“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.
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.
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.
No, if they’d merely wished to buy her silence, there were other, far easier, things they could have offered. The commission bound her more tightly to the Navy. It was more than acceptance, it meant that those captains, even Captain Barks, wanted her in their Navy. Alexis felt her chest tighten and clenched her jaw tightly.
Damn me, my first act as lieutenant will not be to start bawling in the station corridor.
The sound of one of the hatches blocking the corridor sliding open made her look to the side.
“Delaine!”
Alexis dashed down the corridor and flung herself at him. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, never minding that now her first act as a lieutenant was to hug an enemy officer in the station corridor. She’d thought she’d never see him again.
She heard the hatch close again and someone cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“Thank you,” she murmured, releasing him and stepping back. She raised a hand to wipe her eyes and realized that she’d managed both with one go. The throat clearer had been Lieutenant Lonsdale, accompanied by Mister Grandy.
“Ah, Alexis,” Delaine said, his grin as wide as ever. “For mon cœur to leave so abruptly, what could I do but follow, oui?”
“I think le Hanovre had more to do with that than your heart,” she said.
“Le Hanovre were most … the word, put out when they found you gone, oui. They tell my commodore, she is to send all her ships to find you.” He grinned wider. “Those ships, they sail along the border … but I know where you will go. You are predictable, mon chérie.”
Lonsdale cleared his throat again. “I’m afraid Lieutenant Thiebaud must leave as quickly as possible,” he said. “The captains feel soonest out of sight is soonest out of mind, you understand.”
Alexis nodded. “Delaine, I have to ask you to do something …” She trailed off, suddenly uncertain. Could Delaine ensure Hermione’s log wasn’t released? Was it even fair to ask him?
“Lieutenant Lonsdale has explained to me, Alexis,” Delaine said, “but I wished to see that you were safe before agreeing.” He turned his gaze to Lonsdale. “You should know, lieutenant, that this log was mis
takenly moved from my commodore’s ship to mine, not copied. And I must order some maintenance performed on Bélier’s systems during my journey home, to … the word, clean up, oui? Files no longer of need? This is sufficient for you?”
“It is,” Lonsdale said, looking relieved. “Thank you, sir.”
Delaine nodded.
“Delaine … will this …” Alexis caught her lip between her teeth. “Coming here, the log … will it cause you trouble with the Hanoverese? Or for Commodore Balestra?” They were likely in enough trouble from her escape, she didn’t want to cause them more — though what she could do about it, she didn’t know.
Delaine pursed his lips and shook his head. “Non.” He shrugged. “I could not stop your escape, and this will not please them. But for myself and Commodore Balestra, we will tell le Hanovre that we have still taken from New London a frigate captain, oui? The Captain Neals, he will not sail against le Hanovre again.” He reached out and cupped her cheek, sending a shiver through her. “And my commodore and I, we shall pray for this war to be over before they find what we have given in his place.”
He took his hand away and smiled. “But I am told you are now lieutenant, as well, oui?”
“Oui!” she cried out happily, holding up her commission papers, a bit rumpled and all but forgotten in her excitement at seeing him.
Delaine pulled a small box from his pocket. He glanced at Lonsdale. “It is tradition for New London, too, I think, for the new officer to have … the word, insigne, the mark of rank, yes? From a friend?”
“It is,” Lonsdale said, eyes narrowing, “but with the war …”
Delaine shook his head. “Non,” he said, opening the box. “These are not le Hanovre.”
The rank tabs in the box were similar to New London’s, but more ornate. And clearly old, archaic even. Worn, but well cared for, and clearly French — instead of the fouled anchor that New London used, these were crossed with the fleur de lis.
“These are from the grand-père of my grand-père, from le Grande République. To him even from his grand-père, I think.”
“Delaine, I couldn’t …”
“Non.” He closed the box and pressed it into her hand. “Grand-père fought le Hanovre for le République. His grand-père fought le Hanovre. Now you fight le Hanovre. They would wish it, I think, and be proud.”
Alexis nodded, throat tight.
Lonsdale cleared his own throat once more and Alexis knew there’d be no more delay. She reached up and wrapped her hands around Delaine’s neck, pulling him down to her. She pressed her lips to his and kissed him, as thoroughly and enthusiastically as she could. She heard a great deal more throat clearing, from Lonsdale and perhaps with Grandy joining in as well, but there was only them and the marine to witness her behavior and she might never see Delaine again.
When she finally pulled back, she was pleased to see Delaine’s eyes were wide and a little unfocused. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged, then again.
“Adéquat, ma caille,” he said finally, lips twitching. Alexis fought the urge to kiss him again, but she’d clearly scandalized Lonsdale and Grandy quite enough for the day. Those two were staring at her with wide eyes. “When this war is over, Alexis, you will come to visit me?”
“I will.” She could see in his eyes that he understood all of the caveats a naval officer would have as well as her. If I’m able, if the Service grants me leave, if we’re both alive at the end of this.
Delaine nodded to Lonsdale who gestured for him to follow and led the way down the corridor, leaving Grandy behind with Alexis. Grandy was, thankfully, silent as Alexis watched the two walk away. That section of corridor had been cleared as well, another marine stationed at the far hatchway.
“Delaine!” she called out as the pair reached it. He turned and looked back. “If you had caught me … would you have fired?”
Delaine shrugged and she could see his mouth twitch again. “There are duties and duties, mon chou,” he called back. “I pray we never need find out, oui?”
