of the Chinese to the suggestion; he had been made to feel
an unlettered savage more than once, among them.
He had not expected to dance; society was perennially
uncertain whether aviators were entirely respectable, and
he did not mean to blight some girl's chances, nor open
himself to the unpleasant experience of being fended off by
a chaperone. But before the first dance, his hostess
presented him deliberately to one of her guests, as an
eligible partner; so even though much surprised he of
course had to ask. Miss Lucas was perhaps in her second
season, or her third; a plump attractive girl, still very
ready to be delighted with a ball, and full of easy,
cheerful conversation.
"How well you dance!" she said, after they had gone down
the line together, with rather more surprise than would
have made the remark perfectly complimentary, and asked a
great many questions about the Chinese court which he could
not answer: the ladies had been kept thoroughly sequestered
from their view. He entertained her a little instead with
the description of a theatrical performance, but as he had
been stabbed at the end of it, his memory was imperfect;
and in any case it had been carried on in Chinese.
She in turn told him a great deal of her family in
Hertfordshire, and her tribulations with the harp, so he
might express the hope of one day hearing her play, and
mentioned her next younger sister coming out next season.
So she was nineteen, he surmised; and was struck abruptly
to realize that Catherine Harcourt at this age had been
already Lily's captain, and had flown that year in the
battle of Dover. He looked at the smiling muslin-clad girl
with a strange hollow feeling of astonishment, as if she
were not entirely real; and then looked away. He had
written already two letters each to Harcourt and to
Berkley, on Temeraire's behalf and his own; but no answer
had come. He knew nothing of how they did, or their
dragons.
He said something polite afterwards, returning her to her
mother, and, having displayed himself in public a
satisfactory partner, was forced to submit with rigid good
manners to filling out one set after another; until at last
near eleven o'clock Grenville came in, with a small party
of gentlemen.
"I am expected in Dover tomorrow, sir, or would not trouble
you here," Laurence said grimly, having approached him; he
loathed the necessity of anything like encroachment, and if
he had not been introduced to Grenville at least the once,
many years before, did not know he could have steeled
himself to it.
"Laurence, yes," Grenville said vaguely, looking as though
he would have liked to move away. He was no great
politician: his brother was Prime Minister, and he had been
made First Lord for loyalty, not for brilliance or
ambition. He listened without enthusiasm to the carefully
couched proposals, which Laurence was forced to make
general for the benefit of the interested audience, who
were not to know of the epidemic: there would be no
concealing such information from the enemy, once the
general public was in possession of it.
"There is provision made," Laurence said, "for the relics
of the slain, and for the sick and wounded; not least
because that care may preserve them or their offspring for
future service, and give encouragement to the healthy. The
plan which has been advanced is for nothing more than such
practical attentions, sir, which have been proven
beneficial by the example of the Chinese, whom all the
world acknowledge as first in the world, so far as an
understanding of dragonkind."
"Of course, of course," Grenville said. "The comfort and
welfare of our brave sailors or aviators, and even our good
beasts, is always foremost in the considerations of the
admiralty," a meaningless platitude, to one who had ever
visited in a hospital; or had, as Laurence, been forced to
subsist from time to time upon such provisions as were
considered suitable for the consumption of those brave
sailors: rotting meat, biscuit-and-weevil, the vinegarwater beverage which passed for wine. He had been applied
to for support by veterans of his own crews or their
widows, denied their pensions on scurrilous grounds, on too
many occasions to find such a claim other than absurd.
"May I hope, then, sir," Laurence said, "that you approve
our proceeding in this course?" An open avowal, which could
not be easily retracted without embarrassment, was what he
hoped for; but Grenville was too slippery, and without
openly refusing, evaded any commitment.
"We must consider the particulars of these proposals,
Captain, more extensively; before anything can be done," he
said. "The opinions of our best medical men must be
consulted," and so on and so forth, continuing without a
pause in this vein until he was able to turn to another
gentleman of his acquaintance, who had come up, and address
him on another subject: a clear dismissal, and Laurence
knew very well that nothing would be done.
He limped back into the covert in the early hours of the
morning, a faint lightness just beginning to show.
Temeraire lay fast asleep and dreaming with his slitpupiled eyes half-lidded, his tail twitching idly back and
forth, while the crew had disposed of themselves in the
barracks or tucked against his sides: likely the warmer
sleeping place, if less dignified. Laurence went into the
small cottage provided for his use and gladly sank upon the
bed to work off, wincing, the tight buckled shoes, still
new and stiff, which had cut sadly into his feet.
The morning was a silent one; besides the failure of the
attempt, which had somehow been communicated generally
throughout the covert, although Laurence had told no one
directly but Temeraire, he had given a general furlough the
previous night. Judging by the evidence of their bloodshot
eyes and wan faces, the crew had made good use of their
leave. There was a certain degree of clumsiness and fatigue
apparent, and Laurence watched anxiously as the large pots
of oat-porridge were maneuvered off the fire, to break
their fast.
Temeraire meanwhile finished picking his teeth with a large
leg bone, the remnant of his own breakfast of tender veal
stewed with onions, and set it down. "Laurence, do you
still mean to build the one pavilion, even if the Admiralty
will give us no funds?"
