Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5)

by J. A. Sutherland

  “It does have a certain … flair, doesn’t it?” she muttered.

  “It does, sir,” Isom agreed. “Wouldn’t work aboard a Queen’s ship, of course, but …”

  “But Mongoose is not a Queen’s ship and I am not a Queen’s officer at this time,” Alexis agreed. She thought of the huge fur cape worn by Malcomson, and of the other odd styles she’d seen at Enclave. “I am captain of a private ship in the Barbary, after all.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Well, then.” She straightened her shoulders, feeling how the stays did aid her in keeping a straight back. There was a reason women working farms wore them, after all, even on Dalthus still. She sighed. “Let’s go show the lads what they’ve wrought.”

  “Don’t forget the hat, sir!”

  Alexis turned. “Hat?”

  There was indeed a hat, wide-brimmed with the sides turned up and …

  “Is that a feather?”

  Thirty-Three

  Nearly the entire crew was assembled on Mongoose’s main deck as Alexis exited her quarters. She strode to the edge of the platform from which she could address the crew, boots clicking on the hull and hat, feather and all, atop her head. She stopped and stared out at them.

  Some were smiling, others appeared a little nervous, as though suspecting they might have gone too far, but they relaxed when she tipped the hat and grinned at them.

  “Well, lads, I’ll thank you for your gracious gift,” she said. “It’s not what I’d have bought myself, but it does make a statement and it’s a fine addition to represent our ship after our first prize.” She smiled at the cheers and applause. “The first of many more to come, I hope, after I’ve gone aboard the Hind and met one of our fellows. We’ll be back after prizes soon, and make back the cost of this and more.”

  With that, she made her way to her boat, Nabb and the crew following her.

  The boat made its way to the Hind and docked, after which she made her way through the docking tube.

  Up close, the Hind was even more impressive than at a distance, a solid wall of gallenium-laced hull was nearly all she could see through the boat’s viewscreen.

  It might even be larger than a First Rate, she thought.

  She’d be a slow ship, certainly, with that mass and beam — hard to sail into the wind, such as when leaving a system, but the devil herself running, with four masts rigged, she suspected, for royals.

  A smaller crew than a first rate, though. Certainly not large enough to fight both sides of the ship at once — perhaps not even enough to fight and work sails at the same time. She’d rely on her size and the fear of that first broadside to stave off pirates, who’d likely go looking elsewhere for a prize, rather than risk a taste of that.

  The crew she saw as she came through the docking tube was not what she’d expected at all. Despite being a Marchant Company ship, she’d expected the Hind, being here at the privateering rendezvous, to be much the same as the others she’d encountered.

  Instead of the ill-matched ship’s jumpsuits and rather scruffy lot of the others, the crew of the Hind had an eerie precision. The crew’s jumpsuits were all far too tidy and pressed for Alexis’ comfort and they went about their work with an even more eerie silence. There was none of the hustle and bustle and shouted orders that came with most ships, nor even the hushed murmur of conversations one might encounter on a ship’s make-and-mend day.

  An officer, Alexis wasn’t certain of his rank as his uniform bore an insignia she wasn’t familiar with, met her at the hatch.

  “Welcome aboard Hind,” he said, then paused. “Captain?”

  Alexis nodded. There were no colors as there would be aboard a naval vessel, but there was a large image of the Marchant Company logo, blue waves against a red circle, filling the aft bulkhead. She settled for doffing her hat to that, as she would her beret aboard a Naval vessel, while thinking it did strike one a bit pretentious for a private company to so mimic a nation’s navy.

  The uniforms, she noted, mimicked the Royal Navy as well, but with more gilt and ornamentation than she’d typically expect to find on a Naval officer, even one so enthralled with such things as her former Captain Neals of Hermione.

  “Captain Alexis Carew, of the private ship Mongoose,” she assured the officer, wondering for a moment what she should do with her hat now that she’d doffed it once. It was far larger than her Naval uniform’s beret and the feather would almost drag the upper bulkhead as she walked. She settled for that, rather than leaving it in hand.

