Once the two ships were side by side and a boarding tube extended, Alexis crossed to the frigate. She faced forward as she exited the tube and saluted the ensign painted on the bulkhead there to represent the colors lit on the masts. A lieutenant stepped forward to greet her.
“Welcome aboard. Carew, is it?” he asked. Alexis nodded. “Waithe, Third Lieutenant. Captain Crandall’s in his day cabin, just this way.”
He gestured aft and Alexis followed him, pausing for the marine sentry outside the captain’s cabin to announce them. She entered to find Crandall seated at his dining table which was clearly doubling as a large desk, given the number of displays showing on its surface.
“Have a seat, Carew,” Crandall said. He was a large man, muscular not gone to fat, with light hair. “You have a written report, have you?”
“Yes, sir.” Alexis raised her tablet and sent the report to his. She sat in the indicated chair, edging forward on the seat so as to keep her back straight. She was unsure of how her report of the action would be received.
“Wine? Something else?” Crandall offered.
“Thank you, sir. Tea, perhaps?” She wanted to keep her wits about her for this interview.
Crandall nodded to his steward, who set about pouring a cup of tea, then he lowered his eyes to his tablet and began reading. “Tell it to me, as well, Carew,” he said, not looking up.
Alexis took a deep breath. Her report covered the time from Hermione’s dropping her and her division in the ship’s boat, but she started telling it from when Hermione had captured the merchant vessel that had sent them there, so that Crandall would have the whole of it. Crandall interrupted only once, when she described Hermione’s last messages and transition to darkspace.
“Thought it was some kind of trap, he said?” Crandall asked.
“That is what Midshipman Ledyard relayed, sir.”
Crandall grunted. “Well, must’ve seen something that set him thinking that.” He lowered his eyes to his tablet again and gestured for Alexis to continue. She related the short action with the Hanoverese ship, glossing over, as she had in her report, the details of how she’d drawn him in to boarding range. The deception still left her a bit uncomfortable and she was unsure of how it would be received.
“And so we transitioned and made course for Penduli, sir,” she finished.
“Penduli? You’re four days past Penduli, Carew — missed it all entire!”
Alexis felt her face flush and looked down at the deck. “I … navigation has not been my greatest talent, sir.”
Crandall laughed. “I should say not, if you were trying for Penduli, no.” He took a long drink. “But practice will improve that for you. Though I’d not recommend another attempt like this one until you’ve improved.”
“No, sir.”
“Oh, chin up, Carew. Navigating isn’t the whole of it, lord knows. Ask Bligh!”
“Sir?”
Crandall raised his eyebrows. “Add some naval history to your studies, as well, Carew. Bligh. Salt-water, planet-bound sailor. Conned an open boat across seven thousand kilometers of ocean with no charts. Damned fine navigator.” He grinned. “Not so fine a captain, if why he was in that boat to begin with’s any sign.”
“No, sir,” Alexis agreed, feeling that was the safest course.
Crandall lowered his eyes to his tablet and frowned. “Still, Carew, you’ve not said, and there’s no mention in your report, of why that Hanoverese ship tried to board before you’d surrendered. Just ‘The Hanoverese attempted to board our boat and we took their ship.’” He raised his gaze to her again. “You didn’t attack after striking, did you?”
“No, sir!” Alexis hastened to assure him. “I didn’t strike our colors.”
“Then why did he approach to board instead of standing off and firing into you until you struck?”
“Sir, I —” She looked down at the deck, flushing. “— convinced him that the men were in no condition to resist.”
Crandall narrowed his eyes. “How, exactly?”
Alexis sighed and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I told him that they were drunk.” She clenched her eyes shut, dreading his reaction. “And that I’d locked myself in the cockpit with no idea how to fly the boat or work the console … and that I was quite … frightened at being abandoned by Hermione.”
Crandall was silent for a moment, so long that Alexis became convinced he was furious, and then he laughed. And kept laughing, covering his mouth with one hand. Alexis opened her eyes, a bit relieved but still wary that it had been wrong thing to do.
