{"product_id":"sails-on-the-horizon-isbn-9780345476487","title":"Sails on the Horizon","description":"\u003cb\u003e“Inspired by the salty tales of seasoned maritime novelists C. S. Forester and Patrick O’Brian, [Worrall] delicately balances action and adventure with introspection. . . . Fans of seafaring military sagas will welcome [Sails on the Horizon].”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe year is 1797. Napoleon Buonaparte is racking up impressive wins in the field against the enemies of revolutionary France, while on the seas England is putting up a staunch resistance. Twenty-five-year-old Charles Edgemont is second lieutenant aboard the British ship Argonaut. When orders come for the Argonaut to engage in an all-but-suicidal maneuver to prevent the escape of Spanish ships off the coast of Portugal, he leads his gun crews bravely—until the deaths of the captain and first lieutenant elevate him to commander. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor refusing to yield to enemy fire, Charles is permanently promoted and generously rewarded by the Admiralty, becoming wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. Yet upon his return home, his newfound riches prove no help when it comes to winning the heart of Penelope Brown, who regards war as sinful and soldiers as little better than murderers. Changing Penelope’s mind may just be the hardest battle Charles has ever fought—at least until fresh orders send him back to sea, where he faces a formidable adversary in a series of stirring battles of will and might. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Well executed . . . demonstrating Worrall’s expertise in ship and sea warfare history . . . Readers will root for [Charles Edgemont]. . . . He handily defeats veteran seamen, takes enormous chances and is always rewarded.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Inspired by the salty tales of seasoned maritime novelists C. S. Forester and Patrick O’Brian, [Worrall] delicately balances action and adventure with introspection. . . . Fans of seafaring military sagas will welcome [Sails on the Horizon].”\u003cbr\u003e–Booklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Well-executed . . . demonstrating Worrall’s expertise in ship and sea warfare history . . . Readers will root for [Charles Edgemont]. . . . He handily defeats veteran seamen, takes enormous chances and is always rewarded.”\u003cbr\u003e–Publishers WeeklyBorn a Quaker into a military family, JAY WORRALL grew up in a number of countries around the world. During the Vietnam War he worked with refugees in the central highlands of that country, and afterward he taught English in Japan. Worrall has worked in developing innovative and humane prison programs, policies, and administration. He is married and the very proud father of five sons, and he currently lives and works in Pennsylvania.ONE\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e St. Valentine's Day, 1797\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEight leagues southwest of Cape St. Vincent, Portugal\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"My G-God, there's a lot of 'em,\" Bowles reported, his voice  breaking. \"There must be near a score in the group awindward. T'other  bunch alee ain't but about half that large.\" Billy Bowles was  fourteen, a pimply youth with sallow skin and unruly hair, assigned  to the gundeck. Charles had taken a liking to the boy but thought him  too tender for a life in the navy. He was easily bullied by his  messmates in the gun room and Charles had come across him bruised and  reduced to tears more than once. \"The Culloden's almost up to them,\"  the boy bubbled on. \"Can't be more than a mile and a half afar.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Come down from that ladder and take your station,\" Charles  said. \"We'll be up to them soon enough.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I see a four-decker, sir, and a bunch of three-deckers! Oh, my God.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExasperated, Charles jumped to the ladderway and grabbed the  apparently deaf midshipman by the back of his coat. \"Look, the  flagship's signaling again,\" the boy squealed. Charles looked down  the line of ships until he saw the signal flags on Victory's  halyards, repeated by the frigate Niger standing to windward:  \"Admiral intends to pass through enemy line.\" At the same moment he  saw clouds of smoke erupt from the sides of the nearest Spanish  warships, answered immediately by a broadside from Culloden. A moment  later, the sounds of the great guns rumbled like distant thunder.  \"Get to your station,\" he said to the boy, pulling him down the  ladderway. \"You can watch through a gunport.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe roll of cannon fire slowly grew louder and more intense  as the British line engaged the Spanish fleet in sequence and larger  numbers from both sides became involved. It had been cold and foggy  earlier in the morning and Charles had pulled on a woolen sweater  under his uniform coat. Now he felt beads of clammy sweat under his  arms. He began nervously drumming his fingers against his trouser  leg. It came to him that, despite the span of time he had spent in  the navy, he had never seen one of the great guns fired in anger.  