Under False Colours

Under False Colours

by Richard Woodman
     
 

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Acting for the Admiralty's Secret Department, Captain Nathaniel Drinkwater advertises his cargo of Russian military stores, thus embarking on a scheme to flout Napoleon's Continental System and antagonize the French Emperor's new ally, Czar Alexander.

Overview

Acting for the Admiralty's Secret Department, Captain Nathaniel Drinkwater advertises his cargo of Russian military stores, thus embarking on a scheme to flout Napoleon's Continental System and antagonize the French Emperor's new ally, Czar Alexander.

Editorial Reviews

Nautical Magazine
Packed with exciting incident worthy of wide appeal to those who love thrilling nautical encounters and the sea.
Midwest Book Review
Much of the enjoyment of Under False Colours is the fact that Woodman writes with such authority. His mariner s lingo is flawless, and at times, the reader is befuddled with his sheer virtuosity in the area. But the action fills in the terms that the reader may be unaware of, and there is no doubt that Nathaniel Drinkwater rates up there with the best of the nautical world.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781574090796
Publisher:
Sheridan House, Incorporated
Publication date:
10/28/1999
Series:
Mariners Library Fiction Classic Series
Edition description:
1st U.S. Edition
Pages:
256
Sales rank:
1,239,855
Product dimensions:
6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 1.00(d)

Read an Excerpt

'God's bones!' Nathaniel Drinkwater swallowed the watered gin with a shudder of revulsion. His disgust was not entirely attributable to the loathsome drink: it had become his sole consolation in the weary week he had just passed. Apart from making the water palatable the gin was intended as an anodyne, pressed into service to combat the black depression of his spirits, but instead of soothing, it had had the effect of rousing a maddeningly futile anger. He pressed his face against the begrimed glass of the window, deriving a small comfort from its coolness on his flushed forehead and unshaven cheek. The first floor window commanded a view of the filthy alley below. From the grey overcast sky — but making no impression upon the dirty glass — a slanting rain drove down, turning the unpaved ginnel into a quagmire of runners and slime which gave off a foul stench. Opposite, across the narrow gutway between the smoke-blackened brick walls, a pie shop confronted him. 'God's bones,' Drinkwater swore again. Never in all his long years of sea service had an attack of the megrims afflicted him so damnably; but never before had he been so idle, waiting, as he was, above a ship's chandler's store in an obscure and foetid alley off Wapping's Ratcliffe Highway. Waiting ... And constantly nagging away at the back of his mind was the knowledge that he had so little time, that the summer was nearly past, had already passed, judging by the wind that drove the sleet and smoke back down the chimney pots of the surrounding huddled buildings.

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