Early in the evening some four days later, Lieutenant Sharpe and his men rode back to the house where they hoped to find the rest of their party. They dismounted some distance away; he sent Harper and Perkins to check out the lie of the land but they were soon back with positive reports. "They're all inside. Two men on watch and they spotted us a way back; they aren't as dumb as they look, sor."

With the good news, the six men gratefully trudged forwards and led their horses to the stables before joining the others in the welcome warmth of the kitchen.

Bursting in and banging their hands against their clothes to clear the snow and ice that had formed, they gratefully accepted the tankards of mulled wine they were offered by Miguel and then tucked into a simple snack of bread, ham and cheese. The stores of the lodge had turned out to be well stocked and Miguel had even found the chicken coup; there was a hearty casserole braising in the pot for dinner.

"You've had it hard, I see," Sharpe muttered to Aubrey who was sitting at the table reading and drinking wine.

"It was not my choice to stay; you took that on as you knew the land better. And who knew what we might find here?" Jack answered dryly. "I take it the plan worked? You drew them off and the British forces dealt with them?" Jack asked.

"Worked like a charm. But it was a hard four day's riding. We're all done in..."

"Then I suggest you take a warm meal, a hot bath and get your heads down. My men and I will take the watch. You have earned it." Jack replied.

"Much obliged. We got a bath?" Sharpe asked with a grin.

"We have indeed. It is in the barn. Miguel will set it up..."

"Bit cold for taking your clothes off, ain't it?" Cooper retorted under his breath. "I don't want any extremities to drop off, me still in me prime and all."

"Who needs a bath?" Young Perkins replied as he stuffed his mouth with bread and swilled down the wine. "You don't sweat in this cold..." It was unlikely any of Sharpe's men intended removing any clothes that evening.

"Well, I'm having one. Miguel...warm some water, there's a good lad...I'll be out in a few minutes. So, how's her ladyship?" Sharpe asked eying Jack with a smirk.

Jack closed his book and pursed his lips in thought. Her ladyship was very well, he thought to himself. They had spent the past four nights, and a few odd encounters in between, becoming very closely acquainted. Arabella had proved to be a very experienced woman in the art of love and there was little either did not know about the other's body by now. But Jack gave no sign of this although he did glance over to Stephen who had also been reading, perched by the side of the fire. The two friends had not discussed his affair with Lady Crowley , of course, but it was obvious that all the men were aware of it. Jack was reminding Stephen that it must go no further than them. "She is resting. The whole matter has been an unpleasant ordeal for her and she stays mostly in her chamber. I think it better not to disturb her..."

"You do, do you?" Sharpe replied. "That an order, sir?" He glared at Aubrey suspiciously.

"A request... to save a lady's feelings. Nothing more. However, if you insist you may perhaps let her know that you are back and that we are soon ready to leave. I take it we depart at dawn? There's not a moment to lose if we are to rendezvous with my ship on the required day..."

"At dawn it is, sir. I'll get washed and shaved, have my supper, go see the lady and we can get some shuteye. Bright and early in the morning, men?"

Sharpe nodded at the Captain and Dr. Maturin and headed out to the barn, leaving Stephen to attend to a few minor injuries amongst his men that they had sustained during the recent clash with the French.

Arabella had observed the arrival of the riflemen from her window. Running down the back stairs to the outside, she wrapped her cloak around her and stepped out in the direction of the barn. She knew Lt. Sharpe was there, having seen him moments before leaving the kitchen to make his way over.  Easing open the barn door, she slipped through and stopped until her eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom. In the far corner she spied the gleam of a tin bath and then saw a movement as Richard Sharpe pulled off his boots and socks, unbuttoned and threw down his dark green jacket and began to pull at his shirt. She cleared her throat and he whipped round in surprise.

"Good Lord...Lady Arabella...I must apologise. I didn't know you were about, milady."

She raised her hand to silence him. "The fault is all mine! I merely saw you from my window and wondered had you all returned in one piece. I would so hate to think any of you suffered on my account!" she exclaimed.

"We're fine, miss...milady, I should say. Tired and hungry but all present and correct. We got rid of those Frenchies and they'll not be bothering us again. Tomorrow we set out to get you home. Not long now, hey?"

"Indeed, and I owe you a great debt of gratitude. But you must bathe before the water cools." Arabella indicated the steaming water. Sharpe frowned slightly.

"If I may, my lady..."

"Oh don't mind me, sir.  I came to see the horses. I do love a fine animal, don't you know? And I so love to ride. They say I have an uncommon fine seat, y' know? Carry on, sir. I'm not at all easily embarrassed. In fact I would rather like to stay and watch. You are a fine looking man and I suspect even finer without your clothes. Perhaps I could assist you in your bath? Rub you down? Ease your aching muscles and weary bones?"

Richard Sharpe blinked a few times at the offer but he was not a man to waste an opportunity, however unexpected. "If you're sure..." he replied and proceeded to continue with his undressing, stripping off the loose white shirt to reveal his naked chest. Sharpe was tall and his broad shoulders were square, so straight that you could almost rule a line on them. He was lean and muscular, his flat belly a ridged washboard, his body fair and his chest free from hair although his lower belly sprouted a healthy tuft. Arabella admired his promising torso.

Turning his back, Sharpe peeled off his tight breeches and dropped them to reveal to her his tight naked arse and the long slender legs honed with constant marching, thickly furred with golden hair in contrast to his almost hairless body. Cupping his groin, he turned back to face Arabella who by now had slung away her cloak and was unbuttoning the bodice of her gown. She gave him a teasing smile and he dropped his hands. If the lady was ready to play, then so was he.

Arabella murmured appreciatively at the sight of him naked; his cock was long and sleek, hanging over plump dark balls. He climbed into the tub with little shyness while she took off her skirt to kneel by the side of the bath, picking up the slab of soap and rubbing it briskly in her hands. Sharpe sat upright as she lathered his back and hair and then leaned against the side and let her wash his chest.  Then she plunged her hands down below the waterline.

Soaping his cock between her hands, she skinned it back and gave it a gentle cleaning while he closed his eyes and felt the pleasure of her intimate touch. Then she dropped it back, ran her hands between his legs and gave him a thorough cleansing, before starting to work on each leg and ending with a sensual massage of his feet.

"Where did a lady like you learn to attend a man like that?" he moaned in ecstasy, his cock already rising above the water line.

"You would be surprised what fine ladies and gentlemen get up to in the privacy of their rooms," she replied enigmatically before taking a ladle and rinsing out his hair. He ran his fingers through it when she had done and watched her as she prepared a blade to shave him. It was a long time since he had known such comfort.

 While she lathered the soap onto his face and carefully shaved his sculptured cheeks, he asked her a few questions.

"What's been going on since I've been gone? Aubrey left you alone?" he asked bluntly.

Arabella smiled. "He has made an advance. Captain Aubrey has a taste for the ladies..."

"So...what you doing with me then? I thought you'd prefer a gentleman..." Sharpe replied with a smug expression, as if he already knew her answer.

Arabella rinsed the blade in the water and returned to her task. "He is amusing enough but I prefer a man with a more common touch. You have no idea how boring I find the endless attentions of these gentlemen!"

"Bit of rough do for you then, milady?" he responded with a grin.

"Oh yes, Lieutenant. I rather like it rough." She completed the job and wiped down his face. "So handsome! I love your square jawed manliness!" And she bent and kissed his lips; he moved and held her firm, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and showing her his desire.

Rising from the water she took the towel and dried him, paying special attention to his erect cock, patting it and then kneeling to take it in her mouth. Her sudden action startled him but he soon recovered and played with her hair as she attended him; he thought her quite the most beautiful woman who had ever given him the benefit of her mouth.

