Cover image for The blackbirder
Title:
The blackbirder
Author:
Nelson, James L.
Personal Author:
Edition:
First edition.
Publication Information:
New York : William Morrow, [2001]

©2001
Physical Description:
336 pages : illustrations, 1 map ; 25 cm.
Language:
English
ISBN:
9780380804535
Format :
Book

Available:*

Library
Call Number
Material Type
Home Location
Status
Kenmore Library X Adult Fiction Open Shelf
Searching...

On Order

Summary

Summary

In the wake of The Guardship comes the second in the Brethren of the Coast trilogy and the swash-buckling adventures of former pirate Thomas Marlowe.

In a blind rage, King James, ex-slave and now Marlowe's comrade in arms, slaughters the crew of a slave ship and makes himself the most wanted man in Virginia. The governor gives Marlowe a choice: Hunt James down and bring him back to hang or lose everything Marlowe has built for himself and his wife, Elizabeth.

Marlowe sets out in pursuit of the ex-slave turned pirate, struggling to maintain control over his crew -- rough privateers who care only for plunder -- and following James's trail of destruction. But Marlowe is not James's only threat, as factions aboard James's own ship vie for control and betrayal stalks him to the shores of Africa.

And it is in Africa, in the slave port of Whydah, that James and Marlowe must face a common threat and their own final showdown.


Author Notes

James L. Nelson is a native of Maine & a former professional square-rig sailor. He still lives in Maine with his wife & children, where he continues to write & maintain his involvement with traditional sail. He is the author of "By Force of Arms", "The Maddest Idea", "The Continental Risque", & "Lords of the Ocean".

(Bowker Author Biography)


Reviews 2

Booklist Review

Nelson has penned another swashbuckling adventure featuring pirate-turned-privateer Thomas Marlowe. When Marlowe's second-in-command, former slave King James, kills the abusive captain of a crippled slave ship, the governor of Virginia orders Thomas to hunt down his renegade friend. Threatened with financial and social ruin, he embarks upon a bleak odyssey that takes him from the shores of the New World to the west coast of Africa. Eventually coming face-to-face, Thomas and James both realize that they must confront the demons and the enemies that continue to stalk them. This action-packed, authentically detailed sea yarn is distinguished by the sobering moral undertones of its electrifying plot. First-rate maritime fiction in the tradition of Patrick O'Brian. --Margaret Flanagan


Publisher's Weekly Review

The lead characters of Nelson's The Guardship are back in this intelligent tale of high seas adventure: landowner and swashbuckling former seaman Thomas Marlowe; his wife, Elizabeth; and his friend, former tutor Francis Bickerstaff. Though Marlowe is but recently settled in 1702 Tidewater Virginia, he has already won the enmity of many colonistsÄand particularly Frederick Dunmore, a Bostonian of murky originsÄby freeing his slaves. As the novel opens, Marlowe is planning to set out to sea. Once he is granted an official letter of marque, he will be able to legally plunder merchant ships hailing from countries hostile to England in Europe's monarchical wars. But then King James, Marlowe's chief freedman and good friend, kills a slave ship's captain in a brawl, and flees for Africa in the slave ship itself, the eponymous Blackbirder. Dunmore forces the royal governor to withhold Marlowe's letter of marque until he's captured King James, and so Marlowe and Bickerstaff give chase, dreading the inevitable encounter with their friend. A fair amount of high seas action leads to a scene of final bloody treachery in Africa. Almost everybody here has a secret: Marlowe, formerly Malachias Barrett, is an ex-pirate; Elizabeth was once a London prostitute; Dunmore is haunted by what may be murder; King James is shadowed by a sinister ex-slave. Though a few anachronisms slip in (Marlowe "hadn't a clue what was going on"), the period atmosphere is a bit thin and a couple of events strain credibility (with six shots Elizabeth kills six men), on the whole this is a creditable adventure tale, deepened by Nelson's unusually detailed and nuanced account of the slave trade. (Mar. 1) Forecast: Darker, less polished and more contemporary in tone than Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series, Marlowe's adventures will either strike O'Brian fans as rough stuff or refreshing fare. But even wary traditionalists may be won over by this superior installment. (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved


