Articles of War (The Devil and the Dark Book 4) by R.M. Olson

Author:R.M. Olson [Olson, R.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SILAS

“Hunt.”

Silas turned to see Baker standing in the shadows, just out of sight of the main deck where Silas was supervising his shift. Silas glanced around quickly, then crossed over to the man. “What is it?” he asked in a whisper.

Baker put his finger to his lips. “Not now. The captain has ears everywhere.” He looked around uneasily. “We’re meeting tonight in the officers’ mess at two bells into second dog watch. Can you be there?”

Silas frowned. “I’m on watch, but I think Ari’d cover for me for a few minutes. What happened?”

Baker shook his head. “Later.”

Silas nodded, and Baker slipped away.

Silas turned back to his duties on deck with tight worry in his stomach.

When he arrived at the officer’s mess later that evening, the others were already gathered.

There was a clear division among the crew now—the officers who were for the captain, and those who were against him.

With luck, from the perspective of the other officers, it was simply a division between those who tolerated Silas and the crew of the Sweet Jenny and those who wanted them dead. But after what Greene had said, Silas knew damn well it was more than that. It had to be, if any of them wanted to come out of this alive.

He made his way through the seats and tables of the mess. Miller looked up at his approach and grinned, beckoning him over, but the expression was strained.

“Hunt,” she said, pulling up a seat next to her. “You’re just in time. We’ve been playing short-handed. Let us finish this round and we’ll deal you in.”

He nodded and took the proffered seat. Kirby poured him a glass of watered down rum and he took it, and as the game play resumed, he used the excuse of his drink to study the faces around the table.

Every face was grim, and despite the grog and the cards and the obvious attempt to make this look like a usual officers’ gathering, there was a tension to every posture, and tension underlying each lighthearted comment.

“Hunt,” said Baker, leaning towards him when the noise of the officers at their cards was enough to cover his words. “I don’t know if you got word, but the captain’s pulled everyone off the guns except his own crew.”

Silas nodded, his jaw clenched hard enough that his teeth ached with it. “That’s not good,” he said quietly. “We’re heading into a battle. Is he planning on having only his crew fight, do you think?”

Baker snorted. “Hardly. You heard Greene—he doesn’t plan for most of us to come back from this alive.”

Silas frowned. “You think he’ll send us into battle unprepared, then.”

Baker leaned closer. “I’m certain of it. Greene came down here again last night, while you were on watch. He saw the captain’s mission orders—go in and break up the Rosette formation single-handed. The rest of the fleet we’re joining up with is to hold back until we’ve done that, which means there’ll be no one to fault him if he loses three quarters of his crew.

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