Signals range came and Allie gave Grubbs a complicated bit of numbers and letters to send the other ship via flashing the lights on Elizabeth’s hull and masts, the only means of communication in darkspace where the dark matter and dark energy would warp and distort both radio signals or the coherent light of a comms laser.
Grubbs then read off a further series of letters and numbers returned from the other ship and Allie nodded, apparently satisfied.
“He’s our friend,” Allie said.
“Very well,” Dansby said. “Remain cleared for action, but see the hands have a hot meal — if things do go sideways, we may be fighting and working the sails for some time when it comes.”
“Aye, sir,” Grubbs said, passing the order on.
“We’ve dealt with this fellow before,” Allie said, “and had no trouble. True, he’s expecting our pinnace, but the codes I had sent to him account for things being a bit different than usual, but still all fine.”
Dansby grunted. He’d believe it when they’d traded the gallenium for the hard coin and gold bullion the Blackbournes claimed they were paid in.
“And he’s enough coin to pay for Elizabeth’s cargo as well as your own?” Kaycie asked.
Allie sighed. “Yes, for the hundredth time. There’s never been a way to tell him ahead of time how much we might collect from our runs through the mining worlds. He’ll have enough, no doubt.”
Dansby shared a look with Kaycie, both telling the other that they’d neither be comforted until they were paid and well away from both the Blackbourne twins and their buyer. There’d be some time before that, though, as signals range did not mean the wait was over, for they were still a full watch or more from the two ships being near enough to transfer cargo.
The other ship was downwind and a point or two below Elizabeth, and was square-rigged, so less able to make way toward them, while Elizabeth was simply falling down to meet her.
“Time enough for our own dinner, as well, I suppose,” Kaycie said, eying the Blackbournes with distaste.
Dansby relished the thought that this could well be the last dinner he’d have to share with their guests, and couldn’t be too eager for that. Drop down to the other ship and heave-to, transfer the gallenium and payment, then off with Rabbit and Young Bloody Blackbourne in their pinnace and let everyone be about their own business.
"Aye,” he said.
Elizabeth was no warship, with guns crammed into every spare nook and cranny, so clearing for action effected only her main deck and not Dansby’s quarters.
“Sir?” Smithey prompted.
“Yes?”
“That’s no merchantman.”
Dansby hurried over to the tactical console to see what the man was about — he could just as easily had Smithey send whatever images troubled him to the navigation plot, but it was only a few steps.
“What do you mean?” Dansby asked.
“Look here, sir,” Smithey said, highlighting part of the other ship in the image, blurry from distance and the distortion of darkspace.
Dansby did, and immediately saw what Smithey did — the other ship was large enough to be a mid-size merchantman, but was rigged to support far too much sail. That spoke to a larger crew than a merchant captain would find profitable. More, and what made Dansby’s jaw clench, were the sheer number of gunports — closed, but discernable — that lined the other ship’s sides in two distinct rows.
“That’s a bloody frigate,” Dansby muttered.
“What?” Kaycie said, coming to his side.
Both of them looked to Allie and Blackbourne, expecting the pair to exclaim surprise that their contact had, somehow, been taken by the Navy and laid a trap for them.
“It usually is,” Allie said. “A frigate, I mean. Sometimes a sloop, but the cargo’s value generally warrants a frigate, I think. This is the Barbary, after all, and there’s more than one band of the less scrupulous sort about.”
“Who is your contact?” Dansby asked.
Blackbourne cocked his head further, but it was Smithey who spoke, “Colors, sir,” he said, with a pause to swallow hard, “Hanoverese, sir, and their navy.”
Twenty-Nine
“Hanover?” Dansby demanded, having removed the discussion to his compartment and including only himself, Kaycie, Allie, and Blackbourne.
“Well, who’d you think we were meeting in the Barbary?” Allie asked. “It’s their space, after all.”
Dansby had to admit she had a point, though not one he wished to think about, nor one he should wish to wonder at his own not thinking on.
