The Little Ships (Alexis Carew Book 3) (13 page)

“‘
N
iece
’, my arse, Dansby! What’re you getting us into now?”

Alexis widened her eyes at the woman’s outburst and took a half step back, placing Dansby firmly at the forefront on his ship’s mess deck and bearing the brunt of the woman’s ire.

The crew of Dansby’s ship,
Marilyn
, was the scruffiest, surliest looking group Alexis had ever encountered. Naval crews often had hard men, men taken straight from the gaols and given the choice between the Navy and imprisonment, transport, or even hanging. She was used to that. These, though, were different. Alexis had the sense that these were men who’d done all the things that might warrant imprisonment, transport, or hanging … but had been smart enough to not get caught.

And women
, she thought.

The crew consisted of twelve men and two women, and any elation Alexis had first felt about being aboard ship with other women for the first time was quickly quashed.

“Now, Anya,” Dansby said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “There’s nothing more to it than I’ve said already.”

“Bollocks! Bollocks in a vice!”

Dansby winced visibly. He’d gathered
Marilyn’s
crew on the mess deck and introduced Alexis to them as his niece, much removed, who’d had some issues with her family’s shipping company. Issues that made it prudent for her to remove herself far from the systems in which they traded — and which led all concerned to believe she might be better suited for the work Dansby’s side of the family engaged in.

Alexis tried a tentative smile, but the woman glared at her. Anya Mynatt was
Marilyn’s
first mate, something Alexis had been thrilled to discover until the woman began talking.

“You promised me I’d have this ship when Tarver left it! Now he isn’t captain any longer, but you’re in his cabin instead of me, and brought this bedwarmer aboard!”

“Mist … Miss Mynatt!” Alexis objected. She cursed herself for the slip, but wasn’t used to addressing anyone aboard ship except as mister or by rank. The rest of the crew would be addressed simply by last name, as on a Navy ship, and the only other petty officer, a master’s mate named Bowhay, was clearly a ‘mister’ with his bald head and massive beard, but she was at a loss as to what to call a female petty officer on a civilian ship.

“Shut your gob, you little trollop!”

Alexis’ temper flared, but Mynatt advanced on Dansby.

“Anya,” Dansby said again. “I have a special,
profitable
, run to make that I want to oversee personally. When we’re done, Tarver will still be gone and you’ll have
Marilyn
, I assure you.”

Mynatt scowled at him then pointed at Alexis. “And the tart?”

“My
niece
,” Dansby insisted.

Mynatt stared at him for a moment, nostrils flaring. She looked Alexis up and down, then stormed off.

Dansby sighed. “Will you get us underway, please, Bowhay? I’ll have a course for you once we’re in
darkspace
.”

“Aye, sir,” Bowhay said. “Hands t’make way! Be about it lads!”

Dansby sighed again as the crew dispersed.

“Do you allow all your employees to speak to you so, uncle?” Alexis asked.

Dansby grunted and gestured for her to follow him toward
Marilyn’s
quarterdeck. The ship was a small sloop, which accounted for the size of the crew. Alexis had been more than a bit relieved at seeing how few crew members there were. The small number lent some credence to Dansby’s contention that his ships no longer engaged in piracy, for a pirate would have more men aboard. A bit of smuggling was easier for her to stomach.

“Anya’s a special case,” Dansby said.

“Perhaps she’ll have a better opinion of me once it’s seen I know my way about a ship?”

Dansby snorted. “No, I rather doubt that will be a help at all.” He gestured for her to follow him. “Come along then. There’re two cabins for the occasional passenger — both smaller than Anya’s or Bowhay’s, unless you’d like to speak to her about giving up the first mate’s cabin?”

“No,” Alexis said. “No, I’ll be quite satisfied with whatever is available.”

“Fine choice.”

A
lexis’ tablet woke
her at her usual time aboard ship, just before the start of the morning watch. She dressed quickly and spent a moment looking for her beret before remembering that she would not be wearing the Navy’s customary headgear aboard this ship.

Then she exited her cabin to find the rest of
Marilyn
dark and silent, not the bustle of activity she was used to at this hour. Farther down the mess deck she could make out the shadowed shapes of the crew still in their bunks. With a frown, she made her way to the quarterdeck, expecting to find, at least, Dansby up and preparing for the day.

