The Spoils of Conquest by Seth Hunter

Author:Seth Hunter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McBooks Press
Published: 2017-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Charles Picket was in his fifties, quite small and dapper with the powdered wig and courtly comportment of an older generation. In fact, he looked more like a lawyer than a seaman – he reminded Nathan a little of Robespierre, the little lawyer from Arras who had become leader of the French during the bloodiest days of the Revolution. He had the same sharp eyes and precise manner and a fussy way of dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. And the same artful way of waiting for you to say the wrong thing, or make the wrong move.

There were just the two of them for dinner and Nathan fussed a little over the menu and the preparations, wanting it to be just right. They began with a soup made from a freshly caught turtle, flavoured with brandy; followed by a chicken, cooked in the Breton style, with cider and Calvados; and then a custard tart with dried fruits for pudding. Nathan made sure there was plenty of wine to go with it, but Picket drank abstemiously. A small sip of wine between courses, dabbing at his lips with his napkin, while they talked pleasantly enough of Nathan’s life in the Navy and Picket’s in India.

He had been with the company since he was sixteen, he said, and had first come out to India as master’s mate on an East Indiaman forty years ago. The company had made him what he was; he was a company man, from head to toe. He said nothing to suggest it, but it was clear to Nathan that he did not trust any man who was not.

Nathan waited until they were on the cognac before he asked him what he really wanted to know.

‘Have you thought,’ he said, ‘of what we are to do, if we come upon the French while they are landing troops upon the shore?’

‘We would attempt to stop them, of course,’ replied Picket, easily enough, ‘according to our instructions.’

Nathan nodded, as if he had come to the same conclusion. ‘But what if they were to land in Mangalore itself?’ he said.

‘I believe that would be for you to decide – would it not?’

‘If we were to attack the French in the Sultan’s own port, it would be an act of war,’ Nathan pointed out.

‘That would be for the Sultan to determine,’ said Picket with a smile. ‘But we could hardly stand by and do nothing, could we?’

So now Nathan knew. This was why they had given him the command of the Bombay Marine. This was why they had sent the Stromboli along. Duncan must have summed him up at a glance. An arrogant hothead, out to prove himself. Just the man to provoke a war. And if there was an inquiry by Parliament afterwards, they would throw him to the wolves.

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