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Sails on the Horizon: A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars

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Overview

SAILS ON THE HORIZON Dientes de Diablo, 1797 With his first historical high-seas adventure chronicling the exploits of Naval Commander Charles Edgemont, Jay Worrall sets sail in the rousing tradition of C.S. Forester and Patrick O'Brian. The year is 1797. Napoleon Buonaparte is racking up impressive wins in the field against the enemies of revolutionary France. On the seas, England is putting up a staunch resistance. When a modest fleet of British ships off the coast of Portugal encounters a larger force of Spanish vessels on their way to rendezvous with the French, the English are quick to seize the opportunity for a victory-even at the risk of a calamitous defeat. Twenty-five-year-old Charles Edgemont is second lieutenant aboard the HMS Argonaut, the smallest ship in the British line of battle. When orders come for the Argonaut to engage in an all-but-suicidal maneuver to cut off the escape of the Spanish ships, he leads his gun crews bravely-until the death of the captain and the first lieutenant elevates him to command of the stricken vessel.

Editorial Reviews

Intrepid hero Charles Edgemont does battle with the French and their allies during the Napoleonic Wars in Worrell's competent debut. A lowly lieutenant for a few pages, Charles is quickly elevated to master of the outdated Argonaut as she's ordered to sacrifice herself in an attempt to stall the Spanish fleet. Stall them he does, and the prize money he gets makes him wealthy just in time to help his destitute brother. Charles is promoted, buys land and is given his own ship, but not before he takes over temporary command of a brig, whips her slovenly crew into shape and captures more prizes while patrolling the Irish Sea. Meanwhile, a pretty Quaker neighbor is succumbing to Charles's charms as readily as enemy ships succumb to his strategies. Aboard his new frigate, Louisa, Charles has several bloody encounters with the larger Spanish vessel, Santa Brigida, each more harrowing than the last. Although well executed and demonstrating Worrall's expertise in ship and sea warfare history, the plot runs too smoothly to be satisfying. Charles never stumbles, never runs afoul of anyone or anything. Handsome, charming, self-confident beyond the telling of it, he handily defeats veteran seamen, takes enormous chances and is always rewarded for his audacity and impetuousness. Readers will root for him, but he's no Horatio Hornblower. Agent, Al Hart. (Apr.) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.

Author Information

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Additional Info

Imprint

Random House

Filesize

756.18 KB

Number of Pages

304

eBook ISBN

9781588365149

Excerpt from: Sails on the Horizon by Jay Worrall

ONE

St. Valentine's Day, 1797
Eight leagues southwest of
Cape St. Vincent, Portugal

"THE F-FLAGSHIP'S SIGNALING AGAIN, SIR. 'ENGAGE THE enemy,' I think it says." The adolescent midshipman stood in an oversized jacket and flapping trousers at the top of the forward ladderway, squinting into the distance along the line of British warships, each laboring more or less one cable's length behind the other, pointed toward a gap between two large Spanish squadrons. He fairly danced with excitement.

"Thank you, Mr. Bowles. You may come down now," said Charles Edgemont, the second lieutenant aboard His Britannic Majesty's sixty-four-gun ship of the line Argonaut. At twenty-five, Edgemont's career in the navy had already spanned thirteen years, seven as a midshipman himself and six as a commission officer. His responsibility with the ship at quarters was the upper gundeck and its twenty-eight brightly painted black twelve-pounder cannon, neatly aligned on their carriages, fourteen to a side. The smallish and outdated Argonaut, captained by Sir Edward Wood, had taken her position as the last in the nearly mile-long fifteen-ship English line. Charles had watched as the fleet arranged itself into formation earlier in the morning and knew the order of battle. Leading the van was Culloden, seventy-four guns, under Captain Thomas Troubridge, and then the Blenheim and the Prince George, both grand ninety-eights. The flagship, Victory, with its hundred guns and Admiral Sir John Jervis, took station seventh in the line, near the center. The fleet sailed on an easy gray sea, through intermittent gray mist, under gray skies with a chill wind blowing steadily if moderately from the west. The Argonaut's crew had long since been ordered to quarters, the sails shortened, the topgallant masts struck down, and the courses brailed up in preparation for battle. Sand had been scattered on the wetted decks to improve footing and reduce the chance of fire. The guns were charged, double-shotted, primed, and run out, each of their six-man crews standing anxiously beside them.