Instead she found a single spacer drowsing at the helm.

The man snorted and jerked awake as she entered, looked her over once, and then settled back into his place with half-closed eyes.

“
On your feet!
” Alexis barked without consciously deciding to. The man jumped, staring at her with wide eyes. Her jaw was clenched with anger. It was one thing to keep a different watch schedule, which was why she assumed the rest of the crew was still abed, but to be asleep on watch certainly couldn’t be the norm for Dansby’s ships.

“Bugger off, girl,” the spacer replied, relaxing and closing his eyes again.

Alexis opened her mouth to yell at the man again, but paused in shock. She’d never been spoken to that way aboard ship, even the first she’d ever served on. It was suddenly driven home to her that
Marilyn
was not a Navy ship and that the rules could be quite different aboard her.

“Is it …” She struggled to keep her voice level. “Is it common then, to sleep during one’s watch aboard my uncle’s ships?”

The spacer sighed. “Captain Tarver didn’t care and Dansby’s not said different.” He grinned broadly. “Likely won’t see that one afore noon, himself, is my guess.” Alexis started to speak again but he cut her off. “Look, you, the helm’s set, we’re not carrying any cargo to worry about being inspected, there’s no pirates near the borders, what with all the warships, and we’re far enough in New London space still that there’ll be no Hannie hunting around for a quick prize.” He pointed at the navigation plot. “There’re no ships in sight and the computer’ll wake me if it suspects one, so … bugger off then.”

He closed his eyes.

Alexis blinked. She longed to call for the bosun, but
Marilyn
had none and no Captain’s Mast to bring the man up on charges either.

And no Articles to charge him under.

She looked around the quarterdeck. Aside from there being only a single spacer on watch, and him asleep,
Marilyn
was not at all well kept. The decks and consoles were grimy, and there were bits of trash in odd places — it looked a great deal like the Hanoverese merchant
Trau Wunsch
she’d stolen to escape Giron, and that ship had been in such poor condition mechanically that it had been sent to the breakers instead of the Prize Court.

She left the quarterdeck confused as to how to proceed. One thing was certain, though, she realized. Dansby had not made her position clear to the crew. They might know she was his niece, but not how she fit into the ship’s hierarchy, if at all — something which would have to be corrected immediately.

Alexis left the quarterdeck and made her way to the master’s cabin where Dansby slept. Abed until noon he might plan to be, but she’d see him out of it and dealing with his responsibilities.

She rapped on the cabin’s hatch.

“Dansby? Uncle?”

She rapped again, harder this time. There was a sound from within but no answer.

“Uncle Dansby?”

She grasped the hatch’s handle, intending to rattle it, but the hatch unlocked at her touch and slid smoothly open. Dansby had apparently not been at all particular when he’d given her the same access to the ship that he possessed. The cabin was dark, but Alexis heard another noise. She stepped inside switching on the light.

“There’s no use hiding from me, uncle. I’ve some things to disc …”

Marilyn’s
master’s cabin was a single space, not the separated day- and sleeping-cabins Alexis was used to aboard larger warships. Dansby was, indeed, abed as the spacer had predicted. Also abed, and astride him, was Anya Mynatt.

“If you’ve come to join us, girl,” Mynatt said, turning toward the hatch but not bothering to stop her movements, “you should know I’m partial to a bit more in the way of curves on a lass.”

Alexis flushed. Yes, the rules were apparently quite different aboard this ship. She resisted the urge to bolt from the compartment, not wanting to give Mynatt the satisfaction of seeing her run.

“Uncle,” she began, but then saw that Dansby wasn’t looking at her. Was, possibly, still quite unaware of her presence at all. She cleared her throat. “Miss Mynatt, would you be so kind as to inform my uncle that I wish to speak to him on the quarterdeck? When he is not otherwise … occupied.”

Alexis backed out of the cabin without waiting for Mynatt’s response. She slid the hatch closed and leaned forward to rest her forehead against it, then realized what was still going on behind it and leapt back as though the hatch itself were somehow associated. She looked at her hands and started toward the head to wash, feeling suddenly quite dirty.

