The Continental Risque by James Nelson

Author:James Nelson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473540651
Publisher: Transworld

CHAPTER 19

East Point

The light of the single lantern allowed Woodberry only the dimmest view of the cable tier, even after his eyes had adjusted to the dark. The cables themselves, great heaps of cordage like monstrous coiled snakes, occupied the majority of the space.

The tier itself was none too big, and moving around in that confined place was awkward. That, coupled with the low overhead, made Woodberry uneasy; he was used to the vast spaces on deck or aloft. Being thus confined induced a slightly panicked feeling.

On the deck under his feet he could feel the dried filth that had been carried aboard with the cables, the muck from the bottoms of rivers and harbors where the Charlemagne had anchored. He slashed at it with his broom, feeling the pain from his partially healed hand shooting up through his arm. It felt good, a perfect complement to his mood.

The dim light prevented him from really seeing what he was doing, but he did not care. It was sweltering in that lowest part of the ship. He felt the sweat drip from his face. His hands were slick on the handle of the broom.

His anger, already great and still building, was not at his being given this miserable job, nor was it at his being denied an extra tot.

He was not even angry at Hackett for playing his little games.

Woodberry had been in enough ships to see Hackett’s kind rise and fall. And he knew that generally, eventually, they fell, and when they did, they fell hard, with a healthy push from their shipmates. He was angry because Hackett seemed to be winning his game, tearing the crew apart along sectional lines, North and South. And Tottenhill, his infernal tool, too thick to see it, was helping him along.

He kicked at a rat that he could barely see and swept the dried dirt into a pile. He heard footsteps, bare feet, on the berthing deck overhead. He paused in midsweep and listened. The steps were coming down the ladder, aft.

He stepped out of the circle of light and peered in that direction. Whoever was coming, he doubted that they were his friends. Most of his friends were off with Biddlecomb on the sloop, as he would have been, had it not been for his broken hand.

‘Woodberry, how are you doing? Careful you don’t miss any dirt, now.’ Hackett stood in front of two other men, just beyond the edge of the light from the lantern. The two men behind him carried belaying pins, which they were making a halfhearted effort to hide.

‘Come to bear a hand, Hackett? Be the first work you’ve done since you come aboard.’

‘Aren’t you a funny one. No, I come to have a talk with you.’

Woodberry remained silent. One of the men at Hackett’s back was Gray. The other, deeper in the shadows, appeared to be Allen, but he was not certain. If they wanted to mix it up, he could take the two of them down, belaying pins or not.

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