Too focused on the coin and giving no thought to what it meant.
The kingdom of New London and the Republic of Hanover had an on-again, off-again war that had been on and off for centuries. While the Barbary was, officially, Hanoverese space, it was also space that was little cared-for by the Republic and widely used by New London and others as a shorter transit route to the Hso-hsi Celestial Kingdom and the profitable trade there.
“That’s treason!” Dansby yelled.
All three of the others stared at him, heads cocked.
“Well, yes, the whole bit of smuggling gallenium at all is treason, no matter the buyer, but …” He cleared his throat. “There’s treason and then there’s bloody treason, and this —” He pointed through the hull in the vague direction of the ship they were meeting. “— is bloody treason.”
“Well, now, lad,” Blackbourne said, “wouldn’t’ve thought of you as a paragon of patriots, as it were.”
“I’m not,” Dansby said, wondering if it were true at all. He’d never given it much thought — raised in a merchant family, his time had been taken up with thoughts of trade and profit, no matter the seller or buyer. And, yet, at the back of those lessons had always been the message that New London’s government, and the Navy as its good right fist, would be there to protect the kingdom’s trade. “I’m not … really, I suppose. But there are some things just not done. I’d thought the gallenium would be going to some New London shipwright, so that the man might make a few pounds extra on some hulls, not —”
Damn it all, but he’d smuggle, and had, any number of things to Hanoverese ports and back again, customs, tariffs, and local legalities be-damned, but there were limits. He’d never carried arms, either way, nor intoxicants of the sort a man couldn’t make his own choices about, but most else was fair game.
Gallenium, though, was among the former. It had but one real purpose, to build ships; and the Hanoverese navy had but one purpose for those ships — to destroy New London’s merchant and Naval traffic, when next the war went hot.
“You didn’t ask,” Allie said, “and we’re here now.”
“Aye,” Blackbourne said, frowning — or, at least, the edges of his beard turned down in what Dansby assumed was a frown. “It’d not do to disappoint our buyer now.”
Dansby tapped his tabletop, mirroring the quarterdeck’s navigation plot. “We can out sail him,” he said. “We’re to windward and can bear closer.”
“Damn you, man!” Allie yelled. “Isn’t it enough you’ve interfered with our trade this far? Run now and we’ll never trade with them again.”
“Good,” Dansby said.
Blackbourne snorted and muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” Dansby asked.
“Young Blackbourne’s sayin’ yer a pansy, boot-licker,” Blackbourne said. “What cares a true free-trader for Queen an’ country an’ all that nether-whistlin’? Who’s doing the buying? A man with hard coin and that’s what matters.”
Dansby played with the plot a bit more, having Elizabeth’s computer trace out different points of sail and test them against its best knowledge of a Hanoverese frigate’s speed. None of the projections were promising.
“The winds are too light, Jon,” Kaycie said so that only he could hear.
He’d had that thought himself. Too light and too variable — he could work the crew to exhaustion chasing those winds, but this was a
bloody frigate and they were too close now. She might not be able to catch them up, but she could get close enough to turn, and the range of her broadsides was enough. While he couldn’t be certain which of Hanover’s frigates he now faced, Elizabeth’s copy of Jane’s Warships told him she most likely carried nine- and twelve-pounders — well, it would only take a bit of damage to Elizabeth’s sails and riggings before the frigate would be able to catch them up.
“You can’t run,” Allie said, staring down at the swiftly changing options of the plot herself. “This is their space — they’ll simply order you to heave-to and be entirely in the right to fire if you don’t.”
“We can make it to within sight of that convoy we sighted on the way here. It was bound for Hso-hsi, but won’t be far yet,” Dansby said, trying to gauge the path those ships might have taken, given these winds. “Hoist New London colors and they’ll have to break off, else risk word getting back to New London that they’re —”
“And then the New London Navy searches us?” Allie asked.
