Grantham was silent for a moment. “My lieutenant was quite correct, Mister Carew. One does have to be sixteen standard-years old in order to sign the Ship’s Articles as a common spacer.”
“I understand, Captain. And it’s likely for the—“
“Captains, however, have somewhat more leeway in the appointment of midshipmen.”
Denholm narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “And what sort of leeway would that be, Captain?”
“I’ve seen midshipmen as young as nine come aboard. My own Mister Easely is but thirteen. Midshipmen, you see, are expected to finish their educations aboard in training to become ship’s officers.”
“And would any of these midshipmen you’ve seen be of the female persuasion, Captain?”
Grantham grimaced uncomfortably. “As Mister Caruthers indicated, that is, indeed, quite rare in the Fringe, sir.”
“How rare?”
“I am … unaware of any female officer serving in the Fringe Fleet.”
Denholm laughed. “Well, that’ll do for rare, I expect.”
“It’s not the Navy, you understand,” Grantham went on. “Well, not entirely, but the difficulties in dealing with some of the colony worlds. Merchant spacers can pick and choose where they’ll sail and female crew members can simply stay aboard in the more … provincial ports.” He shrugged. “A warship’s a bit different.”
Denholm looked from Grantham to the men who were reloading the ship. It sounded almost as though he was making an offer, but was it one Denholm should pursue? He thought about the look on Alexis’s face when Caruthers had told her of the age requirement. The odds of changing the inheritance laws were slim, too many first sons that had an interest. Perhaps it was time for Alexis to see something other than Dalthus, and he could certainly see her as a naval officer more than a student somewhere.
“And your ship, Captain Grantham?”
“I’ve a man or two who’d balk, as you saw, but nothing the bosun couldn’t put to rights, I’m sure.” He pursed his lips. “It would not be easy, by any means, but if she’s as capable and steady as you say …”
“I’ve been feeling my years quite heavily of late, Captain. There’s nothing for the girl on Dalthus unless I can get that bloody law changed, but I fear that might not be possible.”
Grantham nodded. He started to speak, then hesitated. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “It is somewhat traditional for a captain to receive some small token when he appoints a midshipman,” he said carefully.
Denholm’s eyes hardened. “We put most of our profits back into the colony here, Captain. I’ve little in the way of free coin.”
“No,” Grantham allowed. “I understand. Perhaps, though, some numbers of a different kind? Such as the coordinates of a camp or two where I might find other crew?”
“Is it to get those, you’re proposing this, Captain?” Denholm asked. He narrowed his eyes, angry now. “Are you thinking you’ll take Alexis as a loss to get you to those men? I’ll tell you true, Captain Grantham, though you’ve no cause to know it, that girl’s a better bargain than any ten others you’ll get to sign your Articles!” Damn the man if he thought so little of her.
Grantham held up his hand to stop him. “My apologies, sir.” He sighed. “Merlin does need crewman. Desperately, even. But she also needs officers and I’ve no room for any I don’t think would be of value.” He offered Carew his hand. “I’ll take Alexis as a midshipman if she’ll sign the Articles, and we’ll say no more of the other.”
Denholm met the other man’s eye for a moment, then took his hand.
“Mister Caruthers!” Grantham called.
“Sir?”
“Prepare a copy of Merlin’s Articles for Midshipman Alexis Carew, if you please.”
“Sir? I mean … Aye sir!”
“Thank you, Captain,” Denholm said.
“No thanks necessary, Mister Carew.” Grantham smiled broadly. “She had the appointment when she brought her request to Caruthers, rather than to me.”
Denholm laughed. “Oh, and Captain Grantham?”
“Yes?”
“Mayhap there’s a neighbor or two can’t hate me any more than he does already.”
