Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3

by J. A. Sutherland

  At the least, she thought there’d be no sail changes ordered for several bells, not unless something untoward happened.

  That would give her time to relax a bit.

  Whatever sense of urgency Eades and Courtemanche had failed to exhibit during their stay on Nouvelle Paris, their hurry to leave once they had agreement made up for. With the agreement of the French to enter the war and assist in the liberation of the Berry March, Eades had taken up packing and returning to Shrewsbury as though he wanted to be well away before they could change their minds. Courtemanche had been equally hurried, ordering the packing of his baggage and having it sent aboard a French ship as rapidly as possible.

  Alexis made her way off Shrewsbury’s bow and paused a moment to look off into the distance. She could just make out the lights of Courtemanche’s ships, four transports and two frigates on their way to Alchiba with the first load of French uniforms and weapons for the troops they hoped to raise in the Berry March.

  Shrewsbury wasn’t keeping company with those, as she’d be making the stop at Wellice, something Alexis was more than a bit unsure of. Eades seemed to think it wold be a simple matter for her to sail off into Hanover on a strange ship and make contact with Balestra’s fleet, but Alexis doubted it would be so easy.

  She wasn’t at all pleased at the thought of leaving Shrewsbury again. This ship was her proper posting and she felt she’d neglected her responsibilities quite enough, what with all of Eades’ meetings and then weeks and weeks on Nouvelle Paris. Time enough to worry about that later, though.

  She latched a safety line onto a new guidewire and started pulling herself along Shrewsbury’s keel toward the stern. She’d at least have a bit of time to relax before the next order to change sail came. There’d been little opportunity since coming back aboard. Eades’ insistence that they make all possible speed for Wellice had her suited and onto the hull to oversee the foremast hands before Isom even had her baggage safely returned to her cabin.

  Since then, it had been tack and tack again as Shrewsbury beat to windward.

  Nearing the stern, she caught sight of a figure already there, clipped on to the last guidewire and floating free of the hull while facing aft. The figure’s vacsuit bore a midshipman’s markings, and its small size could only mean it was Artley.

  Alexis eased herself to a stop next to him and let herself float beside him for a moment before leaning toward him and touching her helmet to his.

  “It’s a fine view from here this morning, Mister Artley,” she said.

  Normally the view from the ship’s stern in darkspace, away from most of the lights on the masts at the bow, was of the roiling masses of darkspace in the distance. Here, though, they were still close enough to Nouvelle Paris that they could make out the lights of the forts and even some of the shipping. She thought the sight was quite magnificent, if not unique, though somehow not as peaceful as the sheer emptiness of darkspace away from a system.

  Les Étoiles de Paris, indeed.

  “It is, sir.” Artley hesitated. “Would you like me to leave, sir? So you can have the place to yourself, I mean?”

  Alexis chuckled. She supposed she did have a reputation for enjoying the solitude of the ship’s stern.

  “You were here first, Mister Artley. Perhaps I should be asking you that?”

  “Oh! No, sir!” He hesitated. “I do like it back here, though. Even in normal-space it’s quite peaceful.”

  “It is,” Alexis agreed. She noted Artley’s vacsuit, which was new and good quality. She’d heard from Lieutenant Nesbit while on Nouvelle Paris that the midshipmen had quite a time on the station. Rushing from chandler to chandler and back again while they bargained for the best deal on a new vacsuit for Artley, then having a fine start to an evening with what was left of the whip-around funds. Even the bosun had gone along to take part in the bargaining.

  They must have bargained hard to have a bit of coin left, she thought, eyeing the suit, which was obviously high quality. He’ll have a chore to replace it with similar quality when he outgrows this one. Another thought came unbidden that sent a brief chill through her. If he has the chance to outgrow it.

  That damned nightmare had come again more than once in the enforced idleness of her stay on Nouvelle Paris. Always ending with the new, small figure at the forefront standing as though to accuse her.

  Stuff and nonsense, she told herself again.

  “I see that you’ve managed to find a proper vacsuit,” she said, trying to shake her feeling of unease.

