andy cannon
-
Posts
1,113 -
Joined
-
Last visited
Content Type
Forums
Stories
- Stories
- Story Series
- Story Worlds
- Story Collections
- Story Chapters
- Chapter Comments
- Story Reviews
- Story Comments
- Stories Edited
- Stories Beta'd
Blogs
Store
Help Center
Writing
Gallery
Events
Everything posted by andy cannon
-
It's the way of families everywhere, isn't it? No matter how successful you are, no matter how many medals you have won, no matter how much respect you have accrued, there is always an older brother who remembers you couldn't remember which shoe went on which foot for months.
-
Not Dying Sickbay -- the Fifth Day When the young midshipman arrived on the evening of the fifth day to read to the officer, Mr. Turner gave him a brief update. The fevers seemed lower, still too high, but improved. All patients were resting more comfortably, though none had come alert. The surgeon opened the shutters over the grate high on the bulkhead in the vain hope of easing the stifling heat in the sickbay, then retired to his bolthole for some much-needed rest. The lad was good
- 8 comments
-
- 19
-
-
-
-
Certainly I have not been as scrupulous about the dates on replies as I should be, generally opting for a four-week lag rather than a more realistic eight-to-ten week period. It seems that there was a vigorous rotation of ships between the UK and distant fields of conflict, but news was slow to come, It must have been like playing a chess game by mail, and the Admiralty was always responding to circumstances that had long since changed.
-
I think the publishing date of 1808 is correct, so since the story has advanced to 1810, Pitt could plausibly have a copy of it if he is the sort of fellow who is dialed in in the latest trends in poetry.
-
All I can do is beg your indulgence while the characters dawdle on their way to a denouement. As their actions come under increasing scrutiny and suspicion over the remaining chapters, for some reason it was important to me that they be innocent of any crime vis-a-vis the Articles of War. Please be patient with them for a bit longer, especially William, who has turned into more of a horse's patoot than I would have expected.
-
Right! Something like that.
-
I didn't have any specific known illness in mind, but something similar to typhoid fever, maybe, without the contact communicability? I read about Royal Navy ships in the Caribbean in the 18th and 19th centuries picking up yellow fever or other acute tropical diseases, and half of the crew would be dead in two weeks or so. I shied away from that much historical accuracy.
-
The Fourth Day The fever did not break. Turner made no predictions now. He moved through the surgery like a ghost in shirtsleeves, administering draughts, dampening cloths, and saying very little. The marines drifted in and out of lucidity. One of the sailors had taken to quoting Bible verses backwards. Pitt remained still except when he wasn’t. His muttering had turned rhythmic, an unbroken tide of disjointed phrases, all of them foreign, fractured, or half-swallowed by heat. On
- 12 comments
-
- 17
-
-
-
-
-
We'll leave Pitt lingering at death's door form the fever for another chapter of two before returning to more battle adventures. As for Vane, you know he has much more mischief up his sleeve, and the mysterious letter may be the match set to the powder.
-
The letters between the three midshipmen and their mothers were all a labor of love and remain very close to my heart, and they capture a little of what these young men were risking their lives for. It has been a quarter century since I first heard Sullivan Ballou's letter to his wife before the battle of Bull Run in Ken Burns series Civil War, and it still chokes me up.
-
Under Caribbean Stars The days passed with a kind of sleepy vigilance. The Absolute, sails trimmed to the trade winds, moved in easy, wide loops between Barbados and Saint Lucia. Her coppered hull slipped through turquoise seas, charting a path of vigilance amid merchantmen, gulls, and distant squalls. Each morning brought muster on the sunlit quarterdeck; each evening, an easy reefing of sails beneath burning stars. The war, for a time, felt like it belonged to some other he
- 8 comments
-
- 20
-
-
-
-
Well, it won't take 23 years or 42 chapters, for that matter, but it does take a little more time.
-
My brother, if you are vexed now, by the time William sorts himself out, I fear you will be apoplectic! Pitt is lucky that Jamie has a generous, forgiving nature, since otherwise his repressed behavior would only bring a cold shoulder.
-
Tuesday, April 22, 2025 (I)
andy cannon commented on Celian's story chapter in Tuesday, April 22, 2025 (I)
Very promising start! -
Lovely chapter.
-
Great story! Looking forward to your next magnum opus.
-
Act III - No-one Mourns The Wicked
andy cannon commented on Jack Poignet's story chapter in Act III - No-one Mourns The Wicked
A very satisfying conclusion to a fantastic story! -
Great chapter!
- 77 comments
-
- 13
-
-
-
The chamber convulsed. Candles guttered, relics clattered, shadows bent as the air itself ripped open. Power surged, drowning the heat of their bodies in something vaster, unstoppable. Hadrian lunged, catching Zain as his knees gave way. They collapsed together, tangled, breath colliding—too close, too much—just before the world went dark. That is quite the cliff hanger! Can't wait for the next installment!
-
Yes, I see that. Blake and Pitt are restrained by legal considerations, although Pitt has hinted at a ethical issue with the difference in their ages. I don't think they see themselves as immoral or unethical, but another relationship could be complicated by those views. As an example, I'm thinking of pedophilia. It has been a while since I read Lolita, but I seem to recall that Humbert Humbert was nattering on from time to time about the ethics of his love/
-
Both Huxley and Avery grasp that Blake was in an impossible situation. No one else would be censured for not risking death to save Vane, but Jamie would be stained for turning away. Pitt can't see that, or more likely, won't see that.
-
That would be an interesting thesis for a novel... the love that can't be lived that slowly is turned into hatred or is expressed only through insanity, a rot from within as it were.
-
The Edge of Permission The sun stood high over the mainmast, its light turning the quarterdeck into a pale, unforgiving furnace. Even the shadows beneath the boatswain’s grating shimmered with heat. Somewhere below, the carpenter’s mates were sawing new planking for the damaged longboat. The steady rasp of blade on wood gave the only rhythm to an otherwise too-long morning. Lieutenant William Pitt stood just aft of the mizzen, spyglass in hand, scanning the southern horizon wher
- 12 comments
-
- 21
-
-
-
Apparitions From the Cane Field The Creek – Pre-dawn, Un-named Cay The oars dipped in silence, muffled with oiled rags, barely disturbing the black mirror of the creek as the longboats slid through the mangrove choke. On either bank, thick tropical growth pressed in like a closing fist, roots clawing at the waterline, fronds glistening with dew and rot. Somewhere out in the dark, a bird shrieked once, then went still. Blake sat in the prow of the lead boat, musket across his la
- 5 comments
-
- 20
-
-
-
-
He's true to form, no doubt.
