{"product_id":"any-approaching-enemy-isbn-9780345476494","title":"Any Approaching Enemy","description":"\u003cb\u003e“Jay Worrall depicts the hearts and minds of the late eighteenth century with a facility I have seldom seen equaled. Readers of Patrick O’Brian will find themselves back in familiar gunrooms and wardrooms. Well done, Jay Worrall!”—David Poyer, author of \u003ci\u003eThat Anvil of Our Souls\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe year is 1798. The war between England and revolutionary France has reached a stalemate. With rumors swirling that the French are secretly amassing a powerful fleet, the Admiralty dispatches a group of ships under the command of Rear Admiral Horatio Nelson to investigate. But after a ferocious storm blindsides the squadron, Nelson’s flagship and two other ships go missing. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePutting his career on the line by disobeying direct orders, Captain Charles Edgemont sets out in pursuit of Nelson and the French fleet on a treacherous voyage along the Tuscan coast. As tensions among the crew rise from a simmer to a boil, Edgemont makes an unexpected discovery in Naples that may compromise his mission. And when the French fleet turns up off the shores of Egypt, Edgemont is suddenly thrown into a crisis of conscience. As circumstances grow dire and require heroic action, the fate of the crucial battle effectively lies in Edgemont’s hands—as does the course of history.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eAny Approaching Enemy\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A thoroughly enjoyable venture into the venue made famous by C. S. Forester . . . [evoking] the same admiration and sense of adventure [as] the Forester books do.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Roanoke Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Combining engaging characters, witty dialogue and rousing action, Worrall’s nautical series continues its promising start.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eJay Worrall is the author of Sails on the Horizon. Born into a military family and raised as a Quaker, 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 afterwards taught English in Japan. Worrall has also worked to develop innovative and humane prison programs, policies, and administration. He is married and the proud father of five sons, and he now lives and works in Pennsylvania.ONE\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    May 19, 1798\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    South of Cape Sicie, Gulf of Lion\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The Mediterranean\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    EMERALD is signaling again, sir,\" lieutenant jacob Talmage reported   with a heavy emphasis on the word \"again.\" Talmage was the newly   appointed first lieutenant to His Majesty's frigate Louisa, and at   thirty-five was almost ten years older than her captain. \"Sir, it's   the second time. It says--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I know what it says, Mr. Talmage,\" Charles Edgemont interrupted. He   stood by the weather rail of his quarterdeck with a long glass held   up to one eye, the other screwed shut. He didn't need the telescope   to read Emerald's signal flags, as she was only a mile and a half to   the north. It was the surface of the sea beyond the larger British   frigate that held his attention. \"Captain Pigott wants us to add more   sail,\" he said to prove that he'd seen the signal. He lowered the   glass and turned toward the lieutenant. \"He thinks we're lagging   behind.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Shall I give the orders, sir?\" Talmage asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Not yet, if you please. However, you may hoist the acknowledge.\" He   glanced again at Emerald and her signal flags, numbers   three-seven-four, Increase sail in conformity to weather. Pigott was   flying all his plain sail from courses to royals and a full set of   jibs. Louisa carried only topsails and topgallants in addition to her   jib and mizzen. The wind was moderate enough for more canvas; the sky   was a low dull gray, somewhat darker to the north. He'd checked the   barometer in his cabin a quarter hour before and found it falling.   The sea had a brisk chop, stirred by a gusting breeze, with just a   hint of underlying swells, but its surface seemed uneven in the   distance, unsettled. Add to that his ankle ached, a reminder of an   earlier injury that didn't usually bother him. Something was wrong,   but he couldn't put his finger on it. The air seemed . . . hollow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    A sharp bang echoed across the water. \"Sir, she's fired a gun,\"   Talmage said, clearly perturbed at Charles's inaction. The single   cannon firing from Emerald was to emphasize the order to increase   sail and to show Pigott's displeasure.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"All right,\" Charles said, irritated at Pigott for his impatience,   irritated at Talmage for hectoring him, and irritated at himself for   not being able to make up his mind. \"Send the men into the rigging.