She squared her shoulders, eyes suddenly narrowed and flashing. “I believe that’s ‘Mister Carew’, now I’ve signed the Articles, Doakes.” Deliberately leaving off his honorific. “You may not believe I’m a midshipman, you may not like it, sir, but you will accept it!” She stepped closer and placed her palms flat on the counter. “And you will provide me a midshipman’s kit this very minute!” Doakes opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off quickly, remembering a phrase she’d heard the bosun use to a hand who’d been lagging behind. “Lively now, Doakes!” she barked. “Or I’ll know the reason why!”
The chandler shut his mouth quickly and bent to his tablet. “Aye sir,” he murmured. He slid off his stool and nodded to her. “I’ll just be a moment in the back putting things together.”
Alexis watched him go, satisfied that he was moving, but a bit uncertain as to whether he’d fulfill her needs. She took a deep breath and realized that her hands were shaking — in general she’d not had confrontations such as this with her grandfather’s hands, and she thought, suddenly, that there might be some truth to her concern that much of their obedience and respect had been for him, and not entirely for her. Well then, when I do gain the spacers’ respect, I’ll know it’s mine alone.
She heard the door to the chandlery open and Lieutenant Caruthers entered.
“Well said, Mister Carew,” he told her quietly, coming to stand beside her and staring after the retreating chandler. “Well said, indeed.”
“You heard me, sir?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I …”
Caruthers chuckled. “I suspect they heard you aboard ship, Mister Carew. I’d not have expected you to have lungs so great as that.”
“I suppose not, sir,” Alexis agreed, glancing down at her slight form. Caruthers looked over at her, his grin faltering as he saw the direction of her gaze.
“I meant …” he began. “That is to say …” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, squared his shoulders, and moved his gaze to the doorway Doakes had fled through as though he might like to follow the chandler. “I meant no offense, I assure you.”
Alexis laughed. “I was raised quite roughly, lieutenant,” she assured him. “I’d not take offense at an innocent comment. Nor a good-naturedly wicked one, for that matter.”
“Thank you, Mister Carew. I imagine there’ll be a bit of adjustment needed for all of us in this, and no few awkward moments.”
Alexis considered his words. “And the form of address will help with that, yes?”
“Yes, I imagine so. Keep the men reminded that you’re an officer.”
“I believe I understand, sir.”
Caruthers grinned widely. “If you begin to understand the Navy on your first day, Mister Carew, then you’re well ahead of most midshipmen. And some lieutenants, I assure you. Now,” he continued, “I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up a list of things you might find useful, in addition to the standard midshipman’s kit. You having no naval history, so to speak.” He handed over his tablet for her to inspect.
She saw the first item on the list and said, “I’m not much of a wine drinker, sir. I’ve little head for it.”
“You’ll be wanting something that isn’t mixed with the ship’s water. Several months in space, you see. No matter how good the ship’s systems, most spacers claim they can tell when the water supply’s been through the recyclers a time too many. Even the coffee and tea get thrown off a bit by it. So select something you care to drink, but I’d suggest you keep a case of wine for sharing with the other midshipmen — for toasting and such. And there are some other items on that list which you may not care for, but I know Roland and Easely do. A bit of judicious bribery’s never gone amiss in a midshipman’s berth.”
“I see, sir. Thank you.” She handed the tablet back to Caruthers. “I believe I should be guided by you in this, sir. Though it does seem quite a lot.”
“You’ll be surprised at what you’ll wish you had aboard ship — and how quickly it will run out. Spend a week on ship’s rations and you’ll better understand the need for occasional luxuries. Of course, nearer the Core Worlds, we’d have access to more options, out here it’s all as nature made it, so to speak.”
At that moment, Doakes returned from the back room with a large, canvas duffel bag. “I’ve everything here, but you’ll be needing an officer to sign for it, and I’ll make no guarantees to the fit, small as you are.” He’d stopped as he saw Caruthers. “Ah, lieutenant,” he’d greeted him with a wink. “Is this your ‘midshipman’ then?”
