Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5)

by J. A. Sutherland

  Well, she had no need of the stakes Wheeley played at, even if the table allowed it, which she saw it didn’t.

  She thought of the amount she might need to offer the other captains and transferred half that. Not an excessive payment, not with the prize money and reward held out to tempt them, but just enough to take the edge off the risk.

  She tapped the table to place her bet and a single chip rose from a recess in the table — odd to use a real chip when the cards themselves were merely images on the table’s surface, but she did like the tangible feel of it. She noted a raised eyebrow or two amongst the other players. The man to her left, but separated by one seat, nodded to her and she gave him a small smile in return.

  “You’re holding up play,” the man across from her muttered. He raised his glass and took a long drink, adding to the brew which was causing his flushed, sweaty appearance.

  “I’m sorry,” Alexis said. She glanced down and saw that the table was also asking her if she was ready to proceed. She tapped that button and the cards began appearing.

  There was a collective groan and Alexis’ cards disappeared and her chip was swallowed back by the table.

  “What happened?” she asked, frowning.

  “Dealer won,” the man next to her muttered.

  She saw that the dealer’s cards were still illuminated in the center of the table, showing the target sum of the game. She knew that meant an immediate win, because she’d received it herself several times at Wheeley’s table, but she’d not seen the dealer receive it before.

  “Oh, it works that way for the dealer too?”

  The two men who’d acknowledged her presence grunted and glanced her way, the others toyed with their glasses. A thin woman to Alexis’ right drained her glass and tapped the table to signal for another.

  “Waiting for your bet,” the man across from her said.

  “Oh, yes,” Alexis said, tapping at her tablet again. Now she’d either have to wager twice as much or play two hands to both recoup her unexpected loss and gain enough to bribe the other captains. She had time, though, she thought, before they began arriving.

  “You can transfer more than a single bet to the table, you know?” the man across from her said as she took her chip and placed it in the wager circle.

  “I thought as much, but I’ve never needed more than the one before.”

  That got her more looks from the other players and the woman tapped the table, grasped her tablet, and walked away.

  Alexis considered the table — she had time enough for the two hands, and doubling, then redoubling, would recoup her loss and leave her with a bit more she could bribe the captains with.

  The cards fell. She saw she needed only a small amount to reach the requisite number and flicked her fingers as she’d seen Wheeley do. Another card appeared — too large by far.

  “That was my ten!” the man to her left nearly yelled.

  “Well, I’m sorry, but it was my turn.” Alexis frowned at the cards displayed in front of her. “I’m not at all certain what went wrong — every other time I’ve received a three for that … well, twice a two, but it was sufficient.”

  The others stared at her.

  A hand on her shoulder some time later broke her concentration. She was trying to decide what to do with these cards, and history was no help.

  “Sir,” Villar said from behind her, “the other captains are assembled.”

  Alexis narrowed her eyes. Perhaps there was some sort of pattern. Would the computer that dealt these cards have something like that? Could it be why her experience at this table was so different from that at Wheeley’s?

  “Yes … have a drink served, will you, and I’ll be along presently?”

  Villar cleared his throat. “Ah … that’s what you told Isom twice now, sir — they’re several glasses in and growing restless.”

  Alexis looked up, noting that she had the gambling table to herself now. Through a haze of card images and frustration, she remembered the man who’d been seated next to her leaving after several instances of going on about her taking his this or that, or the dealer’s whatever. She’d soon grown tired of that and he hadn’t thought much of her response that the next bloody card was hers until she decided not to take it, so clearly, he had little knowledge of how the game was played, now didn’t he?

  This had been some time after the man across from her left with a muttered oath at her only transferring enough coin to the table for her next bet, but he clearly didn’t understand how it was supposed to work either — though she had to admit he had a bit of a point and she’d begun transferring enough for several wagers some time after he left. Which, when one thought about it, reflected poorly on him for his lack of patience, didn’t it?

  When the others had left, or why, she had no recollection.

  Perhaps that was it, though — when she’d played with Wheeley, it had been just the two of them at the table. Could it be that …

  “Mister Villar, would you mind having a seat here.” She patted the chair to her right. “I just want to try something.”

  Yes … if I can remember how Wheeley played and then instruct Villar in which cards to take … She frowned. Perhaps that man had something in his thought that I’d taken his card … I wonder if I can track him down and ask him a question or two …

  “Sir, if you wish to speak to the other captains before they’re all topgallants- and royals-full, then you should come now.”

  Alexis sighed. No doubt Villar was correct. She stood and gestured over the table for her last card of the hand — it was a poor pair of cards when one got down to it, and …

  The next card fell and, to her surprise, gave her the requisite number, which triggered the dealer’s play, which failed. A chip matching her wager rose from the table.

  “Well, now, that’s more like it, isn’t it?” She pulled her chair back from the table and started to sit.

  “Sir? The matter of Commodore Skanes?”

  She glanced at Villar and felt her face grow hot at his expression — a mixture of amusement and concern, tinged, she thought, with a bit of reproach which he must have learned from Isom but wasn’t quite as good at.

