13
A Rum Business
The lamb's Navy rum hadn't gone down by so much as one eighth of an inch in the last half hour. "Looks like you'll have to carry him home," laughed Nelson, finishing off the lamb's unwanted toddy.
Thus it was that with the lamb slung over Joachim's shoulder, he and Nelson made their exit from the wayside tavern, the Shoulder of Mutton, in the area of London known as Porridge Island.
"All this lot's destined for redevelopment," said Nelson, sweeping his left arm around to indicate the entire area.
"So I've heard," nodded Joachim. "They're saying this particular spot's going to be a Square in the Continental style where people can gather and enjoy the open space."
"End up full of blessed pigeons, I shouldn't wonder." Nelson observed. "Wouldn't want to stand around in it too long, meself. Know what I mean? No, I can't say I'm looking forward to the changes: it'll be like a New Town."
At that moment, a black cat trotted purposefully across the street not three yards in front of them.
"Lucky," said Nelson.
"Old wives," Joachim responded.
"Prefer 'em young, meself!" Nelson chortled.
"I meant their tales."
Nelson turned towards him, a huge grin splitting his face. "Whose tails? - The cats or the wives?"
Nelson was given to gross humour. He had to be; with a missing arm and an absent eye, he was a dead ringer for most of the harbour cats. "Ask not for whom the bell tolls..." said Joachim, mysteriously.
"Ah! Mister Hardy," said Nelson, addressing the dapper young Captain who had just stepped out of a wayside tavern, the Cat o' Nine Tails, and into their path, "I'd like to introduce you to a young friend of mine: name of Joachim; that's his lamb slung over his shoulder. Joachim, this is Hardy, the cutest Captain in the Queen's Nay-vee!"
Joachim wondered firstly why Nelson had referred to him as 'young' since he sported a long, grey straggly beard, and secondly why Nelson referred to it as 'the Queen's Navy' since, as far as he knew, George III was still the legitimate King. He proffered his hand to Hardy. As Hardy took it, exhibiting a lighter pressure than one would have expected from a Naval Officer, Joachim found fingers in his palm. Hardy winked: Joachim blinked in surprise: Hardy gave his hand an extra squeeze: Joachim stopped wondering on the second count.
"Now, now, Hardy! Let go the man's hand," Nelson said, putting his solitary left arm around Hardy's shoulders. "How about telling me all the tittle-tattle."
"There's mutterings," Hardy said.
"Mutterings!" Nelson exclaimed, "Mutterings! There's always mutterings. It's the Navy, for Maud's Sake! The Navy's been muttering since Adam was amidships!"
"You sure Adam was in the Navy?" Joachim asked, perplexed. To the best of his knowledge, Adam was just the Gardener's lad.
Nelson beamed down at him. "Must've been. All that time without a woman: stands to reason!" He turned his attention back to Hardy: "What're the old rum sponges muttering about this time?"
"Foreign wars. At least that seems to be the gist of it. Not just foreign, either. Looks like we're going to be up against the Entire Eastern Continent."
"Eh? Unless my wits have deserted me, we're drawn to play the frogs."
"It's about money," said Joachim, butting in. "Cut through the fancy rhetoric of the politicians and you'll find it always boils down to vested financial and commercial interests. Those who remain in the shadows will have met and worked it all out between themselves. They're the keys to the whole thing: you can bet your last pound on it."
A far away look drifted across Nelson's left eye (his right eye, like his right arm, exhibited all the signs of perpetual distance) as he said, "Used to be guineas when I was a lad: twenty-one shillings they were worth. Didn't take 'em long to get rid of those. Remember 'em, Hardy?"
"Oh, aye. Bob's yer uncle, and all that. Added up to a guinea when he visited us for three weeks. Old Navy family," he added for the bemused Joachim's enlightenment.
"So, what's this about the East?" Nelson demanded, getting back to the point.
Hardy shrugged. "Can't tell you much. Seems to be pretty hush-hush. All I know is that my friend happened to walk by as the First Lord was deep in conversation with His Highness, the GM, and a couple of foreign bankers. He didn't dare hang about, of course, so all he managed to hear was, 'That whore Asia's going for a midnight swim this time!' Don't know what it means; sounds a bit arch to me."
The threesome turned into Threadneedle Street. A black cat trotted purposefully across their path.
"Unlucky!" observed Hardy.
"Old wives' tale," Joachim said, automatically.
"Probably," muttered Nelson, not quite under his breath.
The sun was setting. In Trafalgar Square the pigeons came home to roost.
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This is one of the Tales of Joachim |
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Ink Amera |
(C) David 1/9/2007 |
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