“For a time.” The man straightened a little, introducing himself in formal tones. “Attcus Tidelow, Master of the SSM Farlight.”
“Corrick Hilemore, Commander of the IPV Superior, en route to Kraghurst Station on company orders.”
The smiles lighting the faces of the Farlight’s crew faded abruptly, and Captain Tidelow’s already stern visage took on an even grimmer aspect. “Then you’d best turn about, Captain,” he said. “For there no longer is a Kraghurst Station.”
? ? ?
“I always thought he was a myth, myself.” Tidelow paused to take a long draw on his pipe, the bowl filled with leaf from the Superior’s stocks, then exhaled a thin stream of smoke towards the ward-room ceiling. “Hunted Blue in these waters for the better part of two decades and never caught even the smallest glimpse of him. Sailors do like their tales, the taller the better, and every tale of Last Look Jack I heard came from the lips of those who’d never actually set eyes on him. They’d always heard it from someone else who’d heard it from someone else.” His teeth clamped on the stem of his pipe for a second, mouth twitching a little. “Now, I’ve got a story of my own, one I saw with my own eyes. Though I’d give my soul to the King of the Deep to take the memory away.”
“Last Look Jack attacked Kraghurst Station?” Hilemore said.
Tidelow nodded. “’Bout three weeks ago now. Came out of the sea without warning one evening. And he wasn’t alone. Him and at least a dozen Blues, all intent on our destruction. Kraghurst had a garrison of sorts, mostly sailors between berths. Did their best I s’pose but they had only rifles and a few cannon. Us and some of the other Blue-hunters tried our luck with harpoons, got a few of the smaller drakes, but not old Jack. We managed to put a steel-headed twelve-foot spike in his hide but it was like sticking a horse with a toothpick. Took maybe a half hour at most and the whole place was up in flames, docks all gone along with most all the ships too. Lucky for us Last Look had turned his flames on the dwellings carved into the Shelf.”
Tidelow fell silent, lips twitching once more. “We made all the steam we could and sailed away. I know there’s some who’ll call us cowards, and maybe they’d be right, but staying to fight it out would’ve been suicide.”
“You did the right thing, Captain,” Hilemore assured him.
“Since then we been sailing up and down the Chokes looking for a course that’ll take us to open sea. So far, we’ve found all the usual routes blocked by bergs, almost like we’re being sealed in here on purpose. With food running low I made for the channel ’twixt the Shelf and the Chokes, though it’s called the Madman’s Rush for a reason. But what choice did we have with food running lower by the day and Last Look about to pop up at any moment? And now you’re telling me he’s dead.” Tidelow gave Hilemore a sceptical frown. “Must say, I’m bound to confess a reluctance to believe that.”
“Understandable,” Hilemore conceded. “But he is certainly wounded, at the very least. Perhaps enough for him to leave us be whilst we complete our mission.”
“You’re still determined to go on to Kraghurst? There ain’t nothing there.”
“Destroyed or not, it remains our destination.”
“Be that as it may, Captain, I can’t go with you. My crew’s been loyal so far, but ordering a return to the Shelf is most likely to earn me a mutiny, and I wouldn’t blame them.”
“I appreciate your position, sir. However, I believe there is a course that would benefit us both. Tell me, do any of your men have knowledge of explosives?”
? ? ?
Talmant stood rigidly at attention on the fore-deck, the set of his features revealing barely controlled emotions. It was a strange sight to witness, Hilemore never having seen him angry before. “I . . .” Talmant began, faltered then started again. “I must object to these orders, sir. My place is on this ship.”
“Your objection will be noted in the log, Mr. Talmant,” Hilemore said. “But the exigencies of our mission require you to undertake a new posting.”
“If I might point out, sir,” Talmant said, voice quivering a little. “I followed you on this course at no small risk to my person and my future prospects . . .”
“Also duly noted and appreciated, Lieutenant,” Hilemore broke in, putting an edge to his voice. “But you made an adult decision, one worthy of the rank you hold. Questioning your captain’s orders and failing to put aside personal preferences, however, are not.”
Watching Talmant bite down on some more unwise words, Hilemore was struck by how much older he appeared now. The earnest ensign from several months ago had been much changed by all they had seen and done, but still a vestige of the boy remained. Sighing, Hilemore took a step closer and lowered his voice. “I cannot entrust this to anyone else. Your personnel file shows advanced explosives training at the Academy. Added to that, your navigation skills make you the perfect choice for this mission. Besides”—he glanced over at the group of crewmen transferring half of the Superior’s powder stocks to the Farlight via the gang-plank strung between the two ships, “I’ll need someone to ensure Captain Tidelow keeps his end of the bargain. Why do you think I’m sending four gunners along?”
Talmant took a moment to reply with a stiff nod, though Hilemore detected a faint glimmer of pride amidst the anger still shining in the youth’s eyes. “Once we have blasted a channel through the Chokes,” he said, “these men will have no desire to linger.”
“I’m sure they won’t,” Hilemore agreed. “However, it is your duty to ensure that the course is marked for our return. I will leave the means to your best judgement.”
Talmant stood a little straighter. “Very good, sir,” he said, snapping off a fine salute.
Hilemore returned the salute then extended his hand. “Good luck, Mr. Talmant.”
The youth hesitated before taking Hilemore’s hand, a small grin coming to his lips as Steelfine came forward to clap a large hand to his shoulder. “If it comes to it,” he said, leaning closer, “shoot the bosun before the captain. Every mutiny I ever knew of started with the bosun.”
“I’ll bear it in mind, sir.”
An hour later Hilemore stood at the stern watching the Farlight sail north, paddles turning swiftly thanks to the coal he had provided. He had also been obliged to hand over a quarter of their food as well as sundry other supplies. Captain Tidelow drove a hard bargain and it was fortunate the Superior had been so well-stocked when they seized her. However, Hilemore had drawn the line when the old captain demanded five vials of Green in addition to everything else.
“I shall require all we have to complete my mission,” Hilemore told him. “But we find ourselves with a surplus of Blue, which I’m sure will earn a hefty price in any civilised port. You’re welcome to two-thirds of it.”