Coming Aboard

"I'm sorry," Thompson said. "Though... they'm on the south side, ain't they. Reckon they'll be safer there than if they was on the other side. The English gen'ral, he ain't lost a battle yet, from all what I've heared 'bout him."

Thinking of money and the family business, Perry had a sudden idea. "Hey! What if your captain was to buy up our wine? Captain's always need wine, don't they? I could give him a good price. He could even sell it to his friends, other captains, yeah? I know there's other ships out there. Blockading the French, ain't they, so people like us Americans can't trade with 'em. He could buy up all our wine, and then they'd have enough money to make it worth their while to leave, go somewhere safe and leave the rest behind without losing everything. You think he'd do that?" He looked hopeful for the first time.

"He... he might. Only you'd have to ask him a bit more respectful-like than how you talked to him earlier."

Or maybe they could sell it to the Army officers who were going to show up soon with the army, if they hadn't already done so.

Perry wasn't worried about that. He could summon and dismiss respect like a conjuror. "I think that would be the only way to tell her to leave... How long would I have to stay here?"

"Stay in Terpsy? Till the end of the war, or till she's paid off." Though if she was paid off before the war ended, chances were high that he'd get pressed into another ship before he could get passage back out here. The Marine couldn't tell him that, though. Desperate men did desperate things, after all, and there were few men so desperate as those newly-pressed.

"When's she get paid off? And where? You gotta go to Portsmouth or sommat for that?"

"I dunno when. It'll be Chatham or Portsmouth or Plymouth, most likely, them bein' Royal Dockyards."

"And Chatham's where you're from, eh?" He grinned. "I could go and give your mother a visit! Oh, not like that, mate," he added hurriedly, looking a bit scandalized at the idea.

"Aye, I'm from Chatham." He shrugged. "I know how she makes her livin', right enough. Though she'd like to meet some of me mates... No, not like that." He grinned. "She only does that when she can't get enough money from the shirt-makin', though."

"And you say the press is real hard there."

"Well, I lived there. I was all right for a bit, but it gets harder to keep away from 'em if you live in the town where there's allus a press-gang around." Why was he talking about this with a newly-pressed man, anyway? "If you can get away from the town soon enough, I daresay it'd be easier, though."

"What about... So if you do manage to take Porto from the French, will we harbor there, for repairs or stores or the like?"

He shrugged, unsure. "I dunno. Be more likely to be Lisbon, for repairs. An' we've got enough stores for wherever we'm goin' next. Dunno if the Captain'll want to take on any more, 'cause we just stocked up in Lisbon. Though that was afore them horses come aboard, and Heaven knows they took up enough room in the hold."

He grinned, ever so slightly. If he sent Madalena to Lisbon, then he might see her again after the battle. But then he was distracted. "Why'd you take horses anyway? Is that normal?"

"Nope. One of 'em was the Gen'ral's horse. The others belonged to two of the passengers we had." He frowned. "Didn't I already say all that, though?"

"Maybe." Perry had only been half paying attention to anything the marine had told him so far, distracted as he was by other thoughts.

Oxely swore to himself, again, that he was never, ever ever going to bet against the Shepherds again. Ever ever ever.

"'Lo, mate," he said to Thompson, feeling nervous. Thompson raised an eyebrow at him, warningly. "Just come to... to... ah, hell. Was sent to see the new man."

Perry scowled at the newcomer. "Well now you seen him, ain't ya."

"My... my brother was pressed, y'know," Oxley said.

"Well ain't that dandy for him. Who's this pipsqueak?" Perry asked his sentry.

"Pipsqueak!" Oxley was indignant. "'M Private Oxley of the Royal Marines, me." He looked down at the plain seaman's shirt he was wearing. "Well, I know I don't look much like at the moment, but I am. I'm a drummer."

Perry replied with a noncommittal snort.

"I am. Who're you, anyhow?"

"I'm an American what's not supposed to be here. Do they always come to gawk at folks like this?" he asked Thompson.

"No, they don't. Cut along there, Oxley."