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Thank you, sir,\" Talmage said with both relief and exasperation in his voice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Just send them onto the yards, Mr. Talmage. That should please   Pigott for the moment. Don't have them bend on any additional canvas   just yet.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"But sir, you have been ordered--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I know my duty, both to Pigott and the king, thank you,\" Charles   snapped, his patience wearing. \"See to it, please.\" To forestall any   further debate, he turned away to survey the rest of the small   squadron spread out over the sea. They were seven ships in all, under   the command of Horatio Nelson. The squadron constituted the first   naval force the Admiralty had ordered into the Mediterranean in   almost two years. Three were two-decker, seventy-four-gun ships of   the line: Orion, Alexander, and Nelson's own flagship, Vanguard.   These were hull down well to the south, and Charles could just see   their masts in the distance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Captain John Pigott of Emerald, a thirty-six-gun, eighteen-pounder   frigate, was the senior captain among the three frigates present and   thus in command when they were detached. The others were the handsome   thirty-two-gun twelve-pounder Terpsichore, commanded by Captain   Edward Bedford, and Charles's Louisa, the smallest, rated at   twenty-eight guns. Charles was the least senior captain of the three.   He found Bedford both competent and friendly. Pigott, however, with   eighteen years' seniority, struck him as rigid, unimaginative,   autocratic, and altogether too ready to send up signal flags,   punctuated by guns, on the most trivial of matters.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The seventh ship in Nelson's squadron was the brig sloop Pylades,   with her two square-rigged masts and fourteen six-pounder cannon,   under Commander Daniel Bevan. Charles and Bevan had served together   and been close friends for most of their naval careers. Bevan, a   Welshman and formerly the first lieutenant on Louisa, had also been   promoted as a result of the encounter with the Spanish frigate Santa   Brigida. Ironically, Bevan's promotion was seen by the Admiralty as a   compliment to Charles, and while he was pleased for his friend's   advancement, he secretly would have been even more pleased if Bevan   had been left where he was. Charles was not altogether comfortable   with Talmage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    He had been told that the squadron's purpose was to show the British   flag in the Mediterranean after so long an absence. He knew that   their mission also had to do with the information that the American   party had brought with them from Cadiz. Cape Sicie, the principal   landfall for the port of Toulon, lay just over the horizon. He   assumed that they would look into the port the following morning.   That is, if the weather cooperated.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"The hands are aloft, as you requested,\" Talmage reported. At least   the lieutenant was making an attempt to be accommodating, Charles   thought. \"And are awaiting your orders, sir,\" the lieutenant added,   which spoiled the whole thing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Charles raised the glass again to study the horizon to the north. The   sky had grown noticeably darker, and the surface of the sea in the   distance seemed to have turned a pale gray, almost white. He felt an   uncomfortable knot growing in the pit of his stomach. As he lowered   the glass, the breeze faltered, and then a fresh gust passed over the   ship from out of the north, causing a momentary slatting of the sails.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"The wind's backing, sir,\" said Samuel Eliot, standing by the   binnacle with his nose high, as if smelling the air.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"What do you think?\" Charles asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I don't like it. This region is prone to rapid anemological   changes.\" Eliot, a solidly rotund man with apple cheeks mostly   covered by impressive muttonchops, served as Louisa's sailing master.   Partly deaf and well into his fifties, he seemed to have an unerring   sense of the ways of the sea and a no-nonsense, practical manner that   Charles respected deeply. That Eliot might be concerned was enough.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Mr. Talmage, get the topgallants off her and strike their masts to   the deck. I want all of the canvas off except the fore and mainmast   topsails.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"But, sir,\" Talmage protested, \"you can't--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I can,\" Charles replied in a tone to end the discussion. \"See to it   now, if you please.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Mr. Winchester!