"I do," Laurence answered. Most aviators acquired only a
little prize-money, as the Admiralty paid but little for
the capture of a dragon compared to that of a ship, the
former being less easily put to use than the latter, and
requiring substantial expense in the upkeep, but Laurence
had established a handsome capital while still a naval
officer, upon which he had little charge, his pay being
ordinarily sufficient to his needs. "I must consult with
the tradesmen, but I hope that by economizing upon the
materials and reducing the pavilion in size, I may afford
to construct one for you."
"Then," Temeraire said, with a determined and heroic air,
"I have been thinking: pray let us build in the quarantinegrounds instead. I do not much mind my clearing at Dover,
and I had rather Maximus and Lily were more comfortable."
Laurence was surprised; generosity was not a trait common
amongst dragons, who were rather jealous of anything which
they considered their own property, and a mark of status.
"If you are quite certain, my dear; it is a noble thought."
Temeraire toyed with the leg-bone and did not look entirely
certain, but eventually made his assent final. "And in any
case," he added, "once we have built it, perhaps the
Admiralty will see the benefit, and then I may have a
handsomer one: it would not be very pleasant to have a
small poky one, when everyone else has a nicer." This
thought cheered him considerably, and he crunched up the
bone with satisfaction.
Revived with strong tea and breakfast, the crew began to
get Temeraire under harness for the return to Dover, only a
little slowly; Ferris taking especial pains to see that the
buckles were all secure after Laurence dropped a quiet word
in his ear. "Sir," Dyer said, as he and Emily came in from
the covert gates with the post for Dover, which they would
carry with them, "there are some gentlemen coming," and
Temeraire raised his head from the ground as Lord Allendale
came into the covert with a small, slight, and plainly
dressed gentleman at his side.
Their progress was arrested at once, while they stared up
at the great inquisitive head peering back at them,
Laurence very glad for the delay in which he could gather
his own wits: he would scarcely have been more shocked to
receive a visit from the King, and a good deal better
pleased. He could imagine only one cause for it: more than
one person of his parents' acquaintance had been at the
ball, and the news of the foreign adoption must have
traveled to his father's ears. Laurence knew very well he
had given his father just cause to reproach him by having
submitted to the adoption, whatever its political
expedience; but he was by no means satisfied to endure
those reproaches in front of his officers and his crew,
aside from any practical consideration of what Temeraire's
reaction might be to seeing him abused.
He handed away his cup to Emily and gave his clothing a
surreptitious look, devoutly grateful the morning was cold
enough he had not been tempted to forgo coat or neckcloth.
"I am honored to see you, sir; will you take tea?" he
asked, crossing the clearing to shake his father's hand.
"No, we have breakfasted," Lord Allendale said abruptly,
his eyes still fixed on Temeraire, and only with a jerk of
effort turned away to present to Laurence his companion,
Mr. Wilberforce: one of the great movers of the cause of
abolition.
Laurence had only met the gentleman once, long before.
Wilberforce's face had settled into graver lines in the
intervening decades, and now he looked anxiously up at
Temeraire; but there was still something warm and good-humored about the mouth, a gentleness to his eyes,
confirming that early generous impression which Laurence
had carried away, if indeed his public works had not been
testament enough. Twenty years of city air and incessant
fighting had ruined his health, but not his character;
parliamentary intrigue and the West Indies interests had
undermined his work, but he had persevered; and besides his
tireless labor against slavery, he had stood a resolute
reformer all the while.
There was scarcely a man whose advice Laurence would more
have desired, in furthering Temeraire's cause; and if the
circumstances had been other, and he had reached that
rapprochement with his father, which he had hoped for, he
would certainly have sought an introduction. The reverse,
however, he could not understand; there was no reason his
father should bring Wilberforce hence, unless perhaps he
had some curiosity to encounter a dragon.
But the gentleman's expression, looking on Temeraire, did
not seem enthusiastic. "I myself would be very happy for a
cup of tea, in quiet, perhaps?" he said, and after a
certain hesitation yielded to the further question, "Is the
beast quite tame?"
"I am not tame," Temeraire said very indignantly, his
hearing perfectly adequate to the task of overhearing this
unwhispered exchange, "but I am certainly not going to hurt
you, if that is what you are asking; you had much better be
afraid of being stepped upon by a horse." He knocked his
tail against his side in irritation, nearly sweeping off a
couple of the topmen engaged in pitching the traveling-tent
upon his back, and so gave himself the lie even as he
spoke. His audience was sufficiently distracted by his
remarks not to notice this nice point, however.
"It is most wonderful," Mr. Wilberforce said, after
conversing with him a little longer, "to discover such
excellent understanding in a creature so far removed from
ourselves; one might call it even miraculous. But I see
that you are making ready to depart; so I will beg your
pardon," he bowed to Temeraire, "and yours, Captain, for so
indelicately moving to the subject which has brought us
here, to seek your assistance."
"I hope you will speak as frankly as you like, sir,"
Laurence said, and begged them to sit down, with many
apologies for the situation: Emily and Dyer had dragged
chairs out of the cabin for their use, as that building was
hardly fit for receiving guests, and arranged them near the
embers of the cooking-fire for warmth.
"I wish to be clear," Wilberforce began, "that no-one could
be insensible of the service which his Grace has rendered
his country, or begrudge him the just rewards of that