A Sea of Troubles (23 page)

Better still than that, he swept round
Larcher’
s stern and had a cable ready to take his consort in tow, at which point the packet gave up on the fight and that had to apply to the armed cutter, she being too small to continue alone. But the fight was over and the cheering started – so loud was that, it seemed it might be heard in England.

‘I always thought you’d make a fighting tar, John Pearce, and by the Good Lord I was right.’

McGann, small, bright-eyed and with ginger hair,
was indeed still in command and there were many other familiar faces to greet and shake hands with. But
Lorne
was Falmouth bound and carrying both mail and specie, so to linger was not possible; speed for the post was of the essence. Unusually, Captain McGann took an on-board drink to toast their victory, for he was abstemious at sea and the opposite on land. He also had fulsome compliments for Emily Barclay and a wink for John Pearce to tell him what a rogue he was, and too soon they parted company to the sound of repairs being made to
Larcher’
s damaged hull.

‘I am glad he is going north, Emily. The last time I was with him in Gibraltar McGann started a brawl. In drink he is convinced that he is an object of uncontrollable desire for any woman on whom his eyes alight.’

‘What, that nice old gentleman?’

‘You should observe him in drink, he makes Michael look saintly.’

‘Which I am to the toes, your honour,’ his friend said, right by his shoulder.

‘Mr Dorling, let’s get our sails set again and resume our course.’

There was no more than a touch at Gibraltar to top up the water casks and to allow Brad Kempsall to make more serious repairs to the hull than had been possible at sea. Then it was a cruise in an ocean now controlled by Britannia and Spain. Blue skies met blue waters, the sun shone in the day, sometimes too hot, but the nights were comfortable enough for Pearce and Emily to sit up late on deck and have him identify for her the stars.
Then the day came when he had to ask Dorling a favour.

‘You are the only other person on the ship who keeps a log?’

‘I am, sir.’

‘Well, I want to go to Leghorn and drop off my lady and I don’t intend to write up my course to there and back to Corsica. It is no great distance and the stores consumed will not tell anyone I have gone astray.’

‘And you wish me to do the same?’

‘I can ask, but you know you have no obligation to comply.’

‘Makes no odds to me, sir, if it is discovered they will break you and I will say you threatened me with a loaded pistol.’

Having said that with a grave countenance, and seeing Pearce react in a like manner, Dorling suddenly grinned. ‘I believe I had you there, sir?’

‘I believe you did.’

There were a mass of British vessels in Leghorn, a few navy, but mostly privateers, for this was the base for the wolves of the Mediterranean Sea who went out only for profit and justified their activities as aiding the war effort as Letters of Marque by their interdiction of trade. Through a shore-based naval officer they found a house where Emily could stay and to which Pearce promised to be back in a few days. Having been together and so close for weeks their parting was difficult and all the old anxieties, put aside for the voyage, resurfaced for Emily Barclay, for if they had talked much they had tended to avoid the most serious subject.

‘I will not be long and let us think to talk when I come back, and instead of doing that which we have – skirt round it – let us move on from speculation to a proper plan for our future.’

Pearce was not the only sad face when they sailed for San Fiorenzo, where Lord Hood was anchored. Emily had grown on the whole crew – even those superstitious coves who had predicted disaster if they took a woman on board were sad that she was no longer with them, for she had been kind to all, with a ready smile and a willing ear for a tale of a life too hard to bear, or a wife and bairns back home who lived on the meagre pay the navy allowed.

Sighting HMS
Victory
lifted Pearce’s spirits; all he had to do was deliver his letter, then up anchor for Leghorn again, to collect Emily and set off on what would be a less than speedy voyage back home. Life was at that moment as sweet as it could be.

D
AVID
D
ONACHIE
was born in Edinburgh in 1944. He has always had an abiding interest in the naval history of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as well as the Roman Republic, and, under the pen-name of Jack Ludlow, has published a number of historical adventure novels. David lives in Deal with his partner, the novelist Sarah Grazebrook.  

T
HE
J
OHN
P
EARCE SERIES

By the Mast Divided

A Shot Rolling Ship

An Awkward Commission

A Flag of Truce

The Admirals’ Game

An Ill Wind

Blown Off Course

Enemies at Every Turn

A Sea of Troubles

Written as Jack Ludlow

T
HE
R
EPUBLIC SERIES

The Pillars of Rome

The Sword of Revenge

The Gods of War

T
HE
C
ONQUEST SERIES

Mercenaries

Warriors

Conquest

T
HE
R
OADS TO
W
AR SERIES

The Burning Sky

A Broken Land

A Bitter Field

T
HE
C
RUSADES SERIES

Son of Blood

Soldier of Crusade