“Another signal from Hind, sir,” Creasy said.
“Respond again, Creasy,” Alexis ordered.
No doubt Skanes would find this response to her demands that Mongoose do this or that or, frankly, she suspected, anything other than what Mongoose was about, no more to her liking than those which had preceded it.
Alexis found it no more to her liking than she suspected Skanes might — nor did Mongoose’s officers or crew.
Neither Dockett nor Marton, even pressed for their most optimistic prediction, thought there was any chance the rudder would hold through the remainder of the laborious journey to Hind’s side. Faced with that, the inability to repair it here within Erzurum’s shoals, and the further inadvisability of attempting those repairs while under fire from seven gunboats, Alexis reluctantly ordered Mongoose put about.
They’d had that unexpected opportunity to throw broadsides at the gunboats again, with results very much less spectacular than the last — a few hits, but no damage to speak of, as all of their targets remained on station and in working order.
Hind had quickly sussed out the change in Mongoose’s course and begun a flurry of signals, first demanding to know what Alexis was up to, then demanding that Mongoose return and engage the enemy, and then a few choice epithets laboriously spelled out letter by letter.
Alexis was reluctant to signal an explanation of her ship’s status, as Skanes, commodore though she might name herself, had neither the Navy’s private signals nor come up with any of her own. Their communications, therefore, were almost entirely open to being read by the occupants of all the nearby gunboats.
Hello, pirates, my rudder is damaged, I’m slow to maneuver, and one more good hit there might leave us entirely helpless — not the message I’d like to put out there.
Instead she’d done the best she could to both inform and reassure Skanes, but unable to comply and will return were not appeasing Skanes — and Alexis could not, in good conscience, blame the woman. From her perspective, it must appear as though Alexis and Mongoose were running off and abandoning them.
It looked a bit like that from Alexis’, as well, and she still wracked her brain to find some way to turn this bit of bad luck around. Dockett and Marton were aft, both keeping an eye on the state of the rudder and its mechanisms and seeing if there was anything else they might do. Both had agreed to think on it, but both had given Alexis no cause to hope there was any other solution than what she’d ordered.
A day, perhaps two, to sail far enough from Erzurum that we’ll be safe from the pirates while we do the work; a day, perhaps two, to do the work itself; and then a day, perhaps two, to return. Return and work our way through all this mess again, and that’s if Hind can hold out for nearly a week on her own.
The larger ship had the guns for it, the gunboats had still largely left her alone, concentrating on Mongoose.
Would Skanes have the nerve to do so, though?
What signal could she send that might reassure Skanes while still not endangering Mongoose? Even if she signaled that she was going for help, if any such help were closer than a fortnight’s sail, would such a message not only embolden and encourage the gunboat crews to harry Hind more aggressively?
“Movement on the Hind, sir,” Dorsett said.
Alexis brought up those images and watched.
“She’s backing sail,” Dorsett told her, “and waving her rudder and planes to and fro. Keel’s full up, as well.”
“Trying to wiggle her way out of the shoal,” Villar said.
“Too massy,” Hacking muttered.
Still, despite none of her officers believing the Hind would manage freeing herself that way, they all watched, desperately hoping, even while shot from the gunboats peppered Mongoose and her chasers returned fire. If Hind could free herself, then there might be a very different circumstance. Those great broadsides, freed to fire against the gunboats, would surely drive them off.
All those hopes were in vain, though, as the Hind remained mired where she was.
Hours later, even the signals from Hind had stopped, as though Skanes had chosen to forget that Alexis and Mongoose existed at all.
Hours after that, Mongoose was nearly out of the last planetary shoal of Erzurum, nearly free of the system itself, with only the dark matter halo to traverse before the freer and more open range of darkspace.
“Movement on the Hind,” Dorsett announced once more.
The images now were blurry, at the extreme range of Mongoose’s optics and their ability to discern detail. It was hard to tell just what was happening, but there were figures on the other ship’s hull, it seemed, and ship’s boats sailing away then back again.
“Those boats’re leaving things behind, here —” Dorsett sent an enhanced image to the navigation plot.
“More kedges?”
“Lightening ship,” Hacking said. “Dumping all their stores and supplies — do you suppose it could work, if she were close enough to be able to move through that muck she’s stuck in?”
“Unlikely,” Parrill said. “The hull, masts, and sails are most of the ship’s mass — true, the stores are still a great deal, but given how surely the Hind is stuck, when the attempt to use a kedge broke her doubled line, I believe she’ll see no luck with this. A simple calculation of the hull’s mass, alone, would indicate she must lessen even that to move on her own. A great deal of sail and several of those gunboats pulling forward, with the wind, might do it, but then she’d only be farther in-system and under the control of the gunboats.”
Hacking slammed his palm down on the plot. “Of all the —”
He broke off, glanced at Alexis, then mumbled an apology and left the quarterdeck.
“He did ask,” Parrill said.
Alexis laid a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It is sometimes comforting to give question to a hope, no matter how unlikely it may be.”
Parrill frowned. “I don’t understand that at all. The hope would be entirely false.”
It was not so long before they all saw that the hope, possibly the last for the Hind, was not to be.
