Peril on the Sea by Michael Cadnum Page B

take part in the impending warfare.
    That should prove easy enough, thought Sherwin, a spring in his step.
    After all, what would the looming conflict be, if not a grand adventure?

14
    F ROM THE CLIFFTOP the
Vixen
looked not helpless so much as lost to the effects of a night’s carousing.
    Her rigging sagged drunkenly, and the sailors settled, warming their hands around a fire or spreading their clothing and other belongings out on the sand to be dried by the waxing sunlight. They looked like stumpy-legged harvesters, foreshortened by the altitude from which he viewed them, and it seemed pure folly to Sherwin that these men would trust their lives to that cracked walnut of a vessel, being slowly left behind by the ebbing tide.
    The mantled young woman was nowhere to be seen, but what was entirely visible was a green field and a road rutted by cart wheels, with oaks and a blue sky breaking through the clouds. The wind was turning serene, and Sherwin felt again the joy of arrival in a magnificent location.
    The hedges were in full flower, or just past, with briar berries already formed, green and covert among the bristly leaves. Bees fumbled and found blossoms, and a wagtailperched at the edge of a puddle and gave a toss of its tail feathers like a finger beckoning, urging Sherwin forward.
    Sherwin was happy and excited. He felt his future flower with exceptional opportunities. Furthermore, if he encountered the young woman, and if she saw fit to exchange pleasantries, Sherwin believed that his appearance would not displease. While soldiers and gentlemen wore nothing like a uniform garment, Sherwin was dressed much like the sergeant, who was a far from shabby figure.
    Sherwin wore tall boots that folded down below the knee, and a dark blue doublet, with a cup-hilted rapier swinging at his side. Bartholomew had used a solution of vinegar and brine to further diminish the stains of blood on the mantle. Most pleasing of all was the leather-and-felt hat, which sported the feather of a cock pheasant. The late Robin Fosque had taken heed of his appearance, and Sherwin was in his debt.
    As yet Sherwin had seen no humans other than his companions, although a large white horse looked up from a patch of harebells and gave his head a toss—curious, Sherwin had to believe, as to why the visitors did not stop to climb over the stile and come toward him with gifts of hay or apples.
    Now that he was no longer on the ship, Sherwin could smell himself and his shipmates, a strong odor of tar and sweat, sharpened by salt water, rising from the fabric of his garments.
    â€œWill you show me how to load the pistol with a bullet?” asked Sherwin.
    Bartholomew’s undertakings, as an attendant to a gentleman, included carrying the powder holder, a large ox horn that was embellished with brass fittings, an iron nozzle, and a stout leather strap. He accepted the weapon itself from Sherwin’s hands, and as they walked he used the ramrod to probe the barrel.
    Then he sat beside the road and took no small amount of time loading the firearm.
    At last he stood again. “She holds a charge ready,” he announced, and handed the weapon back to his master. He explained the firing of the weapon, and added, “Let us hope, sir, your life never depends on this.”
    Sherwin thrust the pistol through his belt as they continued to make their way, considerably in the rear of the sergeant and Tryce.
    â€œWhat keeps the lead shot and the gunpowder from drooling out the end of the barrel?” asked Sherwin.
    â€œGun wadding,” said Bartholomew. “And fortune.”
    â€œHow long have you sailed on the
Vixen
?” asked Sherwin.
    â€œNot four months,” said Bartholomew. “I joined her in Calais. Sir, my master was imprisoned.” He pronounced the town’s name
Cal-ass
.
    â€œWhat sort of duties did you perform for your master?”
    â€œSir, I was a toad-eater.”
    â€œA toady?” asked