By Force of Arms by James L. Nelson

Author:James L. Nelson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McBooks Press
Published: 2021-10-11T00:00:00+00:00

Pendexter set the note down on his desk. “‘Captain’ Biddlecomb? So now he is ‘Captain’ Biddlecomb? Of what does he presume himself to be captain?”

“That’s why I thought I best show you.”

“And who is this Glacous? ‘Not inconsiderable influence with the admiral,’ he says.”

“I never did like the looks of him, sir, and the big one, that Rumstick. Trouble, I says, as soon as they comes aboard.”

But Pendexter was not listening to the steward. Rather he was considering these implications. Biddlecomb was just a foremast jack, a creature of the lower deck. Or was he? His speech was not lower deck, not entirely. It was so hard to tell with these colonials.

“Come!” yelled Pendexter in response to a knock on the door, and Master Gunner Roger Hickman stepped in.

“Yes, what is it Hickman?” Pendexter realized as he said it that he should have addressed the man as “Mr. Hickman,” but he was too annoyed to care. The gunner’s face registered the slight.

“Well, sir, rats has got at the cartridges, sir, and we’re precious low. I spoke to Mr. Smeaton—”

“Oh, God damn it to hell!” shouted Pendexter as he glanced at the brass chronometer on the bulkhead. He snatched up his quadrant and pushed his way around the table. He had nearly forgotten the noon sight that would fix their position on the chart and officially begin the new day.

“I am sorry, Hick . . . Mr. Hickman, this will have to wait. Bolton, I’ll thank you to keep this . . . revelation quiet,” he called over his shoulder as he fled the cabin.

It was a perfect afternoon, a typical winter afternoon just below 15° north latitude with the sun high overhead and the few clouds brilliant white. Pendexter slowed his pace as he stepped up to the quarterdeck and jerked his watch from his pocket. He noted with relief that it was still three minutes until local noon.

He greeted Dibdin as the master fiddled with his own quadrant and nodded to Smeaton, who paused in his target practice to return the salute. Then Pendexter turned and ran his eyes over his command.

The men were, as usual, hard at work, though today there was an atmosphere of excitement, and Pendexter noted smiles here and there among the men, who scampered apelike through the rig or hung over the side in bosun’s chairs painting the hull. That was unusual, Pendexter reflected. He had come to the conclusion that this was the most sullen and uncooperative ship’s company that he had ever witnessed. He imagined that it was tomorrow’s landfall that had them excited. It made him feel good to see the men smile. He had not had any intention of giving the men a run ashore, but now he thought perhaps he would. The men who could be trusted to return.

Pendexter looked above his head to the main top, and the good feelings vanished. “Captain” Biddlecomb was there, with Wilson and Mr. Midshipman Appleby. Pendexter caught the stench of the slush

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