“So … it was not a dishonorable thing to do, sir?”
Crandall cleared his throat, still chuckling occasionally. “You neither struck your colors nor surrendered?”
“He asked me to surrender sir, but I didn’t agree to.”
“What did you say, exactly?”
“That there didn’t appeared to be an alternative, sir.”
Crandall laughed again, a hearty, honest laugh from deep in the belly.
“No, Carew,” he said finally. “Not dishonorable. Not against the laws of war, at least.” He leaned forward to rest his arms on his desk. “War’s about deception, you see, Carew. Oh, there are rules — we respect surrender given or quarter asked for and such — but at its heart it’s about making the other bloke think you’re doing what you’re not, so he never sees the knife coming for him.” He shook his head. “No, you spoke to him in a naval uniform from a naval boat. If he chose to see —” His lips twitched. “— a little girl in pinafore lost on a street corner, well, more pity him, then.”
Alexis flushed at the description. “Thank you, sir.”
Crandall laughed again. “The beauty of it, Carew, is that you’ll be able to use that bit again if you have need.” He sat back. “After all, do you think the lad’ll ever tell anyone how you snookered him?” He sobered. “Now, the question is what to do with you.”
“Sir?”
“I’ll have my bosun transfer some stores to your ship, of course.”
Alexis inhaled sharply. She’d expected Crandall would send his own prize crew aboard, but it appeared she’d be allowed to stay in command a bit longer. Hearing even the little cutter referred to as her ship did something odd to her insides.
“And you’ll follow us on to Penduli … back to Penduli.” He grinned. “I see that look on your face, Carew. Got a taste for command, did you?”
Alexis grinned back. “Yes, sir, I suppose I have.”
“Good — enjoy it while you have the chance.” He nodded. “But I’ll examine your navigation plot myself when we arrive, so mark it well.”
“Aye, sir.”
Crandall frowned, then sighed. “I’m sorely tempted to steal you and your lads for Lively, I must admit.” Alexis felt her eyes widen. Would he? Did they have a chance to get away from Hermione? But Crandall shook his head. “No, I’ve a full midshipmen’s berth and a full crew, coming out of the Core. Wouldn’t do to leave Captain Neals short an entire division — and such a capable one, at that. So, assuming Hermione’s not in system when we arrive, you’ll report with your men to the Port Admiral.”
“Aye, sir.”
* * * * *
Alexis stood in front of the wide desk in Penduli’s Port Admiral’s office. Admiral Piercy had not invited her to sit, nor had he offered her a drink. In fact, he seemed quite put out to be spending any of his time on her at all — a thing for which Alexis didn’t really blame him. It was not, after all, common for an admiral to have junior midshipmen underfoot. No, once you’re an admiral you have lieutenants to do your bidding.
The offices she’d passed to reach the admiral’s were, in fact, full of lieutenants busily working. The only reason Piercy had asked to see her personally, she suspected, was for news of Hermione. Why he couldn’t wait to bring me in until he’d read my report, instead of leaving me to stand here …
“Hmph,” Piercy grunted, putting his tablet aside. “Seems you did well enough,
Carew, given the circumstances.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Clever business drawing that Hannie lieutenant in. Quite.”
“Thank you, sir.” At Captain Crandall’s suggestion, she’d added the details to her report, so as to make it clear she had not struck or surrendered before the action.
“So, now my only thing is what to do with you.” He pursed his lips. “I’m loathe to deprive Captain Neals, but there are any number of ships in port that have a dire need for men and officers.”
Alexis’ spirits lifted. She’d been quite disappointed at the lost chance for her and her lads to join Lively and Captain Crandall, perhaps this was another. Any ship would be better than returning to Hermione.
“Hermione’s due soon,” Piercy went on, “if Neals keeps to his past patrols.”
