“Handsomely, Summerset,” Ousley’s voice sounded over her suit radio. “Handsomely, now — else your mates’ll be scraping you out of that vacsuit.”
Alexis watched the spacer in question stop pulling quite so hard on the line he held, allowing others, off the ship in suits with thrusters, to slow the oncoming vat’s advance.
“How long do you suppose, Mister Ousley?” Alexis asked.
“Done by the afternoon watch tomorrow, sir, but they’ll need a bit of rest before sailing.”
“That long?” Alexis regarded the work that seemed left and deemed it no more than a few hours. More than half the stores were returned to the hold, and all of the mast’s standing rigging complete. The running rigging was left, but Nightingale’s wasn’t nearly so complicated as a ship-rigged.
Ousley grunted.
“It’s longer than I’d like, sure, sir, but …” His voice trailed off.
Alexis nodded, though he couldn’t see her.
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll be guided by you in this.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Alexis sighed and returned to regarding what work was being done. Even after the drubbing they’d received from the Owl, Nightingale’s crew was as lackadaisical as ever. If anything, she’d have thought their ship being shot to pieces would spark something in the men, but it hadn’t.
They’d been lucky that no one was killed in the action and only a few injured. She’d not wish for worse in order to spur those remaining, but did wonder if even that would.
“Carry on, Mister Ousley. I’ll be in my cabin, if you’ve need of me.”
Thirty-One
12 December, aboard HMS Nightingale, darkspace, an unnamed system
“Farst lieutenant, sar!” the Marine at the hatchway announced.
Alexis looked up from her table’s surface where she was reviewing the lists of cargo ships that had sailed from Dalthus over the last six months, including those Doakes had told her were overdue or missing. Just because Nightingale was in the midst of repairing the damage inflicted by the Lively Owl didn’t mean that was her only problem. The question of missing ships wasn’t going away, though she suspected she’d find they and the Owl were certainly connected. There were only so many pirates who could make a living in any given volume of space, after all.
The difficulty with tracking those ships was that there were no records available for whether they’d had arrived at their destinations. Not unless they’d turned around and arrived back at Dalthus. The constraints of travel over such vast distances and the time involved made accurate records difficult, if not impossible.
“Send him in,” she said.
Alexis slid the plate Isom had brought for her aside. She’d eaten half the sandwich of fine ham from her grandfather’s farms without even noticing it, so absorbed in the records was she, and that seemed somehow insulting to the food.
Villar entered and stopped a meter or so from her table. He wore an old jumpsuit, wet with sweat, so must have just come in from supervising repairs. She checked the time on her tablet and found that was so — it was nearly time to call the hands in for their own meal.
“I wonder if I might speak to you for a moment, sir?”
“Of course.” Alexis gestured for him to sit. “Shall I have Isom pour us something?”
“I’d …” Villar cleared his throat. “I’d prefer to stand, sir, if I may.”
Alexis frowned, suddenly wary. She’d thought she was getting on better with Villar — quite well, in fact. There were no complaints she could make about his attention to duties, and their personal interactions had even become cordial. She thought they might be developing a genuine friendship, or at least as much of one as a commander and first lieutenant could allow themselves — early times yet for that, but she did find she liked him. When he wasn’t acting so stiff and formal, that is, as he was now.
“Yes?”
“This has been on my mind for some time, sir. Since the Remada Straits and that Greenaway, in fact. Now with the events of our encounter with the Owl, I feel I can no longer remain silent.”
Alexis tensed. She had her own thoughts about those encounters. She should have seen the second ship behind Greenaway herself, and in time to pursue it. If that had been the Owl as well, then the current damage to Nightingale could have been avoided, as she’d have known the Owl was an enemy.
Even this last encounter left her wanting. If she’d made the decision to fire earlier, risk of firing into an innocent ship be damned, then they might have avoided all this. More, the Owl might not be out there right now, preying on other helpless merchantmen. There was no telling how many of the next merchant crew might die because of her oversights.
Or farmers on Man’s Fall or some other world, if the Owl was involved in that, as well.
Still, it wasn’t Villar’s, or any first officer’s, place to express an opinion on things like that, no matter that she thought them herself. Her leadership aboard Nightingale felt precarious enough already, and if Villar were to be more than critical, if he made comments as he had when she’d first come aboard, then she could no longer ignore them.
Better to warn him off that now, than let him say something she could no longer ignore.
“Mister Villar, I really don’t think —”
“I’d like to offer you an apology, sir,” Villar blurted.
Alexis blinked.
“For what?”
“When you first came aboard, sir, I was angry. I thought Nightingale should be mine — thought she was mine already, come to that.” He squared his shoulders. “You said to forget all I said then, but I haven’t. I still, at times — more than at times, perhaps — thought you had no business commanding. You’re younger than me, for all that you were at Giron, and have fewer years in.”
Villar took a deep breath.
