A Captian and a General:
Arthur Smith stood beside General Washington a few minutes after Colonel Halbert had been dismissed, the two men casting long shadows in the dim light of the command tent. Arthur broke the silence first, arms crossed as he watched Halbert stride off into the night. "I like him," he said casually.
Washington kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the remnants of the evening fog clung to the masts of the ships in the harbor. "He certainly has the bravery for war, and even the mind for it," Washington admitted, his tone edged with frustration. "Now, if only he could temper that with some discipline."
Arthur followed Washington's gaze, his eyes settling on his own ship, the *Mars Hope*, bobbing gently in the harbor. "Twenty-five guns," he said, as if reading Washington's thoughts. "Not enough for grand naval battles, but more than enough for any kind of mischief you might want me to stir up."
Washington glanced at him, his face as unreadable as ever. "Your proposal," he began slowly, "is being taken under advisement, Captain Smith."
Arthur gave a tight-lipped smile. "I appreciate the consideration, General. But you should know something about captains: we don't take kindly to being told what to do by anyone but Congress, the Admiralty, or another captain. Anything else, I tend to take under advisement as well."
Washington's jaw clenched the flicker of irritation unmistakable. Arthur, sensing he may have pushed too far, softened his tone slightly. "What I mean to say is, General… you don't know naval matters, not like I do. You may be Commander-in-Chief, but you don't have the experience to conduct a naval war like the British do."
Washington's eyes narrowed as he met Arthur's gaze. "And you do?"
Arthur's smile widened, a touch of mischief in his expression. "Well, enough to keep us from destroying what few ships we have, that much I know. Right now, I'm one of the best chances you've got to turn this war into one where we control the movements, where we dictate the terms at sea and on land."
Washington's silence was pointed, and the tension between the two men thickened. The general finally exhaled, his words clipped. "I can find better men, Smith. Men with better ships, men who follow orders not a pirate like you."
"I'm no pirate, sir," Arthur shot back, his voice steady but sharp. "And you know that."
Washington stared at him, and for a brief moment, Arthur felt the weight of the man's authority pressing down on him. He'd spoken boldly, perhaps too boldly. But he also knew that Washington couldn't afford to dismiss him so easily. The general needed skilled captains, men who knew how to navigate the waters of war, both literal and political. And Arthur, as brash as he was, had proven himself capable.
"Dr. Franklin informed me of your… radical beliefs. Before I was given my position."
Ah, so that was it. Arthur knew this conversation would come eventually. He leaned back slightly, meeting Washington's gaze with a steady, unwavering calm. "Did Dr. Franklin also tell you why I was removed from the Royal Navy?"
"He did," Washington replied, his voice as level as ever.
"Then you know my position very well, sir," Arthur said, his tone unflinching, though respectful. The silence hung between them for a moment, charged with the weight of their shared understanding. Arthur's unconventional views were no secret—he'd made enough waves to ensure that.
Washington gave a slow nod, one that carried with it a rare acknowledgment, perhaps even respect. Arthur had been upfront, and Washington appreciated honesty, even when it came in forms he didn't entirely agree with. "I am at your service," Arthur added.
Washington clicked his false teeth and spoke in a voice quieter than before. "Good. Now, how do you plan to strike at British supply ships?"
Arthur allowed himself a brief smile, confident now that Washington was listening. "Simple," he began, the plan already formed in his mind. "We go a few days out into the open ocean. Intercept supply ships that have strayed too far from their escorts, ships vulnerable and alone. Once we capture them, we bring them to a safe harbor. Every bit we take—guns, provisions, even ships themselves—will help us build the navy we need to compete."
Washington nodded, digesting the plan. But Arthur wasn't done. "And, of course, I'll need men. Marines. I can't expect my sailors to handle everything on their own. I'll need fighters, ones who can hold the deck while we secure the cargo."
Washington's gaze remained fixed on Arthur, considering his words. After a beat, he spoke. "I shall write to Congress," he said simply. "Requesting the detachment of marines you'll need."
Arthur inclined his head in gratitude, knowing this was a hard-won victory. "Thank you, General. With their support, I'll bring us the ships we need, and whatever supplies we can seize."
He smirked to himself as he strode down toward the anchorage, where the Mars Hope was waiting. The game was afoot, and for the first time in a long while, Arthur felt that familiar rush—the feeling of being at the edge of something big.
It was time to make the Royal Navy remember the name Arthur Smith.
AN: Another Arthur smith omake!
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