Read Online A King's Cutter by Richard Woodman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Richard Woodman
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, Historical, Action & Adventure, Sea stories, War & Military, Great Britain, Drinkwater; Nathaniel (Fictitious Character), Men's Adventure, Great Britain - History; Naval - 18th Century
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sea and most of Kestrel’s shot passed harmlessly over the lugger, but the flashes and roar of their cannon, firing as they bore, were gratifying to the cutter’s crew.
Kestrel cleared the lugger’s stern and Drinkwater walked slowly aft as Griffiths bore away. ‘Get a couple of pairs of deadeyes and lanyards into that lee rigging Mr Jessup,’ he said passing the bosun who was securing the guns. He said it absently, his mind full of the sight of that immobile Frenchman.
‘Do you think she’ll chase, sir?’ he wearily asked Griffiths.
He was relieved to hear Griffiths’s reply took notice of reality.
‘Bound to, boy-o, and we must run. Now slip below and shift that wet gear. Major Brown is opening my cognac. Help yourself and then we’ll trice up a little more canvas and see what she’ll do.’
She did very well. She was still being chased at daylight by which time they had rigged preventer backstays, had the squaresails drawing and stunsails set to leeward. At eight bells in the morning watch Drinkwater logged eleven knots as the cutter staggered, her bow wave a mass of foam driving ahead of her. Aft, by the weather running backstay, Griffiths hummed a tune, never once looking astern. By mid afternoon they could see the white cliffs of Dover and the lugger had abandoned them. Leaving the deck to Jessup they dined with Major Brown.
‘That chasse marée was the Citoyenne Janine, French National Lugger,’ said Brown, hungrily devouring a slice of ham. ‘She’s at the disposal of an audacious bastard called Santhonax
By heaven Madoc, I thought they had me that time; Santhonax had clearly got wind of my departure and intended to cut you off.’ He munched steadily and swallowed, gulping half a glass of brandy. ‘They were after me within an hour of my leaving Paris
but for the skill and enterprise of your young friend here they would have succeeded.’
Drinkwater muttered something and helped himself to the ham, suddenly very hungry.
‘Mr Drinkwater has done well, Major. You may assume he has my full confidence.’
Brown nodded. ‘Damned well ought to have. Shameful trick you played on him that night last November.’ They all grinned at the release from tension and the bottle went round, jealously guarded from Kestrel’s urgent, hurrying list.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Drinkwater, ‘But how did you know the identity of the lugger? Did you see her commander?’
‘Santhonax? Yes. That fellow standing at her stern. He don’t command the vessel, it runs at his convenience. The French Ministry of Marine have given him a roving commission, not unlike my own,’ he paused and tossed off his glass. ‘I’ll lay even money on his being as familiar with the lanes of Kent as any damned hop picker.’ He shrugged, ‘But I’ve no proof. Yet. You could tell the lugger was the Citoyenne Janine. Even in the dark you could see the black swallowtail flag. For some reason Santhonax likes to fly it, some bit of damned Celtic nonsense. Sorry Madoc, no offence.’
Drinkwater had not seen the flag but he wondered at the recondite nature of Brown’s knowledge. He did not yet appreciate the major’s capacity for apparently trifling details.
‘It’s going to be a bloody long war, Madoc,’ continued the major. ‘I can tell you this, the god-damned Yankees are involved. We’ll fight them again yet, you see. They’ve promised the Frogs vast quantities of grain. Place would starve without their help, and the revolutionaries’ll make trouble in Ireland
that’ll be no secret in a month or two.’ He paused frowning, gathering words suitable to convey the enormity of his news and Drinkwater was reminded of Appleby. ‘They’re going to carry their bloody flag right through Europe, mark my words
‘ He helped himself to another slice of ham. Drinkwater knew now why the man had appeared so jovial all those months ago. He himself felt the desire to chatter like Brown, as a reaction to the events of the night
Kestrel cleared the lugger’s stern and Drinkwater walked slowly aft as Griffiths bore away. ‘Get a couple of pairs of deadeyes and lanyards into that lee rigging Mr Jessup,’ he said passing the bosun who was securing the guns. He said it absently, his mind full of the sight of that immobile Frenchman.
‘Do you think she’ll chase, sir?’ he wearily asked Griffiths.
He was relieved to hear Griffiths’s reply took notice of reality.
‘Bound to, boy-o, and we must run. Now slip below and shift that wet gear. Major Brown is opening my cognac. Help yourself and then we’ll trice up a little more canvas and see what she’ll do.’
She did very well. She was still being chased at daylight by which time they had rigged preventer backstays, had the squaresails drawing and stunsails set to leeward. At eight bells in the morning watch Drinkwater logged eleven knots as the cutter staggered, her bow wave a mass of foam driving ahead of her. Aft, by the weather running backstay, Griffiths hummed a tune, never once looking astern. By mid afternoon they could see the white cliffs of Dover and the lugger had abandoned them. Leaving the deck to Jessup they dined with Major Brown.
‘That chasse marée was the Citoyenne Janine, French National Lugger,’ said Brown, hungrily devouring a slice of ham. ‘She’s at the disposal of an audacious bastard called Santhonax
By heaven Madoc, I thought they had me that time; Santhonax had clearly got wind of my departure and intended to cut you off.’ He munched steadily and swallowed, gulping half a glass of brandy. ‘They were after me within an hour of my leaving Paris
but for the skill and enterprise of your young friend here they would have succeeded.’
Drinkwater muttered something and helped himself to the ham, suddenly very hungry.
‘Mr Drinkwater has done well, Major. You may assume he has my full confidence.’
Brown nodded. ‘Damned well ought to have. Shameful trick you played on him that night last November.’ They all grinned at the release from tension and the bottle went round, jealously guarded from Kestrel’s urgent, hurrying list.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Drinkwater, ‘But how did you know the identity of the lugger? Did you see her commander?’
‘Santhonax? Yes. That fellow standing at her stern. He don’t command the vessel, it runs at his convenience. The French Ministry of Marine have given him a roving commission, not unlike my own,’ he paused and tossed off his glass. ‘I’ll lay even money on his being as familiar with the lanes of Kent as any damned hop picker.’ He shrugged, ‘But I’ve no proof. Yet. You could tell the lugger was the Citoyenne Janine. Even in the dark you could see the black swallowtail flag. For some reason Santhonax likes to fly it, some bit of damned Celtic nonsense. Sorry Madoc, no offence.’
Drinkwater had not seen the flag but he wondered at the recondite nature of Brown’s knowledge. He did not yet appreciate the major’s capacity for apparently trifling details.
‘It’s going to be a bloody long war, Madoc,’ continued the major. ‘I can tell you this, the god-damned Yankees are involved. We’ll fight them again yet, you see. They’ve promised the Frogs vast quantities of grain. Place would starve without their help, and the revolutionaries’ll make trouble in Ireland
that’ll be no secret in a month or two.’ He paused frowning, gathering words suitable to convey the enormity of his news and Drinkwater was reminded of Appleby. ‘They’re going to carry their bloody flag right through Europe, mark my words
‘ He helped himself to another slice of ham. Drinkwater knew now why the man had appeared so jovial all those months ago. He himself felt the desire to chatter like Brown, as a reaction to the events of the night
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