In the King's Name, by George 
Manville Fenn 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the King's Name, by George 
Manville Fenn This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost 
and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it 
away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License 
included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 
Title: In the King's Name The Cruise of the "Kestrel" 
Author: George Manville Fenn 
Release Date: November 6, 2007 [EBook #23386] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE 
KING'S NAME *** 
 
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England 
 
In the King's Name; or, The Cruise of the Kestrel, by George Manville 
Fenn. 
CHAPTER ONE.
ON BOARD THE "KESTREL." 
Morning on board the Kestrel, his Britannic majesty's cutter, lying on 
and off the south coast on the lookout for larks, or what were to her the 
dainty little birds that the little falcon, her namesake, would pick up. 
For the Kestrel's wings were widespread to the soft south-easterly 
breeze that barely rippled the water; and mainsail, gaff topsail, staysail, 
and jib were so new and white that they seemed to shine like silver in 
the sun. 
The larks the hover-winged Kestrel was on the watch to pick up were 
smuggling boats of any sort or size, or Jacobite messages, or exiles, or 
fugitives--anything, in fact, that was not in accordance with the laws of 
his most gracious majesty King George the Second, whose troops had 
not long before dealt that fatal blow to the young Pretender's hopes at 
the battle of Culloden. 
The sea was as bright and blue as the sea can look in the Channel when 
the bright sun is shining, and the arch above reflects itself in its bosom. 
The gulls floated half asleep on the water, with one eye open and the 
other closed; and the pale-grey kittiwakes seemed to glide about on the 
wing, to dip down here and there and cleverly snatch a tiny fish from 
the surface of the softly heaving sea. 
On the deck of the little cutter all was in that well-known apple-pie 
order customary on board a man-of-war, for so Lieutenant Lipscombe 
in command always took care to call it, and in this he was diligently 
echoed by the young gentleman who acted as his first officer, and, truth 
to say, second and third officer as well, for he was the only one--to wit, 
Hilary Leigh, midshipman, lately drafted to this duty, to his great 
disgust, from on board the dashing frigate Golden Fleece. 
"Man-o'-war!" he had said in disgust; "a contemptible little cock-boat. 
They ought to have called her a boy-o'-war--a little boy-o'-war. I shall 
walk overboard the first time I try to stretch my legs." 
But somehow he had soon settled down on board the swift little craft 
with its very modest crew, and felt no small pride in the importance of
his position, feeling quite a first lieutenant in his way, and for the 
greater part of the time almost entirely commanding the vessel. 
She was just about the cut of a goodsized modern yacht, and though not 
so swift, a splendid sailer, carrying immense spars for her tonnage, and 
spreading canvas enough to have swamped a less deeply built craft. 
The decks were as white as holystone could make them, the sails and 
the bell shone in the morning sun like gold, and there was not a speck 
to be seen on the cabin skylight any more than upon either of the three 
brass guns, a long and two shorts, as Billy Waters, who was gunner and 
gunner's mate all in one, used to call them. 
Upon this bright summer morning Hilary Leigh was sitting, with his 
legs dangling over the side and his back against a stay, holding a 
fishing line, which, with a tiny silvery slip off the tail-end of a 
mackerel, was trailing behind the cutter, fathoms away, waving and 
playing about in the vessel's wake, to tempt some ripple-sided mackerel 
to dart at it, do a little bit of cannibalism, and die in the act. 
Two had already been hauled on board, and lay in a wooden bucket, 
looking as if they had been carved out of pieces of solid sea at sunrise, 
so brilliant were the ripple marks and tints of pink and purple and grey 
and orange and gold--bright enough to make the gayest mother-o'-pearl 
shell blush for shame. Hilary Leigh had set his mind upon catching 
four--two for himself and two for the skipper--and he had congratulated 
himself upon the fact that he had already caught his two, when there 
was a sharp snatch, the line began to quiver, and for the next minute it 
was    
    
		
	
	
	Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
 
	 	
	
	
	    Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the 
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.
	    
	    