“Pan or fire, lad,” Blackbourne said. “Run, and it’s shot to shite by Hanover or hung by those yer bein’ loyal to.” He shrugged. “Were it up to Young Blackbourne, he’d stick with the one what gets him a full-purse and whole-skin.”
Dansby tapped his tabletop. “Detheridge, come in here please,” he said, then, once the bosun had arrived, “Take the Blackbournes somewhere safe for a time, will you?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Don’t be a fool, Dansby,” Allie said.
“Don’t be gettin’ Young Blackbourne killed, now, lad,” Blackbourne added. “He’s a lifetime o’ rogerin’ t’be about yet —”
“Out, while I think!”
“Aye, sir.” Detheridge ushered the twins through the hatchway and slid it closed, but not before they’d each had a bit more to say.
“Just take the bloody coin, damn you!” Allie shouted.
“Think o’ all them ladies ain’t yet met the Bald Bishop, lad!”
Dansby sat and stared at the navigation plot on his table for a time after the Blackbournes were taken out.
Kaycie remained, staring at him.
“We can’t outrun her, Jon,” she finally said.
Dansby nodded.
“Certainly can’t outfight her.”
Dansby nodded again.
“Cargoes like this —”
“Yes. Yes, I know —” Dansby took a deep breath. “It’s a cometary sort of thing.”
“What?”
Dansby chuckled. “There are some jobs in this business I can feel good about — few and far between those I don’t, really.” His eyes hardened. “And then there are some I’ll just not do. ‘Mining charges’ to some man who plans to use them on his neighbors? No. Drugs like addle, with no purpose but to make a man into a slave? No. Gallenium to bloody Hanover?” He looked up and met Kaycie’s eyes. “My family lost more than one ship to them — enroute through the Barbary, usually, when some fools decide it’s time for war again. Transit tolls paid in full and no warning at all, but ships are taken, cargoes confiscated, and the crews ransomed back — after treatment I’d not put those two Blackbournes through, mind you.” He looked away and took a deep breath. “Some ships never heard from again, and not always pirates, to credit the rumors.”
Kaycie nodded. “My own family’s ships as well.”
“My father sometimes wondered if the times of peace were merely Hanover’s way of filling up the Barbary with traffic again, so they might have better pickings once the shooting resumed.”
“So, what now, though?” Kaycie asked. “Get out of this one with our skins and have the good sense not to involve ourselves with these cargoes in future?”
“I suppose,” Dansby said, thinking hard still. He pondered what he knew of the Blackbournes and what they’d told him of how these transfers were made in the past. Though they’d held back the methods of contacting their buyer to arrange these meetings, and neglected to tell him the buyer’s true nature, he did believe they’d related the transfer process well enough, not wanting Dansby or his crew to throw a wrench into the works if surprised when the time came.
Dansby smiled.
“That smile worries me, Jon,” Kaycie said.
Dansby took a deep breath and let it out, feeling as though a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. “Am I smiling?”
“Worse than smiling,” Kaycie said. “Now you’ve got a look about you.”
“A look, is it? What sort?”
“The sort that always boded ill for a teacher, Jon, but we’re not at —”
Dansby rose, wanting to get started. They had little time, after all, before meeting with the Blackbournes’ Hanoverese contact.
“Jon?”
“Don’t worry, Kaycie, I’ll have it all worked out,” Dansby said. He rose and went to the hatchway.
“You’re worrying me, Jon!”
“Tut, not a thing to fret over, you’ll see.” He slid the hatch open. “Would you help Detheridge in keeping the Blackbournes settled? I’ll see to loading a cart with the crate of gallenium — we’ll make the sale, take our profits, and be shut of this mess, never to return.”
“So, no tricks?”
Dansby shook his head. “Deep in Hanover space with their navy staring right at us? Disappoint the captain of a bloody frigate? I’d have to be mad to do anything but.” He sighed. “Give them their crate of gallenium, take the coin, and be off.”
“All right, then,” Kaycie said, though she eyed him warily. “It’s only that you had a look.”