“If I may, sir,” Alexis ventured, “I’d hate to be idle, on the chance Hermione’s out longer than before. Or even just the men, so that they get into no mischief aboard the station?” Even if she couldn’t find another ship herself, if she could get her lads away from Neals, it would be worth it.
Piercy was turning to another portion of his desk, as though already dismissing the matter and moving on.
“No,” he said. “Neals is due soon. We’ll give him a fortnight before I strip him of a full division.” He frowned. “Take your men to the Assize Berth to wait — they’ll be put up there and kept out of trouble.”
Alexis caught her breath. The Assize Berth was where the men brought from the gaols were kept until assigned to a ship. The thought of her lads locked up with thieves and murderers was intolerable.
“The Assizes, sir? These are good lads, is there not somewhere —”
“I’m running a station, not an inn, Carew! The Assize Berth is where there’s room for them. Take them there or put them up at your own expense, for all I care, but make sure they’re all accounted for when Hermione puts in or I call for them. It’s your responsibility.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Now about this little ship you brought in.” His frown deepened. “You’re certain Hermione had transitioned before you took her?”
“Yes, sir. By nearly an hour, sir.”
“Hmph. Well, I’ll have to put it to the Prize Court as yours, then. Neals won’t be happy, I’m sure, but it’s on his head.”
“Sir?” she asked, unsure of what he meant.
“It’ll be your claim, Mister Carew. You and your little band, as there were no other ships In Sight.”
Alexis was stunned. On her previous cruise with Merlin, the pirate ship Grappel had been deemed her prize by a fluke of the Prize Court’s misunderstanding, to have another prize submitted so was astounding.
“Quite,” Piercy said. “Can see from the look on your face you hadn’t expected that. Don’t count it too quickly, though, there’s a chance Captain Neals might appeal any award. He’s that right, you know.” He busied himself with his tablet. “See Dawbers outside, he’ll complete the submission on that.”
“Aye, sir. Thank you for your time, sir.”
Alexis left his office and paused by the marine sentry just outside. “Dawbers?” she asked. “I assume he’ll be a lieutenant?”
The marine nodded toward a nearby desk where a harried looking lieutenant was hunched over his desk.
“Thank you.” She approached the desk and waited for a moment, but the lieutenant appeared not to notice her. Finally she cleared her throat gently. The lieutenant looked up.
“Yes?” His voice was resigned.
“Lieutenant Dawbers, sir? Carew, midshipman off of Hermione. Admiral Piercy said that you’d be the one to submit a prize on my behalf.”
Dawbers drew a deep breath and let it out in a prolonged sigh, as though he were most put upon.
“Of course he did,” he said. He slid his fingers over his console rapidly. “What is the ship name?”
“Sittich,” Alexis told him. “Brought in this morning, in company with Captain Crandall and Lively.”
“Here it is.” Dawbers frowned. “Yourself and … twenty-five men? No other claimants?”
“Admiral Piercy said it should be submitted so.”
“Hmph,” Dawbers snorted, sounding remarkably like his admiral. “Well, if he’s said.” His fingers flew over the console again. “Very well. A Hanoverese cutter, one hundred fifty tons burthen … no cargo to speak of, I see.” He looked up. “We’ll submit it with a value of a thousand pounds for the agents. The Prize Court may raise that, of course, if they see fit.” He frowned. “I’d advise you not to rely on getting all of your share, Mister Carew. If your captain should challenge the award …”
“No, sir, I shan’t.”
“Good.” He smiled suddenly. “Though if you were to sell your certificate to an agent, you’d come out well ahead, I think. Even at ten percent, you’d receive a tidy sum and the risk would be on the buyer. Be nice to see one of those sharps stick himself for a change!”
“Yes, sir, it would,” she agreed, smiling herself.
The less reputable prize agents haunted the naval stations, looking for spacers and less well-off officers who hadn’t the patience or means to wait for the Prize Court to make a final determination. They’d purchase the initial certificates, rights to what the award would eventually be, for a much reduced rate — sometimes even less than the ten percent Dawbers had mentioned — then collect the full amount when the Prize Court finally paid out.
