“Injuries?”
Marshall closed his eyes briefly. “He had been bound, sir, tightly enough to leave lasting marks. And... mishandled... in a way that caused severe bruising over the greater part of his body.” Never mind how he happened to see that damage. “Further than that, I did not inquire in detail, though I assume that whatever else may have been done to him was in keeping with Adrian’s habits. Mr. Archer also told me that Adrian had threatened to injure you and myself to coerce his participation and his silence. That beating I received occurred immediately after Mr. Archer had first rejected his advances.”
“I see,” Smith said. “Not that I would have wished to see you mistreated, but surely Mr. Archer realized that Adrian needed us alive?”
“Yes, sir. But not...” Marshall struggled to find the right word; he felt like he was walking on broken glass. “Not
intact,
sir. And I believe Mr. Archer was correct in assuming that Adrian was ruthless enough to follow through on the threat. He would only have had to... demonstrate... upon one of us. Sir.”
“I see.” And he clearly did; Marshall had never seen so black a scowl. “Not much of a choice for Mr. Archer, was it? Calling that filthy pirate a whoreson would be an insult to any whore.”
He rose and paced the short strip of deck behind the table. “Well, I have one more question, Mr. Marshall, and I ask you to bear in mind that it is not only the well-being of your friend you must consider, but your duty to all the men—and boys—who will one day be under his command. Do you believe there is any likelihood that, given his own command, Mr. Archer might...” It was the Captain’s turn to search for words; the question was no doubt difficult to phrase neutrally. “... be tempted to abuse his authority?”
That was easy enough to answer, for himself and David, with no prevarication. “Sir, I believe that Mr. Archer would sooner be roasted alive—as would I. His comment to me on the subject was—”
‘I know too well how it feels to be on the receiving end.’ No, I can’t tell him that...
“I believe his exact words were that we could do our best to keep such predators out of the Service, since we would recognize them in future.”
“I see.” Smith held his gaze for a long moment; Marshall felt almost as if the Captain could see right into his mind. “And you are convinced of his sincerity?”
“I am, sir. Mr. Archer also told me, specifically, that he did not want me to risk compromising myself by trying to conceal what I knew, lest I jeopardize my career. He feels that his own...”
Marshall looked at the brandy before him, forgotten until now, and swallowed it like a dose of tonic. It burned going down, but didn’t help at all; he could still hear the despair in Davy’s voice.
“I’m tainted now. He won’t want me anywhere near his ship.”
And here Marshall sat, above suspicion, almost sitting in judgment, when his own behavior had been much more reprehensible. Wrong? No. Not by his own inner compass. But certainly contrary to both regulations and English law.
“Captain,” he said, “Mr. Archer is convinced that—that what was done to him will result in his expulsion from the Service. I thought he was worrying unnecessarily; he obviously saw the potential difficulties more clearly than I. But I believe...”
He believed he would rather not be any part of a Navy that would be stupid enough to discard a treasure for so little reason. But to say so would sound like an ultimatum, and Smith would not—could not—accept what amounted to a threat. If Marshall said what he felt, he would almost guarantee that Davy would be dismissed, and he would have to leave, as well; and despite all its difficulties, he loved this life, could not imagine himself out of the Service.
But he knew where his loyalty lay.
If they throw Davy away, I’ll resign, too. It’s only fair. He was forced. I wasn’t.
But he would hate to do it. There had to be a way...
He took a deep breath and chose his words with care. “Sir, Mr. Archer gave himself as ransom for our safety. I cannot conceive of him ever behaving as Adrian did. I further believe that to dismiss him would not only be a monstrous injustice in return for his loyalty and sacrifice, but a serious loss to the Service. If—if I were ever to have a son, I would place him under Mr. Archer’s command without hesitation.”
“I see.” Smith sounded almost surprised. “Since you put it that way, Mr. Marshall, I must admit that my concern is that of a father as well as an officer. I have two young sons myself, and the eldest clearly intends to follow me into His Majesty’s Service. Either he or his brother may one day serve under Mr. Archer—or yourself.”