“When we found Greenaway in the Straits, sir, I’d have gone right in and boarded her. I thought sure she was abandoned or her crew’d gone sick.” He swallowed hard. “I’d have lost the ship to that trap, no doubt in my mind. I missed the signs with the Lively Owl as well — whatever you saw that had you rolling ship before they fired.” He winced. “If I’d been faster to relay your order … if I’d drilled Busbey on the helm, and all the crew, half as much as you have since coming aboard, well, we might have come out of that better, as well.”
He swallowed hard.
“If I’d followed procedure in my command instead of the laxity Lieutenant Bensley allowed, we’d have had the tracking on those who burned that farmstead on Man’s Fall.
“So I wished to apologize, sir. For what I thought — for the state of the ship when you took command.” He closed his eyes. “If you wish to put me off when next we encounter another Navy ship or Admiralty port, I fully understand your desire to have another first officer. One you can rely on.”
Alexis regarded him for a moment, angry at herself for her ill thoughts of him when he’d started to speak. She’d misjudged him, more than once, she thought, since she’d come aboard, as he had her.
There was a bit of truth and a bit of nonsense in what he’d said — Nightingale had been a lamentable mess when she’d come aboard, still was in some many cases, and Villar had certainly contributed to that. She didn’t like, though, the gloss he put on her own faults in those encounters. Still, nit-picking the details was likely not what he needed to hear. Best, perhaps, to put all of those misjudgments, on both sides, away and move on.
“I will say, sir,” Villar went on into the silence, “that I’ve seen there’s more to command than just the sailing orders. I do see that now.”
“I think you do yourself too hard a service, Mister Villar, but I’ll not argue with you.”
Villar winced. “Thank you, sir. I’ll see my things are packed when next we sight a Naval ship or return to Zariah. I suppose I can make my way to an Admiralty office from there...”
“No,” Alexis said hurriedly, realizing she’d started it wrong. “T
hat’s not what I meant at all.” She took a deep breath. “Much as I think you’ve been too hard on yourself, I do think that is a difficult estimation to make. More difficult yet to voice. You’re a good officer and a fine ship-handler — I’d have you stay aboard, if you will. Nightingale’s the better for your presence.”
“I — thank you, sir, I will.”
Alexis was glad to see his face lighten, but then it suddenly fell again.
“There is another matter, sir, on which I feel I must speak. If I’m to remain aboard, that is.”
That made Alexis pause and wonder what could possibly be next. She’d had quite enough of confessions for the day and needed to get back to finding out what was going on in this space.
“Go on, Mister Villar,” she said, feeling wary.
“It’s regarding … a personal matter.”
“Yes?”
“It’s about Miss Autin, sir.”
“Marie?”
“Yes, sir.”
Now Alexis understood his continued discomfort. Did he have some personal questions about Marie? Asking Alexis, as his commanding officer, was certainly inappropriate — and uncomfortable. She started to speak, to tell him that anything he had to ask about Marie should really be asked of her, but Villar spoke first.
“You may have noticed, sir, that Miss Autin and I spent some time conversing while at your family’s holdings.”
“I did — and before that as well.”
Villar swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down dramatically.
“Sir, I wish to assure you that I have done my utmost to not … to not encourage Miss Autin.”
Alexis sighed. Why on earth would he not and why did he feel compelled to tell her so? If anything, though, this conversation, awkward as it already was, might provide some insight she could give Marie as to why Villar seemed so set against her attentions. That she’d just been thinking it was inappropriate for Villar to be asking about the girl, and then think that she might pass along anything he said, gave her a moment’s pause.
They’re two different things … I think … oh, bother.
“There is something you dislike about Marie, Mister Villar?”
“No, sir!” Villar said quickly. “I think she’s quite the …” He broke off and cleared his throat again. “Miss Autin is a quite remarkable young lady.”
Alexis blinked, confused.
Damn it all, inappropriate or not, I want a bloody answer!
“Then why, Mister Villar, would you hold yourself aloof as you’ve done?”
Now Villar looked confused.
“I … you would not object, sir? Were I to … pursue something more than acquaintance with Miss Autin?”
“Why on earth would I object?”
“So you and Miss Autin have … an agreement, then? An arrangement?”
“Agreement?”
“An understanding?” Villar shrugged. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what such things are called.”
“What things, Mister Villar?” Alexis was starting to feel as though there were two very different conversations going on here.
Villar shook his head and swallowed again. “I’m sorry, sir, it doesn’t matter. I … I would find myself uncomfortable with such an arrangement in any case.”
“What arrangement? Mister Villar, I find myself entirely bewildered by your words.”
“It’s not that I think it’s somehow wrong, mind you,” Villar said hurriedly. “I’m from Chorthampton. We’re somewhat conservative, but we tend to leave such things alone. Not my concern, you understand.”
Now Alexis was even more confused than before.
“Mister Villar, I am at a complete loss for understanding you. What the bloody hell are you talking about?”
“You and Miss Autin, sir.”
“Well what about us? For God’s sake, speak plainly, man!” Alexis had to restrain herself from raising her voice. She was growing quite tired of Villar’s hedging and wished he’d simply get to the point.
“Your … special friendship?” Villar ventured.
