A Sloop of War by Philip K Allan

Author:Philip K Allan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penmore Press LLC
Published: 2018-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

*****

‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ called the Master of Ceremonies with a voice that might have reached the masthead in a gale. ‘Pray take your places for the first dance, which shall be The Plough Boy's Reel.’ This announcement was followed by an instant buzz of anticipation. Those ladies with partners were led out onto the floor, while those without scolded their mothers over their failure to obtain the services of one of the choicer gentlemen.

Two lines formed down the centre of the room, one of ladies, the other of men. Both rows tweaked at their clothing, and smiled about them a little awkwardly, aware of the unbroken circuit of watching guests around the ballroom. The Master of Ceremonies strode down between the couples, straightening the dressing of the lines with the pedantry of a sergeant major. When he was finally satisfied the dancing began.

It was an uncomplicated routine with which to start the ball and the sets were well understood by the dancers. Alternate couples crisscrossed the floor, while those on either side of them stood still so as to form human poles around which those dancing could turn. When the set was complete, the roles were reversed, with human poles becoming animated and former dancers frozen into stillness.

The dance may have been performed well, but the ladies that had failed to obtain partners observed the efforts of their more favoured colleagues with waspish hostility.

‘Oh, do look at the lack of poise with which Miss Morgan moves,’ hissed one from behind her fan. ‘Why, even old Mrs Galbraith with her truss is a superior dancer.’

‘And what an ill choice of colour Miss Brown has selected for her dress,’ replied her companion. ‘What consequence her figure may have, is quite lost by that revolting shade of green.’

As the dancing continued, the party of the Rush’s officers gathered at one end of the room found covetous eyes upon them. Like sharks around a wounded mariner, various wives of plantation owners closed in on the group, intent on obtaining dance partners for their daughters. Charles Faulkner, the broadcloth of his uniform picked out for its superior weave by those with a nose for money was an early victim. He was followed shortly after by Macpherson, conspicuous with his dashing sideburns and scarlet tunic. Linfield and Sutton had escaped the first onslaught by locking themselves into an animated conversation with the recently arrived Lieutenant Munro. Only the corpulent Joseph Appleby was left, rejected as an undesirably gross figure to pair with their delicate offspring. This was a shame, for the Rush’s sailing master would have been a very willing dancer, if only he had been approached.

Towards the end of the first dance, a ripple of movement traversed the room, centred on a group that had just entered the ballroom. Conversation faltered and died around them, causing the Master of Ceremonies to peer over the heads of the dancers to see what was amiss.

‘Well really,’ said a florid lady to her daughter standing nearby. ‘What are

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