Kings and Emperors Read Online Free Page B

she was having her bloody flux, and had slept in a separate bed-chamber when his late wife had hers. It was just too messy!
    â€œI am sorry, dear man,” she said, whispering into his neck.
    â€œDon’t you be sorry for Mother Nature,” he insisted, trying to laugh it off. “There’ll be plenty of other nights. Eh, I don’t think I’ll sleep ashore, if that’s alright with you. I adore sleeping with you, mind, but I’d only get tempted, and…”
    â€œFrustrated,” Maddalena finished for him. “ Sim, I would be frustrated, também, ” she added with a nervous little laugh.
    It was awkward for both of them, but, after a final glass of wine and a few hugs and kisses in parting, Lewrie ended up strolling back to the quays and the landing stage in the dark and mostly empty streets, hand on the hilt of his everyday hanger, and glad to see the Provost patrols who served as the Town Major’s police force.
    â€œA boat, sir?” a sleepy waterman at the landing stage asked, rousing himself from a nap.
    â€œAye,” Lewrie told him. “Out to the Sapphire. ”
    My idle ship, he thought.
    The large taffrail lanthorns at the stern were lit, as well as smaller lanthorns on the quarterdeck and forecastle. The wee street-lights along the quay and the main street barely reached her sides, making the 50-gunned two-decker merely the hint of a wooden ghost out on the calm waters of the bay, and her furled and harbour-gasketted sails seemed more like old parchment.
    It’s only a day’s jaunt, out and back to Ceuta, but I’ll take it, he told himself; I’ll take any opportunity t’get under way again.

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    Lewrie was only half-way through his breakfast, a particularly fine omelet with mushrooms, onions, tomato, and cheese, with toasted slabs of fresh shore bread, when one of Sapphire ’s Midshipmen standing Harbour Watch hailed an approaching boat. Lewrie perked up, chewing a bite of toast thickly slathered with red currant preserves, cocking an ear to what was occurring just beyond his cabin doors. He faintly made out a call from the boat; “Letter for your Captain!” and sat up even straighter, about ready to cross the fingers of his right hand for good luck. Yes! There was the thump of a boat coming alongside, and the scramble of a messenger up the boarding battens!
    He picked up a bit of spicy Spanish sausage with his fingers and popped it into his mouth as footsteps could be heard clumping on the quarterdeck, leading to …
    â€œMessage for the Captain, SAH!” the Marine Private who stood sentry at the cabin doors cried, stamping boots and musket butt.
    â€œEnter,” Lewrie called out, trying to sound blasé.
    And don’t let it be from the bloody dockyards! he thought.
    Midshipman Ward, one of the youngest, came round to the dining-coach with his hat under his arm, and a sealed letter in his hand.
    â€œYes, Mister Ward?” Lewrie said, between sips of coffee.
    â€œA message from Lieutenant-General Sir Hew Dalrymple, sir,” Ward stiffly said, laying the missive on the dining table.
    â€œThank you, Mister Ward, you may go,” Lewrie told him, paying it no attention for the moment. As soon as Ward was round the corner into the day-cabin, though, Lewrie snatched it up and tore it open. “Aha! Pettus? Pass word to muster my boat crew, if ye please, I’m called ashore.” He reached for the napkin tucked under his chin and almost shot to his feet, but paused. It really was such a toothsome breakfast, too good to be abandoned entirely. He took a few quick bites more of everything, a last slurp of sugared and creamed coffee, then shrugged into his coat, snatched up his sword belt and hat, and left the cabins, still chewing.
    Chalky, who had been feeding from his own bowl atop the table at the far end, took the opportunity to raid what was left, paying close attention to the