  “I see,” the man said. “I’m Lieutenant Hudnall of the Hind, Marchant Company.”

  Alexis nodded greeting, wondering about the “lieutenant” bit and frowning.

  “Has the Hind been brought into the Service, then?” That might explain it, if the Navy were making use of a merchant ship as a sort of irregular sidestep of sending a vessel into the Barbary, Hanoverese space — one could always disavow such a thing if it were found out, much as Alexis and the other privateers could be.

  Hudnall flushed and his jaw tightened, so Alexis assumed she’d gotten that wrong. Quite wrong, given the tone of his answer.

  “The Marchant Company is not ‘brought in’, as you say, captain.”

  “I’m sorry. It was only your rank and uniform that made me think —”

  “The Marchant Company, at least the branch to which the Hind reports, prides itself on its bearing,” Hudnall said. “Perhaps you and your … private ships may find your own attire, but the Marchant Company maintains a respectable image.”

  “The commodore will see you in a moment,” Hudnall told her after leading her aft.

  Alexis frowned at that. No self-respecting Naval officer would take up his flag aboard a merchantman, so what was this commodore about?

  Hudnall gave Alexis another appraising look, which she met with a stare of indifference, but inside she was regretting her decision to wear the new garb. Or, rather, part of her was — while another part was wishing she had the fur cape and skintight leathern breeches Malcomson wore.

  The Hind was not the privateer she’d come to expect and thought it to be. Instead, the officers she’d seen, not just Hudnall, wore neat, matching uniforms of the Marchant Company, as did all the spacers. It was quite like the Royal Navy in that regard … in fact, it was more like the Royal Navy than the Royal Navy, if one got down to how the Navy actually looked.

  Her outfit hadn’t seemed so out of place aboard Mongoose, with the crew in a motley collection of whatever they’d collected over the years, but on the Hind, she stuck out distinctly — not least because of the number of shined surfaces on the Hind’s quarterdeck from which the colors of her boots and stays were reflecting.

  Hudnall’s words also gave her pause about this meeting, as if this “commodore” was aboard a Marchant ship, a private ship, no matter their airs, then she rather expected she wouldn’t get on with him at all. Hudnall’s claim of a lieutenancy and, more, this commodore-nonsense, was striking her as disrespectful to the Service, and she didn’t like it one bit.

  Her greeting was also not what she was expecting, as it wasn’t typical, outside of the Navy where a superior might make a point of it, to have a visiting captain cool her heels before being greeted. At the least, she should have been seen into the Hind’s master’s cabin and offered refreshment while the ship’s captain, saw to whatever business he was about.

  She’d worked Mongoose hard to arrive here within the rendezvous window — her crew had worked hard to do so — and to be kept cooling her heels by some self-styled commodore was —

  A man Alexis instantly took for an officer’s steward poked his head through the hatch to the Hind’s master’s cabin.

  “Captain Carew?”

  Alexis nodded, though she wondered at the question. Were there so many strangers standing about Hind’s passageways that he’d felt the need to confirm her identity?

  She shoved that question aside, noting her irritability and determined not to let it show.
/>   “Commodore Skanes will see you now,” the man said.

  Alexis followed him through to another surprise. She wasn’t expecting to find a woman behind the table in the Hind’s master’s cabin … and that woman was, by all indications, not expecting to see Alexis. At least not as she was.

  They stared at each other for a moment, before the woman motioned Alexis to sit.

  “Carew, was it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Commodore Alurea Skanes, Marchant Company. Please, do sit. Tabron! Wine, please.”

  The man who’d ushered her in hurriedly placed a glass before Alexis and poured, confirming his role.

  “Thank you … ah, sir.”

  Skanes’ head came up at that. “Navy, were you?”

  Alexis nodded. “Yes, sir. On half-pay now, though.”

