07 A King's Commander by Dewey Lambdin

Author:Dewey Lambdin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1985-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

07 A King's Commander

4

Once well out to sea and headed east, shepherding their prizes, Lewrie had hoisted “Captain Repair on Board” to summon Knolles, so he could write his report on the action. To their surprise, Knolles had fetched along a French prisoner of war, a surly, coldly sneering lout in a midshipman's uniform that was a very tight fit, so bad that he appeared as if he'd stripped a much shorter and slenderer lad for his clothes; all out at the elbows and wrists, breeches that buckled up above his knees—had they buckled at all. A tall and lanky thatch-hair, who wore it long and un-clubbed to either side of his face, like a parted curtain. Midshipman Jules Hainaut altogether resembled a very dim-witted peasant, just off the turnip wagon, who'd been clad in some cast-off theatrical costume as a jape.

“Speaks damn-all English, of course, sir,” Lieutenant Knolles said with an apologetic shrug. “And only a word or two of Italian . . . those mostly food, drink, or something to do with whores ... so Mister Mountjoy's skills as a linguist might not avail, either. He's French, I've determined . . . but from where, God only knows, sir. He's no French I ever learned. A Parisian would send him to the guillotine for bad pronunciation.”

“However did you catch him, Mister Knolles?” Lewrie asked.

“He was aboard the largest tartane, sir ... the armed one. Popped off with a brace of horse pistols, missed by a mile, and dropped to the deck when Cony shot back at him.” Knolles laughed easily, savoring his small triumph at the quayside. “Rather clumsily, at that.”

“So the Frog Committee for Public Safety, or Directory,” Lewrie said, chuckling, “appears to have their own 'Bad Bargains,' as does our King?” “Aye, sir,” Knolles agreed.

“Now, the prizes, Mister Knolles!” Lewrie urged, turning to more rewarding thoughts, and dismissing the French midshipman immediately.

“Lord, sir!” Knolles exclaimed. “Arms, uniforms, boots, packs . . . everything to equip and feed, and field two regiments. The smaller tartanes are Savoian, I've determined. The larger one is French. She carries some four-pounders, swivels, and a pair of twelve-pounder French-cast carronades, sir. Rather clever mounting, fore-and-aft, in the middle of the forecastle and at the taffrail. The slide-carriages are built atop a round wood platform, which can point in about three-quarters of a full circle. Quite ingenious, really. Pinned through the deck just like a sea-mortar platform. On a small vessel, without a lot of standing rigging to impede one's aim, sir, well ... ! She could employ them even closing or fleeing, on a bow-and-quarter line.” “And her cargo?” Lewrie pressed.

“Powder, made cartouches, cartridge paper, tents and blankets, mostly, sir. She escorted the others to Bordighera. I got that much from our French mute. But her main load was a company of French infantry, to do the training, sir. Half of that lot you erased on the shore road. They were raising at least one Savoian regiment of volunteers, Captain. With hopes of another, do you see.

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