  She pushed the chair back and swept up her chips — a paltry number, even given the last addition. A check of her tablet sent a small shock through her. She’d wagered, and lost, a goodly portion of the personal funds she had on hand and her share of the prizes. She hadn’t thought she’d done that poorly at the table, nor been there so long as to have lost all that.

  She’d have to contact a reputable agent here, if she could locate one in the Barbary, and have her accounts replenished from those held by her prize agents back in New London. In the meantime, they’d have to be more conscious of the cost of her personal stores and Isom would likely be giving her that look Villar had yet to master.

  There’d be no bribes for the captains, either, unless she drew on Mongoose’s funds, and she regretted having put those first winnings into the collective pool, no matter how it had cheered the crew.

  She glanced back at the table.

  I believe I have the hang of it now — there’s only the need of sufficient funds to see it through.

  Fifty-One

  The other captains were, indeed, several sheets-full, with the normally reserved Pennywell and the hide-clad Lawson engaged in a rendition of a shockingly bawdy romantic ballad, arms about each other’s shoulders, and showing little or no respect for the intended genders of the parts they sang.

  Alexis entered to Lawson leaning close to Pennywell and giving full-voice to a desire which was anatomically unlikely.

  Spensley, Kingston, and Malcomson cheered them on, while Isom and one of the Hoof’s staff rushed about refilling glasses and mugs.

  Upon entering, Villar made his way to the room’s corner where the other captains’ first officers were grouped and joined them.

  At first glance, they seemed simply more reserved than their captains, but a closer look showed
Alexis they all held similar expressions combining reproach, tolerance, and resignation. Looking about at the antics of the five privateer captains, she could understand it, but was a bit put out that Villar saw fit to join them.

  Bad company, I imagine — I’ll have to speak to him about it.

  Isom hurried up to her, a pitcher of beer in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

  “Oh, thank the Dark, you’re here, sir. The place’s management’s been in twice now about the noise. There’s soundproofing, but when —”

  There was a horrid, grating screech from the singers and Alexis, after the initial shock, realized that it was Pennywell reaching for a note he had no business being near … and that the note was part of a word describing something he did not possess.

  “Aye, sir, that one. Makes it right out to the main dining room, it does, and I imagine they’ll be along any moment to complain again.” Isom gave her the look he usually reserved for when she’d just suggested the vile creature be spaced, as though it were her fault — which she supposed it was, given her tardiness.

  “My apologies, Isom, for leaving you to deal with this … this.”

  Isom nodded, apparently mollified for the moment.

  Alexis cleared her throat, hoping to gather the captains’ attention.

  Lawson gave full voice to an act which would be improbable no matter who was involved.

  She strode to the center of the room’s large table and looked around expectantly.

  Spensley shoved Kingston, who shoved him back, which caused the former to rise, hand at his belt knife — until Kingston poured half of his mug’s contents into Spensley’s glass, and the two sat again to watch the performance.

  Villar appeared at her elbow. “Perhaps hold the refills until they give you their attention, sir?”

  Alexis glared at him, not least of which because she felt it poor advice.

  Likely be off to sack the Casino if I did that.

  Also, though, because of the look of amusement on Villar’s face. She drew a deep breath.

  “Stop your gobs, you cack-handed lubbers!”

  Her voice cut through even Lawson’s chorus about a third-mate named Morgan and his captain’s …

  “Oh, dear,” Alexis muttered.

  “Och!” Malcomson said. “It’s aboot time oor tawdry host arrived!”

  Villar stiffened, and Malcomson’s own first officer, perhaps seeing the look on Villar’s face, stepped over and whispered to him.

  “Perhaps you meant ‘tardy’, sir?”

  “Nae if she means to be part o’this lot!” Malcomson waved his hand at the others, who joined in his laughter.

  Alexis sighed and laid a hand on Villar’s arm to let him know she took no offense.

  “If we might have dinner served?” she suggested. “And discuss our business? Let us set some sort of base and reason for the night’s remaining drinking, eh?”

  Alexis waited until dinner was done and the other captains settled into their port before coming to the point.

  The meal, fine though the food was, had been a rowdy affair, and loud, but now the full stomachs seemed to have dragged them all into a semblance of calm.

  She laid out the Hind’s situation, waited for the laughter to die, and then made her proposal.

  These pirates had gone too far, taking a Marchant ship, for everyone knew the reprisals the Marchant Company might make. Wouldn’t it be better, she argued, for them — the private ship captains — to show their own worth before that happened? There was a standing reward offered by Marchant for coming to the aid of one of their ships in need — so profit there. And the pirate market, with goods from dozens, perhaps more, merchantmen traversing the Barbary — all sitting planetside at Erzurum for them to take and condemn as illicit. Who knew what merchantmen might, even now, be in orbit around that planet to take on those goods — and liable for taking as prizes themselves?

  It was, when one thought about it — but not too thoroughly mind you and here’s a full glass yours seems to be empty — a tempting fruit, ripe for the picking and not too terribly dangerous with only a few gunboats about.