Alexis and the others watched as boat after boat of stores were dumped into darkspace, then images that Dorsett was certain would be the Hind’s guns followed suit, all until there must not have been a piece of bedding on the berthing deck or a gram of beef in the vats — or rather the vats themselves, for those were seen to be taken off and dumped as well.
Then all those ship’s boats returned and took up lines, throwing their little lugsails into the effort to pull Hind from her resting place.
Alexis had Mongoose tacking off and on just before the system’s halo shoals, ready, no matter the risk, to come about and return if Hind really were to free herself.
Dorsett set up measurements in the images, telling Alexis that he’d see the moment she budged and by how much, but it was not to be.
“Signal from Hind, sir,” Creasy said at last. “Not our number, just a general signal. She’s struck, sir.”
Forty-Nine
The mood within Mongoose was reserved, almost sullen, as all aboard dwelt on what had occurred. Bad enough they’d been forced to flee — for though, as privateers in search of a prize, they might prefer a merchant foe who’d strike at their first shot alongside, they were a fighting crew from fighting ships and it galled to retreat at all, much less leaving an ally behind to be taken. Even so impugned an ally as Skanes and the Hind.
But flee they did, putting the ship back to rights from her long time at quarters even as they cleared the dark matter halo around Erzurum, leaving behind not only the Hind and Skanes, but no little bit of their pride, as well, along with their hopes for the fat prize of Ezurum’s markets and any merchantmen unlucky to be found in orbit there.
That last was making the crew mutter about where their luck had gone, and Alexis was wondering herself. The weeks without a prize, then the retreat in the face of those gunboats – small foes which it irked the fighting men and women of Mongoose
’s crew to flee from – came together to form an almost intolerable situation.
Alexis found it no more tolerable as she watched the dimming, shrinking images of the Hind and the gunboats, no more than blurry dots now at the most extreme magnification Mongoose’s optics were capable of.
“We’ll wait until we’re out of sight, then tack so that we can’t be followed and be about repairing the rudder,” she said.
“Aye, sir,” Villar acknowledged.
Even that seemed to be a cursed endeavor, for the winds were up and against them, keeping them within sight of Erzurum for some time. Once she was confident that her ship could not be seen from any trailer, even if they had, by some miracle, optics as fine as Mongoose’s, Alexis set course in a random direction.
Then, if not within a system and normal-space as the crew might prefer, at least well away from any enemy, they set about repairing the ship.
Hot, heavy work that Alexis joined in. Not that her assistance was needed, nor even very helpful to be honest, but because she wanted to throw herself into something, anything, that would exhaust her. The alternative was to stare at the navigation plot, either on the quarterdeck or her cabin table and wonder at what she might have done differently.
Perhaps if she’d set the ship to veering from side to side in the already narrow channels? Then might that cursed, fatal shot not have struck elsewhere? Might they then have been able to reach the Hind?
It was a useless exercise, she knew, for any veering that might have put them away from the one shot might have put them in the path of another. She could see, of course, in the repeat of the action on her plot what she might have done. Exactly when to have veered and when to have sailed straight on, so as to have made it through, but that was always the case — one could tell very well after an action where the shot would be flying.
“But not during,” she muttered.
She sat away from her table, back aching, and checked the time. She’d been staring at the plot here for nearly four bells, she found. At least the watch would be over soon and she could return to the quarterdeck.
Creasy had the current watch and had begun his muttering again. Not Dutchmen this time, thank the Dark, but merely that it had been an unlucky blow and how had they displeased some idle spirit?
Despite his inanity, she didn’t want to become a captain who ordered silence on the quarterdeck. The watches were long and some conversation passed the time, but her temper was short and ill-suited to Creasy’s musings at this time.
She eyed her glass, half full of wine, and sighed.
The feelings were recognizable, at least, though what to do about them was less clear. Poulter, the surgeon on Nightingale, had given her some thoughts before Nightingale paid off, though his main suggestion of talking through her fears was less than helpful. There were no doctors with his training on Dalthus, after all, and Merriwether, the surgeon she’d taken aboard Mongoose, while a fine man with his tools, was less accomplished with his words.
That bit of talking out her feelings wasn’t a thing she wanted bandied about the crew, in any case — not the proper image of a captain, certainly. None of the officers were confidants of that degree either — perhaps Villar, but he was overburdened with his own concerns at the moment, what with Mongoose’s repairs. Which left …
“Isom!”
She eyed the glass again — there was a tug at her pant leg, then another, and before she knew it the vile creature had swarmed up into her lap. Where it would stay, and return even if dumped to the deck, for as long as it wished if she stayed in her cabin. Even moving to another chair or to her cot wouldn’t put it off, the thing would only follow her until, having got its fill of her, it slunk away again.
“Bring my vacsuit, will you? I believe I’ll assist with the rudder for a time.”
When they returned, Erzurum appeared much as it had when they’d first laid eyes on it.
Dark and, to all appearances, uninhabited, with no beacons or pilot boat — nor with any gunboats in sight, and certainly with no evidence of the Hind left. The pirates must have got her off the shoals and into normal-space within the system, as even Erzurum’s winds and shoals couldn’t have broken the big ship up in so little time.
