Cross of St George Read Online Free PDF Page B

back, Bryan?”
    Ferguson passed him the lighted taper and watched him hold it to his long clay; the smoke floated toward the chimney, and the cat lying on the hearth asleep.
    â€œOne of the squire’s keepers came by and he said the roads are better than last week. Slow going for a coach and four, let alone the mail.” It was not doing any good. He said, “I was thinking, John. It’ll be thirty-one years this April since the Battle of the Saintes. It hardly seems possible, does it?”
    Allday shrugged. “I’m surprised you can remember it.”
    Ferguson glanced down at his empty sleeve. “Not a thing I could easily forget.”
    Allday reached across the table and touched his arm. “Sorry, Bryan. That was not intended.”
    Ferguson smiled, and Allday took a swallow of rum. “It means that I’ll be fifty-three this year.” He saw Allday’s sudden discomfort. “Well, I’ve a piece of paper to prove it.” Then he asked quietly, “How old does that make you? About the same, eh?” He knew Allday was older; he had already served at sea when they had been taken together by the press-gang on Pendower Beach.
    Allday eyed him warily. “Aye, something like that.” He looked at the fire, his weathered features suddenly despairing. “I’m his cox’n, y’see. I belongs with him.”
    Ferguson took the stone jug and poured another generous measure. “I know you do, John. Everyone does.” He was reminded suddenly of his cramped estate office, which he had left only an hour ago when Allday had arrived unexpectedly in a carrier’s cart. Despite the fusty ledgers, and the dampness of winter, it was as if she had been there just ahead of him. Lady Catherine had not been in his office since before Christmas, when she had left for London with the admiral, and yet her perfume was still there. Like jasmine. The old house was used to the comings and goings of Bolithos down over the years, he thought, and sooner or later one of them failed to return. The house accepted it: it waited, with all its dark portraits of dead Bolithos. Waited … But when Lady Catherine was away, it was different. An empty place.
    He said, “Lady Catherine perhaps most of all.”
    Something in his voice made Allday turn to look at him.
    â€œYou too, eh, Bryan?”
    Ferguson said, “I’ve never known such a woman. I was with her when they found that girl.” He stared at his pipe. “All broken up, she was, but her ladyship held her like a child. I shall never forget … I know you’re all aback at the thought that maybe you’re getting old, John, too old for the hard life of a fighting Jack. It’s my guess that Sir Richard fears it, too. But why am I telling you this? You know him better than anybody, man!”
    Allday smiled, for the first time. “I was that glad about Cap’n Adam keeping out of trouble at the court martial. That’ll be one thing off Sir Richard’s mind.”
    Ferguson grunted, smoking. A revenue cutter had slipped into Falmouth, and had brought the news with some despatches.
    Allday said bluntly, “You knew about him and that girl, Zenoria?”
    â€œGuessed. It goes no further. Even Grace doesn’t suspect.”
    Allday blew out the taper. Grace was a wonderful wife to Bryan, and had saved him after he had returned home with an arm missing. But she did enjoy a good gossip. Lucky that Bryan understood her so well.
    He said, “I love my Unis more than I can say. But I’d not leave Sir Richard. Not now that it’s nearly all over.”
    The door opened and Grace Ferguson came into the kitchen. “Just like two old women, you are! What about my soup?” But she looked at them fondly. “I’ve just done something about they fires. That new girl Mary’s willing enough, but she’s got the memory of a squirrel!”
    Ferguson exclaimed,