Mutineer

by Sutherland, J. A.

  “We, the three of us, have reviewed Hermione’s log with Mister Humphry and Mister Lonsdale,” Crandall said finally. “We believe, at this time, that we have sufficient information to render a decision in this case, do you understand?”

  Alexis stared at him in shock. Humphry, worthless as he was, wasn’t here and she’d not been allowed to speak a word in her own defense, but they’d made a decision? She considered objecting, but what good would it do? Lonsdale had, at least, seemed to have expressed some sympathy for what was to come. Her shoulders sagged and she looked down at the table. “I believe I do, sir.”

  “There are contingencies to this decision, Mister Carew,” Crandall said. “Contingencies you will be expected to abide by, so listen carefully, if you please.”

  Alexis looked up, suddenly hopeful. I can’t very well have to abide by anything if I’m hung, now can I? Possibly she’d survive this mess — dismissal from the service wouldn’t be the worst outcome.

  “The Court will shortly announce its decision to the public,” Crandall was saying. “Our finding is that you are blameless as to all counts.”

  Alexis felt herself pale in shock, a chill running through her. Blameless? From Crandall’s talk about contingencies, she’d expected to be found guilty of something and receive a sentence less than hanging. Possibly, if she were lucky, to be acquitted of some of the charges. But blameless? That went beyond acquittal. It was a statement from the Court that the charges should never have been brought, that they were baseless and unfounded. It was a very public rebuke of Captain Neals.

  “The decision is public,” Crandall continued sternly. “The proceedings are not. These proceedings, all testimony, and, most particularly, the log of H.M.S. Hermione are to be sealed. You are not to speak of these things to anyone at any time in the future, do you understand?”

  Alexis felt her jaw tremble and her eyes burned. Speak about it? I don’t want to ever bloody think about Hermione again! She swallowed and cleared her throat. “I understand, sir.”

  “You will be discharged from this courtroom and go immediately to a new ship —” Crandall took a deep breath. “A happier ship than Hermione, I should hope, but far from Penduli.”

  They want nothing said about it. They want to hide what Neals did as much as they can. With the threat of hanging no longer over her, it was like a veil had been lifted from her thoughts. She was thinking more clearly than she had in days. Whoever it was who said the threat of hanging clarifies the mind was quite mistaken.

  “Sirs … where did the log come from?” she asked. The invasion alarm … it must have been Delaine.

  “Mind your place!” Barks said. “And do as you’re told if you know what’s good for you!”

  Crandall waved a hand at him. “I was going to inquire if she had any questions, regardless. She’s a right to know some things.”

  Barks sat back, jaw clenched and red-faced.

  “A Hanoverese brig,” Crandall said. “Sailed in bold as brass with a flag of truce flying.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Alexis said, suppressing a smile. She could almost picture Delaine handing over the log with a grin and some outrageous comment. She lowered her gaze. “And is Captain Neals’ case decided as well, sir?”

  Crandall paused for a moment. “Captain Neals and his officers, yourself included, will be acquitted of the loss of Hermione. The ship is found to have been lost due to mutiny, through no fault by any of her officers.”

  Alexis closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She might be doing herself in, but she couldn’t remain silent. She’d done too much of that aboard Hermione.

  “He can’t be allowed to command a ship again, sirs, please! You don’t know what it was like!”

  “You forget yourself!” Barks yelled.

  Hazlewood held up a hand. “It is likely, Mister Carew,” he said, “that Captain Neals has been … much affected by his ordeal in captivity. I believe he will find the need to rest and … recover himself.”

  “Should he return to service,” Crandall said, “it will certainly be some shore position and not a spacegoing command. He will remain upon the Captain’s List, of course, and one day may be promoted to admiral.” Crandall spared a glance for Barks. “Of the Yellow.”

