Lord Fitton watched concerned as Claremont absentmindedly rubbed where he'd been shot. It had been a few months since the incident. Claremont was healing up nicely although he'd be permanently scarred. Lord Fitton was glad that he was doing so well although he did not look forward to the day when Claremont would begin resuming his old duties. Having grown quite accustom to his daily presence.

"Giving you trouble is it?"

Clara looked up from her sketch of Lord Fitton's latest find, and looked at him confused.

"Your arm. You were rubbing it again. Does it still ache?"

Clara shrugged. It did at times. It had become a good storm predictor but other than that she was just grateful to be alive and not in deep trouble. She had earned the respect of the crew. She in fact was treated almost like a royalty and the thought made her smile.

Fitton's breath caught in his throat and he busied himself with his papers suddenly. Maybe it was best that Claremont resumed his cabin boy duties. Fitton found himself getting far too attached. There was a knock on the door and Fitton bade whoever was on the other side to enter, grateful for the interruption.

Sturgis came in and Fitton said, "Time to eat already?" Sturgis always came to collect Claremont at the same time each day. Claremont had already begun helping the cook with meals for the officers. Fitton sighed. "Very well, Sturgis. Claremont, off you go."

Clara hesitated. She was almost done but knew there was no way to argue her point and rose to collect her things. She took the set of drawing pencils, watercolors, and charcoals that Lord Fitton had given her as a gift and placed them in the bag she used to carry them all and placed it over her shoulder. As much as she enjoyed the artwork she longed to write again.

What a tale she could tell. In the few months she had been aboard the Whispering Wind she had learned so much, her experiences had increased ten fold. She took Sturgis' arm and he lead her out of Lord Fitton's room. She sometimes wondered if Lord Fitton suspected that she was not a man. The way that he looked at her when he believed her engrossed with her work made her ache for Benjamin, but she quickly disregarded her feelings as ridiculous.

"The Captain wishes to see you," Sturgis said as they made their way through the ship.

"Me?" Clara whispered, "Whatever for?"

"Can't say. Don't know," Sturgis said.

If Sturgis could see Clara's face he'd wonder at her frown. "Now?" she asked.

"Yes."

Clara sighed. She guessed she couldn't put it off. It was inevitable that they would have to speak again, so to speak. Redgrave hasn't said but a few words to her over the last few months. She stood quietly by when the officers ate, serving whatever needs they had. He was getting her progress reports from Doc so he'd be aware that she was doing much better.

She now stood outside his door. "Thank you, Sturgis. I'll take it from here." He nodded and walked off. She admired Sturgis greatly as in the last few months he has nearly memorized the entire ship. Counting the number of steps it would take from their cabin to wherever they were headed.

She knocked.

"Enter."

Clara took a deep breath to steel her nerves and opened the door.

Redgrave looked up and for an instant looked surprised to see her, but then realization must have dawned. "Have a seat, Mr. Claremont."

Clara took the seat across from his desk. He seemed distressed about something and she wondered what it was.

"I hear you are doing well. Are you? Doing... well?" Redgrave asked giving Clara a look she wasn't quite sure how to identify. She slowly nodded yes.

Redgrave cleared his throat. "Good to know your convalescing under Fitton's watchful eye, has done you well. You've even added some meat to those bones of yours." Clara looked at herself, suddenly self-conscious.

"Don't worry what Mr. McCree has proposed will whip you back into shape in no time. In light of your service to the Whispering Wind and its crew I wish to promote you, Benjamin Claremont to a junior seamen."

Redgrave watched as Claremont's eyes widened clearly whatever he thought brought him the Commander's quarters this was not what he had in mind. Redgrave smiled, "This... surprises you?"

Clara nodded.

"I can't see why. You have more than proven yourself a valuable and useful member of the crew."

Clara pointed to her throat.

"Yes, there is that. But as you are going to be promoted to a Seaman it's not like you'd be giving orders. You'd still be taking them, so your need to speak would be limited to your questions. To be honest Claremont your duties wouldn't be much different then they are now, it however would give you an increase in pay and a rank, which might serve you ... if you... decided to leave us after our voyage."

Clara nodded she understood.

"You are in agreement then?"

Clara shrugged and then nodded yes.

"You take life so lightly, Claremont. I envy you that," Redgrave said.

Clara tried to smile but really couldn't. She didn't take life lightly at all. If she had she would have been content to stay put, to live out her life in solitude but instead she was now on this ship, but she figured since this is now her lot in life she, should make the best of it.

The look of distress had returned to Redgrave's face. She pulled out her notebook and scribbled. He took the paper from her hand and read, "What is it? What's wrong, sir?"

Redgrave stared at her. "Am I that transparent?" He then looked away and sighed.

"This morning we've seen two strange ships bearing NE towards us. Under the fog from last night's storm it was confirmed they are French War frigates, most likely a raiding party for merchant vessels like ours that are trying to reach the cape. Even with our recent addition of the HEIC guard we are still out gunned. I do not wish to engage but I fear that decision will be taken from me."

Clara eyes widened. This was grave news indeed. She quickly scribbled another note and handed it to him.

"You are quite devious, Claremont. I love the way your mind works," Redgrave smiled and it totally transformed him. "One of the these days, Claremont you'll need to tell me more about that letter. I don't know why fate has brought you to us... to me, but I am grateful."

Clara smiled shyly and Redgrave steeled himself against it. He found Claremont most confusing but there were too many far more important matters to deal with.

"Follow me," Redgrave went topside with Clara close on his heels.

"Mr. McCree we may have a plan." Mr. Angus McCree the man Clara affectionately thought of as the Viking, looked down at them from the helm.

"Ah, Mr. Claremont happy to see you topside, lad. If you have a plan, Sir. I'd love to hear it."

"Send the signal to prepare to engage and form a line of battle."

Mr. Cree's eyes widened, to engage the French frigates would be madness but his trust in Redgrave far outweighed his reservations. He made the call to the ships, which signaled one after the other and slowly the ships moved into position.

"Fly the Union Jack. Make sure it is seen."

Again the signals were sent, the EIC flags were stowed away, the British flags waved high in the sky. "So what is the plan Captain?" McCree asked after all orders were carried out.

"It's a gamble Mr. McCree but if we can convince the French we are indeed warships, they will think they are outgunned and the hope is turn tail and run. I understand the odds are not in our favor but if it works... it could save many lives on both sides."

"So what now?" Mr. McCree asked.

"We wait," said Redgrave.