Dear heavens, but I already miss the Navy.

A
lexis waited
for Dansby on the quarterdeck, studying the empty navigation plot and ignoring the amused glances of the now awake helmsman.

Certainly
now
he’s decided to remain awake.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, forced herself to stop it, then found her hands going to her head to straighten a nonexistent beret. Arms crossed and jaw clenched to keep from further fidgeting, she saw the helmsman openly grinning at her. Not the sort of grin at all that she’d experienced from spacers on Navy ships, no matter how hard the men were, but something else entirely.

Alexis glanced around the quarterdeck, but they were alone. There was no other officer, no marine sentry, no bosun for her to call on. The helmsman was now running his eyes over her in a way that made her feel decidedly greasy.

She wondered if she should leave and retrieve Dansby, whether he was quite finished or not, but dismissed the idea quickly. She’d be aboard some time and couldn’t rely on him to always be near. No, she’d have to set some of her footing with the crew herself, and not in the Navy way with a bosun or the marines to back up her authority. Even aboard
Hermione
the captain wouldn’t have allowed the common spacers to treat her this way; it would have undermined the authority of all his officers.

She thought about Mynatt, who must have some of this crew’s respect to be first mate and expected to become captain. How had she come to be accepted as a leader among such a crew?

Certainly not by pretending to be a man.

Neither Mynatt’s dress nor attitude implied that, and she certainly knew there were no secrets aboard ship, so she must expect to retain the crew’s respect even after they found out about her and Dansby. Alexis suspected no amount of skill in ship handling or other spacer’s skills would turn the trick, either.

The helmsman caught her eye again and leered. The look made Alexis shudder and want to leave the compartment, which, she realized, would be exactly the wrong thing to do. More so even than the hardest men aboard a Navy ship, Dansby’s crew acted by a different set of rules than most. They preyed on others, one step above piracy and who knew what they went about on their own in ports, and would judge others to be predators as well, or simply prey.

No, she couldn’t be a Naval lieutenant aboard
Marilyn
. She’d have to be something else, something harder. She thought she had it in her to be that, but the possibility did frighten her.

Her thoughts ran to Midshipman Timpson of
Hermione
and how she’d tried to goad him into challenging or attacking her while they were prisoners on Giron. True, he’d been the one to install a filter in
Hermione’s
signals console that had trapped all of her messages from being delivered or sent for nearly a year, but part of Alexis had imagined simply walking into the cafe and shooting him. She worried what those impulses might lead her to, without the restraint of Naval discipline.

Alexis sighed. Worry she might, but she had little choice in how to deal with this crew.

She stepped close to the helmsman and leaned in, reaching behind her back for the hidden pocket where her new flechette pistol was kept. She had to rise up on her toes to get her lips next to the man’s ear.

“What’s your name?” she whispered.

“Embry,” the man said, pressing closer to Alexis, but then freezing in place as he came in contact with the flechette pistol she’d moved between them at a particularly pointed height.

“Do you look at Miss Mynatt in that way, Embry?” Alexis asked, no longer whispering and voice hard.

Embry swallowed. “Um, no.”

Alexis nodded. “Should I feel a need to prove my place aboard
Marilyn
, Embry, I’ll do so in a way that makes Miss Mynatt look quite kind and forgiving in comparison. Do you take my meaning?”

Embry stepped back from her, nodded quickly, then locked his eyes on his helm and cleared his throat.

“Endearing yourself to my crew, niece?” Dansby slid the quarterdeck hatch shut behind him and crossed to the navigation plot.

“Establishing boundaries, uncle,” Alexis said. She stepped back from Embry and slid the flechette pistol back into its hidden pocket. She clapped him on the shoulder with a friendly smile. “Isn’t that right, Embry?”

Embry stared at her for a moment, eyes wide, then relaxed and shrugged, as though she’d settled firmly into a different slot in his mind. “Fair enough.”

Dansby grunted.

Alexis nodded to Embry and went to Dansby’s side. If this crew gossiped amongst themselves half as much as a Naval crew did, then she might at least have put an end to that particular bit of nonsense.