Dunham

Chapter 20

20

"Captain, I need to speak with you privately."

Celia stood in her door looking at her second lieutenant soberly. It had to be dire for Papadakos to rap her door at midnight whilst she and Judas were clearly in the midst of bedsport and the crews were only at the beginnings of the night's festivities. "Aye, Paulo. Come in."

She opened the door wide and turned to cover her body with the kimono hanging neatly over the back of a chair. She cast a strained smile at Judas, whose face betrayed his tension. Of course he would know this was no trifle.

"If you would be so kind ... " she murmured, gesturing vaguely toward the door.

His dark eyebrow rose, but he said nothing whilst he pulled on his breeches and complied with her request, closing the door softly behind him.

Papadakos took a deep breath and drew close to speak very low. "Two of the boys were getting into trouble aboard the Silver Shilling and overheard plans for the mutiny of Captain Judas."

Celia gasped. "Are they sure?"

He nodded.

"What in God's name for? He told me he would rather kill than flog, but—"

"His hold is full of gold—and that's the only thing in it."

Celia's breath left her in a whoosh and she sat on her bunk, a trembling hand over her open mouth. "God's blood," she whispered, horrified.

"Just before the Silver Shilling reached us, she'd taken a fleet of British warships bound for New York."

"A pay ship!"

Paulo nodded. "A king's ransom."

"Bring the boys to me."

Soon enough she was faced with two terrified ten-year-olds who stuttered and sputtered through their story, sobbing and hiccupping. She wasn't sure if they were frightened of her punishment for being where they oughtn't to have been or of the men they'd overheard whilst they explored the Silver Shilling's orlop.

She suspected the latter.

She speared the German boy with a glance. "Your English is not savvy," she growled. "Are you certain?"

The child gulped. "They were speaking Vlaams, Cap'n."

Good Lord. 'Twas the mercenary marines, who were mostly some German variant. Damn the man for his inability to deviate from Royal Navy protocols.

Celia sat still, looking at the floor and searching her mind to put together some counter to this. "Thank you, gentlemen," she said absently. "Leftenant, give these two an extra ration of grog and bread, and bid Captain Judas to join me."

It was only a few moments until Judas had seated himself beside her on her bed. Celia did not know how best to impart such news but bluntly:

"You are about to be mutinied."

"I know."

She gasped. Her head snapped up to see him calm, a bit of a smirk on his face.

"What I do not know," he continued cautiously, his slight amusement gone, "is by whom."

"My boys tell me they overheard Flemish."

He nodded somberly. "Aye, then, now I know who it is."

"This is what has you so taut?"

"Only since we took our last prize." Celia said nothing. "I ... have put down a few mutinies in my career, but never have I been mutinied nor have I known of one solely over cargo. I assume, then, you also know what I have in my holds."