Hostile Shores by Dewey Lambdin

Alan,” Grierson said with a brief hint of a smile as he crossed to his desk and sat himself down in a leather-covered chair. He gestured to another in front of the desk for Lewrie. “Though I do note that you do not think much of dressing properly.”
    “I was in the cable tiers, the orlop stowage, and the carpenters’ walks on an inspection when you signalled, sir,” Lewrie told him. “No need for fancy dress there.”
    “A glass of something, sir?” Grierson offered. “Some Rhenish?”
    “Tea for me, sir,” Lewrie requested, turning to spot one of the cabin servants. “In a tall glass, with lemon and sugar, and let it set to cool, first, if ye will.”
    Commodore Grierson gave out a scoffing harumph at that request.
    “It’s my custom t’have a half-gallon brewed up each day and let cool, sir,” Lewrie explained. “It’s very refreshing in the tropics on warm-ish days. Even better with a sliver of Yankee Doodle ice, when it’s available from an ice-house ashore.”
    “What an odd thing to do with tea,” Grierson said, grinning. “Anyway, I suppose that you brought me the outline of the strength of my new squadron, Sir Alan?”
    “Of course, sir,” Lewrie said. “Though I must admit that some of the smaller sloops, cutters, and luggers are unfamiliar to me. I’ve never clapped eyes on ’em, nor met their captains, since I’ve spent so little time in port, and a great many of them are off far down the island chain, as far as the Turks and Caicos.”
    “Indeed,” Grierson drawled with a dis-believing expression, as if to question his diligence during his temporary command of the Bahamas.
    “You may not see many of them ’til they return to Nassau for wood and water, either, sir,” Lewrie explained. “I can vouch for those I’ve worked with, but beyond them…?” he ended with a shrug.
    The brig-sloops Delight and Fulmar and their captains he could recommend, as well as the single-master cutter Squirrel. And of course, the three others of his original squadron he could praise highly. The rest of the vessels were simply names on a list.
    “They stay quite busy, down-islands, sir,” Lewrie told Grierson. “I do not know if Captain Forrester put much effort into the enforcement of the Navigation Acts, since there are so many American merchant ships who come to trade. American goods are much prized here, and the town merchants’d be upset did the trade be curtailed. Their goods are just as well made as British, and cheaper, so…” That required one more puzzled shrug. “That will be up to your discretion, sir.”
    “Quite right it is,” Grierson agreed, very sternly.
    “And, one must keep an eye out for the wreckers and salvagers, too, sir,” Lewrie went on. “Perhaps, with at least two more of your brig-sloops and thirty-two-gun frigates on station, they might be able to back up the authority of your sloops and cutters, down-islands.”
    “Wreckers and salvagers?” Grierson asked.
    “The island soils, and the acreage available, don’t support the highest-paying crops, sir,” Lewrie further explained, warming to the subject. “There’s ‘red lands’ that seem fertile, the first season or two, but play out without fertiliser, and the Bahamas don’t have room for pastures, cattle and sheep, and their dung. The ‘white lands’ are sandy, and are in need of fertiliser, too, d’ye see. Now, some get by the Red Indian way, using small fish planted the same time as the seed, but again, that doesn’t support payin’ crops, mostly just subsistence farmin’, so the down-islanders need food imports, and the best way to pay for such is to … take advantage of the odd shipwreck. Many of ’em had kin in the old pirate days, and they will fall back upon the old ways, when needful.
    “When I was here ’tween the wars in the old Alacrity, I’d put up beacons and range-marks, and as soon as I’d sailed away, down they came, the timbers got used t’build houses, and when I