Norrington set down the canvas-wrapped bundle of
Admiralty Orders on the polished mahogany tabletop, his gaze lingering
on the deep lustre and astonishing colour of the wood. A faint
smell of turpentine and beeswax still clung to the smooth surface.
Smiling slightly, he took it as a hint. He too would defend himself
by being very highly polished.
"There isn't a great deal to tell," untying the ribbon
he slid the folded papers out, fan-wise, to display their covering
summaries. "We've lost the Nimrod and the Hebe to convoy
duty, but their Lordships in their wisdom have sent us the Inconstant
to replace them. It's an increase in broadside weight of well
on a hundred and sixty pounds, but that's all that can be said
for it."
He was a man of a certain age now, and some consequence, and
he should not feel awkward, no matter the situation, so he straightened
and turned to accept the glass of madeira from Governor Swann.
It was a comfort that the Governor looked almost equally ill at
ease. "I am to gather that getting a larger ship is a bad
thing?"
"When you need to batter down an enemy's fortifications,
or lie in the line of battle, yard arm to yard arm with a French
two-decker, then the Inconstant is the ship for you." Some
of the discomfort passed as Norrington turned his mind to the
Admiralty's resolute failure to grasp the needs of pirate-hunting.
He sipped the smoky, sweet wine and wondered if that was why Swann
had asked the question. The Governor's apparent ingenuousness
covered a remarkably wily mind.
"But to pursue pirates we need cutters, small frigates with
speed and the shallow draught necessary to pass the same shoals
and lie into the same anchorages as the pirates' sloops. As I
have repeatedly written to their Lordships, urging them. The Dauntless
is a beautiful ship, a well founded, weatherly, worthy ship, and
I won't hear a word against her, but I had rather have two more
like the Interceptor, than another such - oversized and ill-adapted
to the task I have in hand."
He sighed, caught the indulgent smile on Swann's face and had
to laugh. "Do I grow repetitious?
"You have mentioned this once or twice before."
"Hm! And I'll stop when I've been heard."
Briefly Norrington allowed himself to believe that that was it.
That they could now pretend that nothing had happened, that they
could be easy once more. For he had a great regard for Swann,
and he had been dreading this. But the pause went on too long.
Swann put down his glass on the mantelpiece and smiled at the
floor. Norrington returned his gaze to the table and gritted his
teeth.
"James."
Please don't, he thought. Elizabeth had declared for Will,
and he knew she could not be, should not be dissuaded from that.
What was there to say? Apologies? Not from the father - he was
blameless. The false hope of some scheme to talk her round? Worse
than useless! Expressions of sympathy? Unbearable! What was there
left to say that would not better be passed over in silence?
"Commodore Norrington... James. I don't wish to give offence,
nor to criticize my daughter. Undoubtedly she knows her own heart
best. But you must allow me to say that.. that for my own part,
I should very much have liked to call you my son. I hope Elizabeth's
choice may not occasion any coolness between us. I should hate
you to think I valued you only as her suitor."
Norrington was very glad he was looking away already, but he
shut his eyes to veil the fact that he was profoundly moved. What
a kind, what a very touching thing to say! Not at all what he
had expected. If anything, he had thought he would be hurried
through the business and dismissed, now that he was become a mere
common acquaintance.
"I.." he said, forcing himself through the barrier
of shyness that still threatened to gag him whenever speaking
of such matters, "Sir, I... am sensible of your great goodness
to me. You do me too much honour." Looking up, he managed
to focus on the grey curl of Swann's wig closest to his lopsided
smile.
"Throughout our acquaintance I have always valued your council
and wisdom, and I must say that it has been long now - my own
being dead - since I first began to feel for you the affection
due to a father. I know you will have Turner, but I hope you will
always turn to me, should you need anything that another son can
provide."
He looked away, drank a stiffening gulp of the madeira. The shadow
of a cloud dimmed the blaze of window briefly, and Norrington
registered that the wind was moving strongly sou-sou-west. There
would be rain inland within the hour. Embarrassed as he was, he
couldn't help but smile at it; astonished, self-conscious but
happy. Whatever he had lost, it was something indeed - after ten
years without - to have gained a father.
"Well then," said Swann at length, breaking the spell
of unexpected intimacy with a small laugh. "Well... Good.
So, the Admiralty expect us to do better, while taking away our
means to do it, do they? Nothing new there then. As to this scheme
of yours to tackle corruption in the drinking-water trade, let
me tell you what our local grandees said." Walking over,
he placed the decanter on the table in front of him, its silver
and crystal reflecting mellow in the deep red surface. "Do
have a seat - we may be here some time. You'll stay to dinner,
of course?"
With the ease of an old friend, a new son, Norrington topped
up his own glass and sat down. Pleasant as it was to have these
things said, it was a relief to have them over; to be comfortably
back to normal. "Yes," he said, still smiling, "I
should like that very much. Thank you. Thank you indeed, sir,
you're very kind."
~.~
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