It was cold in the stable and he slung on a shirt before pulling her into an empty stall. She was quickly on her back and he raised her skirts to find her naked beneath. "Bloody hell...you were expecting someone?" he grinned and plunged his head down to taste her ripe moist places, kissing her as deeply as he had her mouth. Arabella trilled with glee at his delicious forwardness. Raising her from the ground he flipped her over onto all fours before parting her willing thighs and rubbing along against her creamy buttocks. "Seeing as we're in the stable, ma'am...might as well take a lesson from the horses..." he grunted as he found her hole and pushed.

Arabella gasped as he took her fast and with little ceremony. He was rough but not without skill as he rotated his narrow hips and thrust upwards. She felt him beat against her tender places and fill her so well that she could do little but kneel before him and offer her open body to him to do as he pleased.

And he did just that. Pounding against her, in and out, deep and fast, holding her hips and fondling her buttocks, his balls slammed against her tender flesh as he rutted. Sharpe dropped forward on one arm and cupped her breast whispering to her "Rub yourself, love, I can't reach from here. Give yourself a treat. I want to feel your little cunnie grip me tight as you let go...come on...give it to Dickie..." Arabella crudely licked her forefingers and began to frot herself while he continued his deep fucking. It was only a matter of moments before she threw her head back and screamed. He felt the tight pulsing grip of her strong walls, wave after wave of pleasure, and it was enough to finish him off. With a burst of profanity, he shot into her volley after volley until he was quite drained and then he slipped to the ground to roll onto his back and groan in languid satisfaction.

Arabella fell to the straw covered floor beside him and lay their panting, sore and bruised but elated beyond words. This young man was exactly as she had hoped; raw but earthy, rough but tender. What a contrast to the captain with his romantic lovemaking - no less hearty but more given to soft words and sentimental gesture! She felt blessed to have these two outstanding examples of manhood to pleasure her.

"God Almighty...you've left me jiggered, ma'am," Sharpe murmured as he dragged himself to his feet and held out a hand to raise her. "We best get a move on afore someone notices something amiss. I'll just finish off here while you go back in. They're waiting to serve dinner and then it's an early night. First light, ma'am we'll be off..."

"Is that all you're going to say, Richard, after having your way with me?" Arabella asked with one eyebrow raised as she buttoned up her clothing.

Sharpe blushed. "Oh no, ma'am. I just...well, I don't rightly know what to say. Except it was an honour. And I'd like to do it again. With your permission, ma'am..." he answered nervously.

Arabella grinned and threw her arms round his neck. He held her to him and kissed her softly, stroking back her hair, suddenly shy. "And so you shall, my beautiful Richard. And so you shall!" And with that she picked up her cloak and danced away from him to run silently across the yard and re-climb the stairs.

Minutes later, combed and dressed, she went down the main stairs and greeted the men who were all waiting for the meal. "Carry on gentlemen! You did a fine job, I'm sure. Captain, Doctor? Shall we progress to the dining room? But where is Lt. Sharpe?"

"Just coming, my lady." Jack replied, with no idea just how accurate his words were.

After dinner, they all took their leave, aware that they needed to rest up and face the arduous journey ahead. Sharpe left the table first, already exhausted, and Stephen excused himself not long afterwards, aware that the couple no doubt had their own words to say. Across the table, Jack and Arabella faced each other. "I cannot join you tonight, madam. I would do nothing to risk your reputation before the others."

She lowered her lashes demurely. "Your own men know what has happened," she replied softly.

"They are my men and can be trusted to keep our secrets. But it is not fitting to flaunt ourselves before the other men. Whatever we have shared must be put on hold until we reach safety. And then..." his voice trailed off.

"...And then we can be lovers again...for that is what I wish, dear, dear Jack! And until then I shall dream each night of your magnificent body and the love you have given me!" Arabella rose; Jack jumped to attention and bowed. She walked regally over to him and kissed his lips tenderly, breaking off slowly as if she could hardly bear to part from them. "Good night, sweet Jack...and dream of your little Arabella who wants nothing more than to lie naked again in your arms..." With that she took her leave and climbed the stairs to bed while Jack drank down the last of his port and took a deep breath to clear his head. He was in this over his head already. What was he to do when they reached England and Sophie was waiting for him at the port?

With a groan, Jack extinguished the candles and made his way alone to his room, pushing the guilty reminders of his infidelity away and turning his mind instead to the present task in hand.

It would have been a gruelling journey even in more clement weather but mounted the party was better able to move. Sharpe and his men remained on foot and their ability to move at speed, or 'quicktime' as they called it astonished Jack and Stephen. While they were all on horse, the infantry men moved ahead as a scouting party and made sure their route was clear. They were also skilled at finding accommodation for the night - sometimes an abandoned cottage, sometimes an old barn but once in a while a decent house, deserted like almost everything here - the locals had retreated in the wake of two hostile armies, seeking the shelter of the lowlands and the protection of the bigger towns until this debacle was finished.

Many was the time when the party had to dismount and lie on the ground while troops passed by above or below then on other mountains paths or further down the slopes; they even chose to avoid the occasional British force they encountered. These sorry men in retreat were like magnets to the French pursuers, so it was better to avoid any contact with them.

Arabella rode alongside Jack and Stephen, flanked by the other men; she made little complaint although it must have been difficult for her in the saddle hour upon hour, forced to ride like a man where she was used to a side saddle. As they rode along, she often reached out and trailed her fingers gently down Aubrey's leg; he would catch her eyes and they would both smile. "I miss you, Jack!" she would murmur and take her fingers to her lips to kiss and blow her love to where he was astride his own mount. He would then place his hand against his heart tenderly and bow in acknowledgment of her affection.

But there was no way they could sneak time alone amidst the men, and Jack was rigorous that no suggestion of impropriety should ever be suspected. When they bedded down each night, he insisted that a barrier was always rigged between the lady and the other men, using a blanket or a cloak to give her some privacy; her manservant the only one to pass beyond.  The old man never slept far from her side, like a faithful hound on watch.

One night the advance party returned to announce that they had found a decent place to take shelter.It appeared to be a farmhouse, not grand but comfortable enough and with rooms and real beds for everyone. As they sat round the fire in relative comfort that night, sharing the paltry fare that served as an evening meal, Hagman put down his clay pipe and struck up a song, in that nasally style favoured by the common folk. The songs of longing for their homeland cast a melancholy on all the travellers but yet brought a peace of common bonds to the disparate group:

Here's forty shillings on the drum
For those who'll volunteer to come
To 'list and fight the foe today.
Over the hills and far away.

O'er the hills and o'er the Main.
Through Flanders, Portugal and Spain.
King George commands and we obey.
Over the hills and far away.

"There's something about those simple folk tunes that move the heart like nothing else," Jack observed as the plaintive voice sang on of the lonely lot of a soldier's life and the sad reward of death on foreign soil.

"You are a sentimental fool, Jack Aubrey," Stephen smiled to him as they swirled the dregs of the rough local wine in their pewter mugs. "These men took the King's shilling either out of dire need of a square meal or to escape the gallows. They do not die for England. The poor do not have the luxury of such grand gestures. Their struggle is a more basic one. They die because they are too poor to live." The doctor observed sadly.

Jack nodded and sighed. "I still like to believe that even amongst the lower orders there is an innate sense of honour and the cause. For are we not all more than just animals scrabbling for our daily bread?"

Stephen looked into the fire for a few moments before replying. "I know you rouse your men to battle with cries of 'For King George' or 'For England' and such stirring stuff - and they respond with eager hearts and fired on by the idea of pride in their nation. But the true driving force of their action will always be 'For the Prize!' The rest is all just bluff and wind, and I think you know it, friend."

At that Jack smiled ruefully and patted his friend on the back. "You and I are an odd pair! How did I fall in with such a dissenter as you! Why you will not accept but one of the agreed tenets upon which our culture is founded without examining it in minute detail and then tearing it asunder!"

