***
"How is Mister Olvan doing, Sergeant?" I asked of Harl when I found the man in the galley being served by Mister Horis who as it turned out was the cook. It was necessary to make Harl a sergeant; not a common practice but with only a single officer, I needed to give the man more authority. Not only that but Harl was now quartermaster and headman too, a lot to ask of one man, but Harl seemed to take it in his stride.
"Doing well for a green lad I would say, Captain. Learnin’ the seas already. He listens and watches."
"Good." I was feeling rough after the drink the previous night, but was eager to be away and wanted no delay in preparing the ship for the high seas. "I need you to keep an eye on him. He's my only officer, not counting the surgeon, and I will need him, Mister Harl."
"Will do, sir. If I may, I was wondering. What do you suppose the High Admiral will make of us?"
I had been considering this. "Without a lectrocoder and more arms, I suppose we will start as a runner. Not heroic work, but we can build on it."
"That's not so bad, sir. Get to see a lot more ports that way."
I had to admit that it was tedious work hunting the waters round Umuron, and as a runner we would be obliged to travel further afield. The problem was that there was little chance of engaging the enemy as a runner and I wanted action. Perhaps there was a way to prove my ship and crew? Perhaps we would get lucky and find an enemy with a rebel code book? There was little chance of that but I still liked the idea.
The Imperial Navies used code books to hide their signals. If the enemy was thought to be in possession of one of ours, they had to be discarded and new ones printed. The enemy would have the same rule in force. It happened often enough. If a captain thought he was going to be captured, the first thing he would do is burn the book or cast it overboard.
When I finished my round, I saw that there really was nothing urgent left to be done, and with a need to keep myself and my men busy, had a runner take a message to the Naval Office stating my intent to put to sea for trials.
The next morning, I took my place on the aftcastle and with some trepidation and excitement, I gave the order to cast off. The engine rumbled, and the paddle wheel under me began to churn the water. Steam and smoke shot up in blasts from the funnel and men ran about, hauling in ropes, and waving goodbye to a few women on land. Owman, one of the first of the new crew I had met was at the wheel. Banton, the lad who threatened to put me in the drink was now an apprentice engineer and would be down below in the heat, watching and learning and taking orders from Larrans Perti.
As the ship began to move there was a sudden activity from the pier. Looking down, I saw a man throw his sea sack aboard and then leapt, taking the railing and hauling himself onto the ship. When the man got to his feet, he turned and saluted the castle and myself.
"Permission to come aboard, sir?" said Sudlas. The man must have abandoned the Sea Huntress. I would have tried the Grotting Worms trick with him too but had originally thought it too bold.
"Captain Crosp had enough of you, Mister Sudlas?"
"He'll be wanting my neck, sir. When I heard about Jodlin's sickness I knew something was amiss, Captain. That great lump don't get sick. I am loyal to Ardalrion, sir, not Crosp. I seen you in danger before, and I recon it's my job now to look after you, if you'll have me."
"I cannot condone your actions, Mister Sudlas, but seeing as we are on our maiden voyage, I will let this one be the first of what will be very rare pardons. Stow your kit and report to Mister Harl."
Sudlas nodded and darted away.
Although I did not want the men to see such lenience so early in my command, I was pleased to have the man who had once saved my life aboard. The extra man was worth the price.
I kept a weather eye on the harbour. There were many ships coming and going and I did not want my first voyage as captain to end in a collision with another vessel. It was plain sailing however as we cut a path through the traffic at harbour speed - a slow crawl. Soon we made it into open waters.
"Cruising speed, Mister Owman."
"Aye aye, Captain." Owman turned a wheel next to him, which in turn told Mister Perti down below to speed up. It was soon followed by the quickening of the engine.
All seemed well so far and my ship surged forwards, slicing through the morning waves, defying the brisk breeze that met us head on. Suddenly struck by a sudden sense of freedom, I realised that I was now truly a captain of my own ship and commander of my own destiny. I could go wherever I pleased, and looking at the endless vista of the open ocean, I smiled to myself, feeling better.
