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Charlie's newsletter
Sep. 28th, 2018 01:04 pmNewsletter 207
First, an apology to all my pals in the US. This weekend I will firmly Believe in Blue. And if that means nothing to you, you’re not a golf fan. Allez Europe!
News
I have two shiny new covers to share. The first is for the relaunch of Lessons for Suspicious Minds from Endeavour on 2nd November.
And this is for the next Cambridge Fellows novella which is due for release 26th November (date to be confirmed).
Talking of those Cambridge lads, Jonty has been waxing lyrical about the sonnets.
Special offer: I’ll be having Wild Bells on a reduced price at Kindle for a week from 16th October, so here’s a snippet from the second story of the two paired novellas, The Angle in the Window:
The sunset over the Atlantic was breathtaking.
The captain and first lieutenant of the frigate Priam stood watching the sun slowly making her way to the horizon, quiet and content in each other’s company as they so often were on board. A lock of hair escaped from Alexander’s queue; Tom resisted the temptation to finger it, as he’d have done had they been in private.
Alexander looked tired, too tired to be accounted for solely by their voyage so far. They had a neat little prize at their side, a French corvette that had suffered both from the same storm the Priam had negotiated and from having a lookout whose mind was possibly more on his little mistress at home than the sail of an English frigate edging through the early morning mists. The action to take her had been swift and fairly bloodless; she was now under the command of Midshipman Lowell, Lieutenant Weekes’ arm still being slow to recover from the falling block.
Tom could clearly observe the young man, who was working the little prize crew efficiently, with great spirit.
By contrast, Alexander looked as if he had hardly slept for days. Tom had seen that look before, on leave, but this time it couldn’t be for the same reason—they’d not shared more than the briefest kiss or embrace since the last evening in Portsmouth.
“You need to get some rest Alexander. You look awful,” Tom gently reprimanded him.
“I do not ask you to comment about my appearance on my own quarterdeck, Mr. Anderson,” Alexander snapped.
“It is part of my duty to ensure the smooth running of this ship, sir. That cannot be guaranteed if the captain of the vessel chooses to neglect his well-being.” And Tom was, as ever, taking his duties seriously. “Dear God, Alexander, do we not have experience enough of the dangers of commanders who are not entirely fighting fit?”
Alexander raised his fist, then struck the weather rail. “You are correct, as so often. I’ve spent too long mulling over those letters. I’m sure I’m close to deciphering their code and the closer I come, the more uncomfortable I feel.”
“Are they that bad? No,” Tom raised his hand, “that was stupid. Of course they are, for you to be so concerned.”
Alexander turned his gaze out to sea, evidently wishing to avoid his lover’s piercing gaze. “It’s like seeing a strange sail on the horizon—you may get a distinct feeling you are facing the enemy, even though you have no firm evidence to hand. I honestly wish your Augusta had not been so inquisitive.” He turned back. “I apologise for my rudeness and hope that you will allow me one more sleepless night. If I haven’t solved the riddle by tomorrow, I promise I will abandon it.”
And finally the beautiful northern lights church at Alta, simply because it features in the special Christmas story I'm writing.
First, an apology to all my pals in the US. This weekend I will firmly Believe in Blue. And if that means nothing to you, you’re not a golf fan. Allez Europe!
News
I have two shiny new covers to share. The first is for the relaunch of Lessons for Suspicious Minds from Endeavour on 2nd November.
And this is for the next Cambridge Fellows novella which is due for release 26th November (date to be confirmed).
Talking of those Cambridge lads, Jonty has been waxing lyrical about the sonnets.
Special offer: I’ll be having Wild Bells on a reduced price at Kindle for a week from 16th October, so here’s a snippet from the second story of the two paired novellas, The Angle in the Window:
The sunset over the Atlantic was breathtaking.
The captain and first lieutenant of the frigate Priam stood watching the sun slowly making her way to the horizon, quiet and content in each other’s company as they so often were on board. A lock of hair escaped from Alexander’s queue; Tom resisted the temptation to finger it, as he’d have done had they been in private.
Alexander looked tired, too tired to be accounted for solely by their voyage so far. They had a neat little prize at their side, a French corvette that had suffered both from the same storm the Priam had negotiated and from having a lookout whose mind was possibly more on his little mistress at home than the sail of an English frigate edging through the early morning mists. The action to take her had been swift and fairly bloodless; she was now under the command of Midshipman Lowell, Lieutenant Weekes’ arm still being slow to recover from the falling block.
Tom could clearly observe the young man, who was working the little prize crew efficiently, with great spirit.
By contrast, Alexander looked as if he had hardly slept for days. Tom had seen that look before, on leave, but this time it couldn’t be for the same reason—they’d not shared more than the briefest kiss or embrace since the last evening in Portsmouth.
“You need to get some rest Alexander. You look awful,” Tom gently reprimanded him.
“I do not ask you to comment about my appearance on my own quarterdeck, Mr. Anderson,” Alexander snapped.
“It is part of my duty to ensure the smooth running of this ship, sir. That cannot be guaranteed if the captain of the vessel chooses to neglect his well-being.” And Tom was, as ever, taking his duties seriously. “Dear God, Alexander, do we not have experience enough of the dangers of commanders who are not entirely fighting fit?”
Alexander raised his fist, then struck the weather rail. “You are correct, as so often. I’ve spent too long mulling over those letters. I’m sure I’m close to deciphering their code and the closer I come, the more uncomfortable I feel.”
“Are they that bad? No,” Tom raised his hand, “that was stupid. Of course they are, for you to be so concerned.”
Alexander turned his gaze out to sea, evidently wishing to avoid his lover’s piercing gaze. “It’s like seeing a strange sail on the horizon—you may get a distinct feeling you are facing the enemy, even though you have no firm evidence to hand. I honestly wish your Augusta had not been so inquisitive.” He turned back. “I apologise for my rudeness and hope that you will allow me one more sleepless night. If I haven’t solved the riddle by tomorrow, I promise I will abandon it.”
And finally the beautiful northern lights church at Alta, simply because it features in the special Christmas story I'm writing.
