25th May - Lieutenants in the tavern

Deverel gave the serving wench a leering smile as she filled his glass again. Tasty round morsel, that strumpet. Filled her clothes nicely. Did a man's heart good to see her. He gave her rump an appreciative squeeze as she turned to go. Little tart, she loved it! Might've known that an establishment named after the Holy Virgin Mary would have the sauciest girls in the town. Jack Deverel always knew where to find 'em. Always ready for a boarding action was Dashing Jack. Or would be, soon as he'd finished his drinks.

Bush entered the tavern and glanced around. The place was filled with sailors and soldiers enjoying some well-earned leisure time, and they were certainly making the most of it. It was a raucous gathering indeed. Well he for one was not planning on becoming a noisy drunk like the rest of them. He was simply going to spend some time relaxing, away from the pressure of running the ship. Cartwright was supposed to be joining him there eventually, but since Bush did not see the Marine lieutenant, he decided to find a seat and wait.

Spotting an empty table, he started to make his way towards it.

"Bush! Lieutenant Bush! William Bush!" Deverel shouted from his table, kicking out the chair that he had been resting his feet on. "My good fellow, come and have a drink here! Terpsichores to me!" he laughed, raising a glass in good cheer.

When he saw who was hailing him, Bush grimaced slightly.

"Oh dear Lord..." he muttered under his breath. He had not wanted to see Deverel anywhere on land, much less in the bar. And now the man was inviting him to have a drink. Well, propriety dictated he could not ignore Deverel, and so Bush reluctantly came over to where he was seated.

"Good evening Mr. Deverel," Bush remarked, "I had not expected to see you."

"Nor I you, my dear William!" Deverel exclaimed, reaching across to give the lieutenant a hearty and familiar slap on the shoulder. Then he turned to a midshipman who was hovering nearby. "All right, Docker, be off with you now. Don't get lost and don't get poxed, and don't be late for the boat. Cut along."

The pimpled young Docker muttered a nervous "Thank you, sir!" and saluted both lieutenants before dashing out of the tavern.

"Don't need a shadow following me through the town," Deverel explained with a grin. "Now, William, what'll you have? Old shipmate! There's excellent wine. Vinho, ancora," he exclaimed waving his glass at a young woman nearby.

The fact that Deverel was referring to him in such an informal manner rankled Bush to no end. They were shipmates yes, but they were far from friends. He was certainly not going to return the informal address. And when Deverel slapped him on the shoulder, Bush fairly bristled with annoyance. However, he was not going to complain about having a glass of wine. It would distract him from Deverel's foolishness, at any rate.

"Wine will do," Bush said. As watched Deverel call out to the woman, he shook his head slightly in disgust. The man sounded as though he had imbibed enough already. Did he really need more wine?

The young woman laughed at nothing in particular, taking Deverel's glass to be refilled. "You speak Portuguese, speak very well!" she exclaimed in prettily accented English. She smiled at Bush, brushing his arm lightly with her fingertips. "Wine for senhor? The best wine, for good and brave and handsome men. Terpsichore, did you say? He is your ship?"

"I will have some wine," Bush said, "And yes, she is our ship. Have you heard of her?"

The woman had probably entertained one--or several--of the sailors already, most likely the reason why she knew the name. He hoped she was not trying to add him to that list, but from the way she was looking at him, he fancied she did.

"Oh, he is very brave ship!" she laughed, nodding. "Or she. Ship is she? Very beautiful ship, I see it! I go for wine," she concluded abruptly.



Deverel gave him a knowing smile. "You've an admirer, Lieutenant Bush! I saw the way she looked at you. I'll wager you've a woman in every port, eh? And how is the dear old Terpsy getting on? Or shall we leave off naval talk? Look at that. She's arguing with the serving girl I had before. They're fighting over who gets to serve you, sly old dog."

At least Deverel had gotten one thing right. The woman did seem as though she had her sights set on Bush. Not that the idea was a distasteful one to him, but that was not the reason he had come ashore.

"She does seem to be rather...friendly," Bush remarked as he watched the women bickering, "Though I'm afraid you would lose that wager, Mr. Deverel, for I do not have a woman in every port. I do not have a woman in any port, for that matter." What sort of man did Deverel think he was, anyway? "As to the Terpsichore, she is fine. I have no qualms about discussing her."

In truth, Bush did not mind speaking of the ship or other naval matters. It was to whom he was discussing them which was his cause of annoyance.

"Ah ha, so Terpsichore is your lady in every port," Deverel replied with a knowing smile, amused by his own wit. "And a sweet little lady she is too, I'm sure. But don't you find yourself wishing for a lady who was more... responsive?"