  “Oh, yes! The others all came along and saw I wasn’t cheated, and I’ve still the one from the purser as a spare — though this new one hardly smells at all!”

  Alexis laughed. “I’m sure you’ll remedy that soon enough.”

  Artley laughed in return, then sobered. “I … I don’t think anyone’s done so kind a thing for me since my Da died. I’ll have to repay them somehow.”

  Alexis frowned. “It was my understanding it was a whip-around, Mister Artley, a gift. I’m certain they expect no repayment.”

  Artley was silent for a moment. “My Da always told me there are some debts a man keeps in his own ledger book, sir, even if the other fellow doesn’t.”

  Alexis wasn’t certain how to respond to that. It was a surprisingly mature comment to come from Artley, even if it was only something his father had said that stuck with him.

  There was a sudden blur of motion and bodies began streaming past them on both sides. Past and then over the stern of the ship, whipcracking at the end of safety lines as the guidewires caught them, then arcing back to Shrewsbury’s stern between the massive rudder and planes that extended off past the hull’s field into darkspace. All of the figures were in vacsuits colored as midshipmen and Alexis had to laugh out loud after the initial shock.

  Some of them fumbled more than others with their lines, but in a moment they were all on their way up the ship’s stern toward the top of the hull.

  Alexis saw Artley frozen in place, hands on his own safety lines, one where it was clipped to Shrewsbury’s hull and the other at his waist. She laughed again.

  “Do go on, Mister Artley. Don’t let me keep you from joining in.”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  In an instant, Artley was off over the edge the hull, pulling himself rapidly up the stern after the other midshipmen.

  Alexis’ laughter died and she took a deep breath. There was a part of her that wanted to join in the game, whether it was a simple race or some complicated game of tag, but she knew she couldn’t. Those were games for the midshipmen — they taught the boys the ship’s lines and how to best move about — and not for lieutenants.

  The lieutenants gathered around Shrewsbury’s wardroom table were a bedraggled, exhausted mess. Hollingshed and Slawson, the second lieutenant returned to Shrewsbury when the Hanoverese prize he’d commanded was turned over to the Nouvelle Paris prize court, had managed to bathe, but the rest, Alexis included, had, at best, managed to throw on fresh clothing before coming to table.

  The winds had, indeed, become more variable outside the influence of the Nouvelle Paris system, but they hadn’t varied to be fair for Wellice. Captain Euell had kept the crew hard at work in an effort to accommodate Mister Eades’ call for all possible speed, but he’d finally called them in for a late supper and, Alexis dearly hoped, a night of easier sailing.

  “I hear we’ve you to thank for this, Carew,” Barr said, easing himself in his seat.

  “Not mine and I see no sense in it,” Alexis countered. “It’s Eades that wants the speed put on.”

  “It’s a month’s sail to Wellice,” Hollingshed said. “Does he think a few moments here at the start will make a difference?”

  “I don’t know,” Alexis admitted. “He was simply in a rush to leave as soon as …” She trailed off. Shrewsbury’s purpose, and her own, was still something of a secret.

  “I hear you’ll be leaving us again at Wellice, though?” Hollingshed asked.


  Well, as much a secret as one can have aboard ship.

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be shut of the gundeck for a few weeks at least,” Hollingshed said. “At least there’s that.”

  Alexis had to smile despite her fatigue. Hollingshed’s dislike of the chaotic gundecks was well known. He much preferred the order of the quarterdeck during an action.

  “Has it been so terrible?” she asked.

  “Listening to him whinge about it after every drill has been terrible,” Barr said.

  Hollingshed huffed.

  “All that running about,” he muttered, then raised an eyebrow at Alexis. “Your protégé has come along, though.”

  “Protégé?”

  “Young Artley,” Barr said. “The lad’s improved a good deal all around.”

  “I certainly can’t take any credit for that,” Alexis said. “I’ve hardly been here.”

  “Hm,” Nesbit said with a glance at Hollingshed. “You know, Artley’s not only improved on the gundeck. He’s put it about that he’s in the Navy to stay.”

