Correglia was Nelsonâs dolly. It was common knowledge that he paid the rent on her apartment in Leghorn and she was frequently to be found in residence aboard the flagship.
Nathan closed his eyes for a moment. Then he sent for the purser.
âThey are
what
?â McIvor echoed Nathanâs own initial reaction when informed of the situation. Nathan told him. The purser stared over the side.
âHow many of them are there?â he enquired finally.
âI assume, McIvor, you can count as well as I,â Nathan rebuked him coldly. His normal good humour was beginning to fray a little at the edges. âProbably better, given your occupation.â
âSeven of them?â McIvorâs tone expressed his rising astonishment and indignation. âBut where on earth are we going to put them all?â Nathan kept his counsel. âAnd if I am to draw upon stores to feed them, how am I to account for it in the ledger?â
âYou may enter them as whatever you goddamn like,â Nathan replied shortly, doubting it a proper subject for the Captain of a Kingâs ship upon his own quarterdeck. But he could not leave it at that. Nor did he want McIvor making unsuitable entries in the shipâs books. If they were read by the wrong persons there would be hell to pay. The press might get hold of it. Questions might be asked in Parliament. âEnter them as supercargo,â he suggested more reasonably. âAnd you may stow them in my cabin until more appropriate accommodation can be arranged for them.â
âBut they are whores,â Mr McIvor hissed, in the low but scandalised tones of a Scotsman, a citizen of Edinburgh, provoked beyond his normal reserve.
âCourtesans,â Nathan corrected him mildly, though the distinction, as it had been explained to him, was a fine one.
âBut why do they want to leave Leghorn?â McIvor demanded forcefully.
This question had occurred to Nathan. While it might be considered unpatriotic to confess it publicly, he would have thought there was little to choose between a French Captain of Hussars and an officer in His Britannic Majestyâs Navy. If you were a whore, that is. Or even a courtesan.
âI am told they have formed certain âattachmentsâ to some of our officers,â Nathan informed him in a low voice.
But McIvor was still looking mutinous. âNow lookee here, McIvor.â Nathan tried a different tack. âThis is a delicate matter. Several of these young persons are under the protection of very senior officers on the Navy List. I have entrusted you with their care because I can count on your discretion and your ⦠your diplomacy.â And also, though he did not say it, because he was the only shipâs officer of any seniority whose dignity could be compromised in this way. âI trust you to steer a fine course between Scylla and Charybdis,â he concluded vaguely. âAnd now if you will excuse me, I have rather more urgent matters to attend to.â
He clapped his eye to the glass and pretended to be observing the French positions above the town. But despite the rigidity of his stance and the gravity of the military situation, his mind remained very much preoccupied with the problem of his new charges. He watched covertly as they came aboard â were helped aboard, in fact, by an outrageous number of the shipâs company, far more than was needed to bring seven fit and healthy young women up a quarter-ladder. But they were a comely crew; there was no getting away from it. A vision in satin and lace. He closed his glass with a sigh. He supposed he must be civil. After all, she was theCommodoreâs particular friend and they had dined at the same table.
âSignora Correglia,â he enthused, making an elegant bow. âWelcome aboard. Delighted to be of service.â
She smiled and gave him her hand, but her eye, he noted, was cold. He had, after all, kept her bobbing
Nathan closed his eyes for a moment. Then he sent for the purser.
âThey are
what
?â McIvor echoed Nathanâs own initial reaction when informed of the situation. Nathan told him. The purser stared over the side.
âHow many of them are there?â he enquired finally.
âI assume, McIvor, you can count as well as I,â Nathan rebuked him coldly. His normal good humour was beginning to fray a little at the edges. âProbably better, given your occupation.â
âSeven of them?â McIvorâs tone expressed his rising astonishment and indignation. âBut where on earth are we going to put them all?â Nathan kept his counsel. âAnd if I am to draw upon stores to feed them, how am I to account for it in the ledger?â
âYou may enter them as whatever you goddamn like,â Nathan replied shortly, doubting it a proper subject for the Captain of a Kingâs ship upon his own quarterdeck. But he could not leave it at that. Nor did he want McIvor making unsuitable entries in the shipâs books. If they were read by the wrong persons there would be hell to pay. The press might get hold of it. Questions might be asked in Parliament. âEnter them as supercargo,â he suggested more reasonably. âAnd you may stow them in my cabin until more appropriate accommodation can be arranged for them.â
âBut they are whores,â Mr McIvor hissed, in the low but scandalised tones of a Scotsman, a citizen of Edinburgh, provoked beyond his normal reserve.
âCourtesans,â Nathan corrected him mildly, though the distinction, as it had been explained to him, was a fine one.
âBut why do they want to leave Leghorn?â McIvor demanded forcefully.
This question had occurred to Nathan. While it might be considered unpatriotic to confess it publicly, he would have thought there was little to choose between a French Captain of Hussars and an officer in His Britannic Majestyâs Navy. If you were a whore, that is. Or even a courtesan.
âI am told they have formed certain âattachmentsâ to some of our officers,â Nathan informed him in a low voice.
But McIvor was still looking mutinous. âNow lookee here, McIvor.â Nathan tried a different tack. âThis is a delicate matter. Several of these young persons are under the protection of very senior officers on the Navy List. I have entrusted you with their care because I can count on your discretion and your ⦠your diplomacy.â And also, though he did not say it, because he was the only shipâs officer of any seniority whose dignity could be compromised in this way. âI trust you to steer a fine course between Scylla and Charybdis,â he concluded vaguely. âAnd now if you will excuse me, I have rather more urgent matters to attend to.â
He clapped his eye to the glass and pretended to be observing the French positions above the town. But despite the rigidity of his stance and the gravity of the military situation, his mind remained very much preoccupied with the problem of his new charges. He watched covertly as they came aboard â were helped aboard, in fact, by an outrageous number of the shipâs company, far more than was needed to bring seven fit and healthy young women up a quarter-ladder. But they were a comely crew; there was no getting away from it. A vision in satin and lace. He closed his glass with a sigh. He supposed he must be civil. After all, she was theCommodoreâs particular friend and they had dined at the same table.
âSignora Correglia,â he enthused, making an elegant bow. âWelcome aboard. Delighted to be of service.â
She smiled and gave him her hand, but her eye, he noted, was cold. He had, after all, kept her bobbing