We headed north into the Quarvor Sea, the north-western reaches of the inner ocean, and for the next few days we trained as a crew. I was learning to be a captain, which mostly involved letting the men get on with things. Olvan grew in confidence and soon we were practicing with the heavy guns. The surgeon deigned to join us on the castle every so often. He had found a supply of spirits, but it did not seem to affect his judgement too badly.
We had to shut the engine down a few times as Mister Perti fixed a broken joint or replaced a burst pipe. At first this irritated me. Why was this device of the machanomancer not reliable? Why did it behave so badly? On the Sea Huntress, I never took much interest in the engine. It was a mystery to me and I was happy to let others worry about it. Now though, I was captain of my own ship and I wanted to know more, so on the second week of trials I went below deck to the stuffy engine room. This room took up the better part of half the lower deck, and many of the crew worked down there simply feeding the furnace with coal or wood. The store of fuel took as much space again, all below the waterline. The engine was running again and the noise was quite deafening. I asked Mister Perti to explain the device.
"It's a steam engine," he shouted over the noise of the hissing and pounding machine.
"I know what it's called, Mister Perti. How does it work?" I had a crude idea about steam pushing pistons and rods, but that was the extent of my knowledge.
Perti wiped his hands on a blackened cloth, and guided me to the furnace. It was stiflingly hot, but there were a couple of wooden shafts on either side of the space where large wooden fan blades turned slowly drawing air in from above. I could feel the air like a breeze being sucked towards the furnace.
Perti was wearing his goggles which reflected the orange flame. "Those men there." The engineer pointed at four crewmen, sweating and stripped to the waist, blackened by soot. "They feed the cooker with fuel. We have coal but it could be wood, or anything that burns. Coal is good though."
"I see."
"That cooker, then heats up the air that we pump into the fire."
I looked at the large fans above us.
"No, not them. Those are for us. Couldn't work down here without fresh air. Not for long. Other pumps force air into the furnace. It makes it burn hotter." He waited to see if I understood.
"Carry on."
"The heated gasses then go through a heat exchanger - lots of pipes running through the boiler there." He waved to indicate the massive cylindrical construction lying on its side behind the furnace. It was a black and heaving monster of riveted plates of black metal with a few of the mysterious runes of the Calionvar engraved into the copper banding.
"The hot air heats up the water in that chamber so much that it wants to boil, but it can't you see, because there's nowhere for the steam to go, so it stays water and steam but gets very hot. The chamber's sealed. There's a bit of room for steam but not much. The pressure in that chamber builds up and wants to get out."
Pert was losing me a bit there. I understood that water turns to steam when boiled but I did not know why it would not boil if kept in a chamber. I nodded anyway and the engineer continued.
Perti then took me further back to where two large pistons where attached to a massive metal wheel which stood deck to deck in diameter. The pistons, standing either side of the wheel pushed and pulled at two bars using joints that turned the large wheel. They hissed
and sighed as some steam escaped with each rotation.
"The steam is let out a bit at a time into one piston, pushing the piston forwards and making the flywheel turn." Perti shouted and pointed at the large wheel. "When one piston is done pushing, it lets out the steam into the stack. The other piston then pushes and so it goes round and round. Of course the pistons pull too."
I was getting the idea, and marvelled at the technology. "I see. And that wheel then turns the paddles?"
"That's right, Captain, and powers the pumps. The gears turn the shaft there, and the paddles go round." He pointed to a complex array of cogs and levers all turning and grinding.
"And how much pressure is there in this chamber?" I stepped over to it, examining the rivets and joints. Perti took out a spanner and gave it a couple of knocks.
"Hard to say. She's holding well. Not half done yet. We're running at cruising speed, and she's cooking nicely.”
"I see. Do they leak? Can they break?"
"Push her too hard, and she'll explode!" The engineer seemed oddly pleased about this.
"What? Does that happen?"
"Oh yes," he said with a grin. "Push the boiler too hard and the whole ship'll go up!"
I was shocked by this announcement, and it must have shown as I instinctively stepped away from it. Perti quickly pointed to a block and some piping above the chamber that lead down to another smaller block with a wheel and cogs, then more piping that lead away.