  A frigate? Well, perhaps.

  But likely away, don’t you think? Taking more ships and sending them back to Erzurum to wait for us?

  When you think about it — here, let me fill that for you — that frigate’s a boon, yes? The more she takes the more there’ll be for us!

  Hadn’t Mongoose and Delight taken a convoy of a full dozen ships on their way to Erzurum? All unescorted by that frigate, which was certainly off hunting more?

  Why, think about it — another round of bottles, Isom, this one’s empty — a frigate could send two such convoys home before depleting her crew too much. Two dozen taken ships in orbit, waiting to be rechristened and sold? As many merchantmen come to buy cargoes? The reward from the Marchants for so large a rescue as Hind? And, yes, there could be members of the fleets still on Erzurum — there’d be money from Admiralty for their rescue. Not a lot, perhaps, but the icing — no, let’s call it the sweet, sprinkly bits on top of the icing, shall we?

  All there for the taking. Someone’s taking.

  Hadn’t we better be on our way before someone else gets it? No, here we go, and take the bottle with you!

  Fifty-Two

  The six private ships scattered while out of sight of the system and approached from different vectors, each toward their agreed upon point. At nearly the same time, as such things could be measured and planned in darkspace, each worked her way through Erzurum’s halo and began the laborious task of sailing to and then working her way through each of the shoals.

  From her plot, Alexis watched them all as Mongoose made her own way.

  It might make more sense for them to approach as a single force, at least for dealing with the gunboats, but then each would have to make its way through the masses of shoals to different Lagrangian points regardless. They had no knowledge of what waited for them inside Erzurum, after all. What Alexis could recall of the Navy’s doctrine for attacking a system called for multiple ships scattered at transition points throughout the system, so as to take defenders in-system from many positions at once.

  She didn’t know if that doctrine changed when attacking a system so shallow as Erzurum, though. None of the other captains had objected to the plan, but she wondered if that was due to their own propensity toward independent action.

  In any case, the plan was made and agreed to.

  Osprey had the worst of it, she thought — least massy of the group she might be. Erzurum’s halo was thick above and below the ecliptic, and Alexis could almost see Osprey shudder again and again as even her mostly-retracted keel and hull were affected by the thick dark matter there.

  Kingston was game and a proper ship handler, though, and brought Osprey about over and over to try again, never allowing her to be held fast.

  The coordination of their approach soon disappeared, as ship after ship was either forced to fall back and find a different route through the shoals or found one and advanced farther than the others.

  Alexis ordered a near constant rotation of the crew. Sail handlers back inside after only half a watch, to be replaced by others. Those inside sent to rest and have a hot meal. The schedule was grueling, but the crew on the hull had told stories of how their minds had felt dull during Mongoose’s last approach and she wanted no one exposed to so much dark matter for too long at a time.

  She set the same rotation for the leadsmen in the bow, though at some stretches of the shoals she had four men there firing their beams at once. These shoals were so windy and broken up in places that two clumps of the dark matter might pull a beam between them, tricking Mongoose into thinking the way was clear while the channel’s sides waited to entrap her or crush her bow.

  The ship, and the whole crew, were nearly at quarters, with all, even those with no duties on the hull, in their vacsuits, though without their helmets affixed.

  Three times in the first f
ew hours, she was forced to come about, retrace her steps, and seek another route from some previous branch.

  The other private ships fared no better, each finding some new success or failure at every turn, with every ship-length of advancement.

  The respites, once through a shoal and into the clearer space between planets’ orbits, were fraught with peril as well, for those spaces were full of chunks and invisible strands of thick dark matter spun off what trailed along with and behind each planet’s course. And there the temptation after so long a time of the creeping pace required by the shoals was strong. More sail, more speed, with the system’s winds running strong toward Erzurum’s center, and less time to react and turn aside should the leadsmen uncover one of those shoals dead ahead.

  Gallion signaled that they’d found a clear way through their shoal and for the others to follow if they liked, but Pennywell spoke too soon. He was deceived by a long channel with gradually narrowing borders and barely escaped with his ship as the edges closed in.

  He wasn’t stuck fast, but the angles were such that he couldn’t back into the winds and had to finally work his ship back, laboriously, with his ship’s boats and kedges to either side.

  Osprey abandoned the attempt to make it through the halo away from the ecliptic. Such was an iffy proposition in most systems, and Erzurum was worse. The mass of dark matter there so great that even a ship so lightly burthened as Osprey could not make it through. Kingston brought his ship about, exited his latest attempt, then made his way around the system to the ecliptic plane where the normal-space mass of the planets pulled the halo to bits.

  He followed the channels already marked by Lawson’s Scorpion and took up station following and supporting her.

  The Delight took the first real damage of the foray, scraping too close to a mass and dragging the ship’s plane. Delight’s image spun wildly, as though on a pivot at the rear, and figures scrambled up her masts to reduce what little sail she had on, even as her helm cut the particle projector to send them dark.