What Price Honor? — Edward Grant Ries

In the light of a swinging lantern, Jamie saw a seaman turn the glass. Moments later, he was blinded as his vision flared white and then winked out to total blackness. Thunder rolled, impossibly loud, over the raving wind. The foremast and rigging toppled, along with a spar from the mainmast, snarling the entire waist. There was a strangled cry from the darkness followed by a body crashing down into the tangled rigging. With no thought for safety, Jamie reacted to deeply ingrained training to aid a fallen shipmate. He untied his lifeline and leaped from the quarterdeck to the waist, accompanying a half dozen of the watch, to rescue the bellowing topman trapped in the rigging. He had misjudged the slickness of the deck. His boots skidded through inches-deep water. He missed a handhold on the broken spar, bounced off the lashed-down water cask, and sprawled on his back. He lay stunned. There was an instant in which he saw the mainmast shrouds looming overhead. He heard shouting as from a distance and watched a white-crested black wave surgeover the railing. He got in half a breath before the mountain of water smashed down. It is late summer in the year 1759, acclaimed in British history as that wonderful year that had already seen great victories over the French army at Quebec and the French navy at Lagos. Is another victory or ignominious defeat in store as two mighty navies converge on the coast of France? Will Jamie Drummonds uncommon luck hold as battle approaches once more?