Stephen laughed. "When families have food on the table and fathers have money in their pockets then we can talk of higher things like liberty and honour and duty to a far off king. But I do not believe we are so far apart in out attitudes, I'll warrant, Jack. For you know these things to be true and you are a kind and fair man to those whose lives are in your hands. We all do what we must. Each to his own flag and the Devil take the hindmost!" Maturin retorted.

Across the room, the Lady Arabella sat listening to the singing ,dreamy eyed on a stool by the fire. Richard Sharpe was standing leaning on the mantelpiece close by. They were unobserved. "I see so little of you these days, lieutenant!" Arabella muttered.

"It is the job of a soldier to soldier, ma'am, not to play love games with fancy ladies..." he replied.

She glanced up at him. "Am I to assume you are rebuffing me, sir?"

He looked away and winced at her words. "On the contrary, I think of you all the time, my lady. But we can't afford to let our guard down here. I wish it were different but I have my duty..."

"...and that always comes before your desire?" She asked curiously.

"Yes, milady. Duty first. Desire...when you've got the job done."

Arabella smiled. "You never mince your words, sir. I like that. When you have got the job done, will you come back to me and..."

"...get the other job done?" he whispered. She saw his playful grin. "I expect so, milady. If you'll have me then..."

"Oh yes...I shall have you then...and this time on a soft feather bed - and on my back!" she teased and their eyes met. "You know I care for you very much, Richard?"

"Aye, my lady. And I for you as well...."

Arabella blushed and held out her hand. "I think I will retire. Good night, lieutenant..." He raised her to her feet. She turned and gave her goodnights to the other officers. Jack fixed her with his eyes and she met his steely gaze with her own brown eyes full of promise, before leaving for her chamber with faithful Miguel at her side.

Outside a short while later the guards were lounging under the shelter afforded by the sloping over hang of the roof, blowing on their hands to keep warm and sipping on a bottle of rough brandy Most of the men had wandered out to have a pipe away from the officers and be able to talk more freely. "Bet you're still laughing about that trick Sharpie pulled with the shooting." Bonden muttered to the riflemen present.

"As a matter of fact, we are," Cooper replied.

"You wouldn't be laughing if I had my way..." Bickerstaff retorted angrily.

"That so? And exactly what would you do to sort us out then?"

Bonden snorted. "Us sailors, we could take you lot apart with our bare hands. You don't know the meaning of hard men till you've sailed a man o'war - and even more so if you'd sailed under Aubrey. He knows how to raise real men..."

"Goldilocks? Don't make us laugh! He'd piss in his breeches if he had to fight in the line..."

"Yer what? He's fuckin' done it all - sea battles, boarding, hand to hand, land engagement...he's in the front line when we fight. Not sitting on a hill with a rifle like you lot. You don't know what you're fuckin' talking about, mate..."

"No? I'd put money on Sharpe against him anyday. He's too heavy...he couldn't handle hisself against a fit man..." Cooper sneered.

"Says who?" Bonden replied brusquely.

"Says me!"

"What would you fuckin' know?"

"Me? I know I can have you, matey."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's do it then, eh? Get it out of the way. You've been angling to show me your fists since the first night." Barrett Bonden smiled as he stripped down to his breeches. He had made his name as a bare knuckle fighter both amongst navy circles and back home - and had never yet lost a fight.

The two men circled each other their fists raised; Cooper was the taller but Bonden was fast and devious. The rest gathered round and started to lay bets and shout encouragement. Cooper swung first, let fly a punishing blow on Bonden but he rode it and used the impact to get close enough to land a punch directly to Cooper's nose. It knocked him flying, careening over a barrel and clattering against a pile of logs. The men laughed and began to forget themselves so caught up in the fight were they.

Inside the farmhouse only Sharpe and Aubrey were left still up, drinking together in comparative silence, Babbington having taken to his bed roll and Stephen also having retired to read.  Both realised immediately what was happening outside almost as soon as they heard the noise and the jeering. Sharpe was on his feet and across the room but Aubrey beat him to it, pulling open the door and charging out. "Set him down, Bonden!" Jack bellowed at his own man who jumped back immediately. Cooper staggered to his feet.

"What's going on here?" Sharpe shouted.

"Nothing, sor. Just a bit of fun. To keep warm, like..." Harper interjected.

"Is that so, Bonden?" Jack barked.

"Yes, sir! We were just sparring to keep warm. I was showing him one of my moves, sir." Bonden replied, head down and tugging on his forelock.

Jack snorted. "You pack of worthless lying dogs! Double watch for the pair of you - together - and you can knock three bells out of each other for all I care. But you better be standing in the morning or I'll have the pair of you flogged. The rest of you men get some sleep. NOW!"

And he turned on his heel back into the house. Sharpe ran after him, slamming the door. "You'll not flog my men, sir...."

Jack swivelled on his heel, the speed of his turn taking even Sharpe by surprise. "...I won't? We shall see."

"I don't hold with flogging..."

"I don't hold with indiscipline. And may I remind you I am the senior officer here and as such the men are all under my command..."

"Don't make me laugh, sir. I've been the one running myself ragged while you sit up on that horse and try to make eyes at the lady..."

Jack scrutinised him coldly. "I think you'd better withdraw that insinuation, sir..."

Sharpe laughed. "Which one? That you're a bloody coward or that you're trying to seduce Lady Arabella? Or that you haven't got a hope in hell's chance of getting a leg over her...?"

Anyone who knew Jack Aubrey would have told from the tensing of his jaw that this was a step too far. Obviously Sharpe either did not know or cared even less. "...You lay a finger on one of my men and I'll rip those golden curls off your ugly scalp. Right?"

Jack said nothing but merely placed a hand on either side of the large trestle table and pushed it back until it met the wall and then kicked the chairs to the sides. Ripping off his coat and unfastening the ties of his shirt, he lifted it over his head before shucking off his boots and breeches. "Here. Now. We finish this once and for all. I am tired of your posturing, you over-promoted bantam cock. Let's see what kind of man you really are..."

Sharpe grinned and followed suit, stripping down to his linens and then the two men faced each other, already breathing deeply as they prepared to engage. Like two charging bulls they slammed into each other, hammering blows down and riding the ones they received in return. Sharpe, for all his lean and wiry physique, was tough and strong, a street fighter who fought dirty - and to win. But Jack was more than a match for him, having several stones to the advantage in weight and being far lighter on his feet than the lieutenant had expected. Furthermore a man virtually raised in the navy, even from Jack's class, had done his fair share of brawling even if he had not, like Capt Aubrey had done, served his time below decks where he had had to hold his own against men who had sorely resented his birth and privilege.

Jack picked up Sharpe, one arm between his legs and another round his neck and roughly threw him bodily against a wall; Sharpe slithered down and the shot forward to ram half bent into Jack's stomach; the groan he made echoing round the room as he was knocked with force against a cupboard which fell its contents smashed.  Already they were both bleeding  profusely but so enraged and fuelled by the adrenalin rush that such encounters naturally created, not to mention the natural competitive urge of such men, that they seemed to feel nothing, shrugging off blows that would have floored lesser men.

Up on the gallery above, where a wooden balcony ran all the way round, giving a view upon the main room below, Arabella Crowley stood in the shadows, clutching a shawl around her shoulders shivering with cold but fascinated by the scene below. She observed the two glistening bodies, sweating even in the winter night, perspiration running down bodies already streaked with blood. Jack Aubrey, his magnificent chest scarred and golden, rippling with bulging muscles, slugging it out hand to hand with Richard Sharpe whose pale skin revealed every flexing of his sinew as he threw punches at his rival.

