Burning Bright (20 page)

Elinor shook her head. “I thought the admiral had to follow the First Lord’s instructions.”

“There’s following, and then there’s following. He’ll stick to the letter of his orders but he won’t put one finger outside their literal meaning.”

“But then how shall we ever be effective?”

Ramsay reached up with his free hand and squeezed hers where it lay on the blue wool of his jacket. “By being cleverer than he is.”

They passed through a pillared hall with double doors large enough to wheel a cannon through, also unpeopled, where Hervey left their procession and went to sit on one of the benches carved of the same rosy brown wood as the floor. Potted miniature trees with dark-green, sharp-edged leaves scented the air with a dry, sunny smell. “Where is everyone?” Elinor asked. “I cannot believe this house is so large that all its officers can simply disappear into it.”

“All gone home, or to supper,” Ramsay said. “Admiral Durrant didn’t want anyone to see us arrive. And if you were wondering, it’s because he doesn’t want to have to explain why you’re here, not because he cares about your reputation. He doesn’t like that the Admiralty can tell him what to do, here in his own fief.”

“You seem to know a great deal about him.”

“This isn’t my first time in the Caribbean.”

They proceeded down more windowless, empty, portrait-hung white corridors until Ramsay stopped in front of a pair of doors with oval, iron knobs and looked at Elinor with an unreadable expression. Then he pushed the door open and entered. Elinor followed him, her pulse pounding in her ears like the drum beating to quarters.

The sun had dipped below the horizon during the time it had taken Elinor to dress and for Hervey to bring them both here. Picture windows lining one wall revealed a yew shrubbery brushing against the glass, beyond which lay a strip of lawn, grey in the shadows, and for a moment she imagined herself looking out over her mother’s garden back home, and shivered. Farther in the distance was a dense grove of trees, indistinct in the dim light, but their outlines told her they were utterly alien, despite the effort to make the garden a piece of England.

The house had to be part of that effort, and she was surprised to see how closely this room resembled that of the First Lord in the Admiralty building in London. There was the same table, this one’s surface shining mirror-like, reflecting the chandelier poised high above it; there was the fireplace, unlit, though in this climate that was more reasonable than it had been in the First Lord’s frigid chamber; there map cylinders hung over the fireplace, cords dangling that would allow them to be pulled open for display without removing them from the wall. The brick-red carpet with its intricate black and gold pattern might have come from the same stall in some eastern bazaar.

Even the tableau was the same: three men gathered at the far end of the table, heads bent over a sheet of paper covering half the mirrored surface. Two of the men looked up as they entered; the third continued to trace a line along the paper with a slender baton about a foot long. “This puts them
here
and
here
,” he said.

Ramsay removed his hat and tucked it under his arm, rested his other hand on the hilt of his sword, and came to a sort of relaxed attention that was outwardly correct but hinted that he thought himself the equal of any man in the room, rank notwithstanding. Elinor clasped her hands in front of her and fixed her gaze on the third man, whose continued inattention to their entrance was rapidly becoming an insult. The man on his left fidgeted, casting quick glances at him as if hoping to catch his eye, then flicking his gaze at Ramsay with what looked like an apology.

The man on his right, by contrast, bowed to Elinor, then gave her his full attention; he was handsome for a man probably her father’s age, his silvering brown hair tied back with a black ribbon, with warm brown eyes and a full-lipped mouth that curved into an unpleasant smile. His gaze dropped from her face to her breasts. She suddenly wanted to cover herself with her hands, to turn away, anything to keep him from staring at her body as if he wished he could use his hands rather than his eyes to examine her contours. Lord Huxley’s undesired attention had been far, far more welcome than this.

Finally, the man in the center raised his head. “Good evening, Captain Ramsay,” he said. His voice was as dry as his skin and as brittle; this was a man whom the sea and sun had weathered into tree bark. “You bring interesting orders.”

“Admiral Durrant, sir,” Ramsay replied, but said nothing more.

“And this is the Scorcher,” Durrant continued, not looking at Elinor. “A slender reed to hang a strategy on.”

“You have my report on the success of that strategy.”

“Yes.” Durrant sat, followed by the other two, the man on the left hesitating again as if expecting Durrant to offer his visitors chairs as well. “Only three successes.”

