Her Master and Commander Read Online Free PDF Page A

deep breath, lifting the damp scent of the ocean into his lungs, releasing the pain into the air even as he allowed the coolness to replenish his spirits. The breeze tussled the one lone tree that stood on the cliff, sending a smattering of brown leaves swirling to the ground.
    Behind him, the familiar slam of the door rang out. In a moment, one of the men would be there, pretending to ask an innocuous question. Ever since he’d been wounded, his own bloody crew—the ones who’d remained with him—had taken to treating him like a scabby, new to ship and wet behind the ears.
    It was galling. It also reminded him of the early days, when he’d been naught but a soft landlubber with no calluses and less understanding of what it meant to be at sea. At first, he’d fought. Fought his destiny with his entire being. He’d been sad and frightened and sick with worry about Christian—
    No. He wouldn’t remember those days. He’d remember the later ones. When he’d finally made his peace with the sea and life on board.
    Though he grew to hate his first captain, a harsh, unjust man given to beating his men for the slightest offense, Tristan loved life at sea and reveled in the wildness of the crashing ocean that had once terrified him.
    Though Captain Reynolds had no place in Tristan’s heart, the crew had been beyond compare. Many of the men from that first assignment were with Tristan still, having weathered storms, faced raging seas, and fought the fright of being becalmed hundreds of miles from shore with too little water. They were stalwart of heart and generous of spirit and had stood with him against marauders of all sorts and sizes.
    A faint smile touched his lips. There were those who cursed pirates and he was certain some of them were unworthy men indeed. But to Tristan, stolen from the safety of shore and forced to the sea under a harsh captain given to regular beatings and worse, pirating wasn’t as horrid and undesirable as it might have been under different circumstances.
    Indeed, when his first ship had been overrun in a bloody battle, the captain killed and Tristan’s crewmates taken prisoner, he met with more generous behavior than he had when serving Captain Reynolds.
    The captain of the pirate ship, Captain Ballaliet, a former French naval officer reduced to pirating to pay his gaming debts, had invited the English crew to join his own. With the promise of plunder, better food than Tristan could remember, and a benign master, the invitation was too good to miss. Thus Tristan made the painless transition from English sailor to roving pirate.
    Tristan looked out over the roaring ocean with unseeing eyes. He was no saint and he’d done things he now regretted. Though it had been an amoral life, he’d prospered and eventually Captain Ballaliet had captured a ship and given it to Tristan. Together, they’d sailed and had been nigh unstoppable. Had a stray bullet during a particularly difficult boarding not caught Captain Ballaliet in the chest, Tristan might even now be sailing the seas, looking for a tempting frigate to capture.
    But once Ballaliet had died, the fight had left Tristan and he’d drifted aimlessly. The crew had not been happy, for they were paid only when they captured a juicy prize. Had he not overtaken a certain ship off the Rock of Gibraltar and met Admiral Nelson, Tristan’s life would have been different. Nelson had seen something in Tristan worth saving. To repay the Admiral, Tristan had pledged his ship and men to the Battle of Trafalgar. It had been a stunning victory, but at what cost? Nelson was gone, taken by a sniper’s bullet while countless others had died or been left maimed, wounded beyond salvage.
    The wind whipped through Tristan’s hair and tried to pull it from the ribbon. He closed his eyes and let the damp air brush over him. If he held very still, it almost felt as if the ground were moving like a ship in a near calm sea. He could almost hear the creak and groan of