For Love of Country
by William C. Hammond
Summary
For Love of Country is the second novel of the early American
republic from William Hammond. Set in the 1780s
it features the adventures of the seafaring Cutler family of Boston.
For Love of Country offers an exciting look at life in the
young republic, a time when America remained a weak nation
with no navy to protect its prosperous merchant fleet.
The author’s careful historical research and thorough knowledge of sea sailing bring authenticity without detracting from the entertaining storyline. Hammond’s focus on the American perspective of the Age of Fighting Sail adds a fresh dimension to the period.
Excerpt
CHAPTER X
At Sea, 100 Miles North of Algiers
September 1788
The dwindling light of dusk revealed nothing untoward maneuvering upon the waters of the Maghreb, at least nothing that two lookouts perched high above in the crosstrees could detect. Richard therefore decided to call them down to the deck. The moon in its first phase was but a sliver of arced yellow – how fitting, he thought, that on this of all nights, the moon should mirror the crescent on the Algerian flag – and the light it cast was too feeble for Peter Chatfield and Matt Cates to put to much use.
“Tremaine, take the helm,” he said, indicating to Micah Lamont that he would be relieved from duty once Richard had reviewed the schooner’s course, speed, and standing orders with his mate. “To review, I want four men on watch throughout the night,” he told him. Mr. Crabtree has the first watch. I’ll take the second. You have the third watch, with Tremaine at the con. Before sunrise I want all hands on deck and Chatfield and Cates up in the crosstrees.”
“Understood, Captain,” Lamont said. He yielded the tiller to Nate Tremaine. “I have already informed the crew.”
“Good. Now please pass word for Tom Gardner.”
“Aye, Captain. Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Nothing else, Mr. Lamont. Go below and get some rest. I’ll send word if I need you.”
A moment later the ruddy-jowled, powerfully-limbed seaman serving as senior gun captain lumbered toward the after deck. “You sent for me, Captain?”
“Yes, Gardner. Are the guns primed and loaded?”
It was a rhetorical question. While underway but still within the Bay of Algiers, Richard had ordered the six guns released from their breeching ropes and loaded with grapeshot in two, chain-shot in the third, both sides. At the same time he had ordered extra shot and flannel bags of powder brought up from the hold and stored in specially designed racks built in along the mid-deck section between the guns. There, too, wrapped loosely in spare canvas like some dreadful prehistoric sea-creature dragged up from the depths, lay the three four-foot-long projectiles secured for them by Richard Dale.
“Loaded and run out as ordered, sir.”
“Good. Now as I have informed Mr. Lamont, tonight we shall post three two-hour watches. I want you on deck for the third watch. Pratt has the first watch, Blakley the second. Before dawn, at the start of the fourth watch, I want every member of the crew on deck. At that time, if need be, I shall take personal command of the guns. Understood?”
“Understood, Captain.” Gardner snapped a salute, an old habit hard to break since the days he served as senior gunnery officer aboard the Continental frigate Raleigh, 32 guns. “You may depend on me.”
Richard returned the salute. “I always have, Gardner.”
With Gardner gone, Richard strode a few steps aft to larboard, toward Agreen who was leaning against the taffrail peering southward across the dark sea. Increase Hobart and Isaac Howland had taken lookout positions, one on each side of the schooner abaft the mainmast; two other seamen stood watch afore the forward chain-wales.
Richard and Agreen stood side-by-side in silence, alert for any unusual sound out there in the gloom: words shouted in Arabic; or, above them in the rigging, a sudden flutter of sail that could indicate either a shift in wind or—less likely, considering who had the con—the schooner veering too far into the wind. Falcon was sailing due north on a broad reach, a moderate easterly breeze square on her starboard beam. Richard had specified in the night’s sailing instructions that she would remain on this tack for another six hours. They would then come off the wind on a course that would take them through the Straits of Gibraltar, along the southern coast of the Iberian Peninsula, northward past Lisbon toward the Bay of Biscay and the French port of Lorient.
“I have the deck, Richard,” Agreen said at length. “I suggest you follow the advice you gave Lamont and go below.”
“I’m enjoying the night air, Agee. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll remain topside for awhile.”
“Always glad for your company, Richard.” Agreen stretched out his arms to loosen them. “Think I’ll take a gander around the deck, maybe check the guns a time or two while I’m at it. Don’t you go missin’ me now,” he added cheerfully. “I’ll be back quicker than a rooster chasin’ a hen in heat.”
As Agreen walked slowly forward, pausing to have a word with Increase Hobart, Richard glanced southward for the hundredth time since sunset. He could see little beyond the few feet of white wake bubbling out from the rudder, but that didn’t matter. He had a premonition they were not sailing alone this night, a premonition that nagged at him in whispers of warning from Caleb and Captain Dickerson. Perhaps they were wrong, he defied the whispers. Perhaps they had misread the situation. Perhaps Agreen and Lamont sensed the same premonition he did simply because they were taking their cue from their captain. Was not the dey aware that he was to meet with Captain Jones, on a mission that would expedite payments of ransom and tribute to Bin Osman and other Barbary rulers? Why then, would he now attempt to abort that mission? What would be the incentive? Down whatever path such reasoning led, however, it always ended at the same pitiless blockade. It was not only what the dey had to gain by taking Falcon, which was a king’s ransom. It was also what he had to lose, which was nothing.
Reviews
"A rollicking good read rooted in this nation's maritime history, which the auithor knows well"--James L. Nelson, author of George Washington's Secret Navy
"I thought it impossible to top his first book, but Hammond has eclipsed my expectations"--Lieutenant Eric E. Meyers, U.S. Navy
"In the great traditions of Forester and O’Brian...a sailor who writes convincingly of the sea"--Andrew C.A. Jampoler, author of Horrible Shipwreck! A Full, True, and particular Account of the Melancholy Loss of the British Convict Ship Amphitrite
Author's Biography
William C. Hammond is a novelist, literary agent, and
business consultant. A lifelong student of history, he frequently sails on Lake Superior and
off the coast of New England. Bill lives with his family in
Minneapolis. His first novel in the Cutler chronicles,
A Matter of Honor, released in 2007.