The French Prize Read Online Free Page A

under the strain, and his father’s words like a sharp knife. Just the merest touch and the rope would burst apart. The snapback could injure or kill anything it hit.
    But in truth, Oxnard’s politics made Jack’s promotion all the sweeter. There was no possibility that Oxnard had given him the command just to get in the good graces of Representative Isaac Biddlecomb, war hero, because that would never happen in any circumstance, and Oxnard did not want it. Jack’s step up was therefore untainted by any suggestion of favoritism.
    That’s what galls him so, Jack thought.
    What’s more, despite his father’s apparently genuine pleasure at his advancement, Jack knew that it truly galled him that his son was working for the noxious Robert Oxnard. And that was another source of secret delight.
    â€œCaptain Asquith put in a good word for me, I believe,” Jack said when he again trusted himself to speak. “And I think I’ve been in Mr. Oxnard’s service long enough that he’s formed some favorable opinion.”
    â€œNo doubt,” Isaac said. “And I have no doubt that that business west of Montserrat played its part in his decision.”
    â€œI’ve heard that from other quarters. A bit too much made of it, I think.”
    â€œI think not,” Isaac said. “You saved Oxnard a fortune. And it’s an admirable thing that Asquith gave you the credit when it was due you. Not all masters would have done so.”
    â€œHe’s a good man,” Jack agreed. “A good seaman,” which in his estimation was the highest compliment he could give.
    â€œIn any event, that business west of Montserrat…” Isaac went on. “There’ll be more of that, mark my words. The French are stepping up their harassment of American shipping, the privateers will be swarming like maggots.”
    Elizabeth made a squealing sound to register her disgust.
    â€œIsaac,” Virginia warned, but in this case it was the imagery, not the politics, that offended her. Isaac muttered some sort of apology. When Virginia spoke, men obeyed. Jack had been aware of this ever since he was old enough to observe and understand this phenomenon. His mother was a beauty, gracious, witty, able to put anyone at their ease. Every man quickly became Virginia Biddlecomb’s slave, and Isaac and Jack were no exceptions.
    â€œWhy should the French be stepping this up?” Jack came to his father’s aid not out of empathy but because this was a subject in which he had a genuine interest. “I had thought things were getting better, that the Directory or whatever the Frenchies call their government was looking for some sort of reconciliation.”
    â€œNot a bit of it,” Isaac said. He had put down his knife and fork, which told Jack he was about to set all sail, rhetorically speaking. “It’s chaos over in France, as many of us knew it would be. The French are utterly unable to govern themselves. Heads are rolling through the streets like an apple cart’s been upset.”
    Elizabeth made her squealing sound again, this time adding, “Father!” But Isaac was well under way now.
    â€œThey pretend these fellows are privateers. They probably have some sort of paper, I shouldn’t wonder, though whoever signed it is likely off to the guillotine before the ships could raise our coast. The point is, these so-called privateers are no better than pirates. They can make a fortune raiding our commerce. The French government, such that it is, won’t stop ’em and we can’t because we don’t have a navy, do you see?
    â€œSo now we’ve elected a president who can see the truth of the matter, who isn’t wearing a tricolor cockade and shouting Libert é , É galit é and all that, like our Mr. Jefferson is. Which is good for us, but the French don’t like it, so you can count on their redoubling their depredations, the