conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled The French Admiral about Alan, Lewrie, Yorktown with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: This second novel in a new sea adventure series continues the story of Alan Lewrie, the reluctant British midshipman. This time, Alan finds himself involved in the battle of Yorktown during the American Revolution. His unhappiness with the Royal Navy also begins to be replaced by a sense of dedication and duty. The story is technically correct and historically accurate, but sea genre fans will be disappointed that so much of the action takes place on land. Though Lewrie observes the battle of the Chesapeake, he is on duty with the defenders of Yorktown and barely sees his ship during half the novel. Still, this is an excellent and exciting adventure in what promises to be the best naval series since C.S. Forester. Recommended for public libraries.<BR><I>- C. Robert Nixon, M.L.S., Lafayette, Ind.</I><BR>Copyright 1990 Reed Business Information, Inc.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first paragraph for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The French Admiral
  There was also a postscript full of pride at the honor he had done the Lewrie name by his daring escape from Yorktown, so the report to the Admiralty from Hood, Graves, and the new man, Digby, must have already been released at home.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Alan didn't mind particularly; he had had enough excitement in the last few months, and if the war wound down quietly, then that was fine to his way of thinking. The Trades were blowing fresh and cool out of the east-north-east and the ship rolled along gently on a beam reach, a soldier's wind. He was off watch and skylarking on the weather bulwarks, watching the gun crews go through the motions of loading and firing, jumping from one battery to another as the excess crew took care of reloading while the others competed to be the first run out on the other beam. At his most energetic, he conversed with the yeoman of the sheets on the larboard gangway as that gentleman and some of the topmen rerove fresh rope for sheets and braces where they had begun to chafe, or took a splice aloft to remove the chafed portions but save the ropes.
  Treghues went below while the hands lashed their guns down and began to hoist the yards, go aloft, and free the courses and the reefs in the tops'ls, undo the brails on the topgallants and draw them down so they filled with air. Desperate ceased loafing and came alive, leaning her starboard side into the sea, creating a creamy white furrow of foam in her wake. The faster she went, the stronger the wind felt and the more the yards had to be angled to take apparent wind at a more efficient angle. When Treghues came back on deck he had scrubbed his face, put on clean uniform, and stood four-square in cocked hat, new neckcloth and sword.
  Alan thought it odd to let the enemy, if enemy she was, get up close. Desperate could go like a Cambridge coach if turned up onto the wind, or could run like a frightened cat to leeward if called upon to do so with stuns'ls and stays'ls. He studied Treghues as he paced the deck, wondering if his eagerness for battle had anything to do with the way the ship had been treated after escaping Yorktown. Did his captain have something to prove, some blot on their name that could only be erased by a victory, a geste of such derring-do that no one could comment on her any longer with a sneer? He had been acting odd enough ever since they had taken Ephegenie back in the Virgins, and Alan would no longer discount anything. A cautious captain would assume the other ship was an enemy and try to outrun her. A rash captain would put about and charge down offering battle. Only a timid and indecisive captain would allow the stranger to close them in this manner, and Treghues had never shown himself to be a timid or indecisive man. Certifiably eccentric, perhaps, but not that.
  Alan looked at him sidelong; his captain's face was almost red with shame, and Alan knew he must be crawling to have to solicit information of such a personal nature from an underling. Treghues had formed an instant affection for Caroline Chiswick, perhaps out of pity, or out of long-suppressed longings brought to the surface by his head injury and the dubious "cure" that had followed. Alan was his only link, his only source of intelligence as to their new address, and hard as it was for a proud man, a commissioned officer, a ship's captain, and a stiff-neck like Treghues to ask, he was asking for a crumb. The girl had not said yes to his proposal to write, after all his charm and pleasantness.
  Dammit, captains don't do such things, Alan thought. Does he see the mail come aboard first, does he know I have a letter from her? If he did, he'd have seen the address, so he wouldn't be asking. Is it safe to lie? What the hell, I'll chance it. Caroline did put her name and address on the outside sheet.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Unlike the history taught about the Revolution, mostly written by north-east educated historians, the war did not revolve around New York and the upper colonies; most of it was fought in the South, and there are many patriots who should be famous, who did more to capture our freedom than Washington or his New York State generals.
  I wish to apologize to those who thought the Pennsylvania (or Kentucky) rifle won the Revolution; opposed to common myth, the piece was a light hunting rifle, stripped down to the basics, slow to load and fire due to the rifling in the barrel, which made ramming home a grease-patched ball difficult. The militia and minutemen who faced up to British regulars did not lay them out in windrows, but usually got themselves tromped and skewered by more rapid smooth-bore musket fire and fixed bayonets, just as the Chiswick brothers described. Much money was spent and little was received from contractors who promised the moon, much like military budgets today.
  My apologies to anyone whose ancestors really lived on Jenkins Neck, which only appears as described geographically and in the map; the Hayley plantation never existed except in my imagination.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about Continental, Army, French, feared, equipped, captured.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Unlike the history taught about the Revolution, mostly written by north-east educated historians, the war did not revolve around New York and the upper colonies; most of it was fought in the South, and there are many patriots who should be famous, who did more to capture our freedom than Washington or his New York State generals. 
  I wish to apologize to those who thought the Pennsylvania (or Kentucky) rifle won the Revolution; opposed to common myth, the piece was a light hunting rifle, stripped down to the basics, slow to load and fire due to the rifling in the barrel, which made ramming home a grease-patched ball difficult. The militia and minutemen who faced up to British regulars did not lay them out in windrows, but usually got themselves tromped and skewered by more rapid smooth-bore musket fire and fixed bayonets, just as the Chiswick brothers described. The Continental Army and the various state militias became a force to be feared in the field, equipped with French muskets and bayonets, captured British arms, or those few American-built copies of European muskets. Much money was spent and little was received from contractors who promised the moon, much like military budgets today. 
  My apologies to anyone whose ancestors really lived on Jenkins Neck, which only appears as described geographically and in the map; the Hayley plantation never existed except in my imagination.