Falconer's Quest Read Online Free PDF

his son standing there, his fresh-washed hair shining and his face so earnest. He felt his heart swell with pain and pride both.
    “Now there’s a sad tale if ever I heard one.” Soap looked from one to the other. “I’ve stepped right into the thick of things, and I’m right sorry, I am.”
    “No offense meant or taken,” Falconer replied.
    “Come with me, young master.” Soap draped an arm around Matt’s shoulders. “We had a shipment arrive this very morning from the Spice Islands. I believe I spied a quarry of cinnamon sticks in one of them chests.”
    Matt looked at Falconer, who gave him a nod of assent. As the pair of them moved toward the rear storerooms, he heard the boy ask, “Are the Spice Islands very far away?”
    “Far as the moon, or so it feels in the midst of a calm. And never have you seen a calm like the tropics, lad. Weeks with the sails hanging limp as your dear old mam’s laundry, may the good Lord hold her close.” A door creaked open, then shut upon the words, “Why, my little man, there was once a time…”
    Falconer stepped toward the rear of the store, where tables were piled with seamen’s garb. He found what he was looking for straight off—shirts which tied at wrist and neck, high-waisted pants with legs that could be buttoned tight to slip into sailors’ boots, even a tricorn hat with stiff curved brims to shield his vision in foul weather. Falconer selected an empty seaman’s chest and began loading his new gear. He tried on a navy greatcoat that looked as though it might have been sewn for him. Then he spied the cutlasses.
    The curved blades were stacked behind a locked cabinet with stout iron bars. Beside them were every manner of pistol, gun, and weapon. Falconer knew them all.
    Falconer caught sight of his reflection. Beneath the greatcoat he still wore his Moravian homespun, yet already the clothes seemed the barest fable. As though the previous two years had not existed. As though he had shaved off not only his beard but all the months he had spent away from the sea. For standing before him was the man he had once been. Strong and steady and stalwart. A face burned and blasted by far more than sun. Features that shouted danger, lean and fierce. And that scar.
    “Father John?”
    Falconer drew around. “What do you have there?”
    Matt clasped a bundle of twisted golden-brown sticks to his chest. “Master Soap said I should take a double handful, sir. For the journey.”
    “Only if he will let us pay for them.”
    Soap replied, “It’s Master Langston what’s paying, good sir. And I warrant he’d be right pleased for my pressing them on the lad.”
    There in Matt’s young face he saw the only answer the day required. Falconer asked, “Did you thank the gentleman?”
    “Yes, Father John.”
    “Let him wrap them for you, then wipe your hands clean and come back here.”
    Soap jerked his chin toward the locked cabinet. “Master Reginald said to tell you, whatever you need, it’s already aboard the vessel.”
    Falconer nodded and did his best to block the boy’s view of the weaponry. “Son, do you wish to wear those clothes on board?”
    Matt looked down at himself. “It’s all I’ve ever owned, sir.”
    “I know that, lad. I want you to understand, if you’d be more comfortable staying as you are, why—”
    “None will object, lad.” Soap listed heavy to port as he walked toward them. “Especially not after one glimpse of your father there.”
    Falconer kept his gaze upon the boy. “There are many changes to come. You will be permitted to pick and choose, if I have anything to say about them. Starting with what you wear.”
    “Will there be other boys on the ship, sir?”
    “Aye. At least a couple of middies.”
    “Four,” Soap corrected. “Youngest is but a nob of ten.”
    “Middies are midshipmen,” Falconer explained. “They are sent to learn the ways of the sea and ships. There may also be other young passengers.”
    Matt pointed at