4- The Bomb Vessel by Woodman Richard

Author:Woodman, Richard [Woodman, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: _rt_yes, Action & Adventure, blt, Fiction, Historical, Naval Battles - History - 18th Century, Sea Stories, War & Military, __Fixed
ISBN: 9781850575702
Google: OM2ePwAACAAJ
Amazon: 1574090992
Barnesnoble: 1574090992
Goodreads: 902803
Publisher: Sheridan House
Published: 1984-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve 19–23 March 1801

A Turbot Bright

The cabin filled with a silence only emphasised by the creak of Virago’s fabric as she worked in the seaway. The rudder stock ground in the trunking that ran up the centre of the transom between the windows and stern chasers.

Drinkwater crossed his arms to conceal the shaking of his hands and leaned back in his chair, still staring down at the newspaper on the table. Its contents exposed the whole matter and Jex, of all people, knew everything. He looked up at Jex and was made suddenly angry by the smug look of satisfaction on the purser’s pig-like features. His resentment at having been forced into such a false position by both Edward and this unpleasant little man before him combined with his weariness at trying to argue a way out of an untenable position. His anger boiled over, made worse by his awareness of the need to bluff.

‘God damn it, sir, you are drunk! What the devil d’you think you are about, making such outrageous suggestions? Eh? Come, what are these allegations again?’

‘The man Waters is your brother…’

‘For God’s sake, Mr Jex, what on earth makes you think that?’

‘I saw you together in the Blue Fox, a house in which I have an interest.’

A piece of the jig-saw as to how Jex had discovered his deception was now revealed to Drinkwater. Even as he strove to think of some way out of the mess he continued to attack the purser’s certainty. He barked a short, humourless and forced laugh.

‘Hah! And d’you think I’d turn my brother forward, eh? To be started by Matchett and his mates?’

‘If he had committed murder.’ Jex nodded to the paper that lay between them.

Drinkwater leaned forward and put both hands on the Yarmouth Courier. ‘Mr Jex,’ he said with an air of apparent patience, ‘there is no possible connection you can make between a man who claimed to be my brother whom you saw in a tavern in Chatham, the perpetrator of this murder and a pathetic landsman who volunteered at Yarmouth.’

‘But the similarity of names…’

‘A coincidence Mr Jex.’ The eyes of the two men met as each searched for a weakness. Drinkwater saw doubt in the other man’s face, saw it break through the alcohol-induced confidence. Jex was no longer on the offensive. Drinkwater pressed his advantage.

‘I will be frank with you, Mr Jex, for your misconstruction is highly seditious and under the Articles of War,’ he paused, seeing a dawning realisation cross Jex’s mind. ‘I see you understand. But I will be frank as far as I can be. There is a little mystery hereabouts,’ he was deliberately vague and could see a frown on Jex’s brow now. ‘I do not have to tell you that the liberal Corresponding Societies of England, Mr Jex, those organisations that Mr Chauvelin tried to enlist in ninety-one to foment revolution here while he was French ambassador, are still very active. They are full of French spies and you

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