Truth and Beauty 3-2

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Jack stared at his orders. The blood ran from his face. “Roth?” he said, “Roth!? Porter! Porter there! Those two letters I gave you, do you still have them?”

“No, sir,” said the porter, looking up from his tablet. “I sent them directly, like what you said.” Seeing Jack’s face, he went on, “the boy may have dawdled at the corner, though, so I may be able to get them back.”

“Yes, yes!” said Jack, now starting to pace. Was he better off writing to Uncle Rufus or the Undersecretary? He was still working through the reasons for either when the porter returned.

“No, sir,” the porter said, “the butcher’s daughter is out on a delivery so the boy didn’t have reason to stop. I should think he’d have them delivered in forty-five minutes or so, depending on the tube. Are you okay, sir,” he added, for Jack now leaned against the wall, one hand to his forehead. “Would you like to sit at the bar? Allison is on her break but I could fetch you a glass of water?”

Jack said nothing, but allowed himself to be led to the bar, and when the porter placed a glass of water in front of him he mechanically took a sip. A vision of Jevons’ rosy, slightly drunk face flashed into his mind: “I’ve been superceded! Some fool used Parliamentary influence to get appointed to the Roth, probably thought she was a frigate, ha ha ha!”; followed immediately by the table in his copy of Darcy’s Sheet Anchor, where the fleet oilers were classified as brigs for command purposes, along with transports, small exploration vessels, and some experimental vessels; then Jevons again, before he had been superceded: “perhaps I’ll be promoted, some day.” And bumbling Uncle Rufus, so pleased with the miracle he had performed.

“Who is more the fool,” he asked aloud, “the fool, or the fool he leads?” He pulled out his phone again, queried the current location of the Roth, and found that she was still at the victualing wharf.

“To the swabs,” he said, lifting his his glass, draining it, and replacing it on the bar. Then he picked up his day bag, left a tip for the absent Allison, and left the inn.

Outside, the streetlamps were burning brightly. He checked his phone: two minutes after ten o’clock: plenty of time to get aboard the Roth before midnight, when Sunday became Monday and lawful arrests for debt could again be made.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post