up on Sunday morning to go to church. And she’d tell me, ‘Act like a lady, Susan. Always act like a lady, because someday you’re going to
be
a Lady. A beautiful lady. As good as any of them.’ And, you know what?

      
Hanover shook his head.

      
Susan laughed, “I almost became one.

      
“I don’t know if you know this, but Portsmouth has a school. It’s called the Portsmouth Grammar School—it’s over on Penny Street—and they allow the children of Portsmouth—both boys and girls—to attend free. My mother made sure I attended. That’s where I learned to read, write, and do math; and that set me on a lifetime of reading. In fact, I’ll bet I can discuss the classics and the great works of literature as well as almost anyone you know. Anyway, I was well on my way to marrying the son of some rich merchant and becoming the lady my mother wanted me to be.”

      
“So what happened?”

      
Susan laughed again. “I met a gunner’s mate.