Dansby laughed. “Well, there are any number of mad plans flash through my head on a given day, Kaycie — I don’t act on all of them.”
“Thank the Dark,” Kaycie said. She regarded him a moment longer, then went off.
Dansby grasped a passing spacer by the arm. “My compliments to the bosun, and she’s to have two … no, three work parties assemble in the hold near the carpenter’s shop. Lively, but without alerting the Blackbournes.”
“Aye, sir.”
Dansby grinned, feeling good about his plan. “And pass the word for Presgraves, will you?”
Thirty
A naval frigate, Dansby thought, was an intimidating thing to have alongside, no matter the navy involved.
Though the Hanoverese ship, Kronprinz, was only a few meters more in beam than Elizabeth, it seemed as though a massive wall were approaching as she hove-to beside and let the winds drive her gently toward Elizabeth.
She’d taken the wind gage from Elizabeth, continuing a bit to windward after Dansby’d hove-to, and they were now in her shadow, with barely any bit of Elizabeth not blocked from the winds by Kronprinz.
It wasn’t so much the bulk, as the sheer number of gunports, regardless of them being closed, that pierced the other ship’s side in two rows from bow to stern.
Longer than Elizabeth, as well, Kronprinz’s fore- and aft-most guns would have to be levered in to point at the smaller ship at this distance, but they’d still strike, no matter the general New London opinion of Hanover’s guncrews.
And even the most Hanoverese of gun crews couldn’t miss at this distance.
“I’m glad you came to your senses,” Allie said.
Dansby grunted.
They were all on the quarterdeck, though it was nearly time to make their way down to the docking hatch for the exchange. A bit of dampness formed at the small of Dansby’s back, despite the cooler facade he maintained for the Blackbournes. He cut a glance to the tactical console where Presgraves sat beside Smithey, a look of ecstatic expectation on her face.
“Let’s move down to greet our guests, shall we?” Dansby asked. It were best, he thought, to separate the Blackbournes and Presgraves, as he didn’t want the former to become suspicious. Without waiting for agreement, he stepped away from the navigation plot and opened the quarterdeck hatch. The others followed.
“It will all be over in moments,” Allie assured him, “and we can be on
our way.”
She was walking beside him, and Dansby wondered if she were, somehow, already suspicious of him, as she seemed to be taking great efforts to reassure him — though perhaps that was only because she feared he might do something at the last minute.
“Not like Young Blackbourne’s crankin’ commando,” Blackbourne whispered behind him where he walked next to Kaycie, “which’ll ever be measured in far more than moments.”
“Do you never stop?” Kaycie asked.
“Never, lass, that’s the magic of it,” Blackbourne said. “Just keeps goin’ and goin’ and —”
Kaycie sighed and moved to Dansby’s other side, putting him between her and Blackbourne.
Kronprinz had doused the last of her sails as they arrived at the docking hatch, leaving the winds to play only on her hull and masts, which left her relatively still. A flexible tube slowly extended from the frigate’s side toward Elizabeth, and four of Dansby’s spacers waited until it was within reach before grasping it and making it fast to Elizabeth’s hull around the hatch. Within a few more minutes, the tube filled with air.
“We’re to open our hatches first,” Allie reminded Dansby.
“Of course,” he said.
Whichever ship opened her lock’s hatches to the flimsy docking tube first became the more vulnerable, allowing for the risk of decompression if the tube were compromised. The hatches themselves would close quickly at that, but there was risk.
Allie stepped forward to stand beside the antigrav pallet with its crate of their combined gallenium. “Sooner done, soonest away,” she said.
“And soonest parted,” Kaycie muttered.
The plan was to make the exchange, make sail, then split the coin and send the Blackbournes off in their pinnace to make their own way out of the Barbary — or wherever they might be bound next.
“Open the hatches,” Dansby ordered.
Spacer, Smuggler, Pirate, Spy Box Set Page 31