Marshall had never thought of that; it went a long way toward explaining Smith’s vehement insistence on executing Adrian on the spot. The sort of creature that would force himself on anyone, let alone youngsters, had no place in the Service. “They would be safe in either case, sir,” he said honestly. “And not only because they are your sons.”
“As safe as one can be on a fighting ship going in harm’s way,” Smith amended. “Very good, Mr. Marshall. Thank you very much for your candor.” The Captain let out a deep breath, and his shoulders relaxed. “That being the case, there is one other thing I wish to tell you. You are aware that Mr. Archer missed his examination for Lieutenant due to our... hiatus.”
“Yes, sir. He—he has not mentioned it since our return.”
“Another examination is scheduled in five days’ time at the Admiralty in London. As the
Calypso
will be in for repairs for another three to four weeks, I am sending Mr. Archer to London to take his examination there.”
Marshall heard the words through a haze of disbelief.
It’s over? So quickly?
His heart leapt. “Thank you, sir!”
“And I’m sending you with him. You both deserve shore leave, and I don’t want you wandering off alone and getting into trouble. Again.”
“Yes, sir.” He realized that Smith must have put David’s name in for the examination before he left the Admiralty, and the relief left him tongue-tied. “I mean, no, sir. We won’t.”
“See that you’re issued pistols before you go, just in case. And Mr. Marshall, I realize this is a matter of extreme delicacy, and you may not have the opportunity to discuss it, but—” He extracted a slip of paper from his waistcoat. “This is the name of my own physician in London. Please assure Mr. Archer that if he feels the need for medical attention, the doctor can be relied upon for discretion.”
“I think he’s recovered, sir, but I’ll... find a way to let him know. Thank you, sir.”
“A captain is responsible for the health and safety of his crew,” Smith said noncommittally.
“Yes, sir.” Marshall took a step toward the door. “Sir—I hope one day I can live up to your example of what a captain is.”
“Thank you, Mr. Marshall. I believe you’ve made a good start. The job is never an easy one, and it can sometimes be an ordeal. But every once in a long while, it has its compensations.” He cleared his throat. “Now—stop dallying. It’s a long way to London; go find Mr. Archer and make your preparations. That’s five days from now—not as much time as you seem to think. I’ll see you back here two weeks from today.”
“Yes, sir!” He wasn’t sure where David was, but there were only a couple of places to look. So much to tell him: his lieutenant’s examination, the trip to London and the
Morven
as a prize, simply unbelievable. But how exactly did one go about finding the quickest way to London?
Davy was waiting for him in the officer’s wardroom. Apparently he’d spent the whole time working his nerves to shreds; he looked like he expected to be taken out and shot. Well, what else could he have expected, being excluded from the meeting? Not that it would have been any kinder to make him sit through that last bit...
“Will!”
“You’ll never believe me—” Marshall began.
“Oh. So they’ve given you the dirty work.” David blinked rapidly, then his expression closed down. “One way of making sure I won’t shoot the messenger, I suppose.” His attempt at a smile failed dismally. “Don’t worry, Will, I’ll go quietly. I—I can be packed and gone in an hour. There are a few things I’d like you to have—”
“Davy, no. It’s all right.” Anxious to reassure him, Marshall got it all wrong. “You’re not going anywhere. No, I’m sorry, you are, but—”
“Will—” David’s composure cracked. “For God’s sake, get it over with!”
“Davy, you were only half-right. The Captain is sending us both—”
“He can’t!” Archer lost all his apprehension in a burst of indignation. “No—you don’t deserve—”
“No less than you.” Marshall seized his shoulders and pushed him back down to his seat. “Listen to me, Davy. It’s only good news, I’m just making a mess of it.” He sat down himself. “First: you are
not
in disgrace, nor out of the service. Second: the Captain has arranged for you to take your lieutenant’s examination in London, and since he thinks you might get into trouble alone, he’s sending me along to look after you.”
Archer frowned and shook his head. He looked afraid to hope. “Say that again?”
“I know it’s a terrible blow, Mr. Archer, but we have been ordered to take shore leave in London so you can have a chance at a new uniform before we sail. God knows your old one is in worse shape than mine.”
“Didn’t he ask—”
“Yes.” Marshall said. “I’m afraid you were right about that, Davy. He did ask. He asked if I knew whether anything happened between you and Adrian, and how I thought it would affect you in future, when you had your own command.
