The Scent of Corruption (The Fighting Sail Series Book 7) by Alaric Bond

although few could have guessed his true feelings.
    Butler eyed the warrant officer cagily. He held out very little hope of his story being accepted, but even this one final try was worth the effort. “Last time I saw me wife she were with child,” he continued. “It had been a straight passage out, so there weren't no mail waiting for us in Sydney, an' we never called back – the chit'll be walking b'now.”
    “That's probably the case,” Saunders agreed sagely. “And likely with a brother or sister or two ta keep it company...”
    Butler was now glaring with pure hatred.
    “I'm not sayin' I don't feels for you,” Saunders said, his tone softening slightly as he noticed the man's change of expression. “But you won't find many aboard who ain't got some form of sorry tale to tell. With any nous you'd have volunteered whilst aboard the tender. Every pressed man gets the chance, and there'd have been clink to send your woman. As it is, you're pressed, so won't see a glimpse of coin for six months or more. And no one says you 'as to like it.”
    * * *
    L ieutenant Lewis glanced at the front door of the tavern with a mixture of apprehension and loathing, before ducking back behind the wall of straw once more. This was not his favourite duty; he had disliked being a member of a press gang when a regular hand and, after several years of advancement, found being forced to lead one no more pleasant. But now he had reached the dizzy heights of lieutenant, Lewis also understood the necessity.
    Should Prometheus remain in her undermanned state she would not be able to sail: it could hardly be more simple. And the ramifications went deeper. For a captain to be revealed as unable to raise a crew would be a very public black mark against him, with the stigma being shared equally amongst the officers he commanded. Lewis, whose uniform was both new and unpaid for, would be lucky to find another seagoing berth. Half pay when not employed was a newly acquired luxury, but one that would not see him far, or free of his current level of debt.
    So, unpleasant or not, the work had to be done and, if the information obtained from the old woman was correct, at least they should come away with a good number of able men. And there might be added consolation in the knowledge that he was also solving another problem. If there really was a gang of smugglers meeting tonight, he would not only be claiming valuable bodies for the Navy, but also eradicating a few of the parasites that currently sapped the lifeblood from his country.
    As a sea officer, Lewis would hardly be affected by a reduction in what the public liked to call free traders, while most who benefited from his actions might probably never know, or recognise the fact. But the old woman would. They had not spoken for more than five minutes, but Lewis hoped her business would survive. And, being of a genial nature, the concept of two birds being killed by one stone appealed, even if he were only to benefit directly from one.
    He and his men had been watching the place for over an hour from the privacy of the livery stable across the lane. From their point of view, it appeared a normal country inn; one of three in the village and, being less than three miles from the sea all were strongly biased in favour of the sailing man. It was even likely that the landlord came from similar stock; many, if not most, lower deck hands harboured a desire to open just such an establishment if their luck turned. And it was not so far fetched a dream; with prize money a constant possibility, it might take little more than a single afternoon's work to acquire the necessary funds. Maybe just a minor action, or the luck to be on hand when an enemy convoy was taken. Or simply snaring a single rich merchant when theirs was the only ship in sight.
    The seaman's share of any prize would be notoriously small, when compared with that paid to commissioned and flag officers, but these were desperate times, and of