When they reached the bay of Nantucket, Miles ordered the Abigail Cobb anchored away from the docks. The crew did as they were told, but they clearly had questions. They'd had questions since the day Lieutenant Asher Sands and the other Royal Navy men had visited them, but they had not asked any of those questions within Miles's hearing. 

After the ship was anchored, Miles gathered the crew on deck.

"No one leaves the ship," Miles ordered, which earned him even more questioning looks from the crew. "Nothing is offloaded. I'm going ashore to speak to Mr. Cobb regarding what I was told by the navy lieutenant when he visited. I will return this evening and I will address all your concerns, I assure you. You will be able to ask any of the questions I know you have, then. For now, I need him to answer my questions before I can answer yours. Mr. Turner, see that you and misters Davis and Mack keep things in order."

Turner nodded to him. "Of course, Captain."

"Mr. Clark, if you will assist me in rowing to shore, I would greatly appreciate it."

Clark echoed Turner's nod and assent. He did not speak further as he and Miles took one of the whaleboats to shore, where they tied it at one of the most out-of-the-way docks. Then he made his way to the office of Isaac Cobb, trusting Clark to remain with the whaleboat and not seek the gossip of the town as nearly every other member of the crew would have. Given the rumors of war and the navy's visit to them, the crew could only resist their need for information for so long. Miles was determined to bring the truth back to them, not rumors and gossip.

Miles was relieved not to find the town overrun with soldiers, nor did he find a town full of frightened citizens talking about the state of things. Indeed, it seemed to Miles as if nothing in the world had changed and daily life continued unimpeded in Sherburne. There was an odd bit of tension in the air and he noted some shops that appeared to be closed, but it was nothing that made him think that the war was the greatest concern for those living there. People still bustled about the town as usual, enjoying the mild weather. Perhaps it wasn't as serious as Asher had been told. Perhaps, by the time his ship had been dispatched to New York word was just arriving in London that the conflict was at an end. It took months for word to travel between the colonies and England, after all.

When Miles was shown into the office of Mr. Cobb, he noticed it was tidier than usual, with fewer maps on the walls and papers strewn across the desk. Isaac Cobb was as neat as usual, however, which was