Bradford was on the starboard bridgewing, studying the island beyond the port, but at Kutas’s words he looked back at the chief quartermaster’s mate. “What?” he inquired. Kutas’s face was practically purple.
“Them boats! The little ones… the fishing boats!” was all he managed.
Bradford redirected his glasses. “Goodness gracious!” he exclaimed. Many of the small boats Kutas had been trying to avoid running down were crewed almost exclusively by practically nude women. Some were nude, and their bronze skins and dark hair suddenly drew every eye. Even the men lining the rails had begun to lean incredulously forward, trying for a better view. To them, Walker had suddenly entered some magic, mythical paradise. It was Shangri-la without the snow.
“The joint’s swarming with broads!” somebody shouted excitedly. It was true. Even if the island hadn’t been exotically inviting enough before, the apparent abundance of dusky-skinned beauties lining the dock and the beach beyond was enough to send an electric thrill down every human spine. It was like a scene out of Gable’s Mutiny on The Bounty. Many women working seines through the light surf along the shore were naked too, as best the men could tell-and they did their very best to tell.
“Stand those men to attention this instant!” Matt told the Bosun, and Gray bolted down the stairs and through the forward hatch onto the fo’c’sle. For a moment he paused, staring at the boats, as guilty as the rest of the crew. He shook himself.
“What’s the matter with you… you… perverts?” Gray ranted with considerably less than ordinary zeal and imagination. “Them gals are practically children, fer God’s sake! Don’t tell me you devils never seen nekkid women before!”
“Can’t,” Stites breathed, “but it’s been a long, long time!”
“Shut up, you! You’re supposed to set an example!”
Paul Stites rounded on the Bosun. “What kind of example you want me to set, S.B.? Jeez!”
For once, even the Bosun was speechless. “Just grab yer eyeballs before they drop in the water!” Gray managed at last, “or by God, I’ll kick’em back in yer head!” He turned, glaring down the rail. “All you shif’less, useless bastards! Try to be destroyermen a little longer, or you’ll queer the Skipper’s plans, and I will kill you for that! We make the wrong impression here, we might as well just turn around!” He whirled back at Stites. “And as for you, get back to your post on the number one gun! We’re showin’ up here all friendly an’ such, but there might be a goddamn fight!”
Above, Matt rubbed his forehead. It had been a year and a half since his men had seen any women but the nurses and “nannies.” The few women they’d rescued from S-19 who’d been… willing… had been a help, but this was like whacking a shark on the nose with bloody meat. He watched Achilles maneuver close to the dock as Icarus proceeded toward a place where she could supervise the Company ships. A slow roll of gunfire erupted from the side of Achilles as she saluted the fort’s flag far above the harbor, and the smoke and report of the cannons drifted back across them. Perhaps that would have a sobering effect. Momentarily, an answering salute rumbled from the fortress.
“All stop,” Matt said. “All astern one-third.” He looked around at the others in the pilothouse. “I think we’ll not go any closer for now. Kutas, we won’t anchor either, so try to keep this position if the current allows.” He turned to Frankie Steele, who’d just stepped into the pilothouse. “Rig out the launches and make preparations to take the Marines ashore. If Jenks needs a hand, I think Chack’s ’Cats might scare the locals, but probably not as bad as those sex-starved men out there.”
Ultimately, there wasn’t any fighting. As soon as Achilles touched the pier, her own Marines swarmed ashore and three squads of red-coated troops swept into the city and along the docks. Another squad formed up on the dock itself, and a fifth rowed out to each Company ship in turn, leaving only when the Imperial flag had replaced the Company banners. It was that easy, and it all happened about that fast. Matt knew his own Marines were probably better infantry than Jenks’s Marines, and Jenks knew it too, but the Imperials seemed professional and intimidating enough at the moment.
“ Achilles wants us to come on in,” Palmer reported. “Snug up to the Company dock just astern of her. Jenks has all the local cheeses gathered up for a talk.”
“Very well,” Matt replied. “Take us in, Mr. Kutas.” To the Bosun down below, he called, “The crew will remain on parade until further notice. The first man who utters a sound will be transferred to the tanker squadron when it arrives. Do I make myself clear?”
