“I ordered you to mingle the former slaves with the rest of the crew. This has not been done to my satisfaction. Therefore, I now direct you to shift them to the second mate’s watch and let her integrate them. Make it clear to them that this is not due to any dissatisfaction with their performance. I don’t want them to believe they are being punished.”

Lavoy took a breath. “They’re like to take it that way. They’re used to working for me. They may be surly about the change.”

“See that they aren’t,” Brashen ordered succinctly. “My second direction has to do with talking to the figurehead.” Lavoy’s eyes widened, only briefly, only slightly, but enough to make Brashen sure. Lavoy had already disobeyed that order. His heart dropped another notch. It was worse than he had feared. He kept his voice steady as he went on, “I am about to lift my order forbidding the crew from speaking to Paragon. I wish you to understand, however, that you are still barred from talking with him. For reasons of discipline and ship’s morale, I will allow you to keep that restriction a private matter between you and myself. Nevertheless, I will not tolerate even the appearance of your violating it. You are not to converse with the figurehead.”

The mate’s hands knotted into fists. His veneer of respect was thin as he growled, “And may I ask why, sir?”

Brashen made his voice flat. “No. You don’t need to.”

Lavoy struggled to act like an innocent man. A mask of martyred protest came over his face. “I don’t know what you’re about, sir, or who’s been talking ill of me. I’ve done nothing wrong. How am I to do my job if you step between the crew and me? What am I supposed to do if the ship speaks to me? Ignore him? How can I-“

Brashen wanted to wring the man’s neck, but he kept his seat and managed to keep the demeanor of a captain. “If the job is beyond you, Lavoy, say so. You may step down from it. There are other capable hands aboard.”

“Meaning that woman. You’d pull me down and let her step up to first mate.” His eyes went black with fury. “Well, I’ll tell you something. She wouldn’t make it through her first watch as mate. The men wouldn’t accept her. You and she can pretend she has what it takes, but she doesn’t. She’s-“

“Enough. You have your orders. Go.” It was all Brashen could do to remain in his chair. He didn’t want this to end in blows. Lavoy wasn’t a man who learned from a beating; he’d only carry a grudge. “Lavoy, I took you on when no one else would have you. What I offered you was clear: a chance to prove yourself. You still have that chance. Become the first mate you’re capable of being. But don’t try to be more than that on this ship. Take my orders and see that they’re carried out. That is your only task. Do less, and I’ll have you put off the ship the first chance I get. I won’t keep you on as an ordinary sailor. You wouldn’t allow that to work for any of us. You can think about what I’ve said. Now get out.”

The man glared at him in ponderous silence, then turned and walked toward the door. Brashen spoke for a final time. “I’m still willing to let this conversation remain a private matter. I suggest you do the same.”

“Sir,” Lavoy said. It was not agreement. It was bare acknowledgment that Brashen had spoken. The door closed behind him.

Brashen leaned back in his chair. His spine ached with tension. He had not solved anything. He had, perhaps, bought himself more time. He grimaced to himself. With his luck, he could hold it all together until it fell apart in Divvytown.

He sat for a time, dreading his final task for the night. He had spoken to Paragon and confronted Lavoy. He still needed to straighten things out with Althea, but the ship’s taunt came back to him: so angry her fury had gone from hot to cold. He knew exactly what the ship meant and didn’t doubt the truth of his words. He tried to find the courage to summon her, then abruptly decided he’d wait until the end of her watch. That would be better.

He went to his bunk, pulled off his boots, loosened his shirt and flung himself back on it. He didn’t sleep. He tried to worry about Divvytown and what he could do there. The specter of Althea’s cold fury loomed darker than any pirate’s shadow. He dreaded the encounter, not for what words she might fling at him, but for how much he desired the excuse to be alone with her.

THE RAIN WAS NASTY, COLD AND PENETRATING, BUT THE WIND THAT DROVE IT was steady. Althea had put Cypros on the wheel tonight. The duty demanded little more than that he stand there and hold it steady. Jek was on lookout on the foredeck. The downpour of rain might loosen drift logs from the surrounding islands. Jek had a keen eye for such hazards and would warn the steersman well in advance of them. Paragon preferred Jek to the others on her watch. Although Brashen had forbidden anyone to speak to the figurehead, she had the knack of making silence companionable rather than accusing.