Ebb Tide Read Online Free PDF

return from the Carolinas was unremarkable, but Captain Hope called upon Rear-Admiral Kempenfelt with some misgivings, for Cyclops's mission had been unsuccessful.
    Having seen Hope down into his gig, Acting Lieutenant Nathaniel Drinkwater, a captured French sword at his hip, crossed the quarterdeck to where Lieutenant Devaux was levelling a telescope on the flagship. Kempenfelt commanded the rear division of the Grand Fleet from which Hope's frigate had been detached for special service some months earlier, flying his flag in the huge first-rate Royal George which lay some three miles away.
    Drinkwater halted at the first lieutenant's elbow, coughed discreetly and said, 'Captain's compliments, sir, but would you be good enough to ensure no boats come alongside until he returns.'
    Devaux lowered the glass a little and turned his gaze on the steel-grey waters of Spithead which were being churned by the vicious breeze into a nasty chop.
    'D'you see any boats, Mr Drinkwater?'
    'Er, no sir.'
    'Er,' Devaux mimicked, replacing the telescope to his eye, 'no sir. Neither do I.'
    'Except for the Captain's gig, that is, sir.'
    'But no boats containing pedlars, usurers, tailors, cobblers, whores or whoremasters, eh?'
    'None whatsoever, sir.'
    'Then, Mr Drinkwater,' said Devaux with an ironic smile, turning his hazel eyes on the younger man, 'do you ensure that not one of them gets alongside. We must keep all manner of wickedness away from our fair ship, don't you know.' Devaux allowed a crease to furrow his equable brow and asked conversationally, 'Now, Nathaniel, do you suppose this sudden concern for the moral welfare of our people has anything to do with the fact that Rear-Admiral Richard Kempenfelt is a religious man?'
    'I suppose it might, sir.'
    'I suppose it might, too,' responded the first lieutenant with a heavily exaggerated smile, replacing the telescope to his eye and returning his attention to Kempenfelt's flagship.
    Drinkwater smiled to himself. Lieutenant the Honourable John Devaux was a man whom Drinkwater both admired and liked. He cautiously hoped that Devaux held Drinkwater himself in some esteem, for the nineteen-year-old enjoyed no patronage beyond the initial recommendation of his parish priest. Although this had secured him a midshipman's berth aboard Cyclops, nothing more could be expected from it. His acting rank was merely a convenient expedient for the ship, detached on special service as she had been. He expected to be returned to the midshipmen's mephitic berth in the next few days, as soon as a replacement could be found from the admiral's numerous élèves who inhabited this vast concourse of ships. Drinkwater sighed as he thought of his consignment to the orlop. His previous experiences of it had been far from happy. Hearing the sigh, Devaux turned upon him, lowering the glass and closing it with a sharp snick.
    'Well, sir? How the deuce d'you intend to shoo the damned bum-boats off our side if you just stand there sniffing like an impregnated milkmaid?'
    'I'm sorry, sir.' Drinkwater was about to turn away, aware that he had tested the first lieutenant's patience, when Devaux, staring around the ship, said with an ironic smile, 'Ah, but I see you have seen them all off.'
    'I haven't seen a single one throughout the anchorage.'
    'No, no one in his right mind would be out in a boat on an afternoon like this unless they had to be. Tis almost cold enough for snow, don't you think, or is it just because we hail from warmer climes?'
    'Well, 'tis certainly chilly enough.'
    'And I suppose you're concerned about your future, eh?'
    'A little, I must confess.'
    'You damned hypocrite, Nathaniel!' Devaux laughed. 'But don't expect a thing, cully. There'll be enough young gentlemen hereabouts', he went on, waving a hand expansively round the crowded anchorage, dark as it was with the masts of the fleet, 'to ensure we aren't without warm admirers. When word gets about that we've a berth empty in the gunroom, they'll all