Through years of training and practice he knew well the mechanics of  their operation, the bellowing roar so loud it could make the crew's  ears bleed, and the recoil as the brutes leapt inward on screaming  trucks with ample force to crush anyone in their way until jerked to  an abrupt halt against their breechings. He had been told by others  who had survived major fleet actions off Toulon or the Saints or on  the Glorious First of June of the giddy jubilation that went with  delivering a deafening broadside into an opponent and the horror of  receiving the full weight of a well-delivered salvo. But by accident  or fate or design, the Argonaut had not been present at those battles  and Charles had not experienced it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd now he would. He wondered how he would react. Some men,  he had heard, rose in stature and determination as the world exploded  around them in the din of battle. Others became paralyzed, unable to  function, their only thought to protect themselves. The former were  heroes, the latter cowards. It was as simple as that; everyone said  so. He remembered--it had been hammered into him repeatedly at every  level of his naval career--that, as an officer and a gentleman, it  was his responsibility to set an example of coolness and courage  before the men he commanded. He forced himself to stop rapping his  fingers against his leg, deliberately rested one hand on his sword  hilt, placed the other behind his back, and stood as apparently  relaxed and indifferent to the approaching battle as he was able to  manage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Silence, there,\" he snapped at a gun crew, some of whose  members were clustered around a port, staring at the Spanish fleet  and talking excitedly among themselves. \"All of you, stand by your  guns.\" Charles didn't really see anything wrong with the men looking  through the gunports and discussing the oncoming battle, but Captain  Wood would reprimand him sharply if he noticed any lack of discipline  among the men under his charge. Charles had been reprimanded for  apparent lack of smartness among his men before.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe devil of it was that he couldn't see what was happening.  He caught occasional glimpses of Spanish warships through the forward  gunports, including what he thought was the gigantic flagship,  Santissima Trinidad, with 130 guns on four decks, the largest ship in  the world. The now almost incessant cannon fire had grown decidedly  louder, more immediately threatening, and a hint of spent gunpowder  tainted the air. It was maddening not to be able to see anything of  the progress of the battle, the positions of the fleets, or what  damage had been done. He didn't want to climb the ladder to the upper  deck; that would invite a rebuke from the captain for displaying  undue curiosity and leaving his post. He also didn't want to gawk  through a porthole like a common landsman.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Mr. Bowles,\" he shouted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A-aye aye, sir,\" came a voice from close behind him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Mr. Bowles, get back up the forward ladderway and tell me  what you see.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Aye aye,\" the boy answered and cheerfully scurried away.  After a moment he called down, \"The Culloden's almost through their  line, sir. The Victory and the Egmont are just coming into range.  There's still a ways afore us.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Do you see any damage?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBowles paused before answering. \"Hard to say, sir. There's  s-so much s-s-smoke. Seems most everybody's masts are still standing,  though.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What are the Spaniards doing?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The bigger group, the one to windward, is sort of sliding to  the north like. If they can, I think they'll run with the wind back  to Spain. Can't tell what t'other bunch are doing. Kind of circling  about, tacking like.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Thank you, Mr. Bowles. Let me know if anything important  happens.\" Of their own accord, Charles's fingers resumed their  nervous tamping against his thigh.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA cheer broke out on the upper deck and was quickly shouted  down by cries of \"Silence, there,\" from one officer or another.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A dago's lost a mast, I think,\" came Bowles's voice.  \"Culloden has hoisted a signal . . . 'Acknowledge,' I think.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Acknowledge what?\" Charles asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, I see,\" Bowles said after a pause. \"The admiral  telegraphed for Culloden to tack and come back at the Spanish. Only  Culloden acknowledged and came about afore the flagship signaled.  We're all supposed to tack in s-s-succession when we get through the  Spanish line, it says.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharles longed to climb the ladder and see with his own eyes,  but he contented himself with asking, \"How long till we're in range?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Culloden's around, and Blenheim and Prince George. There  goes Orion. About two more ships and we'll be up to the first. Right  after Captain and Excellent. Wait!\" Bowles squealed with excitement.  \"The Spaniards, the smaller group what was milling about, they've all  come up to where our boys were turning. They've shot some yards off  Colossus's foremast! Her head won't swing. Orion's backed and  covering her. Oh, my God! Here comes Victory. Oh, such a broadside  she just gave. . . . \"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Lieutenant Edgemont!\" the first lieutenant's voice boomed  down from the quarterdeck. \"A Spanish warship's approaching to  starboard. You may fire as your guns bear.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Aye aye, sir,\" Charles called back. At last he would be  tried in battle. \"Starboard guns, aim true for the waterline,\" he  yelled to the captains of his gun crews. \"Prepare to fire on my  command.