  Alexis had to raise an eyebrow at that.

  “Oh, yes,” Hollingshed said. “Says he’s going to be just like the, ah, how does he put it?”

  “Be just like the finest officer he’s ever seen,” Nesbit said with a grin.

  Alexis sighed with relief. If Artley had settled with himself that he was in the Navy and determined to make the best of it, then that was one worry off her shoulders. As for patterning himself after a favorite officer, well, she often did the same. If there came a situation she was unsure of how to handle, she’d often consider what her first captain, Captain Grantham, or even his first lieutenant, Caruthers, might handle it.

  “Captain Euell’s a fine officer,” she said. “Artley could certainly choose a worse man to model himself after.”

  Hollingshed and Nesbit shared a look. Nesbit shook his head.

  “You’re a wonder, Carew. You really are.”

  “So who are you to meet on Wellice?” Hollingshed asked. “Sure to be a letdown after running about with the French.”

  “I’m not at all sure,” Alexis said. “I’d never think there was something worse than the French bureaucrats, but any time I ask Mister Eades about this mysterious meeting he simply says, ‘I’ve just the man for it,’ and then — and it’s most disturbing — he smiles.”

  Twenty

  Avrel Dansby was the epitome of a New London gentleman. Well-dressed, well-groomed, well-spoken — not titled, certainly, but clearly the holder of so much wealth that marrying a title would not be entirely out of the question at some point. He was, perhaps, fifty years of age, but a full head of dark hair still framed a handsome face with a well-tended mustache and goatee to match. His dress was conservative, and spoke of dark, quiet shops where one certainly never left with one’s purchases that day, for they would be run up especially for you and delivered to your home.

  Alexis distrusted him immediately.

  It was something about the man’s eyes. A distance, a hardness that went beyond what she’d expect to see even in a new hand sent straight from the gaols. Her first sight of the man reminded her, unsettlingly, of the pirate captain Horsfall she’d encountered aboard her first ship, and she sensed something in him that was far at odds with his dress and manners.

  Though able to afford a better dentist than Horsfall, at least.

  “Lieutenant Carew,” Dansby said as Eades introduced them. He held out his hand and Alexis forced herself to take it.

  “Mister Dansby,” she said.

  Some of her thoughts must have made their way into her tone, for Dansby’s eyes narrowed and he looked her up and down as he released her hand.

  Eades looked from one to the other and smiled thinly. “Yes, I can see this will go swimmingly, won’t it?” He gestured to the table. “Let’s have a seat, shall we?”

  Alexis and Dansby went to opposite ends of the table, seemingly by some unspoken agreement, and sat. Eades took a seat along one of the table’s longer sides. He pressed a spot on the table to summon the pub’s waitstaff. “How remarkable,” he said, looking again from one end of the table to the other. “Rather like sitting down to sup with a mongoose and a cobra.”

  “And which do you name me, Eades?” Dansby asked, never taking his eyes from Alexis.

  “The snake,” Alexis said without thinking.

  Dansby smiled. “Yes, I suppose you are the cute, cuddly one.”

  Alexis flushed as a servant entered. Eades asked for wine to be served and a spare bottle left, then privacy. She resisted the impulse to grasp her glass and drain it immediately in an attempt to settle her nerves as Dansby continued to stare at her.

  “Perhaps, Mister Dansby,” she said, “but with teeth still, I’ll trust you to remember.”

  “Children,” Eades chided as the servant left. He tucked his nose into his glass and inhaled deeply. “Your natural and understandable animosity aside, please, do attempt to behave in a civilized manner, will you?”

  “‘Natural and understandable’, Mister Eades?” Alexis asked. It sounded like Eades had expected her and Dansby to dislike each other, which begged the question why he’d introduce them in the first place.

  “Of course, Miss Carew. What else would one expect of a Naval officer and a pirate?”

  “I prefer entrepreneur, Eades,” Dansby said. “And that particular enterprise was long ago, in any case. A bit gauche for me these days.”

