Mutineer by J.A. Sutherland Read Free Book Online Page A

reason a ship’s captain is referred to as the ‘sole master after God’ — and God, Carew, seldom bothers Himself with frigates.”
    “But …”
    “Drink your drink, Carew, and listen closely, without interrupting me.”
    Well, and I wouldn’t, if you’d stop asking questions . She raised her glass and took a small sip for courtesy’s sake, then widened her eyes and took another. She’d never really enjoyed liquors, but this was quite good. It set her tongue tingling and drew a line of warmth down to her belly.
    “The Navy will only acknowledge a captain’s misdeeds in the most grievous and public circumstances … or if they have need of a scapegoat, of course,” Williard went on. “And anything that can be covered up, will be. To do otherwise would destroy the discipline required to man our ships months from home. And they do not take a kind view of those who try to force their hand. So, to return to our little hypothetical, the junior officer who reports a senior is likely to find herself in a much worse position than she was before.”
    “But he’s a coward, sir,” she said in a rush, “surely they must care about that.”
    Williard took a deep breath. “Prove it.”
    “The ship’s logs …”
    “Yes, the logs. Again, our hypothetical captain and aboard our purely speculative ship, of course. What would the logs show, if such a man were careful? A series of entirely justified decisions, perhaps? Ships misidentified, but the identification concurred to by his senior officers? Pursuits not quite on the best point of sail, so that a Chase gets away? And, yet still, a not embarrassing string of Prizes – small, I grant you, but still ships taken from the enemy.”
    Alexis stared at him. That would, indeed, be what Hermione’s logs would show, now that he pointed it out to her. She raised her glass again, surprised to find it empty, but before she’d even set it back on the table the servant had appeared again with fresh glasses for her and Williard, whisking the empties away and withdrawing. Alexis raised this new glass and drank. The warmth filled her and loosened some of the tension.
    “The men, then, sir?” she asked. “There’s not a Captain’s Mast goes by that some man isn’t flogged. The flimsiest of reasons and the number of lashes.” She closed her eyes. “Sir, the regulations allow for no more than two dozen to be ordered by a captain, and yet Captain —”
    “Carew …” Williard said warningly.
    Alexis bit her lip. “And yet … I have heard of some captains ordering as many as four dozen. And that men have died of it aboard … some ships.”
    Williard nodded. “Admiralty cares that a captain is successful, Carew, not a bit about his methods. Punishments go into the log, but when that log is reviewed at the end of a cruise … assuming it actually is, of course … well, one does not argue methods with God when He’s successful, does one?”
    “The Devil, rather.”
    Williard shrugged. “Aboard some ships, they’re one and the same.”
    Alexis drained her glass, grateful for the sting and burn of the drink.
    Williard smiled. “I should warn you, Mister Carew, that’s an expensive taste to cultivate.”
    “I’m sorry, sir,” Alexis said, setting the glass down.
    “I wasn’t complaining about the reckoning. Only that I’d not start a fellow officer down the dark path of fine Scotch whiskey without fair warning.”
    Alexis picked up the glass again and smiled as she took a sip. “I’ll consider myself warned, sir.” She studied the glass for a moment, the dim light sparkling amber through the liquid and the crystal of the glass. “So there’s nothing to be done, then?”
    “Come,” Williard said, standing. As soon as he stood, the servant appeared. “We’ll go in to dinner now, if you please.”
    “Of course, sir. Follow me?”
    They followed the servant down another hallway and into a large dining room, again appointed in rich woods and leathers, the