Man Of War

‘The only difficulty that presents itself now, Miss Rebecca, is that Archer will not be rejoined when we pass Malta, so we must trust to a lighter or some such to convey you ashore.’ He realized he might be alarming her. ‘But be assured, you will not be permitted to hazard yourself for a moment.’

‘Oh, I do not mind that in the least, Captain Peto. I am quite prepared to share the hazards of the service – just as the sailors’ wives below.’

Peto looked surprised at the mention of the women; he had quite forgot them. And . . . ‘How do you know of the . . . wives?’

‘Mi-iss.’ Flowerdew proffered Rebecca her glass of water. ‘Can I serve the kej’ree now, sir?’

His cook had acquired the dish when they had been on the East Indies Station, and it was now a firm favourite. ‘By all means.’

‘I saw them when they came on deck yesterday,’ said Rebecca, following Flowerdew to the table, perfectly at ease.

Peto had been content to let the women take the air during the afternoon watch. ‘Ah, yes.’

‘I found them very pleasant, very civil,’ she continued, spooning kedgeree to her plate. ‘They seem to endure a good deal on account of their husbands, I think. Do not you, Captain Peto?’

Peto almost turned red. He did not doubt that the women had been on their best behaviour, but even so . . . ‘Ye-es. Just so. However, I think it best, Miss Rebecca, if you do not converse with them. It . . . it is . . . unsettling.’

Rebecca’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, I am very sorry, Captain Peto, if I have offended. I would not wish for one moment to unsettle anything. I am aware that it is somewhat irregular in any case for there to be any females on board a ship of war.’

Peto nodded as in turn he helped himself to kedgeree. ‘Irregular, yes, but not unknown. It is a pleasure to have you on board,’ (he would change the subject) ‘but after a few days at sea you will be glad of Malta. The harbour at Valetta is one of the finest sights I ever beheld.’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Yes, my father said the same in his letter to me. And I have seen paintings of it too. But I assure you, Captain Peto, I shall by no means tire of being at sea – not in your ship. It is a revelation to me, so that I quite see now what it is that has animated my father these many years.’

Peto smiled. Any praise of the service brought him satisfaction, and praise of a ship of his the most intense pride. But more than that, this girl, this . . . young woman (he must make up his mind) had such self-possession as to amaze him. He had next to no experience of those of her age and sex, and when he summoned to mind those volunteers and midshipmen of the same age he had known (even, he had to admit, himself) he found the comparison unfortunate. ‘That is very gratifying, Miss Rebecca, though I must point out that we have unusually calm seas, a fair wind and some days in hand. It may not be so agreeable when we reach Greek waters.’

Rebecca sprinkled salt about her plate. ‘I should so very much like to accompany you, Captain Peto. I should so like to see my father at sea, in his true element. And my brother, Henry: he is midshipman aboard my father’s flagship.’

Peto smiled again, indulgently. ‘I think it a charming idea, Miss Rebecca. Only the threat of powder and shot rather makes it less so.’

Rebecca looked a shade affronted. ‘I should not mind that, Captain Peto!’

He sighed, inwardly. These girls – these women indeed: they had no conception of how shot transformed a deck from the most agreeable place on earth to a representation of hell. In seconds. But he could not blame her for it, nor even chide her. Besides, the matter was hardly of moment, a mere hypothetic. He would change the subject again, this time more subtly. ‘You understand, of course, that in part our engagement in the Eastern Mediterranean is not unconnected with the suppression of slavery.’

‘How so, Captain Peto?’

‘The Turks have been abducting the citizens of the Peloponnese and taking them to Egypt.’

‘I did not know that. It is perfectly dreadful.’

‘Quite. I do not understand the Turk: I have met so many fine fellows, and yet they seem capable of unspeakable barbarity. Thus are all men, perhaps, but I never saw such wanton cruelty as is with the Ottomans customary.’ (He rather forgot himself in the unaccustomed situation of having an interlocutor at his table who was not in the service.) ‘I confess I was uncertain of this venture – compelling them to leave Greece – though delighted nevertheless to have command of Prince Rupert. But if it comes to a fight I shall shed no tears for them.’ He now realized he had spoken in rather too sanguinary terms for a daughter whose father, and brother, would be in the thick of the fighting if it came. And, for that matter, he had spoken rather too freely about his own thoughts – as if Miss Rebecca Codrington, indeed, had been Miss Elizabeth Hervey. He cleared his throat.

‘More kej’ree, miss?’ asked Flowerdew, offering the bowl.

‘How do you like it, Miss Rebecca? Speak plainly,’ added Peto.