  Alexis wanted to protest, to insist that something more must be done, but she could see it would be pointless. They clearly wanted nothing more said about the events aboard Hermione, and doing any more to Neals would require some public reason. But if he was kept ashore he’d not have the power over the men he possessed in space. There’d be a Port Admiral looking over his shoulder all his days and there to review every bit of discipline. Being an admiral of the Yellow Squadron one day would be no honor for him — the Yellow Squadron had no ships. It was a resting place, a dumping ground for those too politically powerful or embarrassing to dismiss, but too incompetent or dangerous to allow in a command.

  Hazlewood nodded to her. “The best interests of Her Majesty’s Service.” He shrugged. “If you take our meaning.”

  “I understand, sir.” She did. She longed to see Neals punished, but clearly there were naval politics to consider. She bit her lip. “And the men, sir?”

  Crandall sighed. “Those who ran, obviously, will be convicted of mutiny, there’s no doubt about their guilt. Most of those who came back with you will be acquitted. We’ll have to review their cases still.”

  Alexis felt the shock go through her. She’d expected that those who’d run would be convicted in absentia, there was no getting around that. But they still intended to try the men who’d come back with her? And possibly convict them?

  Of course, they need to hang someone. Saying they’ll hang those who’ve already escaped them isn’t enough — they need bodies on the gallows today.

  She closed her eyes, silently praying for strength. Why? Why must it be so hard?

  “No,” she said, standing. She met each of the captains’ eyes in turn, seeing the shocked looks on their faces. “I cannot accept your conditions, sirs.”

  “Are you mad, Carew?” Barks asked.

  I get asked that so very often … perhaps I should consider the possibility. “There’s not a one of my lads more guilty than I, sirs,” she said. “You can’t hang them.” She smiled, realizing that she had card left to play. Thank you, Delaine, for my life and those of my lads. “And you’ll realize that yourselves, if you’ll give it a moment’s thought, sirs.”

  “What are you saying, Carew?” Barks asked.

  “You want this kept quiet, sir,” Alexis said. “Even I can see that. You want nothing said about the log and what happened aboard Hermione, but you can’t have that if you harm my lads.”

  Barks’ face reddened and he half stood, but Crandall was looking at her with an odd half-smile and Hazlewood was staring at her intently, though not unkindly.

  “Don’t bargain with us, Carew!” Barks yelled. “We can just as easily hang the lot of you and keep the whole mess quiet!”

  “No, sir, you can’t.” Alexis squared her shoulders and met his gaze evenly. “You forget where you received the log from in the first place, I think. My guess is that Hanoverese brig is still in port, yes? And I’m sure you must suspect they’ve kept a copy or two.”

  Barks’ face was scarlet now and his eyes wide. “That’s treason, Carew. You’d ask them to release the log if you don’t get your way?”

  Alexis steeled herself, trying not to show how afraid she was. If this didn’t work, then they likely would hang her along with the men, but she had to try.

  “Never, sir. But inaction is not treason. And if a single one of my lads is harmed, I’ll not ask the Hanoverese not to release it.”

  Captain Hazlewood cleared his throat. He leaned forward, regarding her with narrowed eyes. “Why are you doing this, Carew? You were free and clear a moment ago.”

  Alexis looked at him for a moment. How could he even ask? Why was it even a question for him? She felt like the vision of the Navy she’d had aboard Merlin
was just that, a vision that existed nowhere else. Perhaps it would be best if she went back to Dalthus, if the home she’d thought she’d found here truly didn’t exist.

  Then she realized that it did exist. She’d seen it even aboard Hermione — in Boxer offering her his own bit for a meal, in Nabb’s sacrifice to keep the rest of her division out of the mutiny, even in the simple gesture the crew had made in building her a proper bath. They returned the love and loyalty she felt for them, and that was what she’d seen in Captain Grantham and his officers.

  Two Navies. Williard had been right about that, though not about what should be done about it. Captain Grantham’s Navy was fighting two wars — one with Hanover and one with the likes of Neals within its very midst. She could no more abandon him and those like him to fight alone than she could have left her lads back on Giron.

  “They stood with me, sir,” she said. “Aboard ship, in prison, during the escape … even through this trial — to a man, they stood.” She shook her head slowly, bewildered that it even had to be said. “I … would you truly have me do less?”