Caruthers eyed the man coldly. “I believe she’d be the Queen’s midshipman, Mister Doakes. Is that the kit you’ve prepared for her?” He stepped up to the shop’s counter and ran a hand over the surface. “Lay it out here, if you please, sir. I’ll just have a look before it’s sent aboard.”
Doakes paled visibly. “Well, sir,” he’d stammered. “Might not be all complete. Just getting started at putting it together, you see.”
“I do see, Mister Doakes. Quite clearly.”
Doakes begun unpacking the bag onto the counter and Alexis got her first glimpse of the possessions she’d be starting her new life with. “I’ve obviously none of the … well, the articles of a feminine nature, you understand lieutenant? No call for them out here, least for the Navy lads. Some on the merchant crews, of course, but they mostly stick to the civilian shops.”
“I can’t fault you for that, Mister Doakes.” Caruthers deftly sorted the contents of the bag. He quickly counted and set to the side piles of undershorts, undershirts, stockings and a stack of dark blue jumpsuits. “I believe there are supposed to be six of each of these, not four, Mister Doakes.”
“Must’ve miscounted,” Doakes murmured quietly.
“And the sizes are rather off, I think, sir.” He’d held up a pair of undershorts that would voluminous even on the lieutenant himself. “Have you, perhaps, mistaken our Mister Carew for a bosun overly fond of the mess table?”
“Might be there’s some’at smaller in the back,” the chandler muttered, then defiantly: “But naught that’ll fit her right off! I’ve nothing that small and no cause to! The young ones join ship closer in, not out here!”
“I understand, Mister Doakes. We’ve skills enough aboard to make do, given a decent start.” He eyed the rest of the items skeptically. “Would you, perhaps, prefer to make another go of it, all entire, sir?”
Doakes nodded gratefully and scooped everything off the counter.
“Excellent.” He slid his tablet with the list of other supplies onto the counter. “And before you do so, would you kindly see these other items packaged up and sent ahead to Merlin under Mister Carew’s name? You have the orders from Captain Grantham and myself, as well, I believe?”
“I do sir, all packed up and being loaded by your crew this minute,” Doakes assured him as he reviewed the tablet.
“Very good.” Caruthers smiled. “Then as soon as you’ve completed Mister Carew’s kit, we will see the reckoning and let you be about your day. Oh, and would you be so kind as to bring one of Merlin’s men along when you return?”
“Just be a minute,” Doakes muttered, throwing Alexis a dark look before hurrying away.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Pursers and chandlers, Mister Carew. One daren’t trust them.”
Some time later, Doakes returned with a much heavier looking bag and one of the spacers from Merlin. “Will you be wanting to inspect the kit again, lieutenant?” he asked.
“That won’t be necessary, I think. I’m sure our bosun will be happy to come down again and retrieve anything that might have been missed … in any of our orders, you understand.”
Doakes swallowed heavily. “Won’t be needing that, I’m sure, lieutenant. I’ll … ah, I’ll be checking what’s your men are loading again myself, just after your midshipman’s reckoning here.” He slid his own tablet onto the counter.
Alexis stared in shock for a moment, as the amount was quite more than she could believe.
Midshipman’s kit, it read: Undershorts (6 at 8 pence); undershirts (6 at 10 pence); stockings (6 at 6 pence); ship’s jumpsuit (6 at 1 shilling, 2 pence); ship’s boots (3 shillings); dress tunic, midshipman insignia attached (2 pounds, 5 shillings); dress trousers (1 pound, 4 shillings); beret, dress and everyday midshipman insignia attached (10 shillings); dress boots (2 pounds); stockings, silk (2 at 17 shillings, 4 pence); items of a personal nature (4 shillings); vacuum suit (13 pounds, 10 shillings); ship’s tablet (15 pounds, 8 shillings).