“The point of sending
Athena
here is to increase that number.”

“The
Athena
is still only one ship. How do you expect to prevent the pirates who roam freely through these waters from striking in several places at once?”

“That’s up to you, sir. I expect your understanding of the tactical situation to guide our efforts.”

“Hmph.” Durrant rested his chin in his hand, creasing his onion-paper skin. “I don’t like it.”

“Sir.”

“Admiral, they’re here now, and we need to put them to use,” said the fidgety man. His vowels were strangely accented and he continued to divide his attention between Durrant and Ramsay. “The Colonial fleet has had a great deal of success with Scorchers—”

“And even more success with a full complement of ships, Wood. We don’t need talents, we need
ships
. We don’t need a girl barely out of the schoolroom who may faint at the first sign of violence.”

Elinor opened her mouth and then closed it abruptly as Ramsay stepped firmly on her foot. “Miss Pembroke has already seen combat,” he said, “and she’s very level-headed.”

Durrant dismissed this with a wave. “We’ll see if that’s true, I suppose.” He beckoned to Ramsay to come forward, and once his foot was removed, Elinor followed him. Only the leering man paid any attention to her, and Elinor wanted to scrub her skin with sandpaper to rid herself of the oily feeling his gaze left on her body.

She tried to keep Ramsay between them, but he stepped up to the table to look at what turned out to be a map of the Caribbean, and the leering man came up close enough behind her that she could feel his breath on her ear, hot and smelling of fish. She tried to focus on the map, though the contours of the islands were obscured by tiny printed words radiating out from the coastlines and curved lines filled the seas following those same contours. She identified Bermuda, a dot well north and east of the rest of the islands, just as the admiral said, “You probably don’t know much about the situation here.”

Ramsay said, “Not much. Only that over the last thirty years a group of pirates styling themselves the Brethren of the Coast, in homage to Henry Morgan probably, have organized the individual ships into a single unit which they use to terrorize cities into paying protection money. And that Spain, fighting Napoleon on the Continent and facing rebellion in their Latin American colonies, capitulated to their demands three years ago, which means that any Spanish ports are potential pirate havens. It’s probably important that they prosecute their war against us by treating their captured merchant crews with gentility, so those merchants will put pressure on their governments to give in and pay what the pirates demand. Of course they haven’t realized that, as the saying goes, once you start paying Danegeld you never get rid of the Dane, but it means we are fighting a war of public opinion as well as a literal war. But other than that, sir, I don’t know much.”

Elinor bit her lip. Durrant looked as though he wasn’t sure if Ramsay was making fun of him. He cleared his throat and said, “We’ve received intelligence that puts a number of pirate ships under the command of Hugh Bexley, one of Evans’ chiefs, sailing from Havana tomorrow or the next day to make a run up the American coast, passing between Florida and the Grand Bank of the Bahamas.”

He traced a snaking line with his baton, which flexed as it touched the map. “We don’t have enough ships near Cuba”—he glared at Ramsay, then at Elinor—“so part of our fleet is leaving Bermuda and assembling
here
”—tap, tap at a spot north of the long chain of islands that paralleled the ragged coast of Florida—“to intercept them. You’ll be cruising north of Saint-Domingue to catch any ships trying to take advantage of our ships drawing northward.”

“Admiral, with all due respect, that seems like a waste of a valuable resource,” said Wood. “You’ve never seen an Extraordinary Scorcher in battle before. I have. Believe me, you want the girl as close to the action as you can manage.”

Elinor ground her teeth to keep from objecting to “girl.” Ramsay said, “I believe the First Lord wanted
Athena
to take a more active role in this war.”

“The First Lord isn’t the man on the spot, is he?” Durrant thwacked the map with his baton. “You’ll sail where I tell you, and my judgment is that you’ll best serve us off Saint-Domingue, guarding our flank. Unless you think your five minutes’ assessment of the situation is superior to my seven years of successfully fighting off these vermin?”

“No, sir,” Ramsay said. “We’re happy to go where we are needed. Sir, might I ask about the enemy’s tactics? So we will be prepared when we encounter them.”

