An Inconvenient Mistress by Caroline Kimberly

over with a whoosh. He gaped like a fish out of water, trying to catch his breath. Immediately members of Blair’s crew rushed to his aid and tried to subdue Kolton. The Intrepid’s crew joined the scuffle and any attempts to separate the mob from the quartermaster quickly dissolved into pandemonium.
    Phillip and Captain Blair calmly watched the melee for a few moments. Blair gave Phillip an exasperated look, which Phillip answered with a helpless shrug. Blair muttered something and grabbed his pistol from its holster. Pointing the pistol in the air, he fired a single shot and shouted, “Enough!”
    Phillip was only vaguely aware that Blair was shouting something. He held his breath and counted to ten, praying that his quartermaster hadn’t taken a beating in vain. When nothing happened, he counted to ten again...and then once more. He was cursing himself for his stupidity when he realized it was oddly quiet. Blair must have asked him a question because the stout captain was looking at him expectantly. Not certain what his answer should be, he took a deep breath.
    Thankfully, he was saved by what sounded like a thunderclap, followed by the sound of footsteps and shouting from below deck.
    “Fire!” Someone was shouting. “Fire down below!”
    Crew members and marines from the
Sea Witch
were pouring forth from below deck in a mad scramble. Abrams, the ship’s carpenter, emerged alongside them and frantically searched for Phillip. Upon sighting the Intrepid’s captain, Abrams scurried toward him shouting, “One of the damned marines knocked Cook unconscious while he was tending the cooking fire. A log sparked and set fire to a sack of grain! It’s blazing out of control!”
    Hearing the word fire spurred the Intrepid’s crew to action, and they began grabbing buckets of water before disappearing below. Phillip swore and began barking orders. “Get a bucket line started,” he shouted to Abrams. To Kolton he said, “Get down there and get some sand on it before any sparks make it to the powder magazine.”
    White smoke was billowing up from below, and Phillip could hear his men shouting. Blair was ordering his men to return to the
Witch
. Witt seemed determined not to leave, so Blair ordered one of his marines to take him over at gun point if necessary.
    As they were retreating, Phillip turned to his fellow captain and shouted, “We could use a little help.”
    The naval captain gave Phillip a small, relieved smile. “I won’t risk my men or my ship. You’d do the same in my position.”
    “But your recklessness is bloody responsible for this,” Phillip accused loudly.
    Blair shrugged. “Apologies,” he said. “But my responsibility here is clear. You’re a privateer, not a ship of the line. If it helps, I never believed that you abducted the woman and child.”
    Once the Witch’s crew had returned to the naval vessel, Blair leaned forward and warned Phillip, “You were lucky this time, Ashford. Don’t let me catch you again.”
    “Bastard!” Phillip shouted, keeping up the pretense.
    Blair gave Phillip a quick two-finger salute as he crossed the gunwale. “Good luck.” Then he gave the order for the grappling lines to be cut. “If you don’t explode or burn to cinders,” Blair called, “we’ll come back to finish our search.”
    The ships drifted apart, and Phillip shouted orders to his men, though he continued to glare at the
Sea
Witch’s captain. The naval vessel raised her sails with sublime efficiency and was soon a safe distance apart from the
Intrepid
. Once Phillip calculated they were out of range of the Witch’s cannons, he gave the order to raise sails.
    His crew returned to the deck and resumed their duties with a speed that would have shamed even the most seasoned sailors. Phillip spoke briefly with his master gunner to verify that there was indeed no threat from their theatrics. Assured that everything was in capable hands he directed the quartermaster to set course for Nassau.