Of course, if the Prize Court found that the ship was not lawfully a Prize or valued it lower than the initial estimate, the agent might receive significantly less or nothing at all. Generally, though, they paid so little that their profit was quite high.
“Well, here you are, then.” He ran a finger over his console and Alexis’ tablet pinged. “Yours and those for your men. You’ll have to release those, in lieu of your captain being here.”
“Yes, sir. And thank you.”
Dawbers waved a hand in acknowledgment, already back at work on some other task.
Alexis left the offices and walked up the station corridor to where she’d left Nabb in charge of the men. They were clustered nearby, keeping out of the traffic moving up and down the corridor. She pulled out her tablet to review the certificates and froze. She’d known what the amounts would be, but seeing them was somehow different. Sittich was submitted to the prize court with her as the only officer. At six full eighths of the thousand pound value, the claim was for seven hundred fifty pounds. A sizable amount. Moreover, the two eighths that went to the crew, two hundred fifty pounds, amounted to ten pounds for each of the two dozen men of her division and Hearst, the pilot.
A year’s pay for most of the spacers. Or a few days’ drunkenness if they sold them to an agent — which they’d likely do. Her own certificate she’d simply deposit with her agent, or their branch on Penduli, a reputable firm recommended to her by Captain Grantham on Merlin. They’d charge her ten percent and handle all of the dealings with the Prize Court for her, simply adding any award to her holdings already in their accounts. Cupples, Beesley, and Stokes, though, were prize agents for officers — and officers with a certain amount of coin to put on account to start with — not for common spacers.
Alexis considered for a moment. She’d already decided that she’d find a place for the lads to wait out the next fortnight. The thought of sending them into the Assize Berths was more than she could bear. And she hated to see them cheated out of the prize money, but if she advised them to put their certificates aside and wait out the Prize Court’s findings, they’d likely not listen. For a spacer, a pound in the hand while in port was worth far more than ten at some later day. And with no guarantee the award wouldn’t be split with all of Hermione’s crew in the end, if Neals challenged the award and won.
And it’s sure and certain he’ll challenge it when he hears. She had a sudden thought.
“Nabb,” she said, feeling for how much coin she had with her and pulling out several shillings. “I’ve on
e last thing to do. Find the lads a pub and buy them a pint or two. No more than two, mind you, and watch them so no one runs off.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Watch Isom, especially. Now we’re back on a station … well, the temptation might be too great.”
“I’ll have Matheny sit with ‘im, sir. Steady lad, he is.”
“Thank you. I shouldn’t be more than an hour or two.”
“Aye, sir. Sir?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll watch ‘em, sir, but there’s not a one who’ll run.” He looked down at the deck then back to her. “They’d be in a Hannie prison if it weren’t fer you and know it. They’ll not run on your watch.”
“Well, without them I’d be in one myself, so we’ll call it even all around, shall we?”
CHAPTER TEN
“Are you quite well, Mister Tapscott?”
Alexis watched the man with concern. Small, no more than a few centimeters taller than Alexis was, and nervous looking, he was walking close to her, his eyes darting quickly from place to place. More than his eyes, really, for he seemed to be unable to look somewhere without moving his entire head to point at it.
She could understand his nervousness. There were no pubs near the Port Admiral’s offices that would welcome two dozen common spacers, nor that the spacers would choose to frequent, come to that. Nabb had led the men down two levels to an area where they’d be more comfortable. Though the corridor here had just as many lights as the others, it seemed dimmer and narrower. Or, perhaps, it was that the many tables and food carts the merchants had set up outside their shops, or someone else’s shop, simply took up the space. Regardless, it was not a place that a representative of Cupples, Beesley, and Stokes, Registered Prize and Investment Agents, would normally frequent.
Tapscott licked his lips, head never stopping. “Quite all right, Miss Carew! Very well, in fact. A part of the station I’ve never visited — fascinating! Simply fascinating.”
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