Norton, Andre - Novel 08 Read Free Page B

             "Yes. I have hopes of an ensign's
commission in the line. My cousin Francis owes me that much."
                   "Have you ever thought of going to
sea?"
                   Fitz shook his head. He pushed back a little,
out of the direct light of the fire, and wriggled uncomfortably in his chair.
Lord, how he had let his tongue run. Why? Why? He must have been moonstruck!
                   "I'm a landsman. I'd be more hindrance
than help on shipboard. Tomorrow I'll head north for Gists' command."
                   "And tomorrow, if luck does not desert
me, I'll be halfway down the bay," mused the Captain.
                   Fitz welcomed the change of subject. "The
navy's sending you to sea?"
                   "Not the navy, no .
The American Navy"—there was a bitter edge to Crofts' reply—"has
almost ceased to exist. I am doing what many better officers have done before
me—I'm taking out a privateer."
                   "Well, you do not come home from that
kind of voyage with your pockets empty."
                   "That is part of the bait, right
enough," the Captain admitted, but there was an impatient note in his
answer. "Yet there is another side to the sail, too. Pinch the British
merchants in their pockets, pinch them often and hard, and they'll raise their
voices so loudly that even that dottle-witted Lord North will be able to hear
them. What d'you think the English people know of this war? Or what do they
care what happens to a few regiments pushing around in a raw wilderness half
the world away from their own shores? But every time one of our privateers
beats up the channel and snaps up a fat merchantman homeward bound, or
everytime we dog a convoy until we are able to cut out a slow sailer or
two—why, then the English know that they are at war!"
                   He leaned forward his eyes alight and eager.
                   "D'you know what
rates Lloyd's are quoting now —-if they will consent to insure at all? Thirty
per cent for a vessel in convoy, fifty per cent if she chances the run alone!
They even have to provide escorts for the linen ships out of Dublin to England across the Irish Sea . And it is the privateers who have brought
that about. They worry and worry away, and someday the merchants will break.
Then we shall have peace and free seas and a chance for a seaman to make a
living for himself, with no press gangs to hunt him down in port, and no revenue
laws to cut his honest profits. If privateering will lead to that—then I go
privateering!"
                   "And the best of luck to you,
Captain."
                   Captain Crofts' white teeth flashed in answer.
"Wish me a capture for every gun—that is the best of luck for those in my
trade. And to you, sir, I wish luck with the army."
                   Fitz arose and stretched. "Fair enough,
Captain."
                   The door behind him opened and the host stood
haloed by the light of the candle he held.
                   "Mr. Lyon, sir, the party who was to lie
this night in the Sloop has been offered passage out. You may have his room if
you wish."
                   Fitz reached for his coat. "Then I shall
trouble you no longer, Captain Crofts. My thanks to you for
your hospitality, sir."
                   He was glad to get away. He would be pleased
not to see Daniel Crofts again. That wagging tongue of his . . . Fitz was
ashamed. Out in the hall he did not enter the room into which he saw his saddle
bags being carried. He knew that the inn groom was competent, but he wanted to
see that Lady did not want for anything.
                   Fitz went downstairs. The common room was
rilled with rank tobacco smoke, and a babble of noise assaulted his ears. At
the far end the recruiting officer had pre-empted a table and was signing up a
couple