Walker eased up alongside the dock, gray smoke curling skyward from the second and fourth stacks, blower almost sighing with relief. Boats Bashear trilled his pipe and Lemurian line handlers threw ropes at gawking men on the dock. One, dressed much like a thousand dockworkers the Bosun had seen in a hundred ports “back home,” just stood there when a ’Cat expertly tossed him a line and it fell to the dock and dropped in the water.
“Catch the goddamn rope!” Gray bellowed at the man. “Ain’t you never seen a rope before? It’s called a rope! You’re supposed to catch it, you imbi-cile!” Gray nodded at the ’Cat to haul in and try again. “Drop it this time, and I’ll tie the whole damn ship off to you, since you ain’t got the sense of a stanchion!” he warned the stranger.
This time the man caught the wet rope and took a creditable turn, although he still seemed shaken. “Dumb- aass,” muttered the ’Cat, loud enough to be heard, and the man just gaped again.
Gray glanced from bow to stern. “Singled up, fore and aft, Skipper,” he called to the bridgewing.
“All stop, finished with engines,” Matt commanded and Pack Rat rang the engine room telegraph. He looked back at the dock. Men by the dozens, then scores, some dressed as laborers and others in their finery, were approaching the ship. Commodore Jenks strode among them, accompanied by a group of well- but practically dressed men with wide straw hats on their heads. Another man, rather fat, and easily the most elaborately dressed, rode at the head of the procession on the back of an honest-to-God donkey, fanning himself with yet another wide-brimmed hat. Matt suspected the donkey was a descendant of cargo carried by those early Indiamen. Jenks’s Marines were still formed up at the Achilles gangway, and when Matt caught his eye, Jenks gave him a slight nod.
“Have Mr. McFarlane secure number two, if you please, but maintain pressure on number four.” Matt turned to Bradford, who’d rejoined him on the bridgewing after rushing up to the fire control platform above to get a better view. He hadn’t been gone but a minute or two, and seemed uncharacteristically nervous. “What’s the matter, Courtney? You seem distracted. Looks like you’ll be able to lay in a lifetime supply of those goofy hats you like.”
“Indeed,” Bradford replied, then allowed a small smile. “The ‘matter’ is, Captain Reddy, I’m a ‘diplomat’ in name only. I’ve only ever dealt with beings whom I was relatively sure were being honest with me. I wouldn’t count Billingsley, since he turned out to be… whatever he is, and besides, I never had to bargain with him. Perhaps dealing with Saan-Kakja’s Sky Priest Meksnaak might count as a ‘disingenuous encounter,’ but he turned out fairly honest in the end. In any event, I’ve never had to negotiate with anyone who was practiced at it at all, and perhaps today-surely at some point, with this entire empire to draw upon-I’m bound to encounter someone who’s been studying diplomacy and deceit their entire lives!”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Courtney,” Matt said, and his voice went flat.
Bradford didn’t notice. “Easy for you to say! You’ve had plenty of practice at what you do!”
Matt shook his head. “Notwithstanding this fine, clear lagoon, we’re all in murky waters here. None of us really knows what will happen. I just mean that you shouldn’t worry too much about what to say. Our mission’s pretty straightforward: find Sandra and the princess, and make the people who took them pay.” He shrugged. “Since it looks like those ‘people’ are the Company, it has to pay. In that respect, our mission and Jenks’s new cause do overlap, and if we’re both successful in achieving that, it might even help us gain another alliance of some sort as well. But make no mistake; we’re not here to ‘negotiate.’ At least not for anything beyond what we discussed yesterday evening at dinner. Apparently, that’s more of a business transaction”-he made a face-“and I’m sure you can handle that.”
The procession had come to a halt alongside Walker and appeared to be waiting expectantly. “Pass the word,” Matt said, speaking louder. “The Bosun, Stites, Chack, and two Marines of his choice will accompany me and Mr. Bradford ashore.”
“Weapons?” Steele asked.
“You bet. From now on, always.”
Marine Captain Chack-Sab-At proceeded across the gangplank, followed by two Marines with muskets on
