You decide that the best place to start your month-long cruise will be to the main sea lanes. It is there that most merchant vessels will come and there that you will undoubtedly find the most of the smugglers who are either too stupid or think themselves too clever to offload onto smaller coastal vessels as they head into the huge, bustling port of Inoburgh. Content with this decision, you have Mister Piteras set a course and then settle into the business of trying out your new ship. You step to the railing, watching as the water slips by in the morning sunlight, then turn to your executive officer. The wind is coming from your starboard beam and the day is fine. Gods, but you love the sea.
"Mister Piteras, let's test her sea legs. Make full sail, if you please."
"Aye aye, captain. Full sail it is." Mister Pirteras turns and raps out orders to the boatswain's and soon you are sailing with the wind flooding your sails and the little cutter fairly dances across the sea's surface. Unable to resist the temptation, you look to your sailing master again.
"Mister Piteras, you have the deck--" And you spring slightly onto the rigging begin to clamber your way upwards with all the nimbleness and surety that practice has given you. You were topman, once upon a time, and the rigging of any ship gives you great joy. Once you've reached the peak of the mainmast, swaying high above the deck (though it has nothing on the veritable giants on truly large vessels) you shade your eyes and peer out across the water with a contented sigh. Clear skies and a clear horizon, a brisk wind and a good ship--you count yourself immensely lucky to have been given the Lydia, as small and lowly as she is. You had expected to languish on a three-decker or at best be sent off to be junior lieutenant on a frigate. Here, though, is your chance to prove yourself and you must seize it.
You allow yourself a few more minutes of skylarking and then descend to the deck via the ratlines, your hat tucked into your coat to keep it from being swept away in the breeze, and then settle it on your head with a grin as you rejoin Piteras. He's older than you, perhaps by a decade, and you're glad to have his experience with you at sea. He gives a slight smile as you step back onto the sacred quarterdeck.
"How is she running, captain?"
"Lovely, lovely. She's a beautiful ship, Mister Piteras." You sigh happily, almost dreamily.
"How long have you been with her?" You ask curiously.
"Two years or so, captain. I know this ship's rigging like the back of my hand. She's a lovely sailor, though she tends to roll in heavy weather." You grimace and think of your poor young middie who had looked queasy at anchor. Speaking of which...
"I see Miss Eusoneus, but where is the young gentleman?"
"I believe he's reported to the surgeon, captain." Piteras does his best but can't quite hide the amusement in his voice and you have to smile along with him.
"Poor young fellow. I hope he recovers, truly." You say with a sigh. "I suppose you'd do me the honor of dining with me tonight, though? I'd like to get to know you better. And if you would pass the invitation on to Miss Eusoneus, I would be very grateful."
"Of course, captain. I'd be delighted." He seems genuinely touched by the invitation and later in the day you receive a reply that yes, the young lady would be honored to join you at table tonight. A relief, since being captain could be quite lonely and though you have to be their superior, you still hope for friendly relationships. An invitation is sent along to Mister Rhangabe, but he rather sadly declines on the surgeon's orders. Plain food for him for a few days until his stomach has settled, apparently.
Dinner that night is a rather simple affair, but the best you think you have managed. You have a pair of geese aboard in addition to your laying chickens and Auxentius rather happily butchers and cleans one up to produce a fine roast bird of uncommon quality to go with one of your bottles of wine. The conversation is slow to start, but once it becomes clear that you are inviting their company, Piteras and Eusoneus both seem to open up a little.
"So, Miss Eusoneus," you are saying as you take a bite of the roast bird, "I understand you came to us from the Eagle. Any reason for that, particularly? It seems an odd choice for berths after a prime frigate." Sofia gives a little cough and takes a moment to clear her mouth with wine before she replies, obviously doing her best to keep her voice neutral.
