"Anything special we're supposed to do?"
"Act as if this were an ordinary patrol," Valentine said.
"Very well," Carrasca said, turning to the old hand. "Torres, what was the procedure? Do they have pilots?"
"No."
"So how would Saunders handle it?"
"Cruise the bay. Anything that looked oceangoing, we were to sink, unless we could board it and were satisfied it belonged to the Corpus Christi Kurians. Their signet was a crane over a sunrise, I think Asian-looking, only with Mexican colors. Stood out like a sore thumb in Texas. But if there was any doubt, we'd seize it and bring it back to New Orleans, and let the Kurians haggle it out."
"Then that's what we'll do. Helm, let's take a look at that inlet to starboard. After the check?"
"If the captain felt like it, he'd let us dock. There's a concrete wharf by the old Brownsville channel, and some of the harbor joints traded with us. Good place to pick up crabs, lice, and the drip from the whores. We were always under orders to go in groups of four at least, armed with rifles and sidearms. Don't try the chow-they give coasties rat meat."
"Shall we dine on board tonight, Captain Valentine?"
Valentine found himself smiling. "I've eaten rat any number of times. I'm sure Narcisse could spice it up into a state dinner, if she had to, Captain."
'Torres, what would the Captain do if he didn't want to give the men liberty in the port?"
"We'd raid a shrimp boat for food and leave, sir."
"It would be best if the captain decides to grant liberty. It can buy us some time."
They wasted the morning cruising the bay, but saw nothing larger than open fishing boats. Valentine was relieved. He didn't want to arrive at a strange port and start burning local shipping; especially when the success of his mission could depend on the aid, or at least noninterference, of the natives. With that out of the way, the Thunderbolt tied up at the pier near the stagnant channel. A few blocks of cracked concrete buildings leered out at them, garish-and misspelled-advertisements painted over doorways in a mixture of Spanish and English.
An afternoon rain soaked the men tying her up, and the gangway guard took shelter under the stairs to the top deck.
Carrasca, her new lieutenant, Valentine, and Post decided to dine one last time in the wardroom. With their combined coaxing, they got the Chief to join them. The Chief sat uncomfortably at the cramped table, awkward in his civilian clothes.
"They're the only ones that weren't oil stained," he explained.
They heard Narcisse's voice shout orders from the galley. With the crew now mostly Jamaican, the dishes reflected that island's preference for spiced chicken and pork dishes, leavened with rice, vegetables, and fresh fruits.
"Captain," Valentine began, as the eating slowed, "you, your officers, and the men have more than carried out your part of the bargain. I'm happy to leave the Thunderbolt in the Commodore's Flotilla. I know Mr. Post and the Chief will serve you ably."
Post elbowed the Chief. The Chief had met a woman in Jamaica, a beauty who could have appeared in one of the old tourism posters in her yellow two-piece bikini, and had decided to stay with the ship.
"Happily ever afters," Post said, lifting a glass of lemonade to the Chief.
Carrasca shifted in her seat and rearranged the rice on her plate.
Valentine's stomach did flip-flops as he looked at her. "Just see me and the cargo into the hands of my contacts here. You'll take my promise to do anything I can to help you in our common Cause. I'll never forget the Thunderbolt and her captain."
The object of his thoughts and memories smiled. "You'll always have a berth on any of our ships and a bed in Jay-port."
Carrasca stared levelly into his eyes as she spoke, but he saw her jaw tighten after the last sentence. Valentine felt his throat go thick.
"Ah-thank you for the offer."
The table sensed a tension and covered it with technical talk about improvements in the ship since the overhaul. It lasted until the Chief and the two lieutenants excused themselves. Post closed the cabin door behind him.
Carrasca reached out and took Valentine's hand.
"Sorry," she said. "I've been preoccupied since we refloated. We've had no time alone."
"We're not the first couple sacrificed to the Cause."