hesitated. “Will we go armed, sir?”
“The men can take pistols, but they should not need them. They can return with the boat. I will be landing alone. I’ll signal when I mean to return.”
The man was too good a sailor to question orders, but he’d known Marshall since he was barely old enough to shave, and seemed unable to resist a word of protest. “Sir?”
It was one word too many. “You heard me, Barrow.” Marshall knew that the ire he unleashed on the man was totally undeserved, and he felt like a complete bastard. “I am going ashore to inquire about Mr. Archer’s uncle, who made an unwise decision about his itinerary. That’s a job for one man, not an armed expedition. I don’t propose to be the fool who breaks the Peace, and I don’t intend to debate the matter with you or anyone else!”
“Aye, Cap’n.” As Barrow turned and walked over to speak to another crew member, Marshall regretted his behavior. He’d never had much respect for captains who discharged their ill tempers on crewmen who couldn’t answer back, and now here he was doing it himself. So much for his ability to lead and inspire his men.
He wanted to be away immediately, but there was no way to accomplish that. Instead, he called down the man standing lookout and went up the Mermaid’s mainmast himself, as high as he could, to have some space to breathe and to scout the horizon.
The Mermaid wheeled as the crew below made the adjustments to bring her about, and Marshall found himself tilting out over the water. That had made him dizzy when he first went to sea, but in the years since he had come to enjoy it. This was as close to flight as any earth-bound human was likely to come, and it was his ship—his own ship, the culmination of the dream he’d had as far back as he could remember.
The vast blue emptiness above and below calmed him as it always did, and the absence of enemy ships was reassuring. Yes, Davy was right in saying that they might wind up knowing little more after the visit than they knew right now—but if nothing else, he should be able to learn whether or not Dr. Colbert’s friend Beauchene was still in residence at the chateau. If so, they would wait a little longer. If he was not—well, that would mean a fast run back to England for new orders, and the hope that there was some other agent of British Intelligence already on French soil who might be assigned to find Davy’s missing uncle.
Oh, Lord. Davy.
He must be told. Marshall couldn’t very well sneak ashore while his lover slept. He was the Captain. That would be a low, cowardly, and dishonorable trick to play on the man who would be left in command of this vessel. He simply could not do that.
That didn’t keep him from wishing he could.
He did wait, though, as long as possible. When the houses along the shore began to grow from tiny outlines to visible dwellings, he reluctantly climbed back down to the deck and went below.
He found Davy awake and dressed, standing with both arms against the frame of the stern window, his back to the door. “Good morning, Captain,” he said without turning.
“Davy—”
“I heard the davits creaking,” he said flatly. “They’re getting the boat ready, aren’t they? Were you planning to wake me, or would you have just left a note on the pillow?”
“Of course I was going to wake you. Why else do you think I’m here?”
“I could not begin to guess.”
“Davy—” Marshall set his teeth. “Mr. Archer, would you do me the courtesy of showing your countenance?”
“Certainly, Captain.” Davy turned, his eyes blazing. With exaggerated courtesy he executed a perfect salute, holding it until Marshall was forced to return it, then his arm snapped back to his side. “I am, as always, at your service.”
Will took a deep breath. “I apologize for taking you by surprise this way, but I feel sure you must have known I would go. Two days ago, you asked me to wait one more day, and I—”
“You
“The men can take pistols, but they should not need them. They can return with the boat. I will be landing alone. I’ll signal when I mean to return.”
The man was too good a sailor to question orders, but he’d known Marshall since he was barely old enough to shave, and seemed unable to resist a word of protest. “Sir?”
It was one word too many. “You heard me, Barrow.” Marshall knew that the ire he unleashed on the man was totally undeserved, and he felt like a complete bastard. “I am going ashore to inquire about Mr. Archer’s uncle, who made an unwise decision about his itinerary. That’s a job for one man, not an armed expedition. I don’t propose to be the fool who breaks the Peace, and I don’t intend to debate the matter with you or anyone else!”
“Aye, Cap’n.” As Barrow turned and walked over to speak to another crew member, Marshall regretted his behavior. He’d never had much respect for captains who discharged their ill tempers on crewmen who couldn’t answer back, and now here he was doing it himself. So much for his ability to lead and inspire his men.
He wanted to be away immediately, but there was no way to accomplish that. Instead, he called down the man standing lookout and went up the Mermaid’s mainmast himself, as high as he could, to have some space to breathe and to scout the horizon.
The Mermaid wheeled as the crew below made the adjustments to bring her about, and Marshall found himself tilting out over the water. That had made him dizzy when he first went to sea, but in the years since he had come to enjoy it. This was as close to flight as any earth-bound human was likely to come, and it was his ship—his own ship, the culmination of the dream he’d had as far back as he could remember.
The vast blue emptiness above and below calmed him as it always did, and the absence of enemy ships was reassuring. Yes, Davy was right in saying that they might wind up knowing little more after the visit than they knew right now—but if nothing else, he should be able to learn whether or not Dr. Colbert’s friend Beauchene was still in residence at the chateau. If so, they would wait a little longer. If he was not—well, that would mean a fast run back to England for new orders, and the hope that there was some other agent of British Intelligence already on French soil who might be assigned to find Davy’s missing uncle.
Oh, Lord. Davy.
He must be told. Marshall couldn’t very well sneak ashore while his lover slept. He was the Captain. That would be a low, cowardly, and dishonorable trick to play on the man who would be left in command of this vessel. He simply could not do that.
That didn’t keep him from wishing he could.
He did wait, though, as long as possible. When the houses along the shore began to grow from tiny outlines to visible dwellings, he reluctantly climbed back down to the deck and went below.
He found Davy awake and dressed, standing with both arms against the frame of the stern window, his back to the door. “Good morning, Captain,” he said without turning.
“Davy—”
“I heard the davits creaking,” he said flatly. “They’re getting the boat ready, aren’t they? Were you planning to wake me, or would you have just left a note on the pillow?”
“Of course I was going to wake you. Why else do you think I’m here?”
“I could not begin to guess.”
“Davy—” Marshall set his teeth. “Mr. Archer, would you do me the courtesy of showing your countenance?”
“Certainly, Captain.” Davy turned, his eyes blazing. With exaggerated courtesy he executed a perfect salute, holding it until Marshall was forced to return it, then his arm snapped back to his side. “I am, as always, at your service.”
Will took a deep breath. “I apologize for taking you by surprise this way, but I feel sure you must have known I would go. Two days ago, you asked me to wait one more day, and I—”
“You
Similar Books
