arise, their workers only
Hedouville craftily hoped to divide, conquer, and weaken, play rivals off in another 'War of the Skin,' then crush the feeble winner. To stave him off, to counter that brute, there was only one course of action open, though Toussaint L'Ouverture dreaded the price his people would have to pay. But St. Domingue-Haiti-must be one, or it was doomed, so the island's reluctant, unschooled master of war
So… in the morning, before first light, his sleeping soldiers must march on South Province, make a pre-emptive 'War of the Skin' on those who would rule a breakaway
Before first light, Toussaint L'Ouverture would march against the Mulatto Republic, and faithless General Andre Rigaud.
Under that same moonlight, HMS
Captain Alan Lewrie, RN, lay nude under a sheet in his swaying wide-enough-for-two bed-cot, flat on his back with his hands enlaced under the musty down pillows, striving for sleep. He'd dined on fresh red snapper that Gideon, the frigate's talented cook, had caught in a slack-wind hour that morning; he'd washed it down with a whole bottle of tangy, fruit-sweet Beaujolais from a mixed case that the Georgian, Capt. Randolph of USS
He should have been pleased-yet he wasn't.
Lewrie could congratulate himself that he had his great-cabins to himself, that he'd rid himself of that callow idiot the Honourable Grenville Pelham, even Mr. James Peel, as if he'd made them 'walk the plank' or marooned them on infamous and desolate Sombrero Cay like the pirates of old. He could happily savour, too, the fact that
Yet he still heaved frustrated sighs, stretching and wriggling to wring wakefulness from his body, his mind still stewing on his one failure. For Guillaume Choundas, though captured and defanged, still
Choundas was still so
Or would Choundas think that revenge against him mattered more? Did he discover that Desmond was his, so young and trusting, he
'And what am I doing with a half-grown son?' Lewrie groaned in the darkness. 'Haven't known him a Dog- Watch, so why's he so dear?'
Lewrie hoped that his hastily penned letters might bear fruit. One to James Peel, boasting his victory, yet suggesting that, had he ever done HM Government good service, could he shepherd the lad when he stepped ashore on Antigua, if Choundas was landed there as well… that James Peel should do what should be done with Choundas s life if there was a way,
Several letters, copies of the same one really, to Christopher Cash-man; to every seaport town he'd mentioned before sailing away to a new life in America-Savannah, Charleston, Georgetown, or Port Royal in South Carolina, Wilmington or New Bern in North Carolina; Beaufort, however differently pronounced, in both states. Letters which pleaded with him, that, should he
A letter to warn Desmond, though
Something heavy up forrud slid, then went thump! Thence came a Crash-Thud that roused Lewrie to his elbows.
Even by moonlight streaming in through the overhead coach-top, Lewrie could see that his chart-space was a mess. Rolled charts were scattered, several books from the fiddle-rack shelves were now on the slanted desk-top, and brass dividers and rulers were underfoot, along with several pencils, and Capt. McGilliveray's parting gift of a brace of rare and costly steel-nib pens he
'Good God A'mighty,' he muttered, padding aft again. And
'Boys, boys,' he said, sighing as he knelt before their hat-box lair; Toulon taking up most of it. 'I expect such from Chalky, he's a new-come, but I thought
Some eagerly received pets and strokes, and they
Thumps and grunts, slaps and high-toned trills, and deep meows. Then the hat-box was overset and a new romp was on, paws thundering on the canvas deck-cover, from the transom settee to the gun-deck door.
'Gawd,' Lewrie implored the night and the overhead deck beams as he pummeled his pillows. 'Give me patience…'