Alexis nodded, but her heart grew cold as she realized that she would have. To keep her lads safe, to get them home, she would have fired into his ship and not let up. She would have hated herself, and she thought a part of her would have died as she gave the order, but she would have done it. Dear lord, what does that make me?
Her mind translated what he’d just called her and her brow furrowed. Really?
“Cabbage?” She spread her hands. “The best you can do at a time like this is ‘my little cabbage’?”
Delaine shrugged as the hatch slid shut between them.
Epilogue
“Alexis!”
She turned at the familiar voice, unsure of what she’d heard. She’d spent the last six weeks as second, last, and largely extraneous, lieutenant on a packet ship making its way quickly but erratically Fringeward from Penduli. Her orders were to remain aboard until she arrived here at Lyetham and then transfer to H.M.S. Shrewsbury, a seventy-four gun Third Rate for her actual position. Isom stopped beside her, sliding the antigrav sled he pulled with their baggage to a stop.
Strictly speaking, lieutenants were not allowed personal servants who followed them from ship to ship — that was a luxury reserved to commanders and captains — but Isom had somehow managed to attach himself to her. She suspected he’d received some advice from Mister Grandy about how to make use of the peculiarities of the Navy’s personnel department, but chose not to inquire too closely.
He’d simply followed her aboard the packet and taken up duties as her hammockman and servant aboard, in addition to whatever shipboard duties he was assigned. When they’d arrived in Lyetham, he’d been waiting with her baggage packed and the lieutenant in charge of the packet had said not a word as Isom had followed her onto the station. For her part, Alexis was happy to have a familiar face going with her aboard a new ship.
She scanned the crowded corridor of Lyetham Station and saw who’d shouted rushing toward her.
“Philip!” she cried with delight.
He hurried up to her and stopped short, standing to attention and tugging his uniform jacket into some semblance of order, the untamable lock of black hair falling down his forehead, a scar he’d received from a cracked helmet in action ran from under that lock of hair and down his cheek. He squared his shoulders.
“Midshipman Easely reporting, sir!” he said, saluting smartly.
Alexis’ heart fell. She’d known promotion and rank meant a great deal to some people, but she hadn’t thought how her promotion might impact her own relationships. Then she saw the gleam in his eye and the corners of his mouth twitch.
“You tosser!” she cried, throwing her arms around him and pressing her cheek against his chest, not caring about the stares such a display between two officers might garner from passersby. “Don’t you ever play at that nonsense!”
He’s grown. Philip had been only a few centimeters taller than she on Merlin, but now she realized his chin cleared the top of her head with ease. His chest and shoulders were broader, too, no longer the lanky boy he’d been aboard Merlin. She stepped back and watched the red blush flow up his face to settle in his ears. That’s not changed, at least. “How are you here?”
Philip grinned. “I’m aboard Ruby, now. We were deployed here a fortnight ago,” he said. “I guess my message couldn’t catch up with a fast packet.”
Alexis wrapped her arms around him again, his words reminding her of the hurt his messages had contained when her communications had been filtered aboard Hermione. At least that was resolved, though she’d still be waiting weeks for more word from home — messages would have to reach Penduli and then be rerouted to her aboard her new ship.
“I’m so sorry about that, Philip.”
“Oh, hell,” Philip said. “That’s not what I meant, Alexis.” He grasped her arms firmly and pushed her away so he could look her in the eyes. “I know that wasn’t your fault and I’m sorry I ever thought it was. I should’ve kn
own there must be something amiss with your messages and that you’d never just ignore me.” He lowered his eyes. “It’s just … “ Alexis grinned as he flushed again, perhaps realizing where his new height and lowered head had placed his gaze. “Well, you’re still the best mate I’ve found aboard ship,” he said, blushing again. “I thought … well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” He lowered his hands. “All’s right with us, yes?”
Alexis smiled. She wrapped one arm around Philip’s and they continued down the corridor.
“Yes.”
“Good, then. And pity save your old shipmates if they ever step into a berth with me.”
Alexis nodded. She had a moment’s thought to tell Philip not to do a thing, if ever he had the chance, but Timpson and the rest had hurt Philip as well as her. It was his right to dish out retribution if he was given the opportunity. And I’ll relish the hearing of it.
“Isom,” she said. “This is my dearest friend Philip Easley, he and I were berthmates aboard Merlin when I first joined the Navy. Philip, Isom was with me aboard Hermione. And after.”
Philip nodded to him while Isom ducked his head.
“How long are you in Lyetham?” she asked. “I’ve a full day before Shrewsbury’s in port and I have to report aboard.”
“I’ve all-night-in,” he said, “but Ruby sails early tomorrow.” He grinned. “You owe me a supper ashore, if I remember right.”
“I do and more,” she agreed. “And a fine supper. I’ve a lieutenant’s pay now and a bit more prize money.”
Quite a lot of prize money, in fact, for the Prize Court on Penduli had finally ruled on both Hermione’s prizes and her Sittich. She suspected Captains Crandall and Hazlewood might have had a say in Sittitch, for the Prize Court had upheld it as her prize and not Neals’. Trau Wunsch had not even been submitted to the Prize Court, instead the ship had been condemned and sent to the breakers. Alexis shuddered at the memory of the surveyor’s report on the ship’s condition. We were in more danger from that ship than ever from the Hanoverese.
Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 57