Excerpts

Excerpts

The Blackbirder Chapter One The Church was all heat and white sunlight, dust and the smell of dry grass and manure pushing in through flung open doors. Flies swirling, lighting, black specks on white painted pews. Sunday. June 14, the Year of Our Lord 1702. In the pulpit the preacher droned, on and on. Marlowe shifted, felt the sweat running under his heavy coat and waistcoat and shirt. Realized he had had no thought for...how long? No thought, just consciousness. Like an animal. The preacher waved his arms, entreated God. The air was close, oppressively hot. The church was nearly twenty years old, built when the now-burgeoning Williamsburg was still a backwater called the Middle Plantation. People crammed in like hands of tobacco prized into a cask. A blessing in winter, a misery in summer. Marlowe looked at his shoes, then over at Elizabeth's legs, the outline of her thighs just discernible through layer upon layer upon layer of silk and taffeta. She had to be even hotter than he was. But she would remain proper, because she needed to feel proper after her many years of secret impropriety. Propriety was why he was there in the first place, in his own pew. Not in front of the communion table; those pews had been sold long before to the first families of Virginia. Their pew was behind the vestry, which was still perfectly respectable. The important thing was that everyone, today's newcomers and yesterday's, knew they could afford a pew in front of the communion table, were one available. Marlowe had purchased the pew -- at no little cost -- because Elizabeth did not wish to jeopardize their place in Virginia society. She did not wish to risk losing this new life they had carved for themselves in this new land. They had position now in tidewater society, and people with position spent Sundays in their own pews. As a merchant seaman, Marlowe had had Sundays off. He'd had no duty, save standing watch, unless the ship was run by some petty tyrant who could countenance no idleness among those to whom he paid wages. What had it meant when he was on the account, among the Brethren of the Coast? Nothing. As often as not they hadn't any notion of what day of the week it was. It did not matter to the lawless and the godless, whose hours called them only to slothfulness and debauchery. Marlowe realized his legs were cramped. He stretched them out full length, flexed the muscles, savored the relief. Stole a glance at his friend Francis Bickerstaff, seated on his other side. He was dressed in conservative, unadorned clothes. He held a Bible in his lap, sat rigid, his eyes intent on the preacher. He looked as if he might have been a preacher himself. Bickerstaff was a pious man, after his own fashion. A former tutor, fluent in Latin and Greek and all those things that the overeducated and underemployed seemed to know. He appeared to be absorbing every syllable of the preacher's harangue. But the preacher was, to Marlowe's certain knowledge, a fool. He doubted there was anything the man could say that Bickerstaff would find enlightening. He concluded that Bickerstaff was as far removed from the sermon as he himself was, but that Bickerstaff, as usual, was better at hiding it. Three years. Three years they had been coming to that cursed church. He lowered his head, hoping it made him look pious. It had not been so bad before, with the old Reverend Hathaway, who was a good man, godly and thoughtful, and could spin a sermon that was not so oppressively dull. But he had taken fever and died a year back, and the Right Reverend Ezekiel Trumbell had taken his place. What the congregation had done to deserve him, Marlowe could not figure. His thoughts wandered away from those considerations as his eyes wandered to the hem of Elizabeth's dress, then slowly up her leg. He pictured her thighs under all that cloth, the smooth white skin, the flat, lovely stomach, the curve of her hips, the way she looked lying naked in their big bed. He felt himself becoming aroused, had a vague sensation that that was not appropriate in church. And then the warm sensuous drowsiness lapped over him and he felt his eyes close, felt delicious sleep pulling him down.... Felt a sharp elbow in his ribs that jerked him back to church. "Stop that, Thomas," Elizabeth hissed, never taking her eyes from the preacher, her expression of pious attention never wavering. "What?" Marlowe felt himself flush. He wondered, did she mean his falling asleep, or had she guessed at his salacious thoughts? "I do believe Reverend Trumbell is speaking to you, dear." Marlowe straightened and focused on the Reverend's words. Trumbell's head was turned in their direction, and his eyes flickered toward the Marlowe pew, like fingertips testing a hot griddle, then pulling away fast before they are scorched Oh, God. Will you not even look me in the eye, you little worm? It was the speech about the danger of free Negroes again. Dressed up with some nonsense about Cain and Abel, but at its heart it was the same old speech. Marlowe wanted to curse out loud. "And the precursor to Cain's sin of the blood? Was Adam's failure to obey God's command to keep dominion over all the beasts of the field, yea, all the living creatures. "And so today, like Adam, are we not commanded to have dominion over all the beasts of the field, and all the heathen creatures, be they man or beast, who have not the benefit of knowing God? It is our duty as Christians to prevent the wicked idleness into which man must fall if the Godly do not keep dominion over them. We fail in our duty if we do not hold the reins tight..." The Blackbirder . Copyright © by James Nelson. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Google Preview