  Hazlewood nodded and turned his head to look at Barks. “I’m with Crandall about the men, Captain Barks. I see no need to drag it out.”

  Barks stared at him open mouthed for a moment. “You’ll take her word for their innocence?”

  “Yes,” Hazlewood said simply. “Yes, I will.”

  “And it solves our problem, Barks,” Crandall said. “You know the Hanoverese would love nothing more than to embarrass us with that bloody log. What do you think that young lieutenant will say if you ask him to keep it quiet?”

  “You think her asking will make a difference?”

  Crandall shrugged. “I think it is the only possibility,” he said then looked at Alexis. “And I think I should not like to bet against this officer, if she says that she will do a thing.”

  Hazlewood stared at Barks until he nodded, then turned back to Alexis. “None of the crew …” His lips twitched. “None of your lads will hang, Mister Carew. They’ll be split off to other ships, mind you — we can’t have them together after this — but they’ll not be harmed. Will that satisfy you?”

  “Yes, sir.” Alexis sank back into her seat, eyes closed. She’d not see them again, but that was the way of the Navy in any case, constantly changing ships. They’d be safe from this, at least. “Thank you.”

  “I’m with Crandall on the other thing, as well, Barks,” Hazlewood said, “so let’s be about it.”

  Barks clenched his jaw. “I’ll give no leeway on this,” he said stiffly.

  “I rather suspect she’ll need none,” Hazlewood said.

  Alexis looked from one to the other, confused.

  “May we begin it, then?” Crandall asked.

  Hazlewood nodded to the lieutenant. Alexis had completely forgotten his presence, concentrating on the three captains. The lieutenant walked over to where she was seated and laid a short coil of thin ship’s line on the table in front of her.

  If they want me to hang myself, I’ll need more rope than that.

  Crandall smiled at her. “Will you tie for me a sheepshank, Mister Carew?”

  Alexis looked from the coil of line to the captains. She frowned, not understanding why they asked this, but picked up the line and quickly tied it into the requested knot.

  “Thank you, Mister Carew.”

  The lieutenant placed three long rods on the table, then returned to stand behind the captains.

  Hazlewood gestured to the rods. “Your mainyard has split at the crosstrees, Mister Carew, please splice it.”

  Alexis stared from the rods to the captains and back again. “Sir, I don’t understand …”

  “Your mainyard, Mister Carew! Splice it. Lively now!”

  Alexis jumped, and scooped up the rods after quickly straightening the knotted line. The rods were far smaller than a mast’s yard, of course, and the line too thick by far for the scale, but she managed to make the turns of rope required and shortly had the three pieces bound in some semblance of a spliced yard, using one of the pieces to brace the other two. It was a common enough repair when a new yard couldn’t be fashioned and brought outboard. As she gently placed the bound rods on the table, her heart beat faster and she realized, or at least suspected, what was happening.

  “You can’t,” she whispered.

  One corner of Hazlewood’s mouth rose and Captain Barks raised his eyebrows.

  “We are three Post Captains at a quite remote station and in time of war, Mister Carew,” Hazlewood said. “You will find, in fact, that there is remarkably little we cannot do.”

  “You are on the quarterdeck of a sloop, Mister Carew,” Crandall said, “much like your previous ship, Merlin, if you will. You are close-hauled on the starboard tack, with darkspace shoals to leeward and a ten knot wind. A kilometer off, the shoals extend into your path. What will you do?”

  “I’ve not three years,” Alexis whispered, dazed. They really did intend to examine her for lieutenant, not minutes after she sat trial for mutiny. A looking glass, indeed. But a promotion to lieutenant required three full years in service as a midshipman. “Not even two.”

  “A bloody war,” Crandall said. “It’s what hungry young midshipmen and lieutenants crave, Mister Carew, and cast toasts to around the gunroom table. Men die and their juniors are promoted to replace them. Peacetime rules do not apply.”

