by
William
Ormond
McClelland
"He tripped on the doorsill and fell flat on his back; he seemed to shrink as a dark pool formed around him."
Master Blythe, late one April day in 1775, sat on the battered butt of a dock-side piling and stared at the sparkling waters of Narragansett Bay. In spite of his name and the cheerful condition of the bay, Master Blythe's small body drooped with dejection and his blue eyes burned with a desperate fury.
"Blast her!" Master Blythe muttered. "She lies there solid as Goat Island, and it'd take a frigate to blow her out of the water!"
The object of Master Blythe's ire was His Majesty, King George III's trim cruiser, Scorpion, schooner rigged and mounting eighteen guns. The Scorpion swung at anchor with the same jaunty insolence that marked her officers when they led their press-gangs into Newport's water-front taverns.
"Peter Hemp's aboard her," Master Blythe grated savagely. He hauled the bright bronze hilt of his small-sword up between his knees and gnawed at the neat button. His three cornered hat slid to the back of his powdered wig and his blue coat bunched around his shoulders. "And my trade's ruined!"
Heavy brogans thudded the rough planking of the dock behind Master Blythe, but he did not remove his baleful glare from the distant Scorpion. The brogans pounded toward him. "Cap'n Blythe!"
The shout made Master Blythe sink lower on the post; shrink into the stiff collar of his coat. He didn't deserve his title! Hadn't his own saucy brig been boarded by a boat's crew off the Scorpion! Boarded after a six months' voyage—just as they were entering their home port!
The twinge of bitterness that wrenched through Master Blythe's lower abdomen almost made him ill.
That cocky young whelp of a British ensign! He'd routed out Master Blythe's crew of joyful seamen, looked them over like he was judging so many cattle—and then with insolent deliberation had ordered a full dozen horrified stalwarts over the rail!
Seamen within sight of home and wives and children had been pressed into the hated king's service!
And not only that, but that sprig of
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