The French Admiral

custody, taking notes on how the attack had started and binding David's head up in a shirt ripped from the back of one of the dead assailants.

'And they said 'Get the Tories'?' the young infantry ensign asked as they made their way toward the lit streets. 'You are certain of it?'

'Exactly, sir,' Alan replied, trying to find something on which he could wipe his dirk free of blood.

'Might have been an attempt to take your purses.' The ensign pondered. 'Where were you coming from?'

'The knocking shop up the road, Lady Jane's,' Alan volunteered. 'By God, it's nearly the end of the first dog. We have to get word to our ship we were set upon, or my cap-tain'll have our hides off!'

'Lady Jane's, eh?' the ensign sneered. 'You're lucky to get out of the doors with your heads still attached. We've been keeping an eye on it for weeks now. A little too much roughness going on there for my captain's comfort. You'd not be the first to be robbed after going there.'

'You don't think they had anything to do with it, do you?' Alan asked, familiar enough with rough practices back in London to guess that they were indeed lucky to be alive.

'Not sure about that.' The ensign shrugged in his trim red coat. 'But it's far enough out and dark enough off the main streets for footpads to be sure of easy pickings, not like some of the brothels closer in. Gets a better clientele, with heavier purses than most of the sailors' haunts, at any rate.'

'Think you'd better see this, sir,' his corporal said from the cart, which still stood in the middle of the road, the runty horse flickering her ears with supreme patience. The corporal held up ropes, grain sacks, two muskets, and some old blankets. 'Might have been more than robbery, sir.'

'Corporal, send a man to the captain. Tell him we have three Rebel suspects who were part of an attack on two sailors.'

'Midshipmen,' Alan corrected, not wanting to be considered a mere sailor now that he had his equanimity back, along with his wind.

'Whatever.' The ensign sniffed at being corrected. 'Send another man to the wharf. Which ship?'

'The Desperate frigate sir,' Alan replied. 'Commander Treghues.'

'However do you spell that?' the ensign asked.

'Commander the Honorable T-R-E-G-H-U-E-S,' Alan replied sardonically.

'Ah, one of those, eh? Tell him to really foot it, Corporal.'

They were taken to the watch office near the wharves at the foot of the town, and while David's head wound was being staunched and sewn up they gave a more formal statement, interrupted by David's protests at the dullness of the army surgeon's needle.

'I believe that should be all the information we need.' a lieutenant said finally. 'We have the prisoners to question, and we'll find the others quick enough, you can count on that.'

'I believe we are sailing on the evening's tide, sir.' Alan said, 'Is there a possibility that Lady Jane's could have been involved with this? They treated us rather decent, really, and it would be hard to believe if they were linked to it.'

'Doubtful at best. I'm a customer there at times myself,' the officer confided with a grin. 'No, it was most likely robbery they had in mind. Abduction, possibly, but that would have raised such a hue and cry, and for what purpose? If you were post-captains it would have made more sense. Not even Rebels would have a reason to take you off and pump you for information you most likely didn't have. Ah, there's a boat from your ship here to take you back. Hope your friend heals quickly. Your ship shall be going where, in case we need to send queries by letter?'

'At first to New York, sir. After that, God knows. The Chesapeake or the Delaware,' Alan said.

They were escorted to the wharf and into a rowing boat in the charge of the captain's coxswain, who was staring at them sadly. Once under way and the stroke was established, he turned to them.

'You done got yourself in trouble this time, sir,' he told Lewrie.

'But it wasn't our fault—we were attacked and almost killed!'

'Not fer me ta say, Mister Lewrie, sir,' Cottle told them sadly.

'Wonderful,' Alan spat.

'Well, no matter what,' David said, trying to fit his hat over his bandaged head and giving it up as a bad go, 'you have to admit it was a memorable birthday celebration.'

'There's that to savor,' Alan remarked sarcastically.

'In case I did not mention it, thank you for saving my nutmegs back there. They'd have dashed my brains out in another minute if you had not gotten the upper hand with them.'

'Think nothing of it, David, you'd have done the same for me,' Alan said, taking his proffered hand and shaking with him heartily. 'How's your head?'

'It hurts most sinfully. How's your arm?'

'Now that it's coming awake again it's throbbing away like a little engine.'

'A proper shore leave, then,' David laughed. 'Eat our fill, topped up on wine, bulled a pretty girl into exhaustion, and then had a fight to cap it all off!'

'Amen ta that, sor!' one of the oarsmen said.

'You keep that up an' you'll be real tarpaulin men, sirs!' another added.

'Everything but a cake with candles!' David crowed.

'We'll get something with candles, and that right soon,' Alan said.

But looking back on it, now that the terror for his life was gone, it had been a proper run ashore, damned if it hadn't been.

CHAPTER 1

'Thank God we are back aboard,' David said as they gained the entry port to Desperate. 'If we run into more assailants, at least out here we outgun them.'

'Will you be quiet?' Alan said, sure of what was coming from their captain. 'One would think your blow to the head had made you raving!'

'Mister Lewrie? Mister Avery?' Lieutenant Railsford called from the quarterdeck aft. 'Come here, please.'

Their youngish first lieutenant did not look his usual self; of course, he was stern as always. The life of a first lieutenant for even the most slovenly captain was a continual trial. What could go wrong to upset the usual ordered pace of Navy life kept most first officers biting their nails. In port, Railsford should have found a few moments of peace from the unending anxiety of what would go smash next. Now there they stood, disturbers of the lieutenant's only serene spell in days.

'Damn you to hell, Avery,' Railsford snapped, his mouth screwed up as though he were chewing the words. 'Damn your black soul to hell.'

'Aye, aye, sir,' David replied, thoroughly abashed and realizing just how bad it was if Railsford, normally the most forgiving and understanding officer he had, was vexed at him.

'And you, Mister Lewrie.' Railsford spun on him. 'Very stupid, I must say, Mister Lewrie!'

'Aye, aye, sir,' Alan said, ready to be bent over a gun and given a dozen of the bosun's best as punishment. 'But we did…'

'Silence!' Railsford roared. He stroked his lean jaws, perhaps to keep from turning his hands into fists. 'I heard from the sergeant of the watch what happened. I have told the captain about the particulars, but he is… remarkably exercised about this. Whatever I could say to you shall most likely pale in comparison to what Captain Treghues shall say. Get you aft to his cabins at once, gentlemen!'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

They followed Railsford below to the private companion-way to their lord and master's chambers. A marine sentry in red uniform and white crossbelts was there, and was it Alan's imagination, or did he glare at them a little more evilly than most marines regarded midshipmen, and did he bang his musket butt on the deck with a little more enthusiasm and bellow their names to the waiting captain behind the door more loudly than usual?

'Enter!' Treghues yelled back.

They entered the captain's quarters, a fairly spacious stretch of deck in the stern of the upper gun deck, went past the coach where their captain dined, past the chart room and the berth space, and met their judge and jury seated at his desk in the day cabin. He had on his best uniform, and a black expression—a devilish black