\" he bellowed toward a lean figure standing erect in   the waist of the ship. Stephen Winchester, at twenty, was younger   than either Charles or Talmage, and had served as Louisa's second   lieutenant since Charles took command. With Bevan promoted, he had   asked to have Winchester raised to first, but Admiral St. Vincent had   refused and appointed the presumably more experienced Talmage   instead. Winchester was also, by some small coincidence, newly   married to Charles's sister, Eleanor, which may have had some   influence on his preference.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes, sir?\" Winchester called back, starting up the aft ladderway   toward the quarterdeck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Clear the decks. See that the guns are double-breeched, if you will,   and that the ship's boats are secure.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Aye-aye, sir,\" Winchester replied.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Mr. Beechum,\" Charles called to the gangly signals midshipman   standing across the deck by the lee rail.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Sir?\" the boy answered smartly as he approached.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"You may signal Emerald: 'Submit, storm approaching   north-by-northwest.' Do you know the flags?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes, sir,\" Beechum answered with a small smile, \"but I'll just use   the signals book to double-check.\" Charles had been encouraging   Beechum to memorize the signals book entire, something he had been   required to do as a young midshipman. He'd found it painful.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Very good, see to it quickly, if you please.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Charles turned, glass in hand, to look over the weather rail again.   He didn't bother to raise the telescope. The horizon to the north and   northwest had become an ugly thick gray that reached from the sea   surface high into the cloud cover above. He thought he could see the   muted flash of lightning within, but no sound reached him. The sea   beyond Emerald was a surging froth of white kicked up by a rapidly   approaching squall line. He noted with momentary satisfaction that   Pigott had ?nally sent his topmen aloft to reduce sail, although his   signals to do the opposite remained on her halyards.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    With frightening speed, the line enveloped the distant frigate. The   ship heeled violently, almost onto her beam ends, as a brute force of   wind slammed into her. Charles tried to calculate how long Louisa had   before the storm caught her and decided it would be only a matter of   moments at best. He stole a quick glance at Terpsichore, several   cable lengths ahead, and at Bevan's brig, Pylades, a similar distance   off the starboard bow. Both ships were hurriedly shortening canvas,   Pylades already turning to present her bow to the onrushing gale.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"How long until the topgallant masts are on deck?\" Charles yelled to   Talmage across the strengthening wind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Only a minute, sir,\" the lieutenant called back. \"There's some   difficulty with the mizzen.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Belay that; it'll have to do as it is,\" Charles shouted, an   increasing note of urgency in his voice. \"Get the men down out of the   rigging.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Aye-aye,\" Talmage answered, then he called the new orders through   his trumpet into the tops.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Mr. Eliot\"--Charles turned back to the sailing master--\"we will take   the first of it bow-on. As soon as she's settled, we'll lie to and   ride it out as best we can.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes, sir. I think that's wise,\" Eliot replied, his voice almost lost   in a sudden gust across the quarterdeck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Charles watched wide-eyed as the line of the storm advanced toward   him. The gale crashed across Louisa's decks with a pounding force of   windblown spray, followed immediately by twin bolts of lightning and   a deafening explosion of thunder. The bow began to swing to starboard   at once. Before Charles could think, she was almost broadside on and   heeling steeply under its relentless pressure.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Brace the yards around and hold her! Hold her!\" He screamed to be   heard while he clutched desperately at the windward rail to keep from   sliding down the sloping deck. Whether Eliot or the two men   struggling with the ship's wheel heard him or not he couldn't tell,   but the vessel slowed her turn and began to claw back into the wind.   She had just begun to right herself when a white-topped swell crested   against the starboard quarter, sending an avalanche of green water   across the waist and quarterdeck. The railing wrenched itself from   his grip as the mass cascaded over him. He lost his footing and felt   himself being swept across the deck to come up with a breathtaking   jolt against the opposite rail between two tethered nine-pounder   cannon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Torrents of rain and scud, blown sideways on the wind, pelted against   Charles as he tried to cough up the seawater that seemed to have   filled his lungs. He noticed that his hat was gone. He struggled to   stand, clutching the rail for support. The driving rain was too thick   for him to see to the tops of the masts or much beyond the waist of   the ship. The two quartermasters were still at the helm, although   where Eliot had gone, he couldn't tell. A blinding stroke of   lightning broke almost directly overhead, flashing down like the   talons of some unearthly demon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Winchester appeared on the aft ladderway, his uniform sodden. \"Are   you all right, sir?