Half a Victory (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 13) by Wareham Andrew

Author:Wareham, Andrew [Wareham, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Electronic Book Company
Published: 2017-12-10T23:00:00+00:00

Book Thirteen: The Duty

and Destiny Series

Chapter Five

“A signal to the small craft, Captain Corton-Pepper. They are to endeavour to lay their impious infidel hands upon a small trader, if possible no more than a tartana with a crew of four or five. Undamaged, of course, and to be crewed by a mid and five reliable hands and brought to Conquest’s side.”

The order was sent.

“Impious, Sir Frederick?”

“So Captain Brown assures me, Captain Corton-Pepper.”

“Oh! I had not known myself to be that. However… a spy, I must imagine, Sir Frederick?”

“Just that, sir. To examine this eastern end of Isle Djerba and to penetrate the passage between the island and the mainland, to be sure that no fleet lurks in cover there in the Gulf. They will as well confirm that there are corsairs to be found.”

“A wise move, sir. Five hands, sir, suggests two at the lateen and the foresail and one to the tiller. Most tartanas are within reason speedy, sir, and with good seamen should be capable of outsailing many a larger craft.”

“So I hope, Captain Corton-Pepper.”

His flag-captain’s habit of pursuing the obvious at length was sometimes irritating, but he was second in the squadron, had the right to know what was to be done.

There was a regular flow of trade along the coast, almost all conducted in the tiniest tartanas and caiques, the occasional felucca and undefined local craft, a thirty-tonner seen as larger than most. The squadron had made no attempt to pursue those vessels, it being regarded as ill-bred to burn out the poorest and weakest of seafarers, and also of small value militarily. It was easy to spot a ten-ton tartana and take her out of sight of other traders, the crew held at gun point and marched aboard Lapwing sloop to be kept as prisoner while their vessel was put to work.

“Make the signal, ‘how many men, Lapwing?’”

The reply came back, ‘Three’.

Frederick sent Kavanagh across in his barge carrying six gold pieces, two apiece as compensation for their ordeal. He was aware that the tartana itself might sell for less, but he could not feel comfortable persecuting men who lived on the edge of starvation, making pennies in profit and wages from the hardest of labour.

Kavanagh came back smiling, reporting that they had not believed him when he had handed over the coins, had at first been frightened that they would be accused of theft from the ship, the coins planted to provide evidence to allow them to be hanged.

“Tartana is following, sir, the mid having taken her a mile or two offshore to get her feel first, sir.”

That translated as the boy playing while he had the excuse – which was not unreasonable, Frederick supposed.

“How old is he, Kavanagh?”

“Fifteen or thereabouts, sir. Five years in, at least.”

“Good. A chance to see if we have a lieutenant in the making. We will need prize crews, I trust. If not this time round, then later in the next few weeks. You could wear a cocked hat if you wished, you know, Kavanagh.

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