Come Looking for Me. Cheryl Cooper
Читать онлайн книгу.
ection>
Praise for Come Looking for Me
“Come Looking for Me is a rollicking adventure, a compelling story filled with great research and blessed with plot that has wind in its sails. Emily is a heroine for all ages.”
Roy MacGregor, author of Canadians: A Portrait of a Country and Its People
“Come Looking for Me is a fine offering – an unexpected romance set amid the fierce naval battles of the United States and Great Britain during the War of 1812. Cheryl Cooper succeeds in creating an intriguing cast of characters and making us care about their ultimate fate. Her extensive research and detailed descriptions of life on the sea add an unyielding realism to a story rich in action and suspense.”
Anne Millyard, co-founder and former editor of Annick Press
“A high sea of a good read, roiling with history, cannon blasts, and storms of the heart … I couldn’t put it down.”
Karen Hood-Caddy, author of Tree Fever, Flying Lessons, and Wisdom of Water
“Cheryl Cooper has crafted a novel of epic proportions, incorporating a cast of truly memorable characters. Her meticulous research captures the conditions at sea on a British man-of-war in the early part of the 19th century, and her account of the challenges facing a naval surgeon is particularly engrossing. Written in a flowing, graceful style, Come Looking for Me is a satisfying book that is difficult to put down. A wonderful read!”
Dr. Walter Hannah, physician, former midshipman with the Royal Canadian Navy
Come Looking for Me
A Novel
CHERYL COOPER
Blue Butterfly Books
THINK FREE, BE FREE
© Cheryl Cooper
All rights reserved. Written permission of Blue Butterfly Books or a valid licence from Access Copyright is required to copy, store, transmit, or reproduce material from this book.
Blue Butterfly Book Publishing Inc.
2583 Lakeshore Boulevard West
Toronto, Ontario, Canada M8V 1G3
Tel 416-255-3930 / Fax 416-252-8291
www.bluebutterflybooks.ca
For complete ordering information for Blue Butterfly titles, go to:
www.bluebutterflybooks.ca
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Print edition, soft cover: 2010
ISBN 978-1-926577-07-4
Electronic edition, epub format: 2010
ISBN 978-1-926577-38-8
A CIP record for this title is available from Library and Archives Canada
Cover design by Fox Meadow Creations
Cover photo © Bigstock Photo / Bas Meelker (background) / Corey Ford (ship)
Blue Butterfly Books thanks book buyers for their support in the marketplace.
To my mother, Marie Isabelle Evans,
and my grandmother,
Isabelle Fleda McCubbin Moreland (1904–1985),
who listened and selflessly gave of their time.
War of 1812
Admiralty Orders to
Captain James Moreland of HMS Isabelle:
Seek and destroy all enemy frigates along the coast of North America.
Search the crew for deserters.
Sink the ship or re-flag her for England.
1
Tuesday, June 1, 1813
Early Afternoon
Aboard the USS Serendipity
“SAIL, HO!”
Emily awoke with a start. Loud voices sounded overhead on the weather decks and a drum rolled in the distance. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around at the sumptuous furniture and large galleried windows of the cabin, and, with a fresh pang of fear, remembered Captain Trevelyan. She was a prisoner on his ship, the USS Serendipity. For how long she had been in captivity, she was not quite certain. Still vivid in her mind was that dark morning when Trevelyan had seemingly come looking for her, taken her from her ship at gunpoint, then forced her to watch as its groaning timbers were set afire. But had that been three weeks ago, or four? And did time really matter anyway? It had done little to lessen her guilt and grief. Her days were all the same. The views beyond the windows were all the same. There was no sight of land out there … only sea.
The voices grew louder. The crew moved swiftly on their decks, shouting orders to one another. Beyond the thin walls of the cabin Emily could hear Trevelyan speaking to one of his young servants. She climbed out of her cot and crept to the door, opening it a crack to listen.
“Captain Trevelyan, sir, they’re sayin’ there’s a man-o’-war two points off the larboard.”
“My spyglass please, Mr. Clive.”
“Is it one of ours, sir?”
Trevelyan squinted through his spyglass for some time. “Take a look for yourself.”
“She’s British, sir.”
“British, yes, but she’s not just any ship, Mr. Clive. That’s the Isabelle.”
“The Isabelle, sir?”
“She has seventy-four guns and two decks, the lower one equipped with a full battery of thirty-two-pounders. Been in service for over thirty years …” Trevelyan lowered his voice. “And I’ve been waiting for her for almost nine.”
“A seventy-four, sir? She’ll have a large crew, then.”
“I doubt it, Mr. Clive. Britain has been warring far too many years now. My guess is she is horribly undermanned and what crew she possesses will be poorly trained, made up of thieves and lunatics from the emptying of English prisons.”
“Did ya once serve on the Isabelle, sir?”
Trevelyan was slow to reply. “I know her well, Mr. Clive. Now get to your station. And if you see Lind, ask him to come to my cabin straightaway.”
Thinking Trevelyan would sweep into his cabin at any moment, Emily hurried back to her cot. But no one came, not even a crew of sailors to take down the cabin’s surrounding bulkheads in order to utilize the cannon housed inside. For what seemed like hours, she lay still, trying to shut out the noises of the Serendipity’s men readying themselves for battle, fixing her attention on the ship’s gentle rise and fall on the waves. Finally, just as she felt herself drifting back to sleep, the sound of heavy footsteps jolted her upright. Trevelyan came through the door, pulling off his bicorne hat. He scratched his straw-coloured hair and stared long and hard at her.
“Out of your cot, madam. There will be no laying about this afternoon. In a matter of minutes the cannons will be sounding.”
Emily climbed out and stood, looking away from his cadaverous face.
“At this moment, the crew is lighting our guns against the enemy,” Trevelyan continued. “Therefore, as it won’t be convenient for you to wash my shirts or polish my silver today, I shall give you a pistol so you can help shoot a few of King George’s men.”
“I will not take up arms against my countrymen.”
“You may have no choice.”
“I