\" he yelled through cupped hands.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Charles nodded rather than attempting a vocal response, fruitlessly   trying to wipe the water away from his eyes. \"The ship,\" he managed,   \"did anything carry away?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I don't think so,\" Winchester answered. \"All our masts are standing.   We took on a fair quantity of water through the gratings. Not more   than the pumps can handle.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Did the topmen make it down in time?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Most of 'em were still in the shrouds when it hit,\" the lieutenant   answered. \"They were probably safer there than on deck. I don't know   yet if we lost anyone.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Eliot reappeared in an oilskin hat and coat, which, except for his   eyes, covered him down to the toes of his boots.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"How are we riding?\" Charles shouted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Too much canvas for'ard, sir.\" Eliot's voice was muffled by the   sou'wester. \"She wants to gripe something ?erce.\" Talmage appeared on   the ladderway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"We will reef directly,\" Charles shouted. \"See to it, if you please,   Mr. Talmage, to the last reef points.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Talmage turned away and called out, \"All hands to reef sails;   waisters to the braces.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Stephen.\" Charles spoke in a more normal tone to his second, bending   close in order to be heard. \"Did you see Pylades before the storm   struck? Do you know how she fared?\" A small ship like Bevan's brig   easily could have been swamped in the ?rst surge of heavy sea.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I saw her for just a moment before the weather closed,\" Winchester   answered carefully. \"I don't know. She'd gotten at least some of her   sails in. I can't say about afterward.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Thank you,\" Charles said. \"Daniel's a good seaman. He'll have made   out all right.\" He knew he was expressing more hope than certainty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Charles watched as the topmen swarmed up the gangway and back into   the shrouds. Some had donned oilskin jackets. He smiled inwardly at   the way they jumped to the ratlines and hurried up toward the wildly   swaying topsail yards with a certain fearlessness, even enthusiasm.   Charles knew that he wouldn't relish climbing to those heights to   work his way along the uncertain footropes to the end of a spar under   these conditions--well, under any conditions, but especially not in a   rising wind, driving rain, and plunging seas--to fight with the   stiff, billowing canvas that could rip off fingernails or break   fingers. One careless misstep or a sudden unanticipated shift in the   wind could mean sudden death if one were lucky and fell directly onto   the deck, or, if he missed, a lingering drowning in conditions that   absolutely prohibited any chance of rescue.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Good topmen were both rare and exceedingly valuable, the cream of any   ship's crew. They tended to be young, broad-shouldered, cocky, and   courageous to a fault, all qualities required for the tasks they   performed. As a result, they also tended to present more minor   disciplinary problems than their proportion among the crew would   suggest. Charles had long since decided that this was fair trade and   cut them some leeway, although he'd gotten an argument from his new   first lieutenant every time he did.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Down the helm,\" Charles yelled through cupped hands at the   quartermaster as soon as he saw that at least one of the outermost   topmen had nearly reached his position at the end of the spar.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Ease the clews,\" he heard Winchester call to the hands on the lines.   \"Haul the reef cringle.\" As Louisa came up into the wind, the sails   shivered, then flogged, losing their tension. \"Haul the   buntlines\"--this to force the canvas to spill its wind.Author of Sails on the Horizon","brand":"Random House Trade Paperbacks","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303911543013,"sku":"NP9780345476494","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345476494.jpg?v=1767721672","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/any-approaching-enemy-isbn-9780345476494","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}