Arabella could hear the dull thwacks of fist on bone and flesh, the deep groans of effort and injury, the muttered curses and the roars of rage. Both men were naked, save for the loose covering of their nankeen drawers, which sagged low on their narrow hips; she could make out the curve of one man's buttocks and the V-shaped muscle of another's groin, the thatch of his lower hair displayed. As they pulled and pushed, jostled and shoved, the linens slipped lower and she could see the bulge of their impressive genitals and wondered if both men were at least partially aroused by this intimate and violent struggle as they rolled over the floor like two dogs, punching, biting, head-banging, squeezing, kicking. This visceral and earthy contest, as two powerful men, equally balanced, slugged each other into unconsciousness seemed to her to be one of the most arousing spectacles she had ever seen. A sudden urge to stand between them naked and join in this wrestling assailed her. She imagined that instead of inflicting pain, the two men would roll together in some homoerotic dance and she would enter the fray; a forbidden and lusty act of troilism would take place with both men taking their pleasure on her and giving back the same.

Her lurid fantasy sent her spinning until she felt hot even in the chill and the trickle of arousal ran down her legs as they fought on, now almost barely able to stand but still handing out more and more punishment to each other.

"Lady Arabella....Good God...what are they doing!" Stephen Maturin ran along towards the stairs and clattered clumsily down to intervene.

"Stop this! Stop it this instant, ye damned fools!" He pulled Jack off Sharpe and the two men faced each other, breathing heavily, bruised and bloodied, both hardly able to stay on their feet but neither wanting to back down. "I said enough!" Stephen shouted. "You chide your men for doing the same thing and here you are like two dogs scrapping over a bone! Act like gentlemen and not common ruffians!"

At that, Jack took one last swing, missed and spun, while Sharpe finally sank to his knees; both men keeled over, falling face down on the floor.

"Miguel! Fetch some hot water and cloths and bring my medical bag. And you, Lady Arabella, either go to your room or come here and help attend these men. This is not a spectacle solely for your amusement!"

Arabella had never been addressed in such terms in her entire life. So shocked was she, that she merely complied and tripped down the stairs to assist. Stephen dragged Sharpe over to a chaise longue where he lay sprawled out and moaning. Between the two of them, Miguel the manservant and the doctor, they managed to hoist Jack onto a large armchair. He was still unconscious until Stephen waved a phial of sal volatile under his nose and he came to, groaning and muttering profanities.

The injuries were superficial but both of them would pay for their behaviour in the morning with swollen cheeks, split lips, black eyes, bruised ribs and numerous cuts, bites and contusions; there did not seem to be any broken bones but from the way either man instinctively grasped at his genitals, Stephen presumed they were probably also bruised. Arabella helped to wash wounds, apply salve and bandage the two men, all the while enjoying the feast of naked, battered flesh on display with a prurient pleasure that bordered on the perverse. Finally, Stephen gave them both a healthy measure of brandy and redressed them in their breeches and shirts before steering them back to their feet and for some rest. They were asleep almost before their heads touched the pillow.

Then Stephen turned to Arabella. "Keep away from both of them, do you hear me? It is you who are behind this ridiculous rivalry and you who are fomenting it daily. These men need to be able to work together for the safety of all of us! We are at war, madam, not here for the benefit of your latest romantic adventure! I fully understand Jack's usual reluctance to put a woman into a group of men at war - for this is the result. Without you, they would have found a common bond by now since both men have seen each other at work and respect the other's competence. I know your game, madam, so watch your step. These men have risked their lives for you - and do not deserve to be treated in this callous way, as if they were mere playthings for your amusement. Good night, madam, and be warned. Your wiles are not affecting me..."

Lady Arabella narrowed her beautiful eyes and a sneer contorted her lovely features. "Don't make an enemy of me, sir! Men have made that mistake before and paid the price for it..." she spat back.

Stephen smiled but the expression did not reach his eyes. "And I warn you not to threaten me, my lady. I do not suffer from the same blindness in the presence of a winsome face as some men do - and I know rather more about you than they do. Take care I don't reveal all that I know..."

She tossed her head and stormed for the stairs. "Miguel! Attend me! I wish for a warm drink before I retire!" The old man fixed Maturin in his sights and watched him through his rheumy eyes for an instant before following his mistress wearily up the stairs.

The men saw the stark evidence of the brawl on the faces of their officers the next morning but made no remark, keeping their eyes averted and acting as if all was as usual. The company were, however, subdued as they packed up to set out. Aubrey walked stiffly to his horse and grimaced as he mounted. "Sharpe...ride today. One of my men can keep up with your fellows. Bickerstaff - give the lieutenant your horse!"

"I'll be fine, sir..." Sharpe retorted still looking green and far from all right.

"Nonsense," Jack replied. "Look, man...you do nobody any favours by holding us back. Don't be stubborn. And about last night. We were both damned fools. Fighting like drunken men in a street. I can't even remember what we were fighting about now. Can you?"

Sharpe mounted the horse awkwardly but grinned. "That's the point, in't it, sir? If you knew what you were fighting about you probably wouldn't do it. No one ever remembers the next day."

At that Jack laughed out loud; the men pricked up their ears, hardly expecting this turn of events. "You're bloody well right of course. I remember little in the morning about anything much," he added. "But I'll tell you this - when two good men fight, it is usually over a woman or some misguided principle..."

"I think it might have been both, sir..." Sharpe retorted.

"You could be right," Jack raised his eyebrows in agreement.

"I still don't hold with flogging though, sir," Sharpe stated bluntly.

"And I still don't hold with indiscipline. But...I am not a man who flogs lightly either. I don't like it anymore than you..."

"I was flogged once for something that I didn't do, sir." Sharpe raised his chin defiantly openly acknowledging that he was once a common soldier.

"That is a diabolic travesty. But what about flogging a man for something that he did, hey? Now that is quite a different kettle of fish, Mr. Sharpe."

"Quite so, sir."

"I rarely allow women aboard ship. I find that the presence of a woman - any woman - not to mention as nubile a lady as we are accompanying, is detrimental to discipline. I think we just proved my point last night. My apologies for my behaviour. I'd be grateful if you took my hand, sir."

Sharpe shook his head in surprise and reached forward. "I'd be delighted, sir. There's nothing like a bit of a barney to clear the air, I reckon. You pack a punch, Captain and no mistake...I thought you'd broken me jaw last night..."

Jack grasped his hand and laughed heartily. "Jack...call me Jack. I think a good blooding behoves us to be on first name terms...Richard?"

"Aye, sir. I think you're right, sir. About the ladies as well, sir. Nothing comes between mates like a woman. Happens every time.  And they're never bloody worth it!" The two men shook with laughter as the party moved slowly away from the farmhouse.

"You married, Sharpe?" Jack asked thoughtfully, rubbing the bristles on his cheek.

"No, sir. Managed to wriggle out of that a few times... You got a wife?"

Jack nodded. "Yes. And three little ones, God help me. Don't get me wrong...my wife is a fine woman and I am most fond of her but..." and Jack lowered his voice to a whisper. "You get precious little between the sheets...and when the children come along, then it's even less. I believe I had more amatory pleasure when I was a bachelor than ever I've received since I was married. It's the damndest thing..."

Meanwhile trudging along Bickerstaff addressed Sergeant Harper. "The Captain and your lieutenant must have knocked the shite out of each other last night...you seen their faces?"

"Ah, by God, I'd have liked to have seen that one, so I would!"

"Wouldn't we all. I'm surprised Goldilocks didn't kill him..."

"He's got the weight advantage but Sharpe fights dirty. I'll bet the Captain's balls are bruised this morning..."

Bonden joined them laughing. "Jack Aubrey's not agin landing his boot up a bloke's ballocks either...I've seen him do it afore. I'll bet it was a fine old sight..."

"I like an officer who acts like a regular man, myself. Gets drunk...chases the ladies, rogers the wenches, loses his pay at cards, likes a good fight...that's the kind of man I'll die for...Sharpe, he's a rum 'un and no mistake..." Cooper observed.

