desk.
Carter must still despise wealth by the look of the place now. Chequered canvas covered the planking on the floor. The decor was sparse in the extreme, and the lack of furniture emphasized the emptiness of the cabin. No cabinets or silver ornaments. No pictures. Just the polished bulkheads that separated his sleeping cabin from this room. The lockers which formed seats below the stern windows were covered in worn velvet. The chairs to match the dining table were ranked along the walls. No one, it seemed, was to be invited to sit in the captain’s presence.
“I am curious to know by what right you dare to give commands to a King’s officer, Ludlow?” No preamble, no pleasantries, however false. The years dropped away, and Harry could hear that same voice hurling insults at him from the head of the Barfleur’s wardroom table. “I refer, of course, to your flying of Navy signals in the most outrageous manner.”
“They were more in the nature of a request.”
“I did not see any request in your signals.” Carter’s lips were pursed together in disapproval.
“Admiral Kempenfelt, when he laid down the present signals, quite rightly assumed that no officer would need to be requested to attack an enemy warship.”
“You have no right to fly signals from that book at all.”
“I think every Englishman has the right to confound the King’s enemies, just as every officer has a duty to do so.”
“You dare to remind me of my duty, sir?” The captain’s studied demeanour slipped a bit. He was fussy about his duty.
“I do. Since you obviously require to be reminded. By your actions.”
Carter thumped the desk with his fist. “I will not have you questioning my actions in my own cabin.”
Harry longed to challenge him, to force him into another confrontation with weapons. As if Carter read his mind, he rubbed his shoulder at the point where Harry’s bullet had pierced it. Harry fought to control himself. Only a fool would challenge a captain aboard his own ship. Carter would indeed clap him in irons. The only reason that Crevitt and the marine were there was in the hope that they would witness such an event.
“I require an explanation from you, for your failure to support me.”
“Require!” shouted Carter, his face going red. “Who are you to require an explanation of me?”
“You knew that I commanded the Medusa?”
Carter sat back in his chair. He smiled to himself. The smile chilled the atmosphere rather than warming it.
“Did I? I must consult the ship’s log, for I have no recollection of knowing who commanded the Medusa, or indeed the name of your ship before I had to sink her.”
“I know that you are no coward, Carter . . .”
“Captain Carter, Ludlow,” he said sharply.
“Yet you deliberately stood off and allowed my ship to be bombarded.”
“I think my superiors will approve of my actions.” He picked up a paper from the table and looked at it with exaggerated attention. When he spoke his voice had changed. Carter was all softness now. “Have I not captured a fine frigate with the minimum of damage, either to myself or the prize?”
“And the Medusa?”
“Ah! The Medusa. A ship entirely unknown to me, flying signals it had no right to raise. A ship apparently attacking a superior enemy force.”
“Apparently!” Now it was Harry’s turn to shout. Carter leant forward, hoping that Harry’s outburst would continue. Harry checked himself again. Carter sat back, masking his disappointment with that same cold smile.
“Exercising due caution, I hove to, to ensure that my ship was not being lured into some trap. Having established this, I then proceeded to take possession of the Verite without sustaining any damage.”
“And my ship?” Harry’s voice conveyed the strain he was under.
“I am sure that you are aware of the dangers that attend the operations of a Letter of Marque, Ludlow, and of the low esteem your profession commands. I really could not endanger
Carter must still despise wealth by the look of the place now. Chequered canvas covered the planking on the floor. The decor was sparse in the extreme, and the lack of furniture emphasized the emptiness of the cabin. No cabinets or silver ornaments. No pictures. Just the polished bulkheads that separated his sleeping cabin from this room. The lockers which formed seats below the stern windows were covered in worn velvet. The chairs to match the dining table were ranked along the walls. No one, it seemed, was to be invited to sit in the captain’s presence.
“I am curious to know by what right you dare to give commands to a King’s officer, Ludlow?” No preamble, no pleasantries, however false. The years dropped away, and Harry could hear that same voice hurling insults at him from the head of the Barfleur’s wardroom table. “I refer, of course, to your flying of Navy signals in the most outrageous manner.”
“They were more in the nature of a request.”
“I did not see any request in your signals.” Carter’s lips were pursed together in disapproval.
“Admiral Kempenfelt, when he laid down the present signals, quite rightly assumed that no officer would need to be requested to attack an enemy warship.”
“You have no right to fly signals from that book at all.”
“I think every Englishman has the right to confound the King’s enemies, just as every officer has a duty to do so.”
“You dare to remind me of my duty, sir?” The captain’s studied demeanour slipped a bit. He was fussy about his duty.
“I do. Since you obviously require to be reminded. By your actions.”
Carter thumped the desk with his fist. “I will not have you questioning my actions in my own cabin.”
Harry longed to challenge him, to force him into another confrontation with weapons. As if Carter read his mind, he rubbed his shoulder at the point where Harry’s bullet had pierced it. Harry fought to control himself. Only a fool would challenge a captain aboard his own ship. Carter would indeed clap him in irons. The only reason that Crevitt and the marine were there was in the hope that they would witness such an event.
“I require an explanation from you, for your failure to support me.”
“Require!” shouted Carter, his face going red. “Who are you to require an explanation of me?”
“You knew that I commanded the Medusa?”
Carter sat back in his chair. He smiled to himself. The smile chilled the atmosphere rather than warming it.
“Did I? I must consult the ship’s log, for I have no recollection of knowing who commanded the Medusa, or indeed the name of your ship before I had to sink her.”
“I know that you are no coward, Carter . . .”
“Captain Carter, Ludlow,” he said sharply.
“Yet you deliberately stood off and allowed my ship to be bombarded.”
“I think my superiors will approve of my actions.” He picked up a paper from the table and looked at it with exaggerated attention. When he spoke his voice had changed. Carter was all softness now. “Have I not captured a fine frigate with the minimum of damage, either to myself or the prize?”
“And the Medusa?”
“Ah! The Medusa. A ship entirely unknown to me, flying signals it had no right to raise. A ship apparently attacking a superior enemy force.”
“Apparently!” Now it was Harry’s turn to shout. Carter leant forward, hoping that Harry’s outburst would continue. Harry checked himself again. Carter sat back, masking his disappointment with that same cold smile.
“Exercising due caution, I hove to, to ensure that my ship was not being lured into some trap. Having established this, I then proceeded to take possession of the Verite without sustaining any damage.”
“And my ship?” Harry’s voice conveyed the strain he was under.
“I am sure that you are aware of the dangers that attend the operations of a Letter of Marque, Ludlow, and of the low esteem your profession commands. I really could not endanger
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