"Three ships and four full cargoes," say I, quickly, stressing the four and not the three. "Wine, perfumes, china, silks, cheeses, hams, the list is endless, Sir."
"Good, good," says he, contentedly.
I gesture for the serving men to fill his plate.
I do not look at Mr. Fletcher directly, but I observe him out of the corner of my eye. He is seated across from me, staring intently at my face. He appears to be struggling with the desire to say something, but, of course, he cannot. Rules, you know. But you know, if it were me, I would say something and damn the consequences. I would jump across the table and wrap my arms around your neck. But, then, that's always been the difference between you and me, Jaimy. Always. I do not allow our gazes to meet.
"Ah, but now we must get down to it," sighs the Commodore. Another truffle slips down his throat. "The matter of the dead Captain Scroggs. Would you care to explain how that happened? And how you happen to be sitting here in the uniform of a Lieutenant in His Majesty's Service, addressing in familiar terms a Commodore of the same service?"
I lean back and take a sip of my wine and begin. "I was taken by a press-gang in London, Sir. They mistook me for a man because I was dressed as a jockey at the time—it was a lark, a prank I wished to pull on a former friend of mine, a prank which, as you can see, backfired upon me. At any rate, I was brought aboard here and read into the ship's company. Since it was apparently well known that I had been made a midshipman by Captain Locke on HMS Dolphin, Captain Scroggs appointed me as such."
"Did he know you were a girl when he did that?"
I think back to the vile Scroggs groping my chest that day on the deck. "That fact was known to him, yes," I say.
"And still he read you into the ship's company?"
I pause and look around. "Do not think that in any way that I believed he had either my best interests or the best interests of the Service in mind when he did this. I think you all know exactly what he had in mind."
I look off into the clouds and then I look back at them. "At any rate, I assumed my duties and I did them as best I could." I say this hotly, looking especially at Captain Trumbull. "What else could I do? You tell me. You tell me now."
The Captain speaks up for the first time. "You could have thrown yourself on Captain Scroggs's mercy. I'm sure his sense of decency would have preserved what is left of your virtue, girl."
Hmmmmm! This from my crew.
"What's this, then?" wonders the Commodore, looking about at the men in the rigging. "Mutiny?"
"It is not mutiny, Sir," I say. "They are merely looking out for me, that I not be hurt. They are a good and loyal crew, as you will find out. It was on their mercy that I threw myself, and they are the ones who proved true."
They say nothing to that and I continue. "I performed my duties as midshipman in charge of the First Division Port Guns. I exercised them to a high degree of proficiency, and when the Wolverine was attacked by a French gunboat, my gun crews were the only ones able to fire and sink the attacker. As a consequence, Captain Scroggs appointed me Acting Lieutenant and Assistant Gunnery Officer." I motion to Tom, who is nervously standing by holding the log. "Mr. Wheeler, please show the Commodore the entries in the ship's log concerning this. You will notice, Sir, that the entries are signed by Captain Scroggs."
The Commodore glances at the book, shaking his head. He waves Tom away.
"I believe he did it to humiliate his officers and crew, Sir. It was something he enjoyed doing," I say, giving them an explanation they might believe.
"He must have been insane," says Commodore Shawcross, "but that is for the Court of Inquiry to decide. Now, how did he die?"
"Captain Scroggs died of what I believe is called apoplexy. His heart attacked him."
"And how did you know this?"
"I was there at the time. In his cabin."
"When was this and was anyone else there in his cabin?"
"It was the night of the fifteenth of October, and, no, there was no one else in the room."
"You were alone with him?"
"Yes."
I notice Mr. Fletcher stiffens at this, but I do not meet his eye.
"Where are the other officers?"
"Captain Scroggs sent them off with a message to you, Sir."
"I never received them. Why did he send them?"
"I believe he was looking forward to an uninterrupted night of sport with me. I must now say that those officers did their level best to look out for me, Sir, they were most honorable and I hope they are safe. They were also taking to you an account of Captain Scroggs's recent behavior for your judgment on his suitability for remaining in command of this ship. I assume they were taken by a French patrol."
"Hmmm. Lamentable, that," says the Commodore. "And his death was occasioned by..."
"The excitement of his anticipation of a night of revels with me, Sir." That, a bad heart, and several rolling cannonballs served up by my loyal friends. "I have here an affidavit signed by Earweg, the loblolly boy, and my officers to the effect that there were no wounds on the Captain's body."
He looks at the paper and says, "This may be as you say, but I still must take you into my custody until a Board of Inquiry convenes."
At this, my crew once again sets up the Hmmmmmmm! of warning.
I stand and sing out to my men, "It is all right. Let it be. It is over now."
To the Commodore I say, "I wish to take leave of my officers, now, if you please." He nods.
The warrant officers, Drake, Harkness, and Jared, are lined up first. Then the midshipmen, Tom, Ned, and Georgie, with Robin last, over by the far rail.