When,
Davy. Not
if
.”
“And?” Archer asked doubtfully.
“And I told him the truth: that you were trying to protect both of us, besides being physically overpowered. I told him that whatever might have happened, you would probably have the safest youngsters in the Fleet. And he accepted that—I think because it only confirmed what he already knew.” Should he tell him the rest? Yes. Better that he know. “I wouldn’t have brought it up at all, Davy, but somehow the Captain learned that Adrian had gotten at you.”
“Oh, God.”
“Parker or Nearns, I imagine. I can’t believe the rest of the crew would have incriminated themselves as accomplices. I don’t think you’ll hear any more about it from any of them, especially the Captain.”
“But he knows—”
“That’s
all
he knows. What Adrian did to you. He already knew. And now he knows how it happened, and why.”
There wasn’t likely to be anyone in earshot, but there was no counting on privacy aboard a ship. He held Archer’s eyes and said, very quietly, “That’s all, Davy. Only Adrian. No unlikely, improbable... wonderful dreams.” And, louder, “Bear in mind that even before he knew why, he nominated you for the examination. The Captain did that before he left London. He didn’t doubt you any more than I did.”
“But if he knew—”
“As you once said, it wasn’t the first time and won’t be the last. The Captain just wanted to be sure of you. But it’s over now, Davy. It’s over,” he repeated, aware that Archer was having trouble absorbing the fact. “And that damned brig has been declared a prize ship, and if I understand correctly—I can’t have understood correctly—we each get a full share of the thing—thousands of pounds. We are both almost rich.”
Archer looked like someone had smacked him with an oar; Marshall gave him no more time to think. “That’s all the important bits. I can tell you the rest of it later. Go pack your things, Mr. Archer. Now. The Captain has ordered you to go take that test, and if we aren’t away with all due speed, we could find ourselves becalmed.”
“You aren’t joking,” Archer said, the color finally coming back into his face.
“Do you think I could joke about this?” Trying to get through to David was finally making it real for Marshall. Two weeks in London! “I can hardly believe it myself, Davy. We will go to London. You will take your examination. Considering the circumstances of our return, and that the Admiralty is very pleased with us for stopping Adrian, I think you would have to exert yourself to fail. We will find ourselves a good tailor, and while he’s working on our uniforms, we can see the sights. We will do anything else you want to do so long as it doesn’t get us arrested. If you want to visit your family, I’ll even go along and meet your sisters, God help them. Just get your things together, I’m going to see if Mr. Drinkwater can tell me how to arrange transportation.”
Archer nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “If speed is important, I suppose we could send our things ahead, and hire horses,” he suggested.
“Horses?” Marshall asked uneasily.
“Four legs, ears, tail... riding hacks. Faster than a coach. Riding can be fun, Will.”
There spoke a son of the landed gentry. But Archer’s expression had gone unnaturally bland, and as Marshall stared in disbelief he realized his friend was doing his best not to laugh. Well, if Davy was feeling good enough to indulge in a bit of teasing, all the better. “I would rather go to sea in a jollyboat than trust my neck to one of those oat-burning brutes. If we take a coach, we can review your navigation.”
Archer just nodded. His mouth twitched.
Wishing they were alone so he could kiss that mouth, Marshall conceded. “I suppose we can ride back, if you must.”
He did laugh, then. “Fair enough. Will—thank you.”
“Thank the Captain. But first pack your things, Acting-soon-to-be-Lieutenant Archer. It’s time to weigh anchor.”
“If you are making eight knots on a strong wind out of the south-southwest with a following sea, and your latitude—”
“Will—”
“Mm?” Marshall looked up from the chapter of navigational problems, his own mind racing along the path of the question.
“Enough, please. My brain feels like a roast duck stuffed with breadcrumbs.” David smiled apologetically. “We should be stopping soon; can we resume this torture after we’ve eaten?”
“I suppose so.” Davy couldn’t possibly mean it was torture, of course, but he was not fascinated as Marshall was by the clean beauty of the mathematics of position. To Davy, navigation was just part of the job of a naval officer, and not his favorite part. “We could review—”