Free The French Prize by James L. Nelson

asked Oliver Tucker to stay on and step up to chief mate, pending Oxnard’s approval. In truth, Oxnard was easier to convince than Tucker was. Oxnard greeted the request with a wave of the hand, saying, “Of course, of course, Jack, pick any officers you wish, just so long as you understand, what with the insurance rates and such, I’m forced to reduce everyone’s pay by a dollar a month. God’s truth, I still don’t know how I’m to stay in business. Say, that new cordage you ordered, is that entirely necessary? Sure you can get one more voyage from your running gear, not reeve off all new, what say you? Not the Royal yacht, you know.”
    In the end, and with considerable difficulty, Jack convinced Oxnard to keep wages as they were. Tucker, not certain he wanted the responsibility of chief mate, was just as hard a sell. But he and Jack had made three voyages together, and each felt he had the measure of the other. Tucker knew Jack for a fair man and not some noodle or Tartar who would expect too much and then scream like a lunatic when he did not get it, so he acquiesced.
    And Jack in turn wanted Tucker because he knew him to be a decent seaman and a diligent and hard worker, and because Tucker was too unsure of himself to try and take advantage of Jack’s youth and lack of command experience to undermine him in any way.
    So, as Oxnard’s carriage rolled away, Captain Jack Biddlecomb and Chief Mate Oliver Tucker met on the quarterdeck. Jack stood silent as Tucker called the order, “Heave away the windlass!” and the dozen men who stood with hands resting on the windlass’s handspikes hove down on them, winding the creaking, popping, protesting fall of the yard tackle around the drum and causing the great mass of black iron to climb higher and higher above the wharf. There were faces at the windlass bars Jack did not recognize, and he guessed Oxnard had sent more men to help with this work. He wondered if Oxnard had been angry at his not being aboard that morning, and it occurred to him for the first time to wonder how Oxnard knew where to find him.
    A quick movement aft caught his eye and pulled his attention from the delicate task of getting the cannon aboard. He looked toward the taffrail and there saw his brother, Nathaniel, fairly dancing with the excitement of it all, and he felt a flush of guilt at having completely forgotten inviting the young man down to take part in the getting in of cargo. But here was the perfect opportunity to make up for that negligence, and to play the part of decent big brother and undiminished hero, all at the same time.
    â€œNathaniel, come here,” Jack waved him over and Nathaniel crossed the deck as swiftly as his adolescent sense of dignity would allow. When his brother was at his side, Jack said in a voice that could be heard fore and aft, “I think this task needs your firm hand on it, Nathaniel. Mr. Tucker?”
    â€œSir?” Tucker replied.
    â€œMight young Master Biddlecomb here take over this job for you?”
    Tucker grinned. The men at the windlass and the winding tackle grinned. “Tricky job, sir,” Tucker replied. “I think we do indeed need Master Biddlecomb’s particular skills here.”
    â€œYou heard the man,” Jack said to his brother. “Pray give your orders to see the cannon in its carriage.”
    Nathaniel’s face was a mix of awe, fear, and exhilaration. He looked over at the gun, ran his eyes up the rigging. The cannon, a ton and a half of iron, was dangling from the yard tackle made fast to the yardarm directly above it. The upper end of the winding tackle was affixed under the maintop, and the lower end also attached to the cannon. The trick was to lift the gun straight up with the yard tackle, then haul it inboard with the winding tackle, and then ease them both so the gun came down on the point of the deck where it needed to come down.
    Nathaniel considered the