“Once she struck, I imagine the gunboats were able to pull her out of the shoal,” Villar said.
Alexis nodded, but caught her lip between her teeth and worried at it. She caught Hacking’s look of amusement at that and stopped.
She wasn’t certain what she’d expected to find upon Mongoose’s return — or what she planned to do. Frustration and guilt filled her in equal parts, for she knew she couldn’t now take Mongoose through those shoals alone and she felt responsible for whatever fate had befallen Skanes and the crew of the Hind.
“Sir?” Villar prompted.
Alexis realized she’d been standing silent and contemplating the navigation plot for some time as Mongoose stood on toward the first of Erzurum’s shoals. They’d have to turn soon or make the attempt again.
“Prepare to come about and make for Enclave,” she ordered. “We have need of more ships.”
Fifty
The entryway to Hoof & Turf, what Wheeley assured her was the finest restaurant in the Casino, was as staid and gentrified as Alexis had imagined it would be.
Dark wood paneling, which she suspected was real, coated the walls and the narrow podium behind which stood the Hoof & Turf’s host. The lighting leading into the interior was dim, and they’d used some of the space to install a short hallway to the dining area, leaving those not allowed entry only the barest glimpse of the interior and diners. Rough as the Barbary might be, the Hoof & Turf offered some luxury to those captains or passengers who’d relish such after a long sail.
Alexis squared her shoulders, hoping for the few millimeters’ more height and added authority that gave her. She was outfitted in her full “uniform,” hat and be-damned feather included. It wasn’t so much the restaurant’s host she hoped to impress — she had Wheeley’s name and backing for that, after all — but the other private captains. And they were a curious lot themselves, so perhaps a feather wouldn’t go amiss.
“Of course, miss,” the host said, “anything for a friend of Mister Wheeley.” He looked down his nose first at her, then at the podium’s surface, keeping his back and neck ramrod straight. She suspected he did so to facilitate looking down his nose at everyone and everything, though she did fancy him trying it once Captain Malcomson arrived.
Likely fall over backward in the attempt.
“A room for twelve,” he continued, fingers flicking across the podium’s surface. “Of course.”
She was certain he was scrambling, without actually saying so, to move other diners about in freeing up the room, and she felt a bit bad about inconveniencing them, but this matter was most important. Osprey was in, under Captain Kingston, and the last of the four private ships Malcomson recommended to her. They’d been three weeks now at Enclave, fairly begging those captains to delay departure and meet with her all at once. She wanted to lay out her proposal as one to the group, though Malcomson already knew her purpose. The captains only stayed because she’d hinted at profit and some embarrassment to Skanes and the Hind.
That last piqued their curiosity. None of them was fond of Skanes and they were eager to hear something to her detriment.
So, Alexis had wheedled each into staying a bit longer, so that they all might hear together.
First Malcomson, who seemed most amused at the prospect of her trying to get the captains of so many private ships to coordinate on anything at all. He, at least, was in no hurry to sail again, so long as there was such an entertaining prospect in the offing. He’d even agreed to sail for Ezurum with her – provided she convinced the others.
Then Pennywell, captain of Gallion. A rather reserved man whose personality was quite at odds with the garish, striped coat he wore.
Captain Spensley and his Oriana were next to arrive. An officious little prat,
in Alexis’ opinion, who dressed all in black, thought little more of Alexis than she did of him, and made no secret of it. But he seemed to dislike Skanes even more and was anxious to not miss what Alexis had to say about the putative “commodore.”
Scorpion and Captain Lawson — another woman, but one whose habitual dress made Alexis a bit uncomfortable. The skintight jumpsuit of some iridescent hide made Alexis thankful the worst she’d gotten from her crew was the feather.
That very afternoon, Osprey and her captain, Kingston, whom Alexis had yet to meet, made orbit and Alexis sent her invitations.
Six ships, with Delight and Mongoose, if she could convince them all. That might be enough to make it through Erzurum’s shoals and gunboats to rescue Hind and find the truth to the rumors about crews from the fleets.
Now she only had to convince them.
A shout from one of the casino’s nearby tables drew her attention and she had a sudden thought. A bit of coin to sweeten the deal up front wouldn’t go amiss with these captains, either. Pulling from Mongoose’s accounts to give to the other captains might be an investment in the endeavor, but it wouldn’t reap enough to pay back the coin given.
There was some time, though, before the other captains would arrive.
“Mister Villar,” Alexis said, “would you see to the room and preparations with Isom? I’ll be just over there — no more than a few minutes, I’m sure, and the captains aren’t due for some time yet.”
“Aye, sir.”
Alexis ignored their looks and made her way to the nearest table. There was no dealer here, as there’d been in the room where Wheeley played. No cards, either, only the table’s surface displaying the images of them. Four players sat at the table in a circle, which was also a differently shaped table, but she supposed that made sense if there were no need for a place for a dealer to stand.
She pulled up a chair and sat, also taking her tablet out as it pinged. The table had apparently recognized her seating and was asking her tablet to transfer funds.
Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5) Page 29