"Then you'd like the captain...he could drink any man under the table. He's bloody shite at the tables but it never stops him...and I've never known him to pass over a bit of skirt when he's on land either. His breeches are up and down like a flag on a pole..."

Stephen Maturin rode at their side and gave the matter deep thought. The minds of military men were singularly mysterious to his rational way of thinking. Who would have imagined that the best cure for the hostility between the two groups would turn out to be letting them fight like baying animals? And that they would find something to admire in the very qualities that most sane people would regard as weaknesses?

They could taste the sea before they saw it; the sharp wind carrying the strong smell of ozone and the salt-bitter rain prickling their faces as they rode the last few miles towards their rendezvous at Santa Eugenia. Jack had noted the change in the wind miles before and it had raised his spirits immediately as a return to the sea always did. This journey had been a grim and gruelling experience even if they had been lucky to see so little direct action at this time.

Nearing the designated beach, they were forced to take shelter in a culvert as they heard the hooves of a large force of cavalry closing them down. It did not appear that they were the target but they were clearly part of a large French force in the district. Jack and Stephen rode after them but were back within the half hour.

"There's a whole company bivouacked in a valley nearby. We shall have to be very circumspect. The place is crawling with them. No sound or we stand a good chance of being discovered. We must steal through to the sea like wraiths in the night..." Jack announced.

Dismounting, the party led the horses to a small field and tethered them. The journey the last mile or so would be safer on foot and the horses would be there to evacuate Sharpe and his men when they had successfully seen the lady and the sailors to their waiting boat.

Stealthily they crept over the final distance until they were on rocks cresting the narrow rocky beach. It was almost midnight and the boat would already be bobbing just off shore waiting for a signal fire to lead them in. Jack crawled to the top of the stones to look down. To his horror, he realised that the beach was already occupied.

Shimmying back, he returned to the others. "We're completely dished. There's a group of Frenchies camped on the beach. Perhaps twenty or thirty men. I have no bloody idea what they are doing there but it's possible that they are waiting for supplies from a French ship. The damndest coincidence - there must be hundreds of bays to choose from along this coast!"

"Then we must withdraw. You have a second rendezvous date on the 15th...." Maturin muttered.

Sharpe groaned. "We'll never evade this gang for another ten days. We're lucky enough to have got through as it is..."

"Furthermore," Jack added, "The lights of their camp fires will appear to be the signal to the Surprise. Our men will land straight in the midst of that troop. And there is a danger of a French war ship also being out there. I will not leave my ship without a captain in such a threat....No. We have to fight our way through. This is our stand, gentlemen."

The three men contemplated the reality facing them, the only possible course of action left. Sharpe went up and took a look before returning to join them. "The minute we start firing the rest will be alerted and we'll face an entire bloody company. I reckon we've got about fifteen minutes to get through or we've had it..."

"Then so be it. Gather the men round," Jack replied before staring off into space for a while. 

When the party were assembled he came to speak to them, indicating they should sit on the ground around him; Lady Arabella stood to the side with her servant holding her hand. In a few brief words Jack outlined their plight and the plan of action. "Babbington...I entrust the safety of Lady Arabella to you. Take her and Miguel and whilst we engage the others, skirt the beach and get her to the boat. Our men there will come and assist in the fight bringing an unexpected attack from the rear. If it goes badly, then you take the boat and get her to the ship. If necessary, you abandon us. The decision is yours, William..." Babbington frowned but nodded; he both wanted to be part of the action and spared the possibly painful task of failing his comrades. It was an unpleasant command to have to undertake but he did so with the fortitude that was his nature.

"Sharpe...position your men on these rocks to cover us. They can pick off the French and cause a confusion as we attack. Make each shot count, boys. We are vastly outnumbered..."

"I'm with you, sir. Harper can take charge of the rifles. But you can't walk into that with only four men. I've got a sword as well, Jack..."

Jack nodded briskly and patted the other man's arm. "I'd be grateful for you by my side. I'm not going to pretend that this will be easy and we may fail. But we have the element of surprise, the advantage of some of the best sharpshooters in the British army, the hearts of oak of the navy and our bloodyminded refusal to die on this pitiful beach on a cold February night. What say you? Is it to be face down in the sand or a bottle of rum on the ship by the next bell?"

The men laughed and assured him that they would do a sight more for grog than take out a few Frenchies and they were ready.

Jack strode over to Arabella whose beautiful face looked white and drawn in the moonlight. "We will not allow them to harm you. Every man here would die for you, my lady..."

"Keep safe, Jack! I cannot bear the thought that I might lose you!"

He took her hand and kissed it. "Take care of yourself. I shall see you soon...adieu..."

He stepped back and returned to his men as Babbington steered her down to the narrow path that led to the beach. Lt. Sharpe ran forward and touched her arm. "All the best, my lady...I don't think I'll be seeing you again..."

"What? But I thought...?"

He shook his head. "This is where we say goodbye. I've got to get back to my regiment. You to Aubrey's ship. Let's hope we all make it, eh?"

Arabella appeared genuinely overcome. "I can't bear not to see you again..."

"Never say never, Miss. We'll meet up by and by. Just see if we don't. Until then, my fond regards...Arabella..." he took her extended hand and kissed it, making an unexpectedly gracious bow and withdrew to his men. Babbington and Miguel hustled her down to wait in the shadows by caves at the rear of the beach for the attack to begin.

Moments later, Jack and the four men ran lightly down the slope and then formed a tight packed line. Moving forward they leapt at the enemy who were mostly settling down for the night or already asleep. The sentries were minimal and easily dispatched. The alarm was, however, quickly raised and soldiers grabbed weapons, fitting bayonets, as Jack, Sharpe and the others slashed and stabbed their path through.

But from above Harper was keeping a close eye and before a hostile shot could be fired, his men launched their volleys, making every shot count. Three a minute. Just as Sharpe liked.

French soldiers began to drop on all sides and the effect was immediate for those fighting on the beach. Babbington led the lady and her servant round the perimeter, his own sword drawn at the ready but they made the water's edge in safety and there was the rescue boat.  "Who goes there?"

"Sophie!" Babbington whispered the password and immediately the sounds of several men jumping into the shallows was heard and the boat was hauled in.

"Holler? Is that you? Christ man, are you a welcome sight! Get your weapons and give aid to the captain...they're fighting their way through a gaggle of Frenchies..."

"Aye, aye, sir!" The four sailors ran forward, swords in hand and caught the French who were already fighting backs to the sea. If turned the tide of the exchange and soon the remaining few French men were on their knees surrendering, most of their fellow men dead or dying around them. Sharpe gave the order for his men to lay down their guns.

Jack took a swift reconnaissance, kicking weapons away from some of the prone men before turning back to the others. "Get to the boat...."

"We'll be out of here, sir..." Sharpe replied. "Back to the horses before that company get here..."

"You'll never make it, man," Jack argued. "They'll be swarming over here is minutes and when they see what we've done...they will want someone to punish. To the ship. That's an order..."

"No, sir...your jurisdiction ends now....We're not coming..."

"Don't be a bloody fool...get in the boat or I'll put you there myself. I'll not lose a single man in this..."

Sharpe looked back at his own men, now down from their perch and advancing across the beach. He groaned. "I bloody hate boats. I was sick for months when we went to India and back..."

Jack grinned. "It's more than twenty five years since I was last sea sick, but the memory still lingers. However, I think I prefer even the terrors of mal de mer to having my balls ripped off by a French bayonet. Although sea sickness may feel like living death, you are actually alive...and there must be some compensation for that...come on, make you mind up...I haven't got all night!"

Jack made his way down to the boat; Sharpe called over to the Chosen men. "Looks like we're about to go for a sail..." he announced with a look of sheer resignation on his face.