“She has become a dear friend. What of it?”
Villar flushed. “I should not wish to come between you, sir, and even if you have an understanding with her in that regard … as I said, such is not something I could be comfortable with.” He clasped his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders, staring at the far bulkhead. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that — or the other either … as I said, we don’t judge such things on Chorthampton.”
What on earth would he even have to judge her on? And what was the “other”? Good lord, he was speaking as though she and Marie were …
Alexis stared at him as realization dawned. Her eyes widened and then she flushed herself.
“Mister Villar,” she said slowly, “is it your belief, then, that Marie and I are …” She wasn’t quite sure how to put it into words, as she was quite certain this was not a normal topic of conversation between a captain and first officer, but no wonder Villar was uncomfortable and his face colored scarlet.
All this time he’s thought that, and with Marie practically throwing herself at him and mostly right in front of me.
“I don’t judge, sir, I assure you!”
Alexis thought of what must have been going through Villar’s mind all those times he’d become engaged in conversation with Marie, then darted his gaze to Alexis, and broken off so uncomfortably. She couldn’t help herself, but she started laughing.
“Sir?”
“You thought …” She couldn’t even finish the sentence for laughing so hard.
“Sir! I don’t find this at all amusing!”
“Not yet you don’t,” Alexis said, trying to control herself.
The poor man must be driven half-mad by frustration.
Finally, she managed to control herself.
“Mister Villar, Marie and I are not …” She paused, thinking of how to phrase it delicately. “We are not … special friends, as you put it.”
Villar’s eyes widened and, if anything, he flushed redder still.
“You’re not?”
“I assure you, no.”
“But …” Villar spread his hands. “But bringing her to your family’s holdings, I thought?”
Oh … good lord, he thought I was bringing my new bride home to meet the family. Alexis almost laughed again.
“Marie lost all of her family on Giron. She had nowhere to go. I simply couldn’t leave her and her babe there in the refugee camps.”
Villar pointed to Alexis’ cot. “But …”
“Not my best decision, perhaps,” Alexis said, “but Marie had to see to Ferrau several times a night and I’m afraid my stature makes clambering in and out of an upper inconvenient.”
“But I saw the two of you … there … I mean …”
Alexis frowned. Oh, yes, that night he came to report that a sail was sighted in the Straits and Marie was all draped across me.
“As I said, the shared bunk was not my best decision. Marie is a bit … grabby in her sleep.” Alexis bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing at the look on Villar’s face. “Fair warning to anyone who would pursue her.”
Villar had now lost all sense of composure and Alexis feared his eyes might pop out. She knew it was probably a bit cruel, but she couldn’t help her amusement at him.
“You said your sweetheart was French!”
“Yes, French. A Frenchman. A French man, Mister Villar — a lieutenant in their navy.”
Villar blinked and his shoulders sagged.
“Oh dear.” He blinked again.
“Would you take that seat now, Mister Villar?”
Villar nodded and fairly tumbled into the seat.
“Isom! A drink for Mister Villar, if you please — something a bit stronger than wine, I think.” Alexis couldn’t quite keep the amusement off her face.
Isom poked his head in from the pantry and eyed Villar, who was now hunched forward and had his face in his han
ds, then ducked back into the pantry.
Villar looked at Alexis and she had a sudden surge of sympathy at the look on his face.
“Do you suppose I’ve cocked it all up, sir?”
“What, with Marie?”
Villar nodded. “What must she think of me? I’ve acted like … well, I spent such effort pushing her away she must …”
He trailed off as Isom set a glass of something amber before him. Villar grasped and drained the glass in one go, then gasped.
“Oh … god, what is that … it’s wretched …” He looked at Alexis and flushed more. “I’m sorry, sir, but …”
“That’s the captain’s best bourbon, that.” Isom’s look of sympathy had changed to affront.
“It’s an acquired taste, I think, Mister Villar — would you care for something else?”
“No, no.” He held the glass out to Isom. “Another of those, if I may? Upon reflection I find it quite fits my mood.”
Isom sniffed, but took the glass back to the pantry to refill it.
Alexis gave him a moment to settle his thoughts and have a fresh drink in hand. Villar drank, grimaced, but drank again. He took a deep breath, then groaned.
“What must I do? She must think … oh, what must she think of me after I …”
He looked up and Alexis found herself more sympathetic than amused as he then buried his face in his hands again. By the look on his face he had much stronger feelings for Marie than he’d admitted.
And kept them suppressed all this time for fear of offending me, his captain, the poor man.
“You should write to her immediately, Mister Villar, and explain everything. Everything,” she emphasized as he looked up at her desperately.
“I couldn’t,” Villar moaned.
“You must.”
Villar shook his head. “No …”
“Better she hear it from you than from someone else,” Alexis said, unable to keep her amusement in check any longer.
“But who would …” Villar blanched, staring at her. “You wouldn’t …”
Alexis nodded.
“Oh, yes, Mister Villar. I’m afraid this is far too good a story to keep to myself.”
HMS Nightingale (Alexis Carew Book 4) Page 23