"Captain LeGrasse and I did not have the best relationship. We both decided it would be best for me to seek another ship and yours was the first with a vacancy I could find, captain." You cock an eyebrow. Though you have not personally served with LeGrasse, you have heard stories of him. A ruthless disciplinarian who enforces his orders firmly with the lash. Not your favorite sort of captain, truth be told. You keep your expression neutral and nod.
"Shame that. Oh well, his loss is my gain. I'm quite happy to have you aboard--I think your experience will be good for Mister Rhangabe. This is his first time to sea, I am told."
"Yes, so he told me," she replies cooly. "In between visits to the side." You do your best not to laugh and mostly succeed and Mister Piteras looks a little disapproving.
"We were all at sea for the first time once," he says with a shake of his head as Auxentius comes around to refill wine glasses again. "I'm sure he'll be a fine young officer given some time and instruction."
"Aye, Mister Piteras has the right of it," you agree. "I was sick as anything the first I was in a storm. And I was before the mast then." You chuckle and Sofia's brow arches just a little. Her expression doesn't change for the moment. Even with that little moment of awkwardness, though, the dinner seems to have been a success and you settle in for a comfortable cruise the next day. Within the next day or so, your squeaker is up and about and seems to be finding his feet. Which is good because you have reached your cruising grounds.
Mx Marinos rolls Strategy 2 4 3 + Strategy 9 + 1 for busy shipping lane = 19
Smugglers(?) roll strategy 1 1 4 + Strategy 10 = 16
Your cruise for the next week or so is rather unremarkable. You stop several vessels and speak with their captains, check manifests and generally find nothing out of order. Most of them are your countryfolk and happy to be heading into their home port to see home and loved ones again after months (or in the case of one whaler, years) at sea. It is not until your second week beating up and down the commerce lanes that you find something that causes you some concern.
An Oletian flagged merchant ship, a month out of their major port of Helesfird, who took two signal guns to actually heave to which has you unhappy as it is. Standing on your quarterdeck, you scowl for a long moment, then look to Piteras. "Mister Piteras, I shall go across myself this time. The ship is yours. Miss Eusoneus, you're with me if you please." You pause for a few minutes to let the captain stew (and while Auxentius retrieves your sword) and then clamber down into the boat with the young officer, a pair of marines, and six sailors to man the oars. Heaving across the swell between the two vessels, you come up against the side of the brig-rigged bessel, which is larger than yours, and then clamber up the side with your junior and marines in tow. The sailors stay with the boat, at least for now. The captain (you assume it's he, in any case), a stout, fair-haired man, steps forward to greet you and you give a perfunctory shake of his hand. A quick look around his ship makes you glad you're not in the merchant service. The amount of detritus, poorly stowed lines, and the four or so men lazing about the deck make you grimace.
"Good afternoon, sir!" He says to you in heavily accented Myrovan, then his eyes slide to Sofia and he gives a little noise in the back of his throat that suggests he doesn't like the fact that there's a woman officer on his ship. He says nothing though, merely waves forward a second, younger man.
"Lieutenant Marinos, of the Byzernonian Navy," you say in the same language, deciding not to correct him on the correct form of address. It's too much trouble with foreigners and in a foreign languages. Myrovan is not your first choice, but if it's what you have in common, it will have to do. Sofia stares blankly, apparently not understanding a word of what's being said.
"Althred Alricsson, master of the Pretty Penny." He says the name in his own harsh language and you have to avoid wrinkling your nose. "This is my clark. He has the manifest."
Mx Marinos rolls Subterfuge 3 + 5 + 6 + Subterfuge 9 = 23
Althred Alricsson rolls Subterfuge 3 + 1 + 2 + Subterfuge 12 = 18
"Ah, of course," You take the ledger and begin flipping through it. Fortunately, it is easy enough to follow. You take your finger and slide it down the the rows of goods, numbers, and amounts... It can be a bit overwhelming, but... Hm. You stop for a moment, your finger tapping against one entry. Something about it doesn't seem quite right. You squint.