The rest of the items were those added by Lieutenant Caruthers: claret (12 bottles at 5 shillings); mixed tea, liter bottles (12 at 4 pence); cheese, kilogram (4 at 4 pence); eggs, dozen (6 at 3 pence); butter, kilogram (4 at 8 pence); mutton, frozen and packed for shipboard, kilogram (3 at 10 pence); assorted fruits and vegetables, frozen, packed for shipboard, kilogram (8 at 10 pence); chickens, whole, frozen, packed for shipboard (8 at 1 shilling); beef roast, frozen, packed for shipboard (3 at 1 shilling, 6 pence); chocolate, kilogram (2 at 5 shillings); coffee, kilogram (1 at 4 shillings, 9 pence); tea, kilogram (2 at 7 shillings, 6 pence).
Even with her grandfather having supplied several hams and kilograms of bacon and sausage, the total stood out shockingly to her, 43 pounds, 18 shillings, 7 pence.
Alexis raised her hand to her mouth. “Lieutenant, this is too much! It’s more than my pay for a year, sir!”
“And now you can see why new midshipmen typically come from wealthy families.” He grinned. “Or spend some time indebted to Her Majesty, if they do not.” He slid the tablet from in front of her and reviewed it quickly. “Submit that to the ship, Mister Doakes. Captain Grantham’s account.” Alexis started to protest again, but he cut her off. “This is decided, Mister Carew. Captain Grantham instructed me to see you well situated to start, and I intend to do so. There will be no argument on this point.”
“Aye sir,” she agreed, grudgingly. “But perhaps, I might forgo those extras and make do with ship’s rations for a month or two? Surely they can’t be as awful as all that?” The majority of the expense was the midshipman’s kit, of course, but even the six pounds for those extras seemed an extravagance. The spacer who’d come in with Doakes barked laughter and Alexis wondered what he might be thinking about the expense. It would take him almost four years to earn forty-three pounds and even six pounds was half a year’s wages for a spacer.
“Watch yourself, Acker,” Caruthers chided with a smile. “Shan’t be disparaging our noble purser’s doings, now.”
“Oh no, sir. Never would, me.”
“I assure you once again, Mister Carew, that the captain is acquainted with the expense, considerable though it may be, and believes it a bargain. So I wish to hear no more of it, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, now let’s get you into uniform, so that you look a proper midshipman, shall we?”
It took a moment or two of confusion on everyone’s part to determine exactly where Alexis would change into her new uniform, with Doakes muttering, “proper officers just strip down right there”, and Acker failing to hide his amusement at Lieutenant Caruthers’ discomfiture. Finally it was decided that Alexis would use the chandler’s small office, over Doakes’ objection, but overruled by Caruthers. She took the bag of clothing inside and closed the door, hearing Caruthers call out, “Everyday uniform is what you’ve six of and the boots meant for working, as well as the beret.”
As soon as the door was firmly closed, she dug into the bag and began changing, finding just how poorly sized everything was for her small frame. The undershirt was baggy, with sleeves that, ridiculously, reached past her elbows and the undershorts were just as bad, sliding off her hips and dropping to the floor as soon as she stopped holding them up — just as well that the jumpsuit ballooned and flapped around her, as, at least, it hid the lumps of bunched fabric from the underthings. The sleeves and legs of the jumpsuit, though, had no such advantage, having to be rolled up to an absurd degree to free Alexis’ hands and feet from the fabric. After trying on the boots, she’d given up on them completely, as her feet would come completely out with every step and put her own back on. There was no mirror in Doakes’ office, but she was certain she looked as ridiculous as she felt. At least the beret fits a bit, she told herself. It was still too large for her head, but its inner band was adjustable enough that it didn’t slide down to cover her face. Reluctantly, she cracked open the door to Doakes’ office and peered through at the waiting men.
“It is … very bad, Lieutenant Caruthers,” she warned.
“None of that, Mister Carew. We know it won’t be perfect, but it can’t be all that …” His voice trailed off as Alexis opened the door and stepped out, face turning red as Doakes burst out in laughter, while Acker covered his mouth with a hand to hide his grin. Caruthers merely rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Doakes,” he asked desperately, “are you certain you’ve nothing smaller?”
Doakes wiped his eyes, laughing. “No cause to, sir,” he explained. “She’s the size o’ a twelve-year old boy … Fringe Fleet gets ‘em when they’re sixteen, fifteen, maybe, and filled out some. She ain’t even filled out fer a girl!”
