The Distant Beacon by T. Davis Bunn

Author:T. Davis Bunn [Bunn, T. Davis]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2010-11-12T20:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

The vessel was just as Gordon had envisioned, a floating hulk with rags for sails. He halted his sailors’ protest by saying, “Never you mind, lads. We’ll do our stint, help guide the newcomers to shore and safety, and be off to better things.”

The Frenchman, Henri Robichaud, was certainly an enigma. The way he twisted his frame so as to look back over his shoulder, his features set in scorn, left Gordon wondering if the man hadn’t spent a lifetime perfecting the manner. Hate seemed to smolder in the dusky eyes. Not just fury at Gordon, but at life in all its bitter forms. “So . . . the British officer finds the boat not to his liking? Too much sweat and hard work for the gentleman? No place for him to set his cup of tea?” he flung out in his French-accented words.

“Hold hard, men,” Gordon commanded, not needing to look over his shoulder to know how his men were responding. “I am the same as you, Robichaud. A man seeking a country.”

“You’re not like me at all, Captain. We have nothing in common, you and I. You have heard perhaps of the Acadians?”

Gordon chose to turn away without response. The shoreline was too exposed for his liking, the British side barely out of rifle range. There was the faintest glimmer of daylight left, enough to reveal the mist rising from the waters and drifting shoreward. The wind had died, though the night remained overcast and far too cold for late April. The other side of the river was quiet. Gordon had the sense of unseen eyes holding steady upon him. He looked back to find that Robichaud had moved silently forward and was alongside him now.

“The Acadians, Captain. They are my people. Theirs is my story. It is a tragic tale, one I am sure will not be to your liking. A tale of treachery and woe, of how the British swept up an entire people from their homes and flung them to every corner of the globe.”

“I know the Acadian saga,” said Gordon. “I even know someone who has endured as you have.”

“There are any number of the poor wastrels wandering about.” Robichaud’s hand continued to knead the sword’s hilt as if desperately hungry to pull the blade free. “All because of you and your kind, English Captain.”

Was the man actually seeking to call him out? Here and now, after they had been given a direct command by garrison headquarters? Gordon studied the tightly drawn face opposite him and realized there were no words that would reverse this situation. Easing his feet farther apart, he readied himself to unleash a first hard swing of his own weapon.

Robichaud no doubt caught the subtle shift, another sign of an experienced swordsman. He gave Gordon another of his taunting scowls, then wheeled about and stomped out onto the boat. “Are we to remain standing here upon the shore all night?”

Gordon could scarcely believe the encounter had ended without a fight.

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