The Protectors war

"Well, there is that," he said. "They're building a new class much like this back in Tassie, but wooden-hulled with steel diagonal bracing on the ribs. I'm supposed to get one-compensation for the government taking the Pride, and all the years I sailed her for 'em. I've some cobbers who'll help me find cargoes, then it's up to Malaysia for rubber, and over to Burma for teak and rice, Ceylon for tea and coffee and ci

"I'd rather thought I'd take up land," Sir Nigel said. "I understand there's a good deal available, and it's what I know, allowing for differences in the climate."

"Plenty of room on the mainland, sport, right enough, or on North Island," Nobbes said absently; his eyes were still on the rigging. "But the land's cheap for a reason; things can get pretty rough there. Tassie and South Island are full up, what with all the people out of the towns and on the farms and stations-there's agitation to break up the bigger ones. Fancy themselves as bunyip barons, some of the stationholders do; and over on the mainland, a lot of them are bloody barons. Accent on the bloody, too."

Nigel nodded. From what he'd heard, the big cities of mainland Australia and New Zealand 's more densely populated North Island had collapsed as thoroughly as any in Europe or Asia or America, and they'd taken circles of countryside two hundred miles across with them. Of course, that left a lot of Australia untouched-the circles hadn't overlapped as they had in more densely peopled lands.

Still, Alleyne and Hordle and I could handle any roughness where we wanted to set up, I suppose:

The sound of the water slapping its way along the Pride's hull changed, becoming a little louder, a little faster, like palms beating out a choppy rhythm on a drum. The motion altered as well, turning longer and smoother, a rocking-horse surge that spoke of sea miles gone away.

"With the wind on our beam like this, that'll give us an extra knot, setting the t'gallants," Nobbes said with satisfaction. He turned to the bi

Then he looked back over the fan-shaped rail at his ship's stern, over the tarpaulin-clad shape of the catapult crouching on its turntable.

"Odd ru

"Not so odd as all that. Southampton-Gibraltar is the busiest shipping route we have now-that Britain has now. Which isn't saying much, I grant you."

Nobbes grunted. "Bloody odd Gibraltar made it," he said.

"A combination of luck and geography," Sir Nigel said. "Though it took considerable ability to organize it all."

Nobbes brought up the heavy binoculars that hung around his neck.

"She's just hull-up now," he said. "Sailing with the wind abeam is the best point for a square-rigger, but even so she's very fast: she'll pass us in a day or two on this heading. There's not many ships could come up from behind on the Pride, if I do say so myself. They're cracking on, though. I wonder what their hurry is?"

A suspicion coiled in Nigel's stomach. "Hordle, step up here if you please," he said. The big man did. Nigel went on: "You were stationed in Southampton for a while, weren't you? At the dockyard, while I was off on that diplomatic mission to the Principality."

"That I was. Didn't envy you a trip to Ian's Rump, either, sir."

Nigel frowned slightly; in fact, he shared the opinion. The Principality of Ulster might loudly proclaim its loyalty to the king, and to his brother Prince Andrew-chance had stranded the latter there when the Change came-but he didn't particularly like the bloody-minded military-Orange Order-cum-Free Presbyterian junta that had ended up ruling the northeastern quarter of Britain's sister island-or what was left of it, between starvation and mutual pogrom.

"Take a look," he said, handing over his own binoculars. "Tell me if you recognize that ship."

Hordle looked for a moment, and pursed his lips. "No doubt about it, sir. Cutty Sark. I saw her in for repairs, after she shuttled in her last load of Icelanders, back in CY3."

Nigel whistled silently, and Nobbes went slightly pale. Partly, Nigel thought, because that might mean the king had decided to give chase regardless, and to hell with offending far-off Tasmania; the Cutty Sark was a Royal Navy vessel now. And partly because the ship was legendary, the last and greatest of the China tea clippers, brought back to sit in glory in drydock on the Thames after a career that had included record-breaking runs on every route she sailed.

"But sir?" Hordle went on. "They had us doing fetch-and-carry work there, and from what I heard of the dockyard maties talking, she wasn't what you'd call sound even then. Even for something a hundred and thirty years old."

Alleyne's regular-featured face was thoughtful as he nodded. "I read the report, Father. Her keel-the wooden keel-is waterlogged, and the corrosion on her frame: " He turned to Nobbes. "Captain, you know she's iron-framed, with plank sheathing?"

Nobbes snorted. "Yes," he said, in a tone that also meant And the sun comes up in the east too, my gracious Pommie-lad.

"Sorry, sir. Well, the frame's been corroding-not just weakening it, they could cure that with riveted patches, but the rust is pushing the stringers away. She needed to be stripped bare in drydock, chipped down to solid metal, and rebuilt from the keel up. Instead they just did what they could from the outside, pounded in more caulking, and kept putting the basic work off. Perhaps they thought it would be easier simply eventually to scrap her and build new."

"She's still almighty fast," Nobbes said thoughtfully.

"Not as fast as she was once," Alleyne said. "They also cut down her sail plan, to lessen the strain on the hull and the working of the planks. Not so many studding sails and such."

"What have they been doing with her?"

"Refugees at first, starting in March of 'ninety-nine. Then cargo on the Gibraltar run," Alleyne said. "Manufactured goods and settlers out, food and fiber back-sugar, cotton, wine, citrus, olive oil."

Nobbes gri

"In a way," Nigel said; the irony of it had struck him too. "Interesting to see how that turns out: "

"It'll be interesting to see if the Sark 's loaded with troops and out to see us knackered," Hordle said bluntly, jerking his head northward. "Sir."

Nigel winced slightly, but there was no point in delaying further. "Perhaps it's rude of me to ask, but what will you do, Captain, if it is?"

Nobbes looked embarrassed, and spoke reluctantly: "I'll run like buggery, Sir Nigel. If they catch us up and it's just a matter of dodging, or trading catapult bolts at long range, I'll do that. But if it means saving my ship and crew, I'll have to hand you over, and that's the dinkie die."

"I appreciate your honesty, Captain Nobbes," Nigel said courteously.

And Hordle looks like he's thinking of ripping your head off in that event, and I think you're begi

He relaxed and smiled. "Let's hope we can avoid such a choice, eh? And that ship could just be ru

"Thought of moving there meself, sir, and taking up land," Hordle said, glad of a chance to break the momentary chill. "Nice climate and the brambles aren't as thick about the edges as back in old Blighty."

"Maybe God is an Englishman," Nobbes said. "The world drops dead, and the Poms get the whole of Western Europe out of it."