“Mister Doakes!” Caruthers snapped, as Alexis blushed furiously and Acker turned his back, suddenly quite interested in the chandlery’s walls.
“Simple truth, sir, and you can see it yourself. Now, I’ve a seamstress who works to tailor the dress uniforms proper and she can take these in, but it’ll be a day or more.”
“That’s no good. No good at all. Merlin’s to transition and continue her patrol in the morning.”
Acker turned back to the group and ran an appraising eye over Alexis. Still grinning, but not unkindly, he stepped forward. “It’s not so bad, sir,” he said to her. “Well, I mean, it’s bad but not as can’t be fixed.” He gestured at the uniform’s sleeves and legs, which were tightly rolled up. “I’m a dab hand with a needle, if I do say so myself. Do it fer me messmates all the time.” Alexis looked at him hopefully. “Take those legs and sleeves up easy, dart in the sides.” He nodded emphatically. “No trouble at all.”
Caruthers breathed deeply. “Same issue with the vacsuit, I’m sure, but the carpenter can fix that. All right, Acker, I’ll see you have a free watch or two, immediately when we’re back aboard, and you’re to have our Mister Carew looking fit for quarterdeck duty.”
“Aye sir.”
“Thank you, Acker” Alexis told him gratefully.
“No trouble at all, sir,” he assured her.
“Right, then,” Caruthers continued. “We’ll still need to find you some boots that at least resemble proper gear. Have to check some civilian shops, I suppose. Acker, get Mister Carew’s bag and let’s be about it.”
“Aye sir.”
Alexis started to protest that she could carry her own bag, but Acker reassured her, grinning. “Carry your bag or go back ter shoving those pallets o’ stores around, sir — which is it you think I’d rather?”
Alexis smiled gratefully and handed over her bag. “Thank you again, Acker.”
The three of them left the chandlery and Caruthers looked around at the nearby shops. “Perhaps you know of someplace for us to finish this shopping trip, Mister Carew, as this is your home? We’ll need to find boots as close as possible to regulation. And there are some things we officers find it best to supply ourselves outside of the chandlery … soaps and such, for one thing, the purser does supply the ship in bulk, but it’s harsh stuff, and we officers often purchase our own.” He paused and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Not sure of what you prefer, you understand, but I would suggest that you choose something … less floral than you might like? The men, you see …” He trailed off.
“I understand, sir.” Alexis paused, feeling much better now that there was a plan for her uniforms, though still feeling a bit ridiculous in the oversized jumpsuit. “I shall endeavor to cultivate an appropriately manly odor.”
Acker smothered a l
augh as Caruthers took in her deadpan face and nodded. “A fair point, Mister Carew, well and truly struck.” He grinned. “That wit will serve you well in the midshipmen’s berth, and I do look forward to seeing you cross blades with your peers.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Alexis stood still for a moment after the compartment’s door slid shut behind Lieutenant Caruthers. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the dryness and scents of the cool shipboard air unfamiliar. The hours since she’d left her grandfather’s holding had been such a whirlwind of activity and this was the first moment she’d had alone to think and adjust to her new situation. She opened her eyes and glanced around the small compartment, barely two meters square with a door centered in one wall. Along the wall, opposite the door, were two narrow bunks, one atop the other. She sat on the lower bunk and rested her elbows on her knees, closing her eyes again and breathed deeply for a moment. Then, she opened her eyes and looked around the compartment. Her new home.
Her very small new home, she realized.
Her examination didn’t take long. In addition to the door and bunks, the compartment’s walls, all of its surfaces, really, were made of a smooth, white plastic — in fact, that seemed to be what everything on the ship was made of, except for the large compartment they’d entered the ship through, what the lieutenant had told her was called the “gundeck”, where the material had been a deep black.
On the wall opposite the door were two neatly-made, narrow bunks, one over the other. Alexis grasped the edge of the upper one tentatively and found that it would swing upward, folding against the wall and attaching itself there with a strong, magnetic pull. She pulled it down into place again. And that appeared to be the extent of the room’s furnishings. Two bunks.
Into the Dark (Alexis Carew Book 1) Page 6