"Naomi Novik - Temeraire 1 - His Majesty's Dragon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Novik Naomi)

“Well; there we have it,” he said; there was nothing else to be done. “Mr. Carver, you are relieved of
regular duty until the hatching; you will instead consult with Mr. Pollitt on the process to follow for the
harnessing.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy responded, a little faintly.

“Dismissed, gentlemen; Mr. Fanshawe, a word with you. Mr. Riley, you have the deck.”

Riley touched his hat, and the others filed out behind him. Fanshawe stood rigid and pale, hands clasped
behind his back, and swallowed; his Adam’s apple was prominent and bobbed visibly. Laurence made
him wait sweating until his steward had restored the cabin furniture, and then seated himself and glared
at him from this position of state, enthroned before the stern windows.

“Now then, I should like you to explain precisely what you meant by that remark earlier, Mr.
Fanshawe,” he said.

“Oh, sir, I didn’t mean anything,” Fanshawe said. “It is only what they say about aviators, sir—” He
stumbled to a stop under the increasingly militant gleam in Laurence’s eye.

“I do not give a damn what they say, Mr. Fanshawe,” he said icily. “England’s aviators are her shield
from the air, as the Navy is by sea, and when you have done half as much as the least of them, you may
offer criticism. You will stand Mr. Carver’s watch and do his work as well as your own, and your grog is

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stopped until further notice: inform the quartermaster. Dismissed.”

But despite his words, he paced the cabin after Fanshawe had gone. He had been severe, and rightly so,
for it was very unbecoming in the fellow to speak in such a way, and even more to hint that he might be
excused for his birth. But it was certainly a sacrifice, and his conscience smote him painfully when he
thought of the look on Carver’s face. His own continued feelings of relief reproached him; he was
condemning the boy to a fate he had not wanted to face himself.

He tried to comfort himself with the notion that there was every chance the dragon would turn its nose
up at Carver, untrained as he was, and refuse the harness. Then no possible reproach could be made, and
he could deliver it for the bounty with an easy conscience. Even if it could only be used for breeding, the
dragon would still do England a great deal of good, and taking it away from the French was a victory all
on its own; personally he would be more than content with that as a resolution, though as a matter of
duty he meant to do everything in his power to make the other occur.




The next week passed uncomfortably. It was impossible not to perceive Carver’s anxiety, especially as
the week wore on and the armorer’s attempt at the harness began to take on a recognizable shape, or the
unhappiness of his friends and the men of his gun-crew, for he was a popular fellow, and his difficulty
with heights was no great secret.