a King’s ship for the sake of a privateer.”
“I had thought that the danger was from our enemy.”
“Our enemy?” he said, throwing back his head and laughing. “There are many dangers at sea, Ludlow. You have no right to this, but you may, in the presence of Mr Crevitt here, study the ship’s log. You may even read a copy of the dispatch that I sent to the Admiralty.”
Carter threw the paper in his hand across the table. Harry ignored it. “No, thank you.”
“A pity. For it reads well. It will be seen as a most economical action. And if the capture of a French frigate was insufficient to commend me to their lordships, I have added that I was able to crew my prize from your ship, which, no longer being afloat, had nullified the validity of the crew’s exceptions. As I say, Ludlow, a most economical affair.”
“And all I say is that it is a proper subject for others to enquire into.”
Carter sat forward sharply. He knew that Harry was rich, well connected, and influential, just as he knew that in the end his superiors would support him. “Are you threatening me?”
“I do not intend to let the matter rest, if that is what you are asking. I shall require more of an explanation than you have so far provided.”
“There you go ‘requiring’ again,” said Carter, sitting back in his chair once more. “It really is unbearable to be talked to in such a fashion. I have a mind to throw you out.”
“But you won’t, Carter.”
“Won’t I indeed?”
“No. You are enjoying this too much. You would not deny yourself the pleasure of observing my discomfort.”
“Anyone overhearing would think that I bore you some ill will.” Carter’s look became one of injured innocence, a look mainly directed at the silent Crevitt. “You flatter yourself, Ludlow. But then you always did carry a high opinion of your own merits. An opinion not shared by many.”
“I look forward to the day when we meet ashore, Carter.”
“Captain Carter!” Crevitt nearly jumped out of his shoes as the man screamed at Harry. “Show some damned respect, sir.”
“If you want to know how much I respect you, Carter,” said Harry softly, “the last time I had the misfortune to meet something like you, I had to use a boot scraper to rid myself of it.”
Carter went purple and shot forward across his desk. The young marine seemed to clutch the hat under his arm more tightly, trying to suppress a laugh. Crevitt’s cry of “gentlemen” was wasted as Harry left the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
A 74-gun ship was a large vessel. But it was not so large that some of the crew, particularly the officers on the quarterdeck, were unable to hear the shouted exchanges from the captain’s cabin, even with the skylight shut. Not everything of course, giving the matters the tantalizing edge of any half-heard conversation. In this case it was in no way difficult to deduce what the row had been about. Each man had his own thoughts on the sinking of the Medusa, just as each man also had his eye on the likely benefits which might flow from the taking of the Verite.
The ship having been in commission at the outbreak of war, the crew were volunteer sailors. Likewise, the hands that had been taken on at Spithead had come from the first rush of those eager for employment at the outbreak of war. The ship had a near full complement. Young or old, they tended to be proper seamen. By the time that Outhwaite had laid the last stitch in Harry’s wound, the whole lower deck, through the good offices of those who had served aboard the Barfleur at the time, were apprised of the bad blood that existed between the two men.
The officers were not far behind. Sailors, like any other profession, talked about their occupation extensively. They talked of battles, of near-battles, of success or failure at any number of things, mostly promotion. It took no great feat of memory for them to dust off the details of that well-known quarrel in which Harry
“I had thought that the danger was from our enemy.”
“Our enemy?” he said, throwing back his head and laughing. “There are many dangers at sea, Ludlow. You have no right to this, but you may, in the presence of Mr Crevitt here, study the ship’s log. You may even read a copy of the dispatch that I sent to the Admiralty.”
Carter threw the paper in his hand across the table. Harry ignored it. “No, thank you.”
“A pity. For it reads well. It will be seen as a most economical action. And if the capture of a French frigate was insufficient to commend me to their lordships, I have added that I was able to crew my prize from your ship, which, no longer being afloat, had nullified the validity of the crew’s exceptions. As I say, Ludlow, a most economical affair.”
“And all I say is that it is a proper subject for others to enquire into.”
Carter sat forward sharply. He knew that Harry was rich, well connected, and influential, just as he knew that in the end his superiors would support him. “Are you threatening me?”
“I do not intend to let the matter rest, if that is what you are asking. I shall require more of an explanation than you have so far provided.”
“There you go ‘requiring’ again,” said Carter, sitting back in his chair once more. “It really is unbearable to be talked to in such a fashion. I have a mind to throw you out.”
“But you won’t, Carter.”
“Won’t I indeed?”
“No. You are enjoying this too much. You would not deny yourself the pleasure of observing my discomfort.”
“Anyone overhearing would think that I bore you some ill will.” Carter’s look became one of injured innocence, a look mainly directed at the silent Crevitt. “You flatter yourself, Ludlow. But then you always did carry a high opinion of your own merits. An opinion not shared by many.”
“I look forward to the day when we meet ashore, Carter.”
“Captain Carter!” Crevitt nearly jumped out of his shoes as the man screamed at Harry. “Show some damned respect, sir.”
“If you want to know how much I respect you, Carter,” said Harry softly, “the last time I had the misfortune to meet something like you, I had to use a boot scraper to rid myself of it.”
Carter went purple and shot forward across his desk. The young marine seemed to clutch the hat under his arm more tightly, trying to suppress a laugh. Crevitt’s cry of “gentlemen” was wasted as Harry left the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
A 74-gun ship was a large vessel. But it was not so large that some of the crew, particularly the officers on the quarterdeck, were unable to hear the shouted exchanges from the captain’s cabin, even with the skylight shut. Not everything of course, giving the matters the tantalizing edge of any half-heard conversation. In this case it was in no way difficult to deduce what the row had been about. Each man had his own thoughts on the sinking of the Medusa, just as each man also had his eye on the likely benefits which might flow from the taking of the Verite.
The ship having been in commission at the outbreak of war, the crew were volunteer sailors. Likewise, the hands that had been taken on at Spithead had come from the first rush of those eager for employment at the outbreak of war. The ship had a near full complement. Young or old, they tended to be proper seamen. By the time that Outhwaite had laid the last stitch in Harry’s wound, the whole lower deck, through the good offices of those who had served aboard the Barfleur at the time, were apprised of the bad blood that existed between the two men.
The officers were not far behind. Sailors, like any other profession, talked about their occupation extensively. They talked of battles, of near-battles, of success or failure at any number of things, mostly promotion. It took no great feat of memory for them to dust off the details of that well-known quarrel in which Harry
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