Chapter Two

“YES, ALL OF them! Why would I want only some of the ratlines inspected? See to it this deck is spotless by the time I return. I want a full inventory of ammunition and rations, and I expect to see those spars repaired.” Captain James Godgrave descended the gangplank of his ship, the Lancelot Striking, and wrinkled his nose at the odour of the bustling docklands. Overhead, cranes turned, lifting goods from ships and depositing them on carts. Dockhands scurried past, ferrying ropes and other odds and ends. Ahead, market stalls plied their wares to feverish shoppers. A skinny greyhound tied to a butt by a frayed piece of rope whimpered at anyone who caught its gaze.

James’s lieutenant approached, turned out to the nines. “The carriage is just up ahead, sir. As they said it would be.”

Shiny black and with the seal of the Chase Trading Company emblazoned on the door, the carriage stood out from its grotty surroundings like a marble headstone on a muddy grave. James climbed into the plush plum interior and thumped the ceiling with the underside of his fist.

The coachman took them along Quarrier’s Run, the twisting main road leading from the long, curving swathe of docklands to the centre of town. James had been there only twice before and found it busier each time. The roadsides swarmed with people going about their day. A trading town with a busy harbour, Port Knot also had numerous quarries and mines farther inland. The town found itself caught between the land and the sea in more ways than one.

The copper pipes around every building clattered with the water they carried. To his left, workers laboured to tear down a house. To his right, construction continued on a new one. His lieutenant, Pertinacity Hancock, ignored most of the activity.

“Has it changed much since the last time you were home?” James asked.

“Not in any way that matters,” she said.

A man cried out from a side street, evidently the victim of a robbery, and he dashed after two young girls who bundled a coin purse and expensive cane in their arms, giggling all the while.

James leaned his head out of the carriage window. “I say, Perty, shouldn’t we stop and help?”

“No point,” Perty said. “They’ll be in the Entries by now.”

On the balcony of a theatre, a set of horological automata played instruments. Tin mice and copperplate cats blew into horns and plucked strings, seemingly producing the sounds of one of Handel’s operas, albeit greatly reduced.

The carriage took them through the centre and to the south side of town, where the architecture underwent a marked change. The businesses became fewer, the noises quieter, and the houses bigger. Many sat in their own grounds, surrounded by high iron fences. They came to a stop outside one such mansion.

A footwoman with the most remarkable hazel eyes James had ever seen welcomed them. She escorted them through the gates, up the winding flagstone pathway, and through the arched front doors of the buff-coloured mansion. The hallway, a pleasing sea green, held oil paintings of stern-faced aristocrats and oddly thin dogs.

In a cheery drawing room, James discovered a decanter with brandy and poured some into a tumbler. He caught himself in a gilt looking glass and checked the ends of his moustache and the point of his short ducktail beard. Always broad in the beam, he’d put on a little more weight at sea, not an easy thing to do. His uniform bulged slightly at the buttons.

“Captain Godgrave, such a delight.”

He turned to find the nude form of Mrs Dorothea Chase walking towards him, hand outstretched. He grinned widely. “A pleasure to see you again, Councillor Chase.”

“I must insist you address me as Swan, Captain. Standards must be maintained.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way. This is my lieutenant, Pertinacity Hancock.”

“Oh, now, you must be a local with a name like that.”

“I am, ma’am.” Perty hovered awkwardly by the window until beckoned to sit. “Port Knot, born and bred.”

A woman in her late forties with a round face and a fuller figure, Dorothea Chase’s inclination towards nakedness was well known but James had never witnessed it before today. Unburdened by prudishness or an overdeveloped sense of shame himself, he found it rather delightful. Perty appeared less than impressed, which came as no surprise. James had always found her a touch stuffy.

“How are you finding your new position on the council?” James asked.

“Chaffing,” she said. “But not without its uses. I hope you both won’t object to my attire or lack thereof? I dislike clothes at the best of times, and I find this heat to be simply unbearable.”

“I believe we should all be as comfortable as possible in our own homes,” James said. “Shall I pour you a drink?”

“It’s a little early… Oh, why not? This is a special occasion.”

Every member of the ruling council of Blackrabbit took on an animal name. As Swan, her responsibilities lay in managing the waters around the island. A very useful position for the owner of a shipping company to be in. James handed her a drink, and they sat facing one another on matching pink satin settees.

“Captain, you probably won’t have seen much of the town yet, but let me assure you it is in turmoil,” Swan said. “For the past few months, we have been held to ransom by the whims of warring criminal cabals. For a time, we didn’t dare to leave our homes after sunset for fear of being caught in their crossfire. Every morning brought with it a fresh body on our streets. Now, rumour has it they’ve settled their differences and have re-organised themselves. No home is safe from thieves. Every road out of town is fraught with highwaymen, and who knows what manner of illicit goods pass through our harbour every day.

“The local Watch is woefully incapable of dealing with this problem and now Rabbit has appointed a criminal to command them. I find this to be a disgrace I cannot long tolerate. A fish rots from the head down. Where Port Knot goes, so follows the rest of Blackrabbit. In short, I believe we deserve a better town protector. I wish it to be you.”

“I’m flattered, of course,” James said, taking a sip of brandy, “but why me? Surely there must be plenty of Blackrabbiters who could fill the post?”

“We have met several times before and I find you to be an upstanding person with a firm moral backbone. And a company man, through and through. I believe the Chase Trading Company is best equipped to protect the town and the island. After all, we practically built it. Without us, this would be a scrub of shale and grass like Merryapple. My family put too much into this town for me to stand by and watch it crumble. Do you accept my offer?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. I will garner support from the rest of the council, and when the time is right I will see to it that you are appointed. Until then, I should like to keep this discussion between us. I suggest you think about who among your crew would be best suited to aid you in this endeavour. Once you’re appointed, the Lancelot Striking will be assigned a new captain.”

“I’ll be sorry to say farewell to the old girl.” James raised his glass and smiled. ”Still, onwards and upwards.”

They sat and talked for another hour or so before returning to the waiting carriage. James rifled in his pocket, lifted some snuff from a silver box, set it on the back of his hand, and sniffed. He offered some to Perty, who declined, as she always did. “I should very much like you by my side, of course.”

“Oh,” Perty said, shifting about in her seat. “I see.”

“Is something the matter?”

“No, it’s just… I joined the C.T.C. to get away from this place.”

“I can always ask someone else.”

“No, no,” Perty said. “It’s just a surprise. It would be an honour.”

“Splendid,” James said. “Keep it to yourself for now. I have some idea of who I’d like to take with me but I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts. Draw up a list of who you think might be best suited. About a dozen or so should do it. I want Spradbery. He’s overdue for promotion.”

Perty picked her fingernails. “Sir, what about the town Watch?”

James shrugged. “We’ll get rid of them, first thing. I assume it’s the usual collection of useless reprobates and old codgers. Hardly a great loss.”