Leftenant Strange in the Archipelago

Posted by Miles Strange on July 9th, 2007 filed in Archipelago, Auvergne, Miles Strange, IC, Origins, Uncategorized

“What news of the Captain, Stockwell?”

“Not so bad as we feared, Leftenant, but the surgeon says he can’t be moved. Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but what are yer orders? The black flags are makin’ fer the leeward side.”

Leftenant Miles Strange paused, and looked the old sailor up and down. “Had you planned on a career as an officer, Stockwell?”

“No, sir!” The tar faltered, then straightened as he caught Strange’s meaning. “No…Cap’n.”

“My condolences.” Strange smiled faintly. “Have Thompson signal the Indefatigable. Tell the Commodore that we are yet sea-worthy, and stand ready to dispatch these villains once and for all. There is a reef, is there not, Mister Stockwell, strung south by sou’west?

Stockwell grinned. “Aye, Cap’n. An’ the tide’s on the wane.”

“Very good, Ensign. Call for full sail, and see to the port cannon personally. Smartly, now. Auvergne requires that each man do his duty.”

---

The Commodore coughed and spat. “What think you of the light, Leftenant?”

“I think it all to our favor, sir, for the next two hours, at least.”

“Precisely my thought, Strange. The tide is against them, as well.” He lowered the spyglass and scratched his belly absently. “Good hunting, then. The Governor has granted us leave to scour these waters, and I think it high time the ruffians had a taste of our cannon—eh?”

Strange cleared his own throat. “The Valiant is faster than anything else afloat, and her crew have not yet dined. I would say, sir, that pirate is back on the menu!”

“There’s a lad.” The Commodore winked, and clapped the young officer on the shoulder. “Under the Admiralty’s authority, then, I confirm you in your temporary rank as captain of the Valiant. Do her proudly, Leftenant. Let me count your sheets within the quarter-hour. The fleet will follow beyond the reef.”

“For the Lion, sir.” Strange snapped a salute, and turned toward the ladder.

“For the Lion. Oh, and Strange, when your men have eaten their fill of the black flags, I’ll expect you to dine with me—promptly at eight bells.”

---

“Sir. Sir. On your feet, sir. They’re comin’ fer us, sir.”

Strange shook his head, and got to knees. “Where is the Captain?”

“That’s you, sir. C’mon up. You’ll want to face them pirates standin’.”

He clasped his face, trying to clear his thoughts. There had been a battle, and it had gone badly. “Stockwell, what happened?”

“Stockwell’s dead, sir. I’m Giles. Please, sir. The men can see.” Strong hands lifted the Leftenant.

“Giles? Thank you, Giles. And what of the Valiant?”

The seaman grunted. “She’s sunk, sir. After you gave that order, there was nothin’ fer it but to—”

“By the Light, Giles! What order?”

“Was a clever notion, sir, and it might’a worked, but for the Indy.”

“Giles, what the devil are you talking about?”

“Later, sir. You up to holdin’ a pistol?”

---

Some twenty-five days after our escape, Seaman Giles is dead. The wound he took from the slavers has—alas!—proven too much for his weakened condition, and I have been unable to find food in this wilderness. His death, as with all the others, weighs heavily on my soul. I wish it known that he, presumably the last of my command, has served with distinction. The responsibility is mine alone, and should the Redeemer favor me with some sort of rescue, I shall testify to their valor at my Court-Martial.

Giles’ body rests in a shallow grave, beneath stones sufficient to keep him from predators. My own fate will be less gentle, as the howling of the wolves has grown nearer in the past two nights. The Nippekawan peasants are fearful of outsiders, their tongue incomprehensible, and no welcome or charity is to be had. My sole hope is to reach the monastery said to stand in these hills. If we were not misled, and my failing strength will hold, there I will appeal.