  It occurred to her that Skanes might be as well — a thing that might go a ways toward explaining the woman’s attitude and claim of rank — but was soon disabused of that notion.

  “Well, I’ll have none of that ‘sir’ nonsense here, if you please. The Marchant Company doesn’t stand by that foolishness.”

  “I see … ma’am, then?”

  “That’ll do — or Commodore Skanes or simply commodore, if you must. So, do you have a report for me?”

  Alexis blinked. Eades had said nothing of commodores or reports, only that those private ships in the Barbary might, from time to time, meet and exchange news at this particular place.

  “I’m sorry, ah, Commodore Skanes,” Alexis said, still finding, oddly, that “ma’am” did not come at all naturally to her after so much time in the Navy. “I wasn’t aware that we’d be reporting on anything.”

  Or to anyone, she thought, but did not say aloud.

  “I want reports of what’s going on, so kindly have something of your actions so far written up and delivered to the Hind before you sail, will you? Fill me in now, though.”

  Alexis did so, explaining Mongoose’s encounters so far.

  “So, this merchant ship, Bisharet, you just let him go?” Skanes asked.

  Alexis nodded. “He was carrying no cargo that would indicate involvement with piracy, nor was he a warship of any of the systems on my list, so I thought it best.”

  “Hmph. In future, I’ll have you think twice on that,” Skanes said. “I want every ship possible taken, so that we might show these bastards not to harass honest shipping.”

  Alexis nodded again, but didn’t understand what difference an honest, or relatively honest man, losing his livelihood would make to the pirates and system leaders who supported them.

  “And you passed your prize off to some fellow on Enclave? Well, you’ll bring prizes here, from now on, rather than any of the Barbary systems. The Hind has enough crew to send them on from here, and the Company will give you credit immediately. You’ll have your crew back aboard and be able to return to your cruise that much the quicker.”

  As Skanes talked, Alexis became more and more skeptical. This all sounded very much like it would be to the profit of this “commodore” and the Marchant Company, rather than the privateer crews, and it was nothing like what Eades and Dansby had led her to suspect.

  “We have a fair amount of supplies aboard, as well,” Skanes went on, “so you may resupply here, rather than any of the Barbary systems — and ensuring that none of these systems profit by it.”

  Alexis raised an eyebrow at that, but remained silent. More to the Company’s profit, though she did like the opportunity to resupply from a source she could rely on and avoid another fiasco as with Mongoose’s beef vats.

  “In addition,” Skanes said, “I’ll be sending you a list of systems to patrol — these will be your areas of operation. I’m afraid your first prize might be considered poaching by the fellow who has Kayseri as his grounds, but I’ll try to smooth things over. Tell him you’re new and didn’t yet understand, if you see.”

  “I did speak to Captain Malcomson already, sir — Commodore Skanes. He, at least, seemed unconcerned about territories.”

  That was true so far as it went, though the Delight’s crew might not be so unconcerned. Still, Skanes’ attitude grated on Alexis and this whole privateering nonsense seemed to be getting far more rules than she’d been led to believe.

  “Malcomson, yes,” Skanes said, drawing out the name. “Not a great believer in following instructions, that one.”

  Skanes took a deep breath and ran her eyes from the tips of Alexis’ boots to the space above her head.

  That would be the feather …

  Alexis turned her head just a bit in order to watch Skanes’ eyes follow the feather’s tip as it bounced.

  “Excuse me, Commodore Skanes,” Alexis said, “but I was not given to understand that there was quite so much structure to this business when Mongoose sailed. In fact, having spoken to Captain Malcomson of the Delight and —”

  “Malcomson! That — Look, Carew, it’s possible your principals didn’t yet know that the Marchant Company was involved or that the Hind would be here. She’s the largest, most powerful ship in the Barbary right now, so it’s only right she should bring some structure with her.”

  “I see.”