  “And you’ve had, by my count, command of a full three ships, Mister Carew. Not just idle prizes, but under trying circumstance,” Hazlewood said. His face grew grim. “This war has been bloodier than most, and I’ll not waste another day of you as a midshipman, Carew. As Lieutenant Lonsdale pointed out to us — our duty is justice and the best interests of Her Majesty’s Service.” He smiled. “It’s rare enough we can satisfy both with one act, so I’ll not waste that chance either.”

  “Your ship, Carew!” Barks yelled. “The shoals are now eight hundred meters off and you draw nearer!”

  “Wear ship,” Alexis said, leaning forward in her chair. She saw a look of surprise cross Crandall’s face. “My Merlin could wear in half that distance, Captain Crandall, without the risks of tacking into irons.” She squared her shoulders and gazed back at them calmly. “And my lads would have no trouble doing so, or I’ll know the reason why.”

  “Not another wasted day, Carew,” Hazlewood said, smiling broadly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Alexis slumped against the bulkhead as the courtroom’s hatch slid closed behind her. The corridor had been cleared of people, save for a single marine outside the hatch, and hatches at either end of the corridor had been closed as well. Captain Crandall had told her she’d be escorted well-away from the courtroom in order to avoid crowds and questions before the court announced its verdict.

  She realized her hands were shaking and she was soaked with sweat. The examination had in some ways been more grueling and stressful than the trial itself. The knot tying and questions of fact, naming sails and such, had not been bad at all, but the situations … suddenly appearing enemy ships, fires in the galley just as one went into action, dismasted by squalls, shot that holed the quarterdeck, dismasted by enemy fire, failure of the fusion plant during action, and to leeward nothing but bloody shoals. Good lord, they’re fairly wed to leeward shoals and made a mistress of dismasting. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  I shall message Stanford Roland immediately and apologize for ever making fun of his fear of this.

  No, she reconsidered. No, Roland would not take the news kindly — he’d stood for lieutenant too many times before passing. While she … Alexis opened her eyes and raised the paper she held in her hand. Real paper, all archaic in proper, traditional, Navy-fashion, festooned with red wax seals and an actual ribbon to tie it closed. Signed with their names, even, and not a proper thumbprint. But signed, indeed, by all three captains and naming her, Alexis Arleen Carew, as a fully commissioned lieutenant in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.

&nbs
p; Commissioned and promoted, she thought with glee, grinning widely. Not just a passed midshipman, stuck in that role until a lieutenant’s position opened, but fully promoted and ordered to report aboard ship as such. Her grin fell a bit. A ship she was to meet almost six week’s travel from Penduli — still on the border, still part of the war with Hanover, but far, far away from Penduli and the events on Hermione.

  The captains of the court martial were clearly trying to keep these events quiet. They’d said as much to her, ordered even, as part of the decision they’d announce would be that the entire proceedings, even those that had been held in open court, were to be sealed and never spoken of. Not even the spectators who’d been present would be allowed to speak of it. And part of her wondered if she really deserved the document she held or if it was simply a sop … payment to keep her quiet. She thought she’d done well in the examination, but …

  “Rough examination, sir?” the marine asked.

  Alexis looked at him and felt her face grow hot as she realized she’d been leaning against the bulkhead for quite a long time.

  “Are any of them not?” she asked, feeling her grin return.

  That got her a smile in return. “Seen a passel of midshipman who’d agree with that,” he said. His face sobered. “Begging your pardon, sir,” he added quietly, “but I’m right glad the truth come out for you in there.”

  Alexis nodded. “Thank you.” She shouldn’t be surprised he knew the details, they were likely already known by all the hands aboard station. Captains and admirals could order what they wished, but the rumor and details would make the rounds below decks before the orders had left their lips. She clutched her commission papers tightly, suddenly realizing what else they meant.

  The commission was issued by Admiralty, but it bore the name of the Queen. While a midshipman served at the whim of her captain, liable for dismissal or disrating at his word, the same could not be done to a lieutenant. There were other, subtler, ways a captain could use to destroy a lieutenant’s career, but outright dismissal wasn’t possible — he’d have to ask for a full court martial and explain his reasons.