“He had traded off his midshipman’s rigs, sold that now decidedly shoddy dirk that had once gleamed with “gold,” and had his new uniforms in his sea chest. There had been a need to dip into his hidden cache of guineas to pay for his new finery, to equip himself with the luxury of a personal telescope, cases of wine, fresh cabin stores such as cheese and jam. And he had spent money on his man Cony’s rig as well; new shoes and buckles (pinch-beck but serviceable), a new tarred hat, short blue jacket with brass buttons and slop trousers. He had not gotten much sleep, in the end. Between the party that had turned into a drunken brawl, his escape, his passionate night with Dolly, which had lasted until dawn, and then a hectic round of chores, he was just about done in. Up and out on a crust of bread and a single cup of tea to move her to his old lodgings, which were a bit more expensive but much nicer and more refined. A quick meeting with his shore agent to deal with her affairs with her h...usband’s regiment, a gift of twenty pounds to get her settled and tide her over until she could sell Roger Fenton’s commission.MoreLessShow More Show Less
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