  “Part of that structure will be the specific systems which each ship will patrol — in order to better cover the whole of the Barbary, you understand. You will patrol those systems, preparing a full report of your activities so that I may better allocate our force. In addition, I’ll have your prizes here for transfer to a proper Marchant crew to take them to a legal prize court. Do you understand?”

  Alexis nodded. She understood, but bridled under the order. Skanes might think she had the authority to order these things, but there was no requirement in Mongoose’s Letter of Marque to back it up.

  “Now I’ll expect that full report, in writing, before your ship leaves. In the meantime, you may speak to Hudnall about resupply and I’ll have him send you a list of systems which you may patrol. You’re dismissed.”

  Alexis opened her mouth with the thought to question Skanes’ authority over Mongoose, but then closed it again as the realization came that there was nothing to say. She determined, though, to speak to Malcomson and the other private ship captains at the earliest opportunity. So, instead, she nodded again, and rose to leave.

  As she reached the hatch, Skanes spoke again:

  “And when next you report to me, Carew, wear a proper uniform, will you?”

  Thirty-Four

  “Isom!”

  Alexis tossed her hat and stays onto her bunk and began stripping off her boots.

  “Sir?”

  She studied the boot in her hand for a moment, rather liking the play of light across the skin’s scales.

  “I’m afraid the crew’s choice of uniform for me, while quite pleasing to myself, did not go over well with the Marchant Company’s commodore.”

  Isom frowned. “The Marchant’s commodore? What’s that then?”

  “A pretentious bollocks washer who fancies herself a proper officer, that’s what.”

  Isom sighed, clearly disappointed. “I see, sir, so we’re back to the farm clothes? Or will it be your uniform?”

  Alexis tossed him the boot, which he caught, surprised.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “It’s only that what the lads picked out for me lacks … a certain something.”

  “It does? I mean … the hat even has a feather, see?”

  “The next time I meet with Commodore Skanes, Isom, I wish to look the proper private ship captain. Will you see to it?”

  “So … more something?”

  “Indeed.”

  Alexis wasted no time in driving Mongoose out of orbit and back to darkspace via the same L1 transition point she’d arrived from. Mere hours after taking on such stores as Hind had to offer — and hearing Dursley’s assertion that while the nutrient solution was of good quality it was also priced so as to guarantee Hind a large profit — they were back in darkspace and beating their way out-system.
r />   “That doesn’t sound at all like privateering,” Villar said after being informed of the content of Alexis’ meeting with Skanes.

  “It is nothing like it, and I begin to wonder at what authority she thinks she has,” Alexis said. “Mongoose is not owned by the bloody Marchants, after all.”

  Alexis had to admit that her prior encounter with a Marchant ship and captain might be coloring her opinion, but the whole mess smelled rotten to her. Add to that her immediate dislike for Skanes and offense at the woman’s presumption to a rank she didn’t, couldn’t, hold, and Alexis had no interest at all in following the Marchant’s “structure”.

  “No,” she said, “Mongoose is a private ship and I’ll sail her as such.” She didn’t add that she couldn’t imagine Avrel Dansby putting up with any of Skanes’ strictures. Not that she felt herself bound by what Dansby might want, nor that how he might act would at all color her decisions, but, still, it was his ship after all.

  At dinner that night, hosting her officers, she found that Hacking and Parrill both agreed as well.

  “What possible right does she have to tell us where to search for prizes?” Hacking asked as the port was served.

  “None,” Parrill said. “Mongoose’s letter of marque specifies the systems of the Barbary, and while ‘Barbary’ is not an official designation, it is in common usage and well understood to mean those systems past the Haguenau system and prior to Clonalin to fringeward — bounded by the New London border to one side, Hso-hsi to the other, and the French Republic above … there being no lower boundary other than the common agreement that the space ends with those worlds over which Hanover exerts any sort of direct governance, rather than a mere territorial claim. There’s neither mention nor implication that the ship must heed any other privateer’s instructions. Every ship with a letter is an equal to the others so —”

  She broke off at Hacking’s snort. The man stared at her for a moment, then shook his head.