Free HMS Diamond by Tom Grundner Page A

finally to appreciate some of the beauty that was all around them.
           Toulon was nestled in a small valley with hills on three sides and the bay on the fourth. In the background, the greens of summer were being replaced by brown patches of various hues. Vineyards, forests, farms, pastures and olive groves all vied with one another for a tenuous place on the hillsides, each contributing its own palette of colors. Overhead broken clouds added drama by letting in selected shafts of light, as if God were stage-managing the scene and he especially wanted to highlight this forest here and that pasture there.
           Behind them, that same sunlight leant a similar drama to the sea. The ocean was not just blue; it was a rich cobalt blue. The sails of the ships were not dull gray; they were the kind of white that you expect to find only in a romantic artist’s portrait of a ship. And between sea and sky, the sunlight was making every ripple on the water sparkle as if it were part of a field of priceless diamonds.
           It would have been a perfect Mediterranean day except for the occasional THUMP of cannon fire in the hills.
           The three turned off the quay and marched through the gates of the formerly French-held naval base. There were no guards to challenge their progress. There was no need. Toulon and all it contained was now in British hands. While Susan was looking at some items at a nearby sidewalk stall, Walker ducked into the port’s administration building to ask directions to the naval warehouse.
           "Did you get the directions? Susan asked.
           "Yes." And he said nothing more.
           "What’s going on, Lucas? I know that look."
           "I am not sure, but something’s not right. Oh, everything seems normal on the surface, but I accidentally took a wrong turn in there and found myself in the back working area. The place was alive with clerks."
           "So, what’s so unusual about that?"
           "They were packing, Susan. Swarming all over the place, stuffing everything they could into boxes and crates. I don’t know what’s going on; maybe Sidney will learn more from Hood."
           "Meanwhile, where are we going?"
           "We’re going to the naval warehouse and see if I can buy some medical supplies and instruments. I didn’t know I was going to be pressed back into military duty when I began this little vacation of ours; and, as you know, the Admiralty does not supply us physicians with medicines or equipment. We have to buy our own."
           "Stop belly-aching. The Admiralty reimburses you doesn’t it?"
           "Certainly, about a shilling on the pound... eventually."
           "That’s fine. I’ll be there to make sure you buy what you need, as opposed to what you think you need; then I am going shopping for myself."
           "I noticed," Walker quickly replied, "that the latter part of that sentence was spoken with the kind of glee that can only be found in a woman who was born to shop."
           "That’s true," Susan countered. "And now all I need is a husband who was born to pay bills." It was a joke, of course; at least about the money. With the lifetime stipend and estate she received from King George she would never again want for anything financially. How much she was joking about the "husband" part was another matter, and Walker was well aware of the difference.
           The supply warehouse was teeming with activity. It wasn’t often that an entire depot, not to mention twenty-four ships of the line, fell into British hands all at once and it was open season on supplies. Out in the bay seamen were swarming over the French ships removing guns, powder, shot, anchors, cables, sails, food, clothing... anything that could be of use to their ships. A similar frenzy of acquisition was occurring at the warehouse although the organizational level there was a bit higher.