25th May - Lieutenants in the tavern

"Good to see you, Cartwright," Bush said, nodding at the Marine lieutenant, "No need to apologise."

While he had been anticipating Cartwright's appearance, Bush was very glad of his arrival now, for it meant the woman had to give up her seat to him. He breathed a sigh of relief as she got up, hoping that she might take the opportunity to ply her trade elsewhere.

Taking advantage of the respite, he actually took Deverel's suggestion, finishing off his wine and setting the empty glass back down on the table. The wine was quite good, after all. Surely it would not be harmful to have some more...

Cartwright nodded, slipping easily into the chair that had been newly vacated. "Thank you, sir," he said to Mister Bush before glancing impassively at the other sea officer at the table. He remembered Lieutenant Deverel quite well. Mister Bush had considerable patience to endure Deverel's presence.

"Lieutenant Deverel," Cartwright went on. "How is your arm, sir?"

Deverel's gaze had followed the woman, and now he was brought up by surprise at Cartwright's question. "What? Oh, my arm!" He demonstrated its function. "It's getting on prime, sir, thank you, and thanks to Defiance's sawbones. And how is your..." His foggy memory could not quite recall whether or not Cartwright had been injured at the fort, or in what way. "How've you been getting on?"

Their conversation was interrupted once again by the arrival of the slender young serving woman bearing a bottle and another glass for the newcomer. She smiled as she poured for Cartwright, asking "Senhor is Terpsichore too? Beautiful fragata, and... swift?" She flashed another smile at Lieutenant Bush. Deverel cleared his throat and held out his glass to be refilled.

"I have been well, thank you," was Cartwright's response. It was plain that Deverel had over-indulged in wine. Fortunately, the barmaid reappeared with a fresh bottle. Cartwright nodded his gratitude and said, "Yes, she is that. A fine ship indeed."

"Fine ship, beautiful!" the young woman echoed. She seemed to take an instant liking to Cartwright. She became bold. "I like see her. I like to see her." Then, frowning, weighing the foreign words carefully, she concluded "I want to see her."

Bush had been taking another drink of wine when the woman spoke again, and he ended up halting slightly in mid-swallow upon hearing her unexpected request. This caused him to cough a bit, until he recovered his composure and turned to her.

"I fear that would not be advisable, ma'am," he said, shaking his head, "I can't imagine what for reason you would want to see the ship. I've already told you that Captain Bolitho has no need of any more wine."

Deverel snorted. "You ought to come along with me, dear girl. Defiance is a seventy-four. You don't want to see a little frigate. A frigate is swift, but much smaller, and," he added with a significant smile, "the lieutenants' quarters are much smaller."

"Seventy-four?" she repeated, not understanding.

Cartwright poured himself some wine and shook his head. It was pure good fortune for Mister Bush that he had come along when he did.

"Yes," he said, with a mischievous glance at Mister Bush. "Seventy-four. Much better ship than Terpsichore."

"That means the ship has seventy-four guns," Bush explained to the woman.

He caught Cartwright's glance and nodded. "Mr. Deverel does have a point though, ma'am. I'm sure you would much prefer touring his ship and spending time in his quarters."

"Quarters?" she repeated, still looking confused. Deverel descended into a fit of snickering. "I want Terpsichore," she said again with gentle emphasis.

"No," Bush said firmly, "Absolutely not."

Glancing at the woman, he added in a slightly less-stern tone, "There are plenty of other ships where you could go to sell your wares." And wine most likely isn't the only thing you're selling, I'd wager, he added to himself.

Her face was a mixture of disappointment and irritation. Clearly it was impossible to reason with this man. She turned her attention back to the one in red. "Senhor," she said in a low, pleading voice.

Cartwright hid his face behind his glass, trying his best to keep his expression bland.

She laid a hand on his arm, appealing to him in a sweet voice. "Senhor, I want to see Terpsichore."

"You know, Mister Bush," Cartwright offered, after collecting himself. "If she honestly wishes to see Terpsichore, we should not discourage her. The ship is, after all, within sight of the docks."

The young woman couldn't not quite understand the man's meaning, but she did recognize his conciliatory tone. "Yes?" she asked with a hopeful smile.

Bush frowned. Cartwright was not seriously thinking of acquiescing to the woman's request, was he? In truth, there would be no harm in letting her see the Terpischore from the docks. His concern was that it sounded like the woman was hoping for more than just a glimpse of the ship.

"But I don't think we need to encourage her either, Cartwright," Bush muttered into his glass as he raised it to his lips again. That was when he found that he had finished off the wine without even realising it. The woman had been distracting him so much that he was not even aware of how much he was drinking. Frowning again, he put the glass back down, albeit a little harder than he had anticipated, judging by the clunk on the table.

"Yes, that is true," Bush said, then he turned to the woman, "But I can't help wondering why you are so keen on seeing the Terpsichore."

The Marine tipped up his own glass again and this time found it easier to keep from smiling. It was improper to take pleasure in the discomfort of a superior officer.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir," Cartwright said and reached for the wine bottle, to top his glass and Mister Bush's as well.

"Yes? You say yes?" the woman said, now beaming at Bush. She had caught the one word that mattered most in his speech. "Thank you, senhor! Tonight?"



"I think the filly's got the wrong idea now, Bush," Deverel said with a smug smile, taking the bottle from Cartwright. It was nearly empty. "Bring us another one of these, eh, sweetheart?"

Oh damn it all. Bush closed his eyes in frustration, wishing he had re-thought his choice of words.

"Ma'am, will you please tell my why you wish to see the Terpsichore?" he said, exasperatedly.

Looking up, he caught a glimpse of Deverel's smug grin, which only made Bush fume all the more.

"Yes," she answered with a smile, again seeming not to understand. "I want to see Terpsichore."

"But why do you..." Bush shook his head, knowing it would be futile to bother asking again. For some strange reason, the woman was set on seeing the Terpsichore. Well, hopefully that was all she wanted, because seeing was all she was going to do. There was no way he was going to let her come aboard for any reason, not even to sell wine.

"You may see the ship from the docks," he snapped, "Nothing more."

She started visibly at his gruff reply. She stared at him in surprised dismay, then cast a glance at the others to make sure it was not simply an unkind joke before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the tavern altogether.



"Wait, what about our bottle?" Deverel called after her halfheartedly. When she did not return, he waved over the more buxom woman who had served him before. "Mean heart old sod you are, William," he said with a laugh. "Wha'd you wanna go and do that for?"

"Lieutenant Bush," Cartwright corrected and pointedly plucked the wine bottle from Deverel's fingers. "He is quite correct, as it happens. Her motives are clearly anything but innocent; indeed, she shall not be permitted aboard. Now. A fresh bottle, gentlemen?"