Read Online The Power and the Glory by William C. Hammond - Free Book Online Page B

man’s stern facial features relaxed into a smile. “By Jove! Is that your sloop out there?” He pointed at Elizabeth riding at anchor fifty feet away.”
    â€œShe is, sir.”
    â€œWell damme, Mr. Cutler,” the man exclaimed, “that was handsomely done, the way you brought her in. I have always maintained that seamanship is best demonstrated by the way a vessel is brought to or from her anchorage. You, sir, measured up.” He stressed those last four words as if they bestowed the highest possible praise for a sea captain.
    â€œThank you, sir. I am fortunate to have a good crew.”
    The smile disappeared. “Fortunate? I think not, sir. Fortune has little to do with shaping a ship’s crew. I maintain that a ship should be judged not by her crew but by her officers, who make her crew what it is—or is not—and whose first duty is to inspire confidence of leadership among the crew. Do you not agree?”
    â€œI cannot disagree,” Richard said, puzzled by this turn of conversation. Then, with a flash of awareness, he said, “May I presume, sir, that you are Captain Truxtun?”
    The man offered Richard his hand. “You may, Mr. Cutler, you may. Welcome on board.”
    Richard felt the firm grip. “I apologize for being so casual, Captain. I did not recognize your rank.”
    â€œI did not find you casual, Mr. Cutler; nor could you have possibly recognized my rank in this garb. I assure you I do have a proper uniform, which is about all I have as captain of this ship. Why it takes so damnably long to get anything done around here is utterly beyond me. Here I am, appointed master and building superintendent of Constellation , and I can do nothing, absolutely nothing, to hurry things along. I got more done a damned sight more quickly when I was a privateer captain, I can assure you of that. McHenry wants this ship ready for sea come March. March? Ha! What a lark! Our secretary of war has a keen sense of humor, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Cutler, from what you
have observed here on deck?” Truxtun’s sweeping gesture encompassed the ship from bow to stern. “And among the things you won’t find anywhere on board is her crew. That’s because we don’t yet have a crew. Though it shouldn’t take long to man and employ this ship once we set about recruiting.”
    â€œI understand your frustration, Captain,” Richard said. “If it’s any consolation, what you just described applies equally to Constitution . It took the Hartt Shipyard I don’t recall how many months just to get southern oak for her planking and frame. And her masts have yet to be floated down from Maine.”
    â€œSo I’ve heard,” Truxtun said, the anger in his voice easing. He shook his head as he added, “That southern oak had damned well better prove its worth. We’ve spent a king’s ransom in time lost harvesting it. Not to mention lives lost to malaria in those stinking Georgia swamps. Horrible way to die, shivering and sweating and lying there helpless in your own vomit and shit.”
    â€œYes sir,” Richard said, because there was nothing else to say. Several awkward moments ticked by.
    â€œWell, Mr. Cutler,” Truxtun said, “enough of that depressing talk. What say you and I tour this ship? It won’t be a long tour, I assure you. There’s not much to see yet.” He beckoned over a carpenter’s mate plying his trade by the capstan abaft the mainmast. “Be a good lad,” he said to the disheveled young fellow freckled in sawdust and smelling of it, “and send word to Mr. Sterrett. I believe you know him. I noticed you two talking together yesterday.”
    The lad nodded eagerly. “It’s as ye say, Cap’m. I do know Mr. Sterrett. He lives up yonder off Philpot Street. He goes to worship service at the Methodist Meetin’ House, same as me.”
    â€œWell