"It says here you're carrying 250 tons of wheat and... 50 tons of salt? Into Inoburgh? Does salt really return that much?" Who would import salt to Byzernon. One of the largest salt beaches in the area is up the coast from Inoburgh and employs dozens if not hundreds of workers.
"I carry what I am contracted to carry," the man says with a laugh. "It is only salt."
"Of course. Do you mind if I take a look?" You tilt your head and he manages a grin.
"No. Of course not, Lieutenant. The hatch is this way..." You motion for Sofia to accompany you while the marines remain next to the ladder down into the boat, impassive and not entirely intimidating in their yellow coats. The way down into the hold is dark, but you make him go first with a lantern. Fortunately, you see no other sailors down here and he leads you through a maze-like arrangement of sacks, some of which are leaking grain onto the deck. until you come to stacks of barrels, stacked up to the top of the hold. Fortunately, there are one or two that are sitting separate from the others. A little odd. You motion towards one.
"Open it, if you please, sir." He nods and steps forward while sofia stands off to one side, hand on her dirk's hilt. The lid is pried off the barrel and exposes a packed surface of salt. You let out a small noise and look at it.
"...I've seen better salt on every pauper's table in Inoburgh," Sofia mutters in your native tongue and you suppress the urge to laugh. Then you plunge your hand into the salt, grunting as you dig deeper and deeper until, nearly up to your elbow in salt, you find yourself touching wooden boards. The barrel is up past your waist and should be large enough that you haven't reached the bottom. You frown, step back, then shover the barrel over onto its side with a resounding crash. Althred jumps.
"What are you doing--?!"
"My duty. Midshipman, the light if you please?" Sofia dutifully snatches the lantern from Althred and leans forward to give you the light. There is indeed another lid beneath the salt. Grunting, you shove the damn thing back upright and begin to pry the second lid off. The Oletian captain is sweating. As you open the barrel, the heavy scent of alcohol hits your nose. Whiskey, if you're not mistaken, which has an import duty to be paid. You turn your head to look Althred.
"Mister Alricsson, you know that there is an import duty of 20% on all legally imported spirits, don't you? Undeclared material such as this is smuggling. As a result, I am going to be seizing your ship and all of its cargo to be sent into the nearest port. You and your men will be seeing a magistrate soon, I expect." The poor caught bastard has turned pale. You look to Sofia.
"Let's go back on deck, shall we? And place him under arrest." You emerge onto the deck with a happy sigh, glad to be back in the sunlight. Sofia follows with a bedraggled looking Alricsson. Snatching up the speaking-trumpet at the rail, you point it towards the Lydia and bellow. Behind you, you can hear the midshipman ordering the marines to place the crew under arrest as she calls a few sailors up from the boat to help and make sure no one gets any ideas.
"Ahoy the Lydia!" The reply comes quickly, Mister Piteras' voice cutting across the space between you in much the same way.
"Yes, captain?"
"We've got our first prey! I'll be returning to the Lydia shortly with the marines, pick out a good petty officer and some reliable men to make up a prize crew."
"Aye, aye!" You pause for a moment. Who's going to command the prize when it goes into port?
[ ] Miss Eusoneus: She is the older and more responsible of the midshipmen and can no doubt be trusted to safely steer the vessel back into port without too much trouble, especially with weather as fine as it's been lately. Though that does mean you won't have her if anything else comes along.
[ ] Mister Rhangabe A first taste of command will help whet his appetite and no doubt please his... uncle? You think the admiral is technically his uncle. Whatever their relation, seeing that you think him capable to conn the captured smuggler back to port may well help make up for some of the bruised feelings about your refusal to enter his granddaughter on your muster.
[ ] One of the master's mates You can't spare either of your midshipmen right now on such a new crew. Besides, you still have three weeks of your cruise left to complete. Better to hold off on separating yourself from your young would-be officers.
I assumed there was a reason. I'm looking forward to the why.