Arabella dropped her gaze to her feet. “I suffered my shirt to be removed, and then collapsed in a blubbering heap.”
“After which, according to the reports I have received, you faced down Binion’s pistol, rallied the men, and recaptured the ship from the mutineers. No small accomplishment.”
Her cheeks began to burn. “I … that description vastly overstates my role in the action, sir. It was Gowse who set upon Binion, and Watson who tackled him. After that, all the men took a hand. I did very little of my own accord, and nothing that any other loyal man would not have done in my place.”
“Any loyal … man,” he repeated, with slight emphasis on the last word. His dark eyes regarded her seriously. “It was Gowse and Watson themselves who told me what you did, and neither of them is of a temperament to minimize his own accomplishments. Your actions would be a credit to any officer, never mind a boy second class, and are a truly extraordinary achievement for a girl.”
The captain’s words raised deep and contradictory emotions in Arabella’s breast. She should be proud of her actions, she knew, yet she had failed—failed to expose the mutiny before it occurred, failed to free the captain, and failed to keep her sex hidden, and now she worried about the consequences of that failure. She had lied, through omission if not explicitly, and taken employment under a false identity. Would she be punished for that deception, now that it had been exposed? “I’m concerned about the men,” she said, approaching the question indirectly. “What will happen to those who took part in the mutiny?”
“Binion and the other leaders are now manacled in the hold, along with a few more who injured other men during the mutiny.” Arabella cringed inwardly at the remembered sound of the topman Westphal’s knees being crushed by the water cask. “The rest of the men who sided with them have sworn their loyalty to the Company and returned to their stations, though there will be an inquest and possible disciplinary action upon our return to Earth.”
“And what will become of…” Again Arabella’s gaze was drawn to her feet. “… of me?”
“I will be putting you in for a commendation from the Company. There are, of course, no guarantees, but I think your chances are excellent.”
She looked up in shock. “A commendation? But … but I’m not even a…”
“You are far from the first to obtain employment on an airship of the Honorable Mars Company by pretending to qualifications he does not actually hold, Miss Ashby.” Now it was the captain whose eyes drifted downward. “Some of these have even gone on to distinguished careers.” He seemed to shake himself from an inward reverie then, and his gaze returned to Arabella’s face. “There is, to be sure, the unavoidable matter of your sex. You will not be allowed to continue as captain’s boy.”
Though the news was not unexpected, Arabella’s heart fell. “I understand, sir.” But she knew that Diana was a tight, efficient machine with no room for nonfunctioning parts. “So what will be my position on board ship?”
“Captains in the service of the Honorable Mars Company are permitted a certain number of paying passengers as personal dunnage, so long as they can be accommodated in the captain’s quarters. I do not usually exercise this privilege myself, but in this case I have instructed the purser to list you as my passenger. Although,” he added parenthetically, “I have never before heard of a passenger joining the voyage in mid-air.”
“Thank you, sir. At what rate?” Passage to Mars, she knew, was frightfully expensive.
“Captains are permitted to set their own tariff for passage, at whatever rate the traffic will bear.” He raised a finger. “I am setting your rate at three hundred pounds. Plus forty for food and wine.”
Arabella swallowed hard at the size of the sum, though Michael would surely pay it … if he yet lived.
“Furthermore, I am hiring you, out of my own purse, as a consultant on matters of clockwork and navigation, at a rate of one hundred and eighty pounds per week.”
Her jaw dropped at the idea, then dropped still further at the impossible generosity of the compensation. When multiplied by the number of weeks remaining in the voyage …
She closed her mouth, a small smile appearing on her face in acknowledgement of the captain’s cleverness. “Which leaves me with twenty pounds in credit when we arrive at Mars.”
“Exactly. Minus the cost of your clothing, of course, including the rather fetching frock you are wearing now.” He consulted a paper. “Two pounds, one shilling, and eightpence, all told.”
“Of course.”
“Mr. Quinn insisted.” He shrugged.