A King`s Commander

and rearm Bombуlo. You can tow her astern, ready for another bold raid on the French. But you can't come nigh to hoisting your own broad pendant as an ex-officio squadron commander with her your consort.'

'Oh well, sir…' Lewrie shrugged sheepishly, putting a good face on it.

'I trust, though, that the prize money from her capture mollifies you, Lewrie,' Nelson offered by way of condolence.

'Should the Court ever see their way clear to paying it, sir,' Lewrie reminded him, 'then, aye, I s'pose it must.'

'Aye, those…!' Nelson seethed for a moment. 'I tell you, sir, I am determined to become an admiral! To have say in matters, redress so many shortcomings. Prize-Court doings, not the least of them, but…' he said coming around his desk to steer Lewrie to the door of his day-cabin. 'Until then, there is the satisfaction that you did your duty, as best you saw it, with aggressiveness, pluck and daring. And, more than your own portion of good fortune. Confounded French recruiting, perhaps; certainly destroyed a battery, a garrison, and took those coasting bottoms they'll sorely miss. And captured a French national ship into the bargain. This fellow who runs their convoys must, this very instant, be tearing out his hair in frustration.'

'Confusion to the French, sir,' Lewrie boasted.

'Amen to that, sir,' Nelson exclaimed, as a send-off. 'Amen to that. Now, off with you, Lewrie. Recover your tender and we'll be off about the King's Business. Perhaps not quite so far as Cape Antibes.. • hmm? A little closer to home. A daily cruise west, returning to read my signals. Mister Drake suggests a large convoy, soon, a rich one…'

'Aye aye, sir!' Lewrie heartily agreed.

'Scour the coast for me, Lewrie. And good hunting.'

CHAPTER 7

'You…!' the scarred man sneered, his permanently scrub-pink complexion mottling with an anger so fatal it could have killed, just by itself, straight across the desk in the great-cabins of the French National corvette La Vengeance.

Vengeance was at anchor in the port of Nice, but a southerly, a sirocco, blew into the harbor, making the agile 350-ton corvette do an edgy dance. Which didn't do Lt. Henri Becquet's attempts at composure any good, either, as he suffered the well-deserved tirade. As Lt. Henri Bec-quet attempted to find a way to wriggle free of responsibility-and the threat of court-martial and the guillotine. France did not suffer its fools gladly, had no use for failure, or excuses for it.

'You…!' the scarred Capitaine de Vaisseau hissed again. He partially hid his brutally scarred face with a black silk mask, an eye patch that extended upward to cover a broken-lined brow, downward to hide a cheek that had been slashed to the bone. There was no disguising, though, the tyrannical mouth, the upper lip and part of a nostril that had been savaged and crudely sewn, making him an offset harelip. 'You stupid… goddamned… fooll' he thundered. 'Idiot!'

'M'sieur…' Lieutenant Becquet shivered so violently that his teeth chattered. His very life depended on the next few moments, suspended. in midair at the end of a figurative single skein of light thread… and Le Hideux the one with the razor blade! Perversely, Becquet cast a glance to the civilian aft near the transom windows, who was a dark, brooding shadow against the midday glare. Le Hideux was showing off, performing for the civilian, Becquet suspected. Covering his own failures with a spectacular rant, if the civilian was down from Paris, to inquire why the convoys failed so often, so much was lost…?

'What can you do?' the senior captain asked the ether, with a soft toss of his hands, and a look toward the deck head. He rose and paced slowly, his weakened left calf supported by a stiff knee boot reinforced with an iron brace. Clump, shuffle… clump, shuffle, and Lieutenant Becquet began to sweat an icy flood as Le Hideux approached him. 'Here is the very sort of laziness I continually fight against, Citizen,' he said to the civilian. For his benefit… and his own. 'Idiots, fools, shit for brains. Oh, they spout all the right slogans, cheer when you tell them, Citizen Pouzin. As if halfhearted enthusiasm for the Revolution was enough, n'est-ce pas? But, deep in their souls, they stay shop clerks! Open on time, pretend to work, then run for the cafйs or the brothels, as soon as the door is shut for the evening. Without a thought of working! Without a care for anything but their comforts!'

Clump, shuffle… clump, shuffle, behind Becquet, who kept his gaze straight ahead at the silhouetted Citizen Pouzin, pleading with his eyes. And expecting a dagger in his kidneys.

'A gun captain, did you know that, Citizen Pouzin?' Le Hideux sneered. 'From the Garonne, where they do not understand the sea. A river man. A gun captain who turned against his 'aristo' masters when he saw which way the wind was blowing. When we broke up that elitist naval artillery corps, that pack of bootlickers!… Becquet turned on them. To save his hide, hein? So he could have his soup and bread, a ready supply of coin, only. For his wine, and his whores! Got promoted because he shouted the loudest. So he could make even more money to waste on wine and whores?' Le Hideux accused, shouting into the lieutenant's ear so close that spittle from his ravaged lips bedewed Becquet, as cold as Antarctic ice crystals.

'Capitaine, I did my duty, I…'

'Too hard a task, was it, Becquet?' Le Hideux scoffed. 'Too much to ask, to unload the cargo, as soon as you got to Bordighera? Even if you had to work past closing time, hein? But you had time. You docked at dusk? Answer!'

'Oui, Capitaine, just at dusk, but the Savoians…'

'Let the infantry company go ashore, instead of ordering them to help unload,' Le Hideux growled, stumping back into his sight. 'I ordered you to unload quickly, did I not? Dash in, dash out, before a 'Bloody patrol saw you. So that the convoy would be safe. So those Savoian volunteers would get their arms and equipment. A direct order, and an important task. Which you nodded and parroted back to me, did you not, here in this cabin, Becquet? Swore on your honor you'd fulfill, to the letter, hein? Oui?'

'Oui, Capitaine … but…!'

'Thought one puny three-gun battery of light fieldpieces would be protection enough, did you? For ships in your charge? To protect your lazy hide? Were you aboard La Follette when the 'Bloodies' opened fire on the battery?'

'Certainment, Capitaine]' Becquet declared.

'Liar,' Citizen Pouzin asserted calmly, snapping Becquet's head around. 'A letter from your midshipman, Hainaut.'

'Oui, Hainaut!' Le Hideux chimed in. 'Not four days since his capture, and we already have a letter he sent, asking for his exchange. He, at least, did his duty. You were not aboard. Where were you, in bed with a whore, up in the town? A whole half hour they took, before the battery was silenced. Were you so taken with wine that you needed a whole half hour to wake up? A half hour, Becquet. A real man would have mustered his crew, sailed out, and supported the battery. With the guns you had aboard La Follette, you could have deterred them entering. But what did you do with that precious time? Nothing]'

'The crew, they ran off, Capitaine, I tried to muster them…'

'Not run off,' Citizen Pouzin countered, coming closer. 'You gave them shore leave for the night. How convenient.'

'They didn't come back, I…' Becquet almost swooned in fear. 'Some did. I brought them…'

'From the same brothel where you wallowed?' Le Hideux scoffed.

'The 'Bloody' corvette entered, and the few who'd stayed, or the few who'd come back with me, they…'

' Hainaut had mustered them for you,' Le Hideux accused. ' Hainaut had sense