Four
Alexis felt her stomach twitch with nervous excitement as the shuttle lifted from yet another remote camp where they’d stopped to recruit for Merlin’s crew. Their next stop would be Port Arthur and, after loading supplies, she’d been told, the shuttle — Captain’s Barge, she reminded herself, as Lieutenant Caruthers had informed her the craft was called — would lift for orbit and H.M.S. Merlin. She looked around the windowless tube of the barge’s passenger compartment. Her first time off-planet and first aboard a ship, and a massive change in her life.
Her grandfather had found her in her room, having allowed the tears of disappointment to finally overcome her. It wasn’t that she truly wanted to join the Navy, it wasn’t something that she’d ever considered before, but hearing the recruiting speech given to the farmhands had piqued her interests. The captain’s words about duty and usefulness had further spurred her. She’d spent the time prior to volunteering in her room, researching the Navy on her tablet. Though it seemed a rather hard and demanding service, she’d become sure that she could perform the actual work.
The thought of being idle while someone else ran her grandfather’s lands was more than she could bear, and the more she considered it, the more a useful life away from Dalthus appealed to her. Not forever, perhaps, but at least for a time it could represent an escape. Escape from the choice of one day having to live as a pauper or someone’s ornamental brood-mare. And, just possibly, with her away, she’d thought, her grandfather might be able to convince the other holders to change the inheritance laws. But the lieutenant’s words had dashed those hopes.
Then her grandfather had explained that she did have a choice. That Captain Grantham could appoint her as a midshipman aboard his ship, but she’d have to choose quickly.
“There’s no good future for me here, grandfather,” she’d said immediately, smiling sadly. “Not just now, in any case.”
“No,” he’d agreed. “But have you truly thought this through, Lexi-girl?”
“As much as one can in an hour’s time. And an enlistment is only for two years — if it’s a poor choice, then I’ll be no worse off really then than I am today. Possibly better, if I’ve not been here to remind people of my ‘reputation’.”
Captain Grantham had quickly explained what a midshipman was.
She’d learned that she would be an “officer-in-training”, not a fully-commissioned officer, but that was still more than she’d expected when she’d first tried to volunteer. The three of them had gone outside then for her to read and hurriedly sign the Ship’s Articles, followed by the quick packing of a few small items and mementos, even more hurried goodbyes to her grandfather and the farmhands before Lieutenant Caruthers had sent her up the barge’s ramp with a brisk: “Get aboard now, Mister Carew.” Answering her pause and shocked look with a quick shove and: “Lively now! The captain’s waiting to board!”
Once seated and strapped in aboard the barge, Caruthers had seated himself next to her and explained that Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, “without the slightest trace of irony, I assure you, sir”, made no distinction for gender in the address of its officers. She would now be not only a midshipman, but also “sir” and most amusingly, “Mister Carew”. Caruthers had tried to explain that this actually had a purpose. That it was important for the crew to see her, and any officer, first as an officer representing the authority of the queen. Moreover, that sailing the Dark was a dangerous business and there might come a time when a moment’s hesitation while a spacer corrected himself could spell disaster.
“For the same reason we do not bother with titles,” he’d explained. “No Sir This nor Lord That. The safety of the ship and the lives of her crew, Mister Carew, are far more important than either the niceties of grammar or your particular accident of birth.�
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He’d then handed her his tablet and suggested she spend the few minutes of flight time by beginning to review the Naval Regulations, which she’d done between stops at those remote camps, adding fourteen men to Merlin’s crew and leaving several disgruntled foremen with nothing but Navy Drafts to pay off the men’s indentures.
The craft’s landing at Port Arthur was much less disruptive than at the work camps. It descended smoothly out of the clear sky and came to rest at the near edge of the town’s landing field, just between the colony’s customs boat and a large merchant barge that was busy loading tons of grain. Disembarking was less chaotic, as well, with none of the running and shouting that had occurred at the work camps. As the spacers and new recruits filed down a ramp at the rear of the barge under the watchful eye of the bosun and two marines, Alexis followed Lieutenant Caruthers and the captain down a set of folding stairs at the craft’s front.