\" His spine tingled with anticipation and he felt sweat on  his palms.He was about to be in battle, a real battle. At the  forewardmost cannon he knelt down and peered along the thick black  barrel out the gunport. Almost immediately the Spanish seventy-four,  with all sails set and gloriously ornamented with red-and-gold paint,  sailed into view on the opposite tack. She had already been  considerably knocked about; she had several parted stays, holes in  her courses, and her hull was scarred. As soon as he was satisfied  that the gun would hit her he jumped back and shouted, \"Fire!\" a  little louder than strictly necessary. The gun captain yanked on his  lanyard. Instantly the cannon erupted with a thunderous bang and  leapt backward against its restraining tackle. Since they were firing  to windward, the smoke billowed back into the gunport, momentarily  obscuring any view. Charles knelt by the second gun, stepped back,  and again barked, \"Fire!\" At the same time he heard and felt the  larger twenty-four-pounder cannon on the lower gundeck explode in a  single broadside, heeling the ship with their recoil. The two ships  were passing a good deal faster than he had anticipated, so he  yelled, \"Fire as you bear!\" The remainder of his starboard cannon  crashed inward as one, the wind filling the gundeck with the acrid  smoke of burnt gunpowder, shrouding everything. As the air cleared,  Charles saw that the Spaniard was now well astern and beyond the  traverse of his guns. She had suffered little if any additional  damage that he could detect. He let out a deep breath and was about  to congratulate himself on his coolness under fire when he realized  that his target had not discharged a gun in her haste to escape.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Worm and sponge out,\" he ordered in an almost disappointed  tone. \"Load with cartridge. Load with shot and wad your shot.\" He  continued the sequence of cleaning and charging the cannon,  mechanically ending with, \"Put in tompkins. House your guns. Secure  your guns.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhere was the rest of the Spanish fleet? Despite the risk to  his dignity, Charles knelt by a starboard gunport and peered out. The  larger body to windward sailed briskly northward out of cannon range.  A glance to larboard told a similar story. The smaller squadron--he  counted eight ships of the line--was tacking across the rear of the  British line, where they could rejoin their sister ships. Charles  searched in vain to starboard and port for the other British  warships. They had to be more or less dead ahead or still in the  process of turning. He tried to figure how the fleet, still tacking  into the wind in succession, well beyond the rapidly departing  Spanish, would be able to reform and engage before the enemy could  unite to form a unified line of battle or, more probably, flee safely  back to Cadiz.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe had almost decided that the enemy was bound to escape,  that Jervis's fleet could not possibly come about in time, when he  heard the shouted order \"All hands to wear ship\" from the quarterdeck  and the sounds of pounding feet as sailors rushed to the shrouds and  braces. He looked at the young midshipman still standing near the top  of the ladderway. \"What the hell's going on, Bowles?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"We've gotten a s-s-s-signal from the flagship,\" the boy  answered shakily, his complexion a deathly white. \"Our number. J-just  our number. We're to wear and engage the enemy more c-c-closely.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharles's mouth worked for a moment but no sound came out,  certainly not a coherent question he could ask Bowles that would  explain what he wanted to know. He bounded for the ladderway to see  for himself. It immediately became clear. The main body of the  Spanish fleet was already well to the north and clear of the British  line. Very soon they would turn to the east, and, with the wind  behind them, collect the smaller squadron to make all haste for  Spain, escaping virtually intact. The Argonaut had already turned and  he saw that she was now on a course to cross just in front of the  main body. He looked desperately around for the rest of the British  warships. The Culloden, Blenheim, Prince George, and the rest of the  British van that had already tacked were adding sail after sail in  pursuit of the Spanish rear. Others, which had been toward the rear  of the British line, Excellent and Captain among them, had worn after  Argonaut in response to a second, general signal from Victory to  \"Engage the enemy more closely,\" which still flew. None of them would  reach the Argonaut anywhere near in time to support her in what she  alone was in position to do: Stop or at least delay a Spanish  squadron of perhaps a dozen and a half heavy men of war.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"We're the only ones who can reach 'em, you see, sir,\" said  Bowles's small voice beside him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes.\" Charles almost swallowed the word. His eyes grew wide  as he studied the onrushing mass of two- and three-decked warships,  with the immense Santissima Trinidad somewhere near the center. All  of them were larger and more heavily armed than the Argonaut--many  were much larger and much more heavily armed. He put his hand on the  boy's shoulder and felt him shaking. \"It will be all right if we just  do our jobs,\" he said gently, well aware that there was no truth in  it.Author of Any Approaching Enemy","brand":"Random House Trade Paperbacks","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304419971301,"sku":"NP9780345476487","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345476487.jpg?v=1767736044","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/sails-on-the-horizon-isbn-9780345476487","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}