Shortly afterwards, the jolly boat was drawing near to the Surprise, the most welcome sight most of them had ever seen. Few of the men were without some injury from the fray, they were also tired, hungry, wet, cold and dispirited. Not so Jack Aubrey. As the bosun's chair was lowered for the lady and a rope ladder for the others, he could not contain his delight to be back on his beloved ship, merely shinning up a rope to jump nimbly aboard. The riflemen watched his dexterity with utter shock, amazed that such a big man could move so delicately and with such speed.

By the time they dragged themselves over the side, he was back in command, rubbing his hands together in glee.

"Mr. Mowett...full report in my cabin in ten minutes...all hands to the sails...we have not a moment to lose. Rogers to the nest...there's a French man o' war in the vicinity and I don't want him creeping up on us...Killick! Organise hot food and rum for the party and dry warm clothes....and you there, boy...forget your name...show Lady Arabella to my sleeping quarters and see what she needs. Padeen...light along, there, good man...I'll be moving into the doctor's quarters until Lisbon...get a cot set up...." He issued a barrage of orders at break neck speed, dashing to the quarter deck shrugging off the proffered greatcoat but slipping from his civilian clothes to don his uniform jacket and place his scraper firmly athwartships. He was reclaiming his office in his usual fashion.

They were out at sea on the rough and blustery February night. Jack knocked and waited for permission to enter. Arabella sat at his chair, brushing out her dark hair as her man servant busied himself about her. She smiled eagerly when he stepped in. "Dear Jack! You were magnificent! Absolutely magnificent! On the beach you fought like a lion and then back on the ship! Have you any idea how a woman's heart flutters to see a man take command in that way! You are a giant among men, sir! Please..." and at that she blushed and lowered her eyes... "Do not feel it necessary to abandon your quarters. Surely we could come to some arrangement if we were discreet? No one would ever question the captain, surely?" she teased and let her little pink tongue dart out and lick her lips suggestively.

Jack cleared his throat and raised his chin, locking his arms squarely behind his back and rocking back and forth, clearly discomfited. He eyed up the man servant. Arabella dismissed him.

"Madame...I trust you are comfortable in these quarters. They are at your disposal until we dock at Lisbon two days' hence." He cleared his throat again "I must make something abundantly clear to you. I run a very tight ship and expect of myself what I expect of my men. Women are rarely allowed aboard for reasons that are blatantly obvious in a community of hundreds of men. I would be most grateful if you could keep to the cabin as much as possible, apart from a short constitutional on deck once a day. I shall be perfectly comfortable with the doctor for the next few nights. There is no question of an arrangement - however discreet. Not at sea, my lady."

Arabella raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "But on land..?" she enquired.

Jack smiled, his eyes now sparkling. "On land...now that is quite a different matter. I shall call at the residence when you are safely ashore and my duty is done. Perhaps then we can talk about our arrangement?" He bowed stiffly and Arabella noticed the bandaged arm and the awkward way he was walking.

"That seems to be an excellent way forward. I shall look forward to that of all things...but, I am most dreadfully rude. You were injured in the fight?"

Jack glanced at his arm. "Mere flesh wounds. Do not concern yourself. Now I suggest a good night's sleep. You will be all the better to enjoy Lisbon if you arrive well rested..."

With that comment, said with a devilish grin, Jack bowed and left his Cabin, barely able to refrain from rubbing his hands together at the thought of a few days with the luscious Arabella in that elegant city. She was most grateful to him. He would enjoy her gratitude profoundly.

Arabella came upon Lt. Sharpe the next afternoon as she strolled on deck watched through lowered eyes by every man there. He was leaning at the rail looking pale; Sgt Harper was standing by him, no longer the ruddy cheeked merry soul, but as green as an unripe tomato.

"Good afternoon, Richard!" Arabella called gaily, her cheeks bright from the blustery breeze; she loved the sea and was an excellent sailor.

"Oh...your ladyship..." replied Sharpe with little enthusiasm.

"What brings you here, sir?"

He shrugged. "I was told the sea air would help. But I think it makes it worse, all those tossing waves and him up there like a performing Barbary ape..."

Sharpe pointed upwards where the captain was deftly climbing through the cross tiers until he was able to stand at the highest point and look out across the rolling sea. It was a grey typical February day, clear but bitterly cold and the seas were high; the roll of the ship was formidable and yet he stood barely holding, riding every toss and pitch and laughing into the spray, utterly delighted to be back in his natural element.

Arabella watched him and smiled fondly. "What a seaman, he is! He impressed me on the land but here in his own domain, he is like a god among men..."

"What a thought! Yes, Milady...very impressive..." Sharpe turned away, rather wishing the lady would simply disappear and leave him to his misery. Sgt. Harper made his excuses and dashed away; Richard had to stand and put up with it.

"I was thinking, Richard. I have the use of a rather large cabin and sleeping chamber and am never disturbed. The captain prefers me to stay below so as not to...shall we say....interfere with the normal running of the ship? Perhaps you would like to pay me a visit this evening and dine with me? It is very tedious alone and we could...revive our friendship..."

Richard groaned inwardly at the idea. Roger her on the captain's own bed? Not that he didn't think there was a certain amusement from that but Aubrey had saved his bloody life by taking him and his men off that beach and had treated him decently all along. It wasn't right. Apart from the fact that if he moved too quickly he would have thrown up the meagre contents of his belly and he hardly thought the lady would have gone for that in the middle of a rut.

"Much obliged, your ladyship, for the kind invitation but I'm not sure I can keep solid food down at the moment. I'm feeling the worse for wear...not a good sailor, you see..."

"Sea sick? Oh you poor thing! What wretched luck! After all your trials to be brought low by that! So, you do not feel well enough to keep me company?" she teased, tapping his chest lightly.

"Some other time, if I may. On solid ground. When the only thing moving about is us..." he managed a lascivious grin.

She feigned shyness and raised her hands to her face. "You wicked, wicked boy! Then you must call on me directly we make land. I insist. I owe you my thanks and I intend to give it to you then..."

Turning on her heel, she flounced in the direction of the stairs, leaving Sharpe shaking his head in her wake. By God, he was going to have some fun with her when he was in Lisbon...

"Miguel? Please attend me in my cabin at once. I have a few matters for you to see to..." Arabella shouted to her manservant who dutifully rose to his feet and followed her as she disappeared below.

It was a fine day when they disembarked at Lisbon, cool and brisk but a weak sun and a blue sky, the first in days. Arabella was taken to the governor's mansion in a fine carriage. Jack Aubrey was at his desk, at last back in his own cabin, sifting through the many documents that needed his attention on landing and also putting the finishing touches to his current long missive to Sophie, a much edited account of his recent adventure in Spain. He intended to find the first swift vessel bound for Portsmouth. A knock at his cabin door made him look up with a frown. Who the devil was that?

"Come!" he barked.

Richard Sharpe entered the Great Cabin tentatively, somewhat intimidated by the whole ritual and ceremony of the Navy life and in awe already of the august person of the captain. Jack glared and threw down his pen.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but I'll be off, like. I wanted to say thank you for your hospitality and that it was a pleasure serving under you, sir. And I'm sorry about that little disagreement we had, sir..."

Jack's face relaxed into a smile and he stood up, clapping Sharpe on the back.

"Forget about that. 'Tis the way of men. You're a fine soldier, Sharpe. Gives me faith in the army to win this war yet and there's not many army officers I would say that of. Wellington's no fool if he picked you out of the line. I'll warrant we'll be hearing more of you yet. I give you joy, sir and my respect. You're a man I would always want at my side in a battle - and that goes for your men. An odd bunch, but warriors all. Give them my regards."

"I will, sir. I hope we may be spared to meet again. I would like that, sir. Very much," Sharpe added.

