To Tame the Wind (Agents of the Crown Book 0) Read Online Free Page A

arrange for supplies when, bold as brass, a sloop
flying the red ensign of one of our merchantmen crept up in the fog, and its
crew slithered over the rail with knives between their teeth.”
    “You saw this?”
    “No. ’Twas Zeb, the cabin boy. He was the only one to
escape. Jumped overboard and swam to shore”
    Simon let out a breath and raked his fingers through his
hair. “Bloody hell.” His brows drew together in a puzzled frown. “How did you
know it was Donet? He captains a brig-sloop with that Frenchified Jolly Roger
of his.”
    Amos held up his hand. “A minute, sir.” He disappeared out
the cabin door, immediately returning with a young lad in tow. Simon recognized
Zeb Grant, the cabin boy on the Abundance . Soon after he was hired on,
the sandy-haired lad had become a favorite of John Wingate, captain of the Abundance .
    “Here’s the lad, Captain,” the first mate said, shoving the
boy forward.
    Zeb quaked before Simon’s intense gaze.
    “I understand you were there, Zeb. Did the ship fly a Jolly
Roger on a blue field?”
    “Nay, sir. She flew a British flag.” That news did not
surprise Simon. Pirates and privateers carried many flags.
    “Did the men who attacked you speak French? Did they talk of
Donet?”
    The lad stood at attention, obviously proud of the knowledge
he alone possessed. “They did, sir. They spoke the Frenchie tongue. I
understood some. One of ’em dropped Donet’s name and reminded his men of their
orders.”
    Busby interjected, “The crew would’ve been suspicious of any
ship, Captain, even an English one coming so close, but the fog hid them.”
    “’Twas as dense as pease porridge, Cap’n, with nary a light
on deck,” said Zeb. “Made the Frenchies near invisible till they were
’longside.”
    Simon fixed his gaze on the cabin boy. He needed answers,
not excuses. “And the crew?” he demanded, concern for his men settling into his
gut like a heavy weight.
    “The Frenchies said their orders were not to kill ’em, but
one of ours took a knife in the chest and a few suffered slashes before I
jumped. We was outnumbered, sir, ’twas at least two to one.”
    “It’s not like Donet to attack a privateer,” said Simon.
“His usual fare is English supply ships.” What the devil is he up to?
    “I’m thinking it was the crew and the ship he was after,”
suggested the first mate.
    “They talked of capture,” Zeb cut in.
    “Did they say nothing of cargo?” Simon asked.
    “No, sir,” Zeb replied in earnest.
    “’Twas an odd affair, Captain,” said Amos. “It’s not like
the bloodthirsty Donet to be so—”
    “Gracious?” Simon raised his brows. “No, I should say not.
Damn scurvy corsair!” For years, the French pirate had been the bane of their
existence, attacking English merchantmen and supply ships for the cargo bound
for the Colonies. But from his contacts in Paris, Simon had recently learned
that the American commissioner, Dr. Franklin, had been enlisting privateers in
his cause to gain prisoners to exchange for Americans held by the British. “Seems
like Donet has a new mission.”
    “Aye, sir,” Busby replied. “And maybe a new letter of
marque.”
    “Pirate scum.” Simon clenched his teeth and his eyes
fastened on the Abundance ’s cabin boy. “What of Captain Wingate?”
    “It were him that took the knife in the chest,” said Zeb,
sadness and worry etched on his young face.
    Simon sank into his chair, resting his forehead in his hand.
Wingate was a good captain and more. He was a friend from their boyhood days in
Dartmouth who’d signed on as a seaman the same day as Simon.
    After a moment, Simon raised his head. The Abundance ’s
first mate looked dead on his feet. “Sit down Mr. Busby.”
    The man eagerly reached for a chair.
    “Nate, fetch Mr. Landor and Mr. Hawkins,” ordered Simon.
    “Aye, sir.” The boy darted through the door.
    Simon turned his attention back to Zeb. “Do you know if
Captain Wingate’s wound was