Cut and Run: The Fourth Book in the Fighting Sail Series
Read Cut and Run: The Fourth Book in the Fighting Sail Series Online
Authors: Alaric Bond
Tags: #Royal Navy, #Historical, #Naval - 18th century - Fiction, #War & Military, #rt, #mblsm
Cut and Run
by
Alaric Bond
Fireship Press
www.FireshipPress.com
Cut and Run
- Copyright © 2011 by Alaric Bond
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Print ISBN: 978-1-61179-169-3
e.Book ISBN: 978-1-61179-170-9
BISAC Subject Headings:
FIC014000
FICTION / Historical
FIC032000
FICTION / War & Military
FIC047000
FICTION / Sea Stories
Address all correspondence to:
Fireship Press, LLC
P.O. Box 68412
Tucson, AZ
85737
Or visit our website at:
www.FireshipPress.com
1.0
Dedication
To David and Jean
Acknowledgements
Writing can be a lonely business, and those odd enough to indulge in historical fiction have an additional disadvantage; not only do they shut themselves off in another room, but a completely different time.
I have been lucky, and kept relatively sane, by the company of a group of people who have encouraged and supported me throughout
Cut and Run
, and other books. In no particular order they include Rick, Roy, Tom, Lesley, Mike, Mary, Susan, Malcolm, Linda, Ron and Dee. Some are tall ship sailers, others historians, still more readers or just plain nice folk. All have been ready with help and advice, and many I consider amongst my greatest friends and yet I have not met, or even spoken with any of them. The internet has many failings but this is one of its nicer aspects, and I am glad to be able to acknowledge and thank them now.
Other Fine Books from Fireship Press
CUT AND RUN
To cut the cable for an escape. Also, to move off quickly; to quit occupation; to be gone.
1
Chapter One
It was raining outside the church. The couple paused for barely a moment, before hurrying down the damp stone steps and on to the street. Kate clutched at her dress with one hand, raising it out of the winter slime. The other, holding a winter posy, was firmly threaded through the arm of her new husband. They laughed as they hastened down the street, while from behind came the sound of their guests scurrying after them in the winter shower, and laughing as well.
“Ship an' Turtle,” Robert Manning shouted, pointing across the road at the dimly lit tavern slightly ahead. A crack of thunder heralded a further increase in the rain as they paused to wait for the crossing sweeper to carry out his work.
“Struth, Robert, I've never known such weather,” Tom King said, when he and the others had caught up with them. “It is worse than Biscay in the depths of winter!”
Manning turned to grin at him. “Perchance I shall be knowing that myself in a week or so.”
“Ready gents, ladies.” The crossing sweeper stood respectfully aside as the party crowded across the road. He wore a waxed canvas sheet tied tightly about his head, and his eyes were half closed, but one hand shot out instantly to catch the coin that Adam Fraiser threw to him. He slipped it neatly into his pocket, knowing the value without any need to look.
Inside, the tavern steamed with the smell of beer and wet clothing. Kate and her two friends brushed down the damp folds of their dresses while the men shook London rain from their dark blue uniforms. The water settled into raised puddles on the waxed wooden floor. It had been a bright, clear day when they arrived at the church and, despite being the middle of January, no one had thought to bring coats.
“Party in the name of Manning,” King told the young serving girl who was sent to greet them. A larger wedding breakfast would probably have warranted the landlord's appearance and attention, but this was a small affair, and they were shown through to a gloomy, bare room at the back of the building. Manning looked about, clearly disappointed, although his smile was quick to return when he caught Kate's eye.
“Could we have some light, miss?” Fraiser asked the girl. But at that moment the landlord entered, looking slightly harassed, and carrying a taper and a bundle of long yellow candles. “You will have to forgive me,” he said, glancing around at the guests. “We sprung a leak over the pantry, and I had to attend to it.”