Jack shook his hand. "If you're ever in Hampshire...visit us. Ashgrove House. Petersfield," he said. "But...wait...perhaps we can get together sooner? A drink later? Luncheon? I am engaged later on but would be delighted to buy you a meal in one of the fine inns here before you set off..."

Sharpe looked down and repressed a smile. "I'm afraid I have an appointment. With the lady, sir...now that we're all finished with it, I might as well mention that we have struck a...friendship as you might call it..."

"What the devil are you talking about, man? Lady? Surely you are not imagining that the Lady Arabella is attracted to you...?"Jack chuckled.

Sharpe bridled. "I'm saying more than that, sir. We're already intimate, begging your pardon..."

"Intimate? God damn you for a liar and a blackguard, sir! The lady Arabella and I have been lovers since this began...and I have an engagement with her this afternoon at four. She has already replied to my card..."

"What? Cup of tea and a cucumber sandwich, maybe?  I was talking about quite another sort of dish..."

The two men squared up at each other and stared aggressively but it was clear that both were thinking. 

"Are you saying that you've fucked her, sir?" Sharpe suddenly asked bluntly.

Jack exhaled and rubbed at his chin. "You tupped her as well? The little hussy...She's been playing with us both, Richard, and we followed her like lambs to the fair...Good God...women!" Jack ran his fingers back through his hair.

"I say, let's go and confront her. See what she says...if she likes us both...maybe she will have other treats in store, hey, Jack? How do you fancy sharing your pleasures?"

Jack grinned crudely. "Wouldn't be the first time. Let me get my coat and hat. They always like a man in uniform..."

Shortly afterwards the two officers made their way across town to the governor's residence. To any passing observer they made an impressive sight: Sharpe in his best uniform, washed and brushed, red sash, round his slender hips a vivid complement to his dark green jacket, Aubrey resplendent in his dress uniform glistening with gold and trappings as only a naval officer's accoutrements could look. His hair was clean and tamed, shining in the sun. Many a woman stopped to watch them striding down the street with intent, as if on some important mission.

At the mansion, they were admitted and shown up to the private quarters allotted to the lady Arabella. A serving maid asked them to wait in the parlour. They remained there for sometime, Jack staring out of the window and Sharpe drumming his fingers on a side table. Both were agitated and restless, angry and aroused by their realisation and by the thought of the coming encounter.

Just then Sharpe leapt up and made for the inner door. It was locked. He stood back, raised his right foot and kicked it hard; the lock gave way and he strode forward. "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am," he growled, "But yer door were locked." Jack watched him with amusement and then walked slowly over to stand as Sharpe did in the open doorway.

Both men simply stared in shock at the sight before their eyes.

"Who the devil is he?" Jack stammered out.

"Bloody hell, you didn't waste your time, did you, Arabella?" Sharpe shook his head and laughed ruefully.

Arabella raised her head languidly. The gentleman lying with her in the bath took the cigar out of his mouth and smiled lazily before giving a curt nod. "Miguel Sanchez y Figueros de los Crespos, at your service, senors," he said courteously.

"Miguel..." Jack muttered as he suddenly began to work it out. Sanchez indicated a pile of male clothing discarded on the floor and a grey and dusty wig on the top.

"You were that snivelling little bugger all along? Letting us do the work while you scurry around fetching and carrying?" Sharpe shouted in temper.

"...Not to mention, watching...I have a done a lot of watching of late, senors, and it has been most...interesting..." Sanchez laughed merrily, not in the least embarrassed at his behaviour.

Jack winced; Sharpe narrowed his eyes.

"Why, you dirty little bastard..." The two men began to walk towards the large tin bath where the couple were lying naked.

"Come, come, boys," Arabella grinned like a satisfied cat. "You know you like to watch. Wasn't that the purpose of this visit? To share your fun and watch while the other took his turn...or perhaps you were just so eager that you would have done it together?"

Her crude reference to the actual purpose of their visit stopped them in their tracks. Both men exchanged a glance and seemed a little embarrassed at her clear reading of the situation. Arabella continued. "Now, I suggest you withdraw while we dress and gather without. I expect the doctor shortly and perhaps then all shall be revealed? Oh...one more point worth noting for the future. Ladies, gentlemen...do not always prefer blonds..."

Sharpe and Aubrey backed out and shut the door, still stunned at the turn of events. They looked at each other and then burst out laughing. "If she ain't the hardest faced little strumpet I've ever encountered, gentle birth or no..." Jack spluttered.

"Great pair of titties though, Jack, eh? And didn't she know how to go?" Sharpe retorted. His comment only made Jack chuckle the more. 

"And all the time she was letting that hairy little Spaniard crawl in after? What a woman!" Aubrey exclaimed in wonder at her audacity.

"You want to wait around and hear the whole story, Aubrey, or should we find something better to do? Like get a few girls and work up an appetite? What say you?"

At that Jack replaced his hat. "There is absolutely no need to put my dress uniform to waste. Let us go and find a decent bawdy house and work our way through what's on the menu. I find I have quite a hunger on me...not to mention a thirst..." He clapped Sharpe on the back and they ran down the stairs still laughing and making more crude remarks about their plans for the afternoon.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Maturin. I presume you are acquainted with Senor Sanchez?" Lady Arabella Crowley walked forward to greet the doctor with a gracious smile. Stephen Maturin bowed and kissed her hand.

"My lady! Senor Sanchez..." He nodded his head in acknowledgment, his face a mask, revealing nothing of his inner mind. "You have the documents, sir?"

Sanchez grinned, "But, of course..."  He picked up a small leather folder bound with string and offered it to the doctor, but then withdrew it, holding it in his hand and slapping it against his open palm as if in deliberation. "However, first things first, senor. My payment and passage?"

Stephen opened the leather bag he had brought with him and unloaded a few bags full of coin. Sanchez opened them, poured one out on the polished walnut table before him and then hefted the others. "Good...and the rest?"

The doctor placed some travelling documents, a bank draft and letters of permit alongside the coins. "I think you will find it all there. In the name of Jose Galtierrez. We have furnished what you desired...and now if you will...the documents, por favor?" Stephen asked again.

Sanchez took his time reading through the papers before tossing the leather folder onto the table. Stephen picked it up and began to flick through the items contained.

"They are in code..." Sanchez began.

"I invented it..." Stephen replied smugly and continued scanning. Meanwhile Lady Arabella poured out three glasses of port and handed them out.

Stephen closed the document, seemed satisfied, taking a sip from the glass and raising it in a toast. "To secrets!"

The others raised their glasses with wry smiles and repeated his words. "So, Lady Arabella...what now? To England? Play the grieving widow in her weeds? But may I enquire - exactly how did Lord William meet his tragic end?" Stephen asked sardonically.

Arabella chuckled and tossed back her curls, placing down her crystal glass and standing with her hands on her hips. "He was tragically killed in the line of duty, defending documents that he was trying to keep hidden from the French attackers all the while also attempting to save the honour of his much loved wife...I see no reason to give any other picture, do you? How foolish would my father and the Prince Regent appear if it came to light that they had been duped by a man who was all along in the pay of Napoleon Bonaparte?"

Despite his lack of affection for the lady, Stephen Maturin was once again struck by her intelligence and steel. There was little doubt that Sanchez and Arabella had despatched the treacherous Travers, partly to wrest from him the documents that he was carrying to his French paymasters and partly to enable the two lovers the freedom to escape from her unhappy marriage.

"So you return to your father now?" Stephen asked again.

Arabella gave a contemptuous sneer. "No, I most certainly do not. I know you don't like me, sir, and think me quite the whore, but let me say this in my defence.  My body was bartered by my father and my husband in cahoots. The one gained the Prince's favour, the other gained political office. Why should I not barter my own body for my own cause when those who ought to love and protect a woman use her so foully? I was seventeen years old when I was forced to marry Travers. He was fifty." She glared at the doctor who merely gave a slight inclination of his head. "So I have taken love where I found it? Who would blame me? When I met Miguel and he finally revealed his true identity, I did everything I could to aid him, protect him and achieve his goal. It brought me freedom from the yoke and the love I have always craved. It also brings me a future in a new world and a chance to start again. To be a good woman and live a decent life..." At that she smiled at Sanchez who came to her side and took her hand in his.