Bush frowned. He had not anticipated Deverel trying to cajole him into finding some pleasureable company as well when he agreed to drink with him.

"Mr. Deverel, are you insinuating that I should be appreciating the attentions of that woman?" Bush raised an eyebrow. "Or that I should perhaps accept and act upon her attentions?"

Deverel held up a hand in surprise. "Not at all, my good fellow! Though if you chose to do so I would certainly not judge. She's a pretty little thing, if you like that sort. A bit small for my tastes. But my own dear mama and papa are forever trying to introduce me to young ladies of their neighborhood, daughters of all the finest families. Insufferable bores, all of them." He smirked. "Tell me, William, do you enjoy dancing?"

The girl was pretty--that was not the issue at all. Perhaps if she truly pressed her suit, Bush would reconsider. But at the moment he was content to simply sit and drink...provided she would finally bring the wine.

"Perhaps they would not be so dull if you truly gave them a chance," Bush remarked, referring to the ladies that Deverel seemed so annoyed with. He himself could not sympathize with the plight of being forced into conversation with prospective wives, being as he did not come from that social circle. "As to dancing, I suppose I could, though I cannot say I am very adept at it."

Before Deverel could answer, the slender young woman returned with their wine, leaving her Rubenesque counterpart glaring at them from the kitchen.

"Slow, am sad so slow!" she apologized with a flashing smile. "Best wine, best wine of... cave," she explained, pointing down to indicate the wine cellar. She rattled off the name and vintage of the wine, a string of Portuguese words, and stood back with anticipation to watch them drink.

Lifting the glass, Bush inspected it, swirling the wine around a bit. He had not understood a word the woman had said, other than that the wine was good and came from the cellar. Well aware that she was watching him, he thought he had better take a drink.

"Not bad, not bad at all." Taking another sip, he added, "Quite robust. Must be a good vintage."

"Robust, eh?" The word seemed to be amusing to Lieutenant Deverel.

The young woman did not understand, but she smiled and nodded. "You like? Good wine, no?" She became coy, confiding, quiet, leaning closer to Bush. "Wine for Terpsichore? My wine. Best wine. I have lot of wine, and best cost, small cost."

"Yes, the wine is good." Seeing that she was leaning in closer, Bush found himself leaning back slightly. "I am not the one to speak to about purchasing wine, miss. It is Captain Bolitho's decision whether to buy wine or not. And he has already made sure that we have an abundant supply."

Bush hoped she was only trying to sell wine, though her suddenly intimate posture suggested she might be trying to sell something else as well...

"It is good," Deverel said loudly, drawing her attention away from the unappreciative Mr. Bush. "I might put in a word to the captain of Defiance if you're selling to the navy. That's Defiance, my ship. A much larger ship than his Terpsichore."

The young woman smiled vaguely at Deverel and then turned back to Bush. "But Terpsichore is beautiful ship..."

Bush raised an eyebrow at Deverel. Was he trying to compete for the woman's attentions? He could have her, for all Bush cared. Frankly he wished the woman would start foisting herself on Deverel instead anyway.

"The Terpsichore may not be large, but she is swift. And often that is a more important attribute for a ship." He shot Deverel a glare, more than willing to defend the honour of his ship. Insulting her was almost akin to insulting the captain, in Bush's opinion.

"Swift?" the woman asked with an interested smile.

"Fast. She is a fast ship," Bush replied, wondering why the woman seemed so interested by that comment.

She became bold at this point and pulled up a chair, sitting snug between the two lieutenants. "I have boat. He is... a barge." She had a far off look in her eye as if she were trying to remember something. "He has one veil... one sail. Like this." And she sketched a square with her finger. "He is fast. Your Terpsichore has lotta sails?"

At least, Cartwright was free of the social prying of a pair of Marine officers from other ships. He would have been parted from them sooner, had not they insisted on telling him all the details of their adventures during their liberty. Now he was on his way to join Terpsichore's first lieutenant, as he had promised.

"I heartily apologise for my lateness, sir," Cartwright said as he entered the tavern. "I hope you were not... ah. Good evening sir, miss."

"Cartwright! My dear chap!" Deverel exclaimed with exuberance. "Welcome! Sit down, sit down! Vinho por senhor, my dear, and for me too, and Mister Bush. Drink up, Mister Bush. There's plenty more where that came from. Eh? Bring us the bottle, sweetheart, une bouteille de vin."

The young woman looked disappointed as she vacated her seat for the red-coated officer.