I go up to Drake and take his hand. "Peter. Thank you for my sword and for teaching me how to use it. May you have fair winds and prosper in this life. And you, Jack Harkness, my strong and solid gunner, the same fair winds to you." Harkness bites his bottom lip and nods.
Then I stand in front of Jared and take his hand and look into his eyes and say, "Good luck, Joseph, you piratical rogue. Thank you for my life."
He grins his mocking grin and says low so none but me can hear him, "Good-bye, Puss. When you are done playing with boys, you know where to find me."
I grin back at him and give his hand a squeeze and move on to Georgie. I take his hand in both of mine and bend over and kiss him on his forehead. He looks like he's going to cry, but he doesn't. "Good-bye, Georgie. You are going to make a fine young man.
"And Tom. And Ned. My two noble Knights Errant, who slept outside my room on that first night to protect me from harm. Ah? You did not think I had noticed? I did, and I will never forget." I shake their hands and put a kiss on each forehead, and they nod and I move on to Robin.
I stand before him and I take his hand and look into his face. "Good-bye, my brave and gallant corsair, who stood up in the face of evil to save me. No, no, don't say it. Someday you shall find a good girl to stand by your side and she will be a lucky, lucky girl, indeed, and I mean that with all my heart, Robin. Now kiss me good-bye."
With that I lift his hand and place it on my left breast and lift my face to him and kiss him full on.
How does it feel, Jaimy? Tell me, how does it feel?
I break away from Robin and say to the Commodore, "Do you recognize me as a lieutenant in your service, Sir?"
He shakes his head, sadly, I believe.
"Do you consider me in any way to be part of His Majesty's Royal Navy?"
Again he shakes his head.
"Well, then," I say, "I am not bound by your rules!" And with that I dash to the far rail and hook my leg over the side. "Good-bye, Werewolves," I calls out to my shipmates. "You were the best of men!"
There is a final roar of Puss-in-Boots! as I drop over the side into the waiting boat, cast off the line, throw over the tiller, and pull in the mainsheet. The sail fills and I am off. Astounded faces appear at the rail of the Wolverine, but I don't care. They shan't catch me, I know, 'cause Barnes, the coxswain of the boat that brought Georgie back, had been told to contrive to foul his lines with those of the Commodore's boat, so I shall be far over the western horizon before they can even get sorted out.
Yes, I shall be far over the horizon where lies my share of the prize money, where lies my jewel, where lies my Emerald.
As soon as I am taken aboard, the sails are dropped and trimmed and we head to England. Higgins has prepared my cabin and good smells are coming up from down below, but I do not go right down but instead linger on the quarterdeck next to the helmsman.
I run my hand over her polished rail and look up at her perfectly white, perfectly trimmed sails. I look at her wake foaming behind us and her decks all clean and gleaming and I think: You lovely, lovely thing. You used to be French and now you are not. You used to be called L'Emeraude and now I name you the Emerald. You used to belong to others and now you do not.
Now you belong to me.
PART II
Chapter 24
I'm poundin' through the night and it's startin' to rain and this horse I'm ridin' ain't exactly happy to be sharing this evening with me and it takes constant kicking of my heels to keep him up to pace. He's a big black gelding and he's game enough but he's had just about enough of me by now—the damned nag has been fighting me every step of the way for the last hour. I had hired him back at the last village and had gotten directions and set out. There were some low types smirking about, so, before climbing aboard and setting out, I made sure my cloak blew open and they saw my pistols loaded, primed, and in my crossed belts.
The cottages flash by in the darkening evening, small, mud brick, straw and wattling dwellings, right up on the road, with the fields beyond, rolling off in the distance toward the mountains that lie all misty at the horizon.
It's raining for real now and I pull my cloak tighter around me. This ride has given me plenty of time to think of the events of the past few weeks. Like finding Judy. Like finding a crew to get my ship across the Irish Sea. Like the confrontation with Sir Henry Dundas.
***
We had brought the Emerald into Brighton without incident, warping her alongside an open dock and mooring her tightly. I paid off the prize crew and they disappeared into the city. They were a crew that Jared had put together for me to get my Emerald back to England, at least, and they were generally men who had been pressed and were desperate to get back to their families or sweethearts at any cost—desperate enough to take a small payoff instead of waiting for their share of the prize money. At least the money in their pockets was sure, and we can't be sure of the prize money.
I had drawn up discharge papers for them so they wouldn't be hanged for desertion should they be caught and charged with that crime.
One of them was Ozgood. I figured it was not a disservice to the Royal Navy to deny them the services of No-Good Ozgood, a sailor famous for his ineptitude. I gave him his money and his discharge paper and warned him to be careful.
"Don't worry, Miss, I'm a man of a thousand faces. And besides, Ozgood ain't my real name."
He lit off into the town and I was sorry to see him go. He was a merry sort, a big strapping fellow with a wide, toothy grin, and dead handsome to boot—would have to be, considering his profession, I suppose. And actually, on the trip over, he proved quite useful as a sailor—it seems that a lot of his incompetence was again just an act to get him out of any serious work, and to make sure the Navy was not sorry to see him go, whenever he went.