The room and atmosphere grew lighter as the landlord bustled about between the pewter candelabras mounted on the wall. The girl found a white cotton cloth for the table, and the party began to seat themselves, self-consciously jostling for places. Soon, the first of the wedding breakfast was being laid out, and the landlord reappeared with four dark green bottles.
“Wine, sir?” he asked cautiously. “It was requested.” Manning opened his mouth to protest, but Michael Caulfield was there before him.
“My treat, Robert; I trust you will not object?”
The first cork was pulled with a spectacular popping sound that was quickly followed by a ripple of expectant laughter. Manning shook his head. The wedding, and their accommodation for the previous month or so, had been paid for by the last of Kate's father's money. He, of course, could not be present, the staff in the asylum who kept him safe were adamant on that point. Consequently, little had been spent on anything that was not essential. Manning could not guess how much the wine, which was almost certainly smuggled, would have cost—but he did know that as an unemployed naval lieutenant, Caulfield was hardly in a position to afford such a gesture.
“I am grateful to you, Michael,” he said, but on feeling Kate's gentle nudge, he corrected himself, “We both are.”
Caulfield grinned and nodded while the landlord quickly opened a second bottle, and soon all around were standing and toasting them. Manning raised his glass and touched Kate's with a gentle clink. They were both smiling now, radiantly, and quite without reserve.
“It is a shame that Sir Richard could not be here,” Kate said, effectively breaking the moment for her new husband. “He did say in his letter he might, 'though I know there are many matters to concern him since giving up the ship.”
“Plans to stand for Parliament, or so I gather,” Fraiser said, his tone completely flat. “A pity. We had a good crew in
Pandora
.”
Kate Manning's gaze swept about the naval officers at the table; all solid reliable men who had proved themselves in action, and yet it seemed they were no longer needed.
Clara, one of Kate's friends from her days as a midwife, spoke up suddenly. “I do not see why you cannot be reemployed. Surely, a boat will take only so long to mend?” Jane, Kate's other colleague, snorted into her glass as the room became strangely silent.
“Can you not wait for it to be fixed?” Clara added lamely.
“Sadly, madam, that is not in our control,” Fraiser murmured. “Had the captain chosen to stay with the ship, we might well have been recalled. As it is, a new man is to take his place, and he will doubtless have his favourites.”
“And what if Sir Richard had taken another command?” Kate enquired.
Caulfield considered this for a moment, “Why then, he may have requested our presence. Instead, we have to bide our time and hope for a position elsewhere.”
“Aye, well, I for one shall not be waiting,” Doust said, sipping his wine reflectively. “The sea is for young men. I require something a mite less demanding for my old age.”
“Come, let us eat!” Manning said suddenly, conscious that the conversation was in danger of becoming maudlin. Indeed, the food was being ignored by all, though not a bad spread, considering the time of year. Plates of cold roast, bread, a raised pie, and potted meats were passed about, and soon the company settled into a quiet reverence as they began.
“But I gather you have secured yourself a berth, Robert?” Caulfield asked Manning as he cleared his plate for the first time and helped himself to more.
“Aye, joining the Company Bahadur, is that so?” Fraiser regarded him genially.
“Yes, the Honourable East India Company. I have signed for an Eastern trip—we are both going,” Manning added hurriedly.
“Both?” Doust started. “Only just got her wed, yet you are takin' the wee lassie to India?”
“Oh, it was my decision,” Kate said firmly, and King suppressed a grin How could it have been anything else? “We shall be gone by the end of the month,” she continued. “India, then on to China for a spell. It might be two years they reckons, but we should be the better for it when we return.”
“Aye, and that's a fact,” Doust nodded. “Providing you take care of yourselves.”
“In what capacity will you…?” Fraiser stumbled. He was about to enquire if she would be employed, or was simply travelling as a wife. A fair question, but somewhat artless when asked of a woman such as Kate.
“I shall be working my passage,” she said quickly. “It seems the time I spent in
Pandora
has served me well.”
“You were commended for it, so I believe,” Caulfield agreed. “Set a bad mess right, and with little trouble. Not many could have achieved as much.”
