The King's Coat

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To my mother, who always thought I could do it, but most especially to my father, Lt. Cmdr. Dewey Lambdin (USN):

    • ‘Boot’ Seaman in 1930

    • ‘Mustanged’ in 1941

    • Died in line of duty, 1954

“So hush, for the wind’s his Lorelei

And he wants to hear her calling,

where the wave-tops flash

with the light of God,

in sparkling, salt-teared Mercy

for those who commit themselves

to The Deeps.”

“We are precarious, uncertain, wild, enduring mortals, and may we so endowed continue, the wonder and balance of the universe.”

—JOHN BYNG

In retrospect, perhaps, getting into his half sister’s mutton was not the brightest idea that Alan Lewrie had ever had. Not, he told himself later, that it had been his idea at all; Belinda had been the initiator and he merely the recipient of her favors, which were ample. That she had been the object of desire for half the blades in London, both old and young, made it imperative that he try her at least once, just for the sake of comparison, much like a book critic would sample some Gothick fright and flummery so he could say he had read it. That half those blades had already preceded him really didn’t bother Alan.

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