“See to the loading and Mister Carew’s outfitting, Mister Caruthers,” Grantham ordered. “I’ve some business to attend to.”
“Aye sir,” Caruthers acknowledged as the captain strode off into the town. He gestured for Alexis to follow him to the rear of the barge where the bosun was instructing the men, especially the new hands, in how things were to be loaded aboard the barge. “We’ll see the men started at loading the stores and then see to your kit.”
“Will that be terribly expensive, sir?” she asked, then hastened to explain. “My grandfather did give me a guinea in coin and promised to send more as he was able, but I’ve no idea what I’ll need or what the cost shall be. Nor what a midshipman earns, for that matter,” she admitted.
Caruthers stopped and cocked an eyebrow at her. “And you didn’t concern yourself to learn this before signing the Articles, Mister Carew?”
Alexis blushed. “I suppose, sir, that I looked upon it as an opportunity, more than the pay. And I did learn the pay for a common spacer before I spoke to you. Midshipman came as a bit of a surprise.”
“Indeed.” Caruthers watched the bosun for a moment then motioned Alexis toward the chandlery warehouse at the edge of the field. “Saw the spacers’ pay and still tried to join, Mister Carew?”
“It did seem low, sir. I believe most of my grandfather’s hands are paid twice that, even toward their indentures.”
Caruthers sighed. “Not too loudly, please, or we’ll be chasing deserters through the streets of Port Arthur.” Alexis glanced at him to see if he was joking and saw that he seemed quite serious. He nodded. “Oh yes, it is a real problem, I assure you. But as to yourself, the captain has informed me that your initial kit, as well as some degree of personal luxuries, is to be charged to his own account.” Alexis opened her mouth to object, but Caruthers continued on. “This arrangement was made with your grandfather, by way of thanks for the location of those camps.” They arrived at the warehouse door and Caruthers knocked sharply. “I assure you the cost will be little compared to Merlin’s need of more hands.”
The warehouse door opened and Caruthers informed the man inside that the spacers from Merlin would be loading the requested stores aboard the barge and assured him that he would soon be going to the chandlery office to speak to the chandler himself. With the bosun and spacers well at work pulling heavy pallets of supplies toward the barge, Caruthers led Alexis along the warehouse to the main street into Port Arthur.
The town had always fascinated Alexis, being a chaotic mix of all the technologies in use on Dalthus. Busy throngs packed the street, many on foot, but others in whatever conveyances their status and wealth could command. As a relatively young colony world with a small population and little manufacturing infrastructure, many settlers still preferred animal power. In addition to being far less expensive than imported transport, what could be bred on Dalthus was far more reliable than what needed replacement parts ordered from a world weeks or months of travel away.
Still though, mixed in with the horses, mules and pulled carriages, was the occasional wheeled vehicle propelled by electric motors, or even a rare anti-gravity vehicle, though these were usually imported by the colony as a whole and shared out through a complex timeshare arrangement, as with the cargo haulers. There were even some instances where a vehicle’s propulsion had failed, but the anti-gravity still worked, leading to the odd site of a levitating cart, heavily loaded with goods, being pulled through town by a team of horses.
The chandlery offices were at the far end of the warehouse yard, several hundred meters from the field, and Alexis had always wondered why it wasn’t adjacent to the landing field, as the chandlery’s primary purpose was to service the visiting ships and crews. Arriving from the field itself, though, and with the knowledge that she’d soon be on one of those ships, spending weeks, if not months, in space, she saw the placement with new eyes.
The main street leading into town from the field was lined with shop after shop catering to those who worked the ships, with food carts and pubs predominating, though she knew from listening to the talk of her grandfather’s hands, that some of the darker doorways lacking proper signage led to brothels and illicit gambling houses. Spacers, merchant or Navy, needing to do business at the chandlery, whether for their ship or themselves, would have to run a gauntlet seemingly designed for the purpose of separating them from their pay. She knew how her grandfather’s hands went through their pay in town after a week or two at a lumber camp, how much more eager would spacers be after a month or more in space?
