andy cannon

This chapter is the proverbial calm before the storm?

Thank you for the kind words and the recommendation. I will look into that book since that is such a fascinating corner of history.

That is sadly true. The historically accurate options for William and Jamie for a romantic relationship seem to be limited to 'none' and 'less than none.'

Ack! The readers are revolting!

Nothing like a good conspiracy to spice up a story!

The bartender tried to warn us, but I am very concerned about young Rókus. Great start!

Where the Stars Speak The moon rode high, a pale coin over the Caribbean. Its reflection shimmered across the swells, broken only by Absolute as she slipped through the night wind. The storm of earlier hours had left her hushed, though not at rest. Lieutenant Pitt stood on the quarterdeck, coat unbuttoned just enough to betray his disquiet. Beside him, Midshipman Blake leaned against the rail, his left arm bound and cradled in a makeshift sling. The linen showed a faint shadow wher

I can be petty and vindictive, but Australia has done nothing to me -- so far-- that would cause me to inflict Vane on them.

This is a very promising start, and I can't wait to read more!

Really sweet chapter. Great to see Nick and Jack have so much support.

Sherlock Kenny is on the case! It's only a matter of time until Steve's scheme is uncovered for all to see.

There are six more chapters and an epilogue to go, so it should all be posted by next week.

A lovely Christmas chapter, very cozy and domestic.

I don't remember if it was Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask) or an equally ignorant book of the same era that assured curious readers that gay gourmets used butter to ease anal intercourse and auto mechanics commonly used motor oil. It may not have contributed to a lack of progress to Gay Rights, but it certainly dampened the enthusiasm of teenage me to try anal.

That is perceptive, and I think it's at the heart of what I see as the differences between genre fiction and literary fiction. In genre fiction, the protagonist has to be likeable, and there has to be a happy ending (believe it or not I am plodding towards a happy conclusion!). The main characters' flaws are more quirks, while in literary fiction there can be a fatal flaw. Billy Budd has that stammer that flusters him and ultimately drives his tragic conclusion. In spite of O'Brien's sarcastic hyperbole, Jamie does have flaws: his sword handling is not adept, he is impulsive, he is indiscreet in what he commits to paper and what he admits to Mr. Turner, the surgeon. None of that rises to the level of a fatal flaw. O'Brien is oblivious to what could be Jamie's fatal flaw, namely he is queer in a milieu that does not tolerate the expression of that.

That was a big part of compensation in the Royal Navy. After the Crown took its share, the Captain took 1/4, the Lieutenants 1/8, the mids and petty officers 1/8, the warrant officers 1/8, the Admiral 1/8, the Marines and the rest of the crew 1/4. Of course, in true bureaucratic fashion, the payout could be delayed for years.

But, now I have a lingering question…why would we need to be unstoppable? What would there be to stop us from living as we do? What or…who? Well, there's nothing ominous about that. No, sir, nothing at all!

The Seagull and the Storm HMS Absolute passed a restless night after the reconnaissance sortie failed to flush the French cutter. Dawn found the ship surging windward beneath a brisk breeze, sails taut and white against the blue. Lieutenant Morris, eyeing the trim of the topsail on the mainmast, gave a curt nod, and a party of nimble sailors clambered aloft to make the necessary adjustments. Bare feet gripped the ratlines; the sailors rose as dark silhouettes against the sky.

There are games within games going on here. Fantastic chapter!

I have not been to Kona, but this brings back fond memories of time in Hilo. Great chapter!

Interesting chapter with a complex theme handled with sensitivity.

That's good to know. Thank you!

Well, that's an excellent point. It didn't occur to me that in that era, a boy of his class would probably be largely illiterate, as possibly so would his mother. Shall we write that off to authorial license and imagine an idyllic England where nine-year olds penned sonnets between shifts at the mill?

And they all seem to be centered around the Sacred Underwear!

Thank you for your kind words! I hope you enjoy the rest of it.