"Don't worry, Captain. This valve," he knocked it with his spanner, "will open before she blows and vent the steam. It holds the pressure in until the chamber just can't take no more, then lets it out. So, in theory, the boiler shouldn't blow before the valve gives."
"In theory?"
"Well... Who's to say how much pressure the boiler can take? I've a good feel for it and set the valve accordingly, but you never know with age and wear. Don't worry, I just give it a knock and I know how tight she is."
"I see. And how fast can we push her would you say?"
"Hard to say, Captain. A boat this size with this engine. The copper's been scraped. I recon 13 knots in good water and the clean hull. If you want to go faster, I have to tighten that valve, see? I can tighten her and we go faster, but go too fast and boom!"
Thanking the engineer, I snarled at Mister Banton who was hovering. Banton gave a knuckle salute and darted back into the shadows.
I was indeed impressed by the ingenuity of the machine, and had a new found respect for engineers and the black eyed folk who designed them - those strange and mysterious people. I was impressed but deeply unsettled by the boiler and Perti's dismissive attitude towards its propensity to explode if not properly managed. I left Mister Perti and the sweat streaked crew of the engine room to their work and made my way back up to the blessed fresh air of the open seas.
We saw nothing of the enemy, and only encountered fishing vessels and merchants which gave us a few good opportunities to practice our boarding. As a ship of an Imperial Navy, we had the right to stop and search just about any vessel upon the ocean. Things were going so well that I found I was secretly hoping for a little trouble. Remembering the highly secret order, I imagined capturing such a code book. Not for the glory, of course, but out of a sense of duty, or at least that is what I told myself. If we could return with such a prize, it would further the cause of the Empire and the Ardalrion name. The problem was that we were not a large ship and crew, and any vessels carrying a code book would probably be a larger fighting vessel. We could head west and would undoubtedly come across them, but we would not be able to fight them. It was Harl who sparked the idea when he mentioned this ship's former captain, the privateer, Captain Yorlwig.
We were standing under the stars on the aftcastle. Harl was at the helm, and I was enjoying my pipe. It was a pleasant, crisp evening and the day had been spent loading, running out, and firing the ten guns. The men were getting better, and I only put a stop to it in order to save shot and powder. The engine was running at half speed. It throbbed like a beating heart and the wheel splashed, but it was a comforting noise in the dead of night. It sent sailors to sleep, and reminded those awake that the Lady Ocean lived. She purred like a cat as she rode the calm, night time waters.
"Captain Yorlwig nearly had me."
"I saw," said Harl. "I thought for sure you would break his blade, but he kept turning your cutlass away."
"I got lucky."
"Aye. You did, but luck is made, Captain. Luck is made."
"Is it? The gods play games I think. They play them at our expense." I had always felt a little cheated by the gods. My childhood was a miserable chapter that I wanted to forget but could not. Of course I had largely grown out of it now, but still I saw the scorn in other's eyes and although I told myself that I did not care, sometimes it hurt. Sometimes.
"I found his letter of marque you know? In the cabin. I still have it."
"A trophy? You should hang it on the wall, Captain," Harl chuckled. "You have his ship and his marquee."
"Yes. Yes I do." It was then that the idea came to me. It was so simple. Yorlwig was a privateer. Not an important figure in any navy, but an extra feature on the side. A privateer was tasked with raiding enemy shipping and then left to it. The rebels would probably have some record that he was dead, the Wraith Deep captured, but it wouldn't be common knowledge. The crew were doing well as was Olvan, my only officer. They needed testing and I wanted to see what could be accomplished now that I had a ship. It was foolhardy to seek trouble with so little experience as a captain and a ship hardly equipped for a fight, but I wanted to make a difference. I was also bored.
"Mister Harl?"
"Captain?"
"A westerly heading if you please."
Looking back now, the folly of my choice is obvious, but I was young, reckless and eager. The years bring wisdom and the recklessness fades; the fear grows stronger and the will to fight it weaker. Why is that? Why did I seek danger then, when I could have been safe running errands and searching merchants? Back then, I had a whole life to look forwards to, but wanted to risk it all. Now I have little life left and fear even the creaking doors. Boredom, I know now, is my friend and ally, but as a young man, it was my worst enemy.