“As to your own pay, Mister Carew,” Lieutenant Caruthers said, picking up the thread of conversation again. “Her Majesty’s Navy has seen fit to value your skills and services at the princely sum of three pounds per month. With this, you will be expected to maintain your uniforms and personal effects as befits an officer of the Royal Navy. In addition, you will receive such food and drink aboard ship as our fine purser finds himself able to supply … by which, I mean to suggest that you may find it advisable to lay in a store of provisions for your own use.”
“Ah … thank you, sir.”
“Now, as for receiving your pay, and that guinea from your grandfather, as well as any more he should send you, you’re to see the purser once we’re back aboard ship and he’ll enter you in the ship’s books, which will provide you a ship’s account. Once you’ve a tablet from the chandlery here, and it’s tied to Merlin, you’ll have access to your account for payment and your pay will go straight there as well.” He cleared his throat. “Now, as to coin, it’s generally discouraged to have a great deal aboard ship … oh, a shilling or two in pence for the odd card game in the gunroom is all well, but no more than a pound, certainly.”
“I see, sir.”
“It’s not that theft is rampant, you understand. Very rare, and that harshly dealt with. But some of the crew are hard men, straight from the gaols, and the midshipmen’s berth … well, Easely and Roland are decent lads, but some ships …” He paused a moment. “Best your habits are such that you’ve no need to think about it. So log any great deal of coin to your account with the purser — and see it on your tablet before you leave him, mind you.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, but thought to herself: I wonder if he intends to leave me thinking I’ll be robbed blind and starved by this purser? Instead she asked: “Easely and Roland, sir, they’re the other midshipman?”
“Yes.”
The two of them had to walk into the street itself to go around a crowd gathered at a cart selling grilled sausages. Alexis felt her stomach rumble at the smell, it had been a long afternoon since tea with the Coalson boy. And a world away, she marveled. Only a few hours, and yet her entire world had been changed.
“Good lads, as I said,” Caruthers continued. “Roland’s twenty-one, been aboard ships five years now, so he knows his way about. Easely’s just thirteen and still in his first year, so he’s not much senior to you.”
“‘Senior’, sir?”
“Not by age, of course, but by time in service.” Caruthers smiled. “You’ll fin
d yourself, Mister Carew, repeating today’s date quite often, I think. Seniority in the gunroom’s quite important to midshipmen, after all.” He grinned wryly. “And to lieutenants, come to that, as well as captains.”
“Even Captain Grantham?”
“Ah,” Caruthers said. “But Captain Grantham is not yet a captain.”
Alexis looked at him sharply and saw his eyes gleaming with mirth. “I do believe, sir, that you are teasing me now.”
“Not at all, Mister Carew. Captain Grantham’s rank is that of commander.”
“But he is called captain,” she protested. “He introduces himself as such, sir!”
Caruthers nodded. “For he is Captain of Merlin.”
“And yet, a commander, not a captain? I must admit to some befuddlement, sir.”
Caruthers laughed and relented. “It is the difference between rank and command, Mister Carew. Merlin, though a fine ship, is too small to warrant a full post-captain and yet too large to be commanded by a mere lieutenant, such as myself. Between the two, you see, is the rank of commander, which Captain Grantham holds.”
Alexis blinked several times and then said levelly, “And yet, sir, you have, again, named him captain.”
“As I, myself, would be named were I to command a ship.”
“And yet, still a lieutenant?” Alexis asked.
“Indeed.”
Alexis pondered this for a moment. “So, though a commander, he is called ‘captain’ by virtue of commanding a ship?”
“Correct. He is Captain of Merlin and he is, to her crew, the captain, and yet, he is not a captain but a commander.”
Alexis sighed. “I believe I see, sir, but why, if he is a commander, is he not simply addressed as such?”
“Clarity.”
Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 5