by James McGee
Hawkwood watched grim-faced as the men made their way up the side of the ship, then took a look at his fellow passengers. No one returned his gaze. They were too preoccupied, staring up at the ship, craning their necks to take in the vast wooden rampart looming above them. The sense of unease that had enveloped the boat was palpable, as if a black storm cloud had descended. Behind their masks, even the guards looked momentarily subdued.
He could still hear weeping. It was coming from the stern. Hawkwood followed the sound. The boy couldn’t have been much older than ten or eleven. Tears glistened on his cheeks. He looked up, dried his eyes with the heels of his hands and. turned away, his small shoulders shaking. His clothes hung in rags about him. He’d been one of a consignment of prisoners, Hawkwood and Lasseur among them, picked up earlier that day from Maidstone Gaol. A midshipman or powder monkey, Hawkwood supposed, or whatever the French equivalent might be, and without doubt the youngest of the longboat’s passengers. It seemed unlikely that the boy had been taken alone, but there didn’t appear to be anyone with him, no shipmates to give him comfort. He wondered where the boy had been captured and in what circumstances he might have been separated from the rest of his crew.
The order came to ship oars. A dozen heartbeats later, the longboat was secured to the raft and the transfer began.
The odour seeping through the open gun ports from the inside of the ship was almost overwhelming. The river was bounded by marshland. On warm days with the wind sifting across the levels, the smell was beyond fetid, but the malodorous stench erupting from the interior of the Rapacious eclipsed even the smell from the shore. It was worse than a score of night-soil barges.
Hawkwood shouldered his knapsack. He was one of the few who carried possessions. Most had only the clothes they stood up in.
The marines began prodding. “God damn it, move your arses! I won’t tell you again! No wonder you’re losing the bleedin’ war! Useless buggers!”
Legs clanking, the men began to climb from the longboat on to the raft.
“Shift yourselves!” The guards continued to use their rifle butts to cajole the men along the walkway. Movement was difficult due to the shackles, but the guards made no allowance for the restraints. “Lively now! Christ, you buggers stink!”
The insults rained down thick and fast. While it was doubtful many of the men shuffling along the grating could understand the harsh words thrown at them, the tone of voice and the poking and prodding made it clear what was required of them.
Slowly, in single file, the men began to clink their way up the side of the ship.
“Keep moving, damn your eyes!”
Hawkwood stepped from the stairs on to the pulpit, Lasseur at his shoulder. A jam had formed in the enclosed space. Both men stared down into the belly of the ship. Lasseur recoiled. Then the Frenchman leaned forward so that his mouth was close to Hawkwood’s ear. His face was set in a grimace.
“Welcome to Hell,” he said.
About the Author
JAMES McGEE
An army brat who grew up in Gibraltar, Germany and Northern Ireland, James McGee became a writer after jobs in banking, sales, the airline industry, and bookselling. Resurrectionist is his second novel featuring Matthew Hawkwood.
For exclusive information on James McGee, visit www.AuthorTracker.co.uk
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Also by James McGee
Ratcatcher
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Harper
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road,
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by
HarperCollinsPublishers 2007
Copyright © James McGee 2007
James McGee asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins eBooks.
EPub Edition © FEBRUARY 2009 ISBN: 9780007279609
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
25 Ryde Road (PO Box 321)
Pymble, NSW 2073, Australia
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollinsPublishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1 Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com