Durrant had been leaning forward, palms flat on the map, and now he sat back, smiling as if he’d beaten Ramsay at some game neither of them admitted to playing. “Sullyard, the historical map,” he said, and the man standing far too close to Elinor brushed against her as he went to the fireplace and unrolled another map of the Caribbean, this one showing only the islands within the Caribbean Sea. Black X’s made patterns between the islands as if marking the ocean currents.

“This is a record of all the victories we’ve won,” Durrant said. “You can see the patterns show they follow our trade routes and look to pick off weak or unguarded targets. We used to focus on convoy duty, but since Spain’s turned up its fluffy white tail, we’ve tried to take the battle to the pirates. They have smaller, lighter boats and can slip through channels our heavier vessels can’t navigate. We’ve commissioned a number of Bermuda sloops, and I had
hoped
for a few more frigates, but God forbid I tell the Admiralty what to do.”

He walked around the table and smacked the hanging map with his baton. “So watch the shores, Ramsay, watch the currents, and see if you can’t manage to bring some of these bas—” He seemed to notice Elinor for the first time and cleared his throat again with a great hocking noise. “Take prizes if you want, but don’t let any of them escape.”

“Yes, sir. What about these rumors of the pirates’ intelligence gathering network?”

“What rumors? Are you listening to rumors?”

“No, Admiral, but word gets around. Is it true they’ve Seers tracking our ships’ movements?”

“
That is a damned lie
,” Durrant shouted. “If I could find the blackguard who’s been spreading that lie, I’d have him strung up at the point in Port Royal by his tes—that is,” he corrected himself, the angry flush fading from his cheeks, “I’d make an example of him. It’s sedition, that’s what it is, trying to demoralize good men. Don’t listen to rumors, Ramsay, it’s a weak and cowardly thing to do.”

“Yes, sir. If you’ll give me my official orders?”

“Sullyard?” The man went to a row of drawers behind Durrant and removed a flat packet tied with red ribbon and handed it to the admiral, who tossed it at Ramsay. Ramsay caught it neatly out of the air and bowed to both the admirals in turn.

Elinor quickly bobbed her curtsey and exited the room ahead of Ramsay, who waited only long enough to hold the door for her before striding off down the corridor so quickly she nearly had to skip to keep up with him.

“Captain—”

“Wait until we return, Miss Pembroke. Too many listening ears.” The halls were completely empty, so Elinor could not imagine who might be listening to them, but she kept her mouth shut as Ramsay strode through the halls and into the entrance.

Hervey shot to his feet and said, “Captain—”

“Take Miss Pembroke back, then return for me. I’ll meet you at the Bounding chamber,” Ramsay said, and walked away without waiting for Hervey’s assent. Elinor was certain the dumbfounded look on Hervey’s face matched her own. Hervey shrugged and put his arms around her. “On three, Miss Pembroke,” he said, and again there was the sensation of being completely incorporeal, and then they were in the cramped, whitewashed Bounding chamber, lit by a single lamp, with a few slashes of dark green or black paint on the forward bulkhead. Elinor had barely regained her balance before Hervey was gone again. She took a moment to breathe deeply, then realized she ought to exit the chamber so Hervey could return to it.

At this hour, just after nine o’clock in the evening, the lower deck was crowded with hammocks and men wheezing and snoring. The hammocks were strung so closely together that one man’s feet brushed against another man’s head, and it was so hot Elinor could not understand how they were able to sleep at all. The motion of the ship beneath her feet was the gentle bobbing of
Athena
at rest, soothing to her spirits after the meeting with the admiral. She folded her arms across her chest and waited. If Ramsay thought she would be willing to wait patiently in the great cabin for an explanation, he was sorely mistaken.

Only a few minutes passed before the flimsy wooden door banged open and Ramsay stepped out, followed closely by Hervey. Ramsay took her arm and steered her between the hammocks and their occupants reeking of stale sweat and spirits. He seemed unsurprised she had waited for him.

“Thank you for keeping quiet,” he said. “I know it was difficult.”

“I believe my foot will never be the same, Captain,” she retorted.

Ramsay laughed. “It was all in a good cause, Miss Pembroke.” He pushed open the door to the great cabin and turned to Hervey. “Get the lieutenants up here, and Mr. Brown. Whoever’s on deck, you’re taking over for the next hour.”