"You took advantage of two good men..." Maturin interrupted.

"They were well rewarded. No one suffered..." Arabella dismissed his remark out of hand.

"Nevertheless..." Stephen went on, until Sanchez spoke up.

"May I remind you, Maturin, that you also took advantage of two good men?" Sanchez was no longer speaking in the amused charming way he had affected since the conversation had begun. The man's voice was cold and resolute. He would not have his lady maligned. "You never told Jack Aubrey or Richard Sharpe the real purpose of this mission nor what was the actual treasure they were recovering. And what was their possible reward from it all? Death at the end of a French bayonet? Come now, Dr Maturin, we all do what we must. I have risked my life for months behind enemy lines for you and your government. Now my position has been discovered and I am forced to retire. Arabella has aided her country in the safe recovery of vital information that, had it fallen into French hands would have been disastrous to an army already barely able to save itself in retreat. We now wish to start a new life in California. I hope you will wish us both well." He finished with a warning glare.

Stephen smiled distantly and did not reply, merely taking his leave, tucking the documents that so many men could have died for, under his arm. At the door he stopped and paused, looking back to the couple. "Don't become too complacent in your new life. Events are afoot and war with America is a distinct possibility. I trust you will both be ready to take up the cause again should Sir Joseph Blaine have need of you in the future? I would not wish for either of you to find that your new identities had been revealed to agents who might be prepared to cross the Atlantic and the whole continent of America to take revenge for your espionage activities. Do you understand me? Keep in touch. You will be hearing from us..."

With a courtly bow, Stephen Maturin left the mansion feeling mightily pleased with himself. And now in celebration, he decided,  he would take himself off to the Universidade de Lisboa where he believed a rare copy of Pharmacopeia by Wilhemus Fabrus was to be found in the Bibliotheca there. What a pleasant way to end a successful day!

Across the city in quite another district, Jack Aubrey and Richard Sharpe were also in the pursuit of a wholly other form of pleasure. In the upper room of a tavern, in a private chamber with a view of the sea, the two erstwhile rivals were now indulging in an age old ritual of male bonding. Imagine the scene, if you will? A table replete with the remains of a hearty meal, a platter of fruit centre stage and carafes of wine scattered here and there. At the table sit two men, each with a comely maiden on his lap. The two wenches, Branca and Inez were fiery voluptuous women with black, black hair and bold dark eyes who appeared to be enjoying the attentions of the two gentlemen greatly. They wriggled in delight on their laps, showered the men with kisses, cooed at the feel of the manhoods straining beneath them, giggled as the men dribbled wine down their naked breasts and noisily supped. Aubrey was busy unlacing the bodice of Branca and baring even more of her bounteous charms, Sharpe was wedging grapes between the breasts of Inez and gobbling them up one by one.

Suddenly Sharpe lifted up his head and grinned over. "You know this one, Jack?' and he began to bellow a well known sea shanty in his tuneless voice.

Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain;
For we've received orders for to sail for ole England,
But we hope in a short time to see you again.

Jack guffawed and picked up his glass, swallowing down a large swig and wiping his face on the back of his hand. "You've a bloody awful voice, Sharpe...let me show you how it really goes..." And he joined in his deep rich baritone, depositing Branca on the table before him, her legs swinging down as he filled up his glass and sang:

We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.

Now let ev'ry man drink off his full bumper,
And let ev'ry man drink off his full glass;
We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass.

At that, Jack stood, slopped wine into Sharpe's goblet, and then turned back to Branca. "And now, time to attend to the health of this true-hearted lass..." he roughly cleared the table before him with his hand and gently lay her back on the top, dragging up her skirts. The woman lay there laughing; she was quite naked beneath and parted her plump brown legs to display her waiting snatch, thick with black curly hair. Jack grunted appreciatively. "Look at that...what's a man to do, hey Dickie?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled off his jacket and stock, unbuttoned his breeches and rummaged around, hauling out his hard cock. Then he braced himself against the table top while he dragged Branca closer, pulling on her ankle. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he pushed unceremoniously in with a loud groan. "By God, she's wetter than an oilskin in a force nine gale," he laughed as he proceeded to thrust vigorously into her.

Sharpe drank back his wine, laughing and watching before pushing Inez onto her knees. "There's a good girl...see if you can find one of those in my breeches..." Inez pounced and had him out in seconds, shrieking with laughter at the sight of his engorged prick. She wrapped her ruby lips around it and began to suckle noisily. Jack looked over. "Christ man, she's making a meal of that...five guineas says... you'll jump the gun... long before I've got there...you'll not be able ...to withstand that, Sharpe..." His voice was gravely and thick, broken by each thrust.

The other man let out a low moan. "Ten... guineas says I beat you...she's got you in a bloody vice there..."

The gauntlet was issued. Neither was prepared to lose this challenge - the pride of the service and their manhoods were at stake.

On and on Jack pounded, teeth gritted with effort and veins in his neck straining. Meanwhile Sharpe was rolling his head back moaning but still determined to withstand the exquisite pleasure. Branca rolled about under Jack muttering in Portuguese to her friend; neither man could understand her words which actually were: "How long have we got to put up with them? Why don't they just come?"

"What's she saying?" Sharpe asked Jack who grunted back. "No idea...probably about how good I am..." he laughed and hitched his hips to ram even deeper into the woman. "Or even boasting that the other one is missing out..." he added, enjoying himself even more at the idea.

"No bloody chance. She said...can't wait to get his big cock up here as well...leave some for me..." Sharpe stammered back, gripping the table and blinking rapidly.

Jack snorted with derision and then made a guttural roar, seemed to pause before shuddering and then swearing out loud at his apparent failure to hold on. Sharpe jeered back, "Told you, you wouldn't last..." and then gave in to his own pleasure, sighing as he let himself erupt into the warm mouth gripping him.

But he was to get a rude shock as he opened his eyes and looked back at Jack. The captain was grinning in delight. "You are dished, man...!" And he pulled out, his cock still hard and pulsing as he jerked upon it a few times and shot off wave after wave of creamy come all over the naked slit and parted thighs of the girl. "My contest, I believe, sir!" he grunted as he finished.

Sharpe cursed him profusely. "You fuckin' lyin' bugger, Aubrey...trust you to cheat..."

Jack laughed heartily, wiping his cock and right hand on Branca's petticoat before raising her up and placing a kiss on her mouth. "Right through the middle, sir...wasn't that what you said? You must learn to raise false colours, Sharpe..." he chuckled.

"Oh yeah...? Right then...how d'ya fancy this? Double or nothing...you take Inez here and I take Branca...poor girl deserves a decent seeing to after you...Bet I get it up her first...and this time, I'll last all fuckin' afternoon..."

"It's a deal, sir..."Jack plonked Branca on her feet and pulled Inez on to his lap, his breeches still unfastened. "Now let's see what you can do for me, little one...so you like the taste of the sea, do you?" Inez sighed and settled down on her knees again while Branca lay over the table before Sharpe. The girls resigned themselves to another session. It could be worse. There were infinitely worse fates for a Lisbon doxy than an afternoon in the company of these two hearty fellows.

"I think there's wind in my sail already..." Jack boasted.

"Don't count your bloody eggs before the chickens hatch...." Sharpe shot back.

A thought suddenly struck Jack's mind and he looked over at his friend. "Just one thing, Sharpe... before I forget..." he panted.

"Yeah?" Sharpe replied glancing back.

"If you're... ever in Hampshire.....don't bother calling on Ashgrove...there's a good man..."