Dewey Lambdin
H.M.S. COCKEREL
(Lewrie – 06)
Once again,
For my father,
Lt. Comdr. Dewey Lambdin, USN
With thanks:
to the U.S. Naval Institute for many reference works; to MacKenzie of the Maritime Information Centre, at the Iain National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, England; to Doug Cantrell at Nashville Tech Community College for his excellent map of Toulon; to Genevieve and her books Merde and Merde, Encore where I garnered such wonderfully feelthy phrases; and thanks to Genoa and Foozle, who cat-napped long enough for me to get a good day's work in, now and then.
I
Quid facial laetas segetes, quo sidere terrain
vertere, Maecenas, ulmisque adiungere vites
conveniat, quae cura bourn, qui cultis
habendo sit peccori, apibus quanta
experientia partis, hinc canere incipiam.
What makes the crops joyous, beneath
what star, Maecenas, it is well to turn
the soil, and wed vines to elms, what
tending the kine need, what care the
herd in breeding, what skill the thrifty
bees-hence shall I beginmy song.
– Virgil
Georgics, Book 1,1-5
Chapter 1
Ooh, sir, wawtch out f'r the…"
Wherever I go lately, Alan Lewrie mused, rather resignedly, I seem to be arse-deep in shit. Oh, well.
He waved off the towheaded young "daisy-kicker" at the Olde Ploughman Public House's hitching rail, who stood with silent offer to towel the offending matter from his glossy top boots.
"No use, lad," Lewrie said as he swung up into the saddle. "There's plenty more where I'm going."
"Oh, aye, sir, so they bel" The lad chirped, letting go the reins he held. Lewrie dug ha'pence from his wash-leather purse and flipped it to the daisy-kicker, who whooped with glee, as if the coin were the first he'd ever earned, as if Lewrie did not reward his chore each time he departed from the Olde Ploughman.