The cold November air was settled in a vice-like grip over London. The wind howled through the narrow cobbled streets, nipping the faces of those unfortunate enough to be outside. This included three men wearing dark blue cloaks and jackets and the tall, peaked hats of the British Navy-Jack Aubrey and his two officers, Thomas Pullings and William Mowett.
Jack had just received orders. He was to patrol the waters outside British harbors to prevent attacks from French privateers, and he was not happy about it. Jack was used to action-packed, sometimes reckless missions on the open ocean, not border patrol.
"The bloody nerve of them!" he raged. "They put the Surprise on guard duty when ships like the Druid get to see action! It's not fair!"
Tom and Will exchanged amused glances behind their captain's back. They were upset by the orders as well, but, unlike Jack, they were a bit more accustomed to boring assignments.
"Maybe a change of pace will be interesting, sir," Tom pointed out.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Yes, it'll break the monotony quite well. In fact, if I have to go into battle one more time, I may just die of boredom." He glanced up at the sky and gave a faint moan. "And it looks like it's about to rain as well! We'd best hurry back to the ship, or we'll get soaked."
The first drops of rain began to fall even as he said this. Mowett, whose coat hung loose over his left arm, which was in a sling, sighed, then suggested brightly, "Perhaps we should have lunch at that tavern there. The rain might be stopped by then."
Jack, who had begun feeling very hungry, agreed. The three made their way into the tavern and sat down at one of the well-scrubbed tables. Tom blew water off his nose as he took off his dripping hat. "Ugh, bloody weather," he commented. "If this keeps up, we'll be reassigned to somewhere where we can actually sail." He looked at Jack meaningfully, but his captain was preoccupied with the menu.
After they had their meals, the three officers were lazily considering leaving. They were in no great hurry-the weather was still awful, and it was pleasantly warm inside the room. Mowett was half listening to his captain's bad joke about weevils again when he caught sight of the man standing at the bar with three of his friends. His hand flew to his sword hilt, and Jack and Tom stiffened.
"What's wrong?" Jack whispered, careful to not let the neighboring table overhear.
"Tom-look casually behind you. Just a quick glance at the bar," hissed Mowett, his fingers tapping a nervous tattoo on the pommel of his sword.
Tom did as he was told. When he turned back, his eyes were wide. "George Lurdes?"
A single, tight nod from Mowett confirmed his answer.
"But he's supposed to be in France!" Tom whispered loudly, confusion apparent on his face. "Why is he here? He's the enemy!"
Mowett gave him an exasperated stare. "Spying! Why else?" He glanced at Jack, who was listening intently but not understanding most of what he was hearing. "Sir-could we explain later? Let me just say that Mr. Pullings and I both know that man, and he left to live in France at the start of the war. He's a dedicated Frenchman, sir, and I think he's here to spy for them."
Jack nodded slowly. "Let's go talk to him," he said. This was an order, not a suggestion.
The three rose as if to go, but didn't head for the door. Instead, they swerved in the direction of the bar.
The man that Mowett had indicated watched them approach, taking in their uniforms, their medals, and their swords all in one sweep of his gaze. He didn't move, but an expression of surprise came over his face when he got a better look at them. He was a tall and lanky man, but sallow-skinned, as though he had been recently ill. He wore all black, and a top hat that still looked damp from the rain.
Spy material, this one, thought Jack mistrustfully. Still, time will tell if he is or not.
"No-can it be?" he said in an excited tone, with no trace of an accent. "It is! Tom Pullings and Will Mowett! What a lovely surprise!"
He seized their hands in turn and shook them heartily, clapping the two surprised officers on the backs as he did so. "You remember me, I suppose? Your dear friend George Lurdes?"
"Yes," Tom said, extracting his hand from Lurdes' vice-like grip. "Nice to see you again, sir. May I introduce Captain Jack Aubrey, captain of the H.M.S Surprise?"
Lurdes immediately switched his affections to Jack, beaming at him and pumping his hand up and down. "A pleasure, sir, an honor. Any friend of these two is a friend of mine. Are you in the Navy, then, Will? And you too, Tom? That doesn't surprise me in the least, always hanging about the docks as children, they were!"
Amazed that someone could say all that in one breath, Jack hastily returned the greeting. "Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Lurdes. Er-"
But Lurdes cut him off, as if unaware that he was doing so. "But come now, where are my manners? Please, be seated; allow me to fetch you some drinks."
"No thank you," chimed Pullings and Mowett together. They shot each other looks as they moved to sit down. Lurdes was acting the part of an English gentleman, not a French spy. He might be acting, obviously, but he seemed genuinely delighted to see them.
Lurdes engaged them in conversation at once. What rank were they? Did they enjoy the naval life? Were they married? Where did they live? Had they known Jack for long? His constant barrage of questions made Mowett feel uneasy, though it seemed Tom had settled down a bit and was answering most of the questions himself. William wished he had Tom's ease, but his better judgment still told him that Lurdes could not be trusted.
Lurdes sat back in his chair, grinning at them. "Oh, I'm so very glad we saw each other! It's been such a long time..."
William decided to get down to business. "Where have you been, then? I heard you were in France."
Something like a warning flashed in the other man's eyes. He stared at Mowett for a second with odd dark eyes and replied slowly, "Did you think I was a spy then, William?"
"Of course not," said Tom hurriedly, knowing that, if riled up enough, his friend would probably say yes. "We just haven't seen you in so long, and we wanted to know why."
The strange expression on Lurdes' face was replaced by a mask of understanding. He laughed cheerily. "Oh, France, left at the beginning of the war. Nice place, pretty countryside, but not for me while Bonaparte's in charge! Ever been there?"
Jack had been watching Lurdes with suspicion too. "Yes, several times during the war. I was captured there a few years ago, actually, and we just met a French frigate in battle a few months ago. We're here on leave."
Lurdes looked interested. "Really? A battle? How exciting! What was the name of the ship?"
Jack answered again. "If you wish to experience a battle, Mr. Lurdes, I suggest you join the navy. As for the ship's name, that is confidential, I'm afraid."
The civilian waved it off. "Oh, of course, not a problem. My mistake, humblest apologies for prying. Were you two in the battle?" he asked Tom and Will.
"Yes and no," Mowett admitted. "I was prisoner aboard the Ca-that is to say, the ship, but I still managed to account for one man. Tom fought in it, though."
Lurdes' eyes seemed to miss nothing. "Were you wounded, then?" he asked, nodding at Mowett's sling. "How awful!" But he didn't seem sorry at all.
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Soon after Lurdes left the tavern, ("So sorry I can't stay, had a lovely time, please, don't hesitate to visit!") the three officers did. Jack glanced at his second lieutenant, who looked deep in thought.
"Well? Didn't seem like a spy to me, Mowett. What did you think?" he asked.
"Looks can be deceiving," William pointed out. "Did you notice he had a bit of a cold? That might have covered his accent. His nose was too stuffed up, so he sounded neither English nor French. Besides, he always has been a good liar."
Tom smiled wryly. "Yes, remember the time when we were boys when he had us convinced that the cook had hidden all the pies in a certain cupboard? And that was really where he kept all the things he had stolen from my parents while he was waiting for his pots to boil, and they thought it was us who took them."
Mowett sighed at the memory. "And they never found out the truth. I was so mad at Lurdes! Remember, I was going to hit him with that stick my father used for walks?"
"But he always managed to worm his way back into our good graces," Tom finished. "He's a right old silvertongue, no mistake."
"Good qualities for a spy, I suppose," Jack mused. "But I suppose time will tell. Oh, I nearly forgot! We have an appointment with Lord Northshire in an hour: we best call a coach."
"We, sir?" Tom asked, looking a bit alarmed. "But I'm not even in my best jacket or anything! I-"
"That's all right, Tom," Jack cut in curtly. "It's supposed to be a-ah-inconspicuous visit. Northshire won't mind."
William was about to ask more, but a coach hurtled by at that very moment, and he was soon climbing in it after Jack, his thoughts still his own for the moment. And perhaps that was best, for the lieutenant had a lot to think about.
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Childhood enemy+FrenchBad situation for poor Tom and Will! Well, to quote Jack, time will tell if he's a spy or not, but I think we should all trust Mowett's gut sense right now. Lurdes is kinda a suspicious character.
PLEASE R&R. This is my first serious Master and Commander fan-fic, and I need some good feedback. Oh, I have an idea. Review, or I'll let La eat Tom!
Tom: AAAAAAAAAAHH! No! Get the bloody poodle away from me! AAAAHHHH!
Me: Maybe if the reviewers are good, I'll call him off.
Tom: ((is hiding)) They'd better hurry up! ((La sprints toward him)) Noooo! Please, review, I'm begging you!
Me: You heard him, review or the poodle eats Pullings. You don't want that, do you?