  Alexis looked at Eades in surprise. The Foreign Office had dealings with pirates? Even former pirates? Though at least now she understood her dislike for Dansby. She thought of the pirates she’d encountered aboard Merlin. The image of a merchant spacer’s crew, bodies stacked like cordwood came to mind.

  “Well you shall both set aside your differences,” Eades said, “as Her Majesty has need of your services.”

  “I’ve long since paid that debt, Eades,” Dansby said. “I’m a respectable man of business these days.”

  “I rather doubt that debt is paid, Mister Dansby,” Alexis said, “as I see no noose about your neck.”

  “Her Majesty’s Government found other, more important, uses for me, Miss Carew. The debt was paid long ago.” He turned his gaze to Eades. “In full and more, as I recall.”

  Eades cleared his throat. “Attend to me, children, and stop your bickering.” He pulled out his tablet and set it on the table. “Her Majesty has some additional requirements of you, Dansby.”

  “Then tell me what it is and we’ll discuss my fee,” Dansby said. He sat back in his chair and smiled. “I’ve a full pardon for all that went before.”

  “Yes,” Eades said. He smiled thinly. “All that went before — and though piracy may no longer be in it, there are still, shall we say, undertakings of a less than strictly legal nature.” He scanned his tablet. “Celeste, currently bound for Fieldbank. Maria, for Springdell. Katherine, for Northby.” As Eades spoke, Alexis saw Dansby’s eyes narrow and he sat forward again. “Should I continue, Mister Dansby? And should those ships, perhaps, be visited by a Naval inspection, rather than local customs officers?”

  Dansby echoed Eades’ smile. “I am, of course, entirely at the service of Her Majesty and Her Government.”

  “Indeed,” Eades said.

  Dansby drained his glass. “So what is this business?” he asked.

  “We simply wish you to transport Miss Carew to a certain place and return her safely here.”

  “Where?”

  “First your assurances that you understand this is not to be spoken of at all. This task will, I’m afraid, be bound by the Official Secrets Act.”

  “Of course,” Dansby said, waving a hand. “Yes. It usually is, isn’t it? Where am I going?”

  “Somewhere in Hanover.”

  “I assumed that, Eades. They’re the only ones we’ve a war on with at the moment. Where in Hanover?”

  Eades grimaced, looking uncomfortable.

  “Unfortunately, that is informati
on we do not have at this time. You are to use your own contacts to determine the whereabouts of a certain Hanoverese fleet, the Berry March fleet commanded by a Commodore Balestra. You will then put Carew in a position to make contact with certain officers of that fleet.”

  Dansby laughed. “Oh, so I’m to just sail into Hanover and start asking about their fleet movements, am I? You’re mad.”

  “That is the task required of you, Mister Dansby.”

  “And you?” Dansby looked Alexis up and down. “I can play a smuggler easy enough. I bring a load of goods the Hanoverese want and they’ll welcome me. But you?” He snorted.

  “Mister Eades and I have already discussed my role, sir,” Alexis said. She had her own doubts about the entire enterprise, but didn’t want to voice them. No matter if she agreed with Dansby that the risk was great, the thought of voicing agreement to the vile man irked her. “I shall be a lady from the Berry March who’s taken passage on your ship to find a brother serving with the fleet. C’est une ruse crédible, n’est ce pas?”

  “No,” Dansby said. “No, it is not a believable ruse at all.” He nodded at Eades. “He come up with that?” He drained his glass. “No. No girl from the March would take passage on my ship with my crew. Lord, girl, you’d have to play at being the dimmest bulb in the bunch to make that story stick. Any half-sensible girl would run screaming from my crew. No.” He frowned and rubbed a finger along his lips. “No, you’re not from the March at all. In fact, you’re my niece. A distant niece, mind you. And come aboard to learn the trade. That’ll explain your presence and allow me to keep watch over you.”

  Alexis bristled. “I’ve no need of a watchman, Mister Dansby. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  Dansby looked her over, an irritatingly smug grin on his face. “You haven’t met my lads yet, girl.”

  Alexis met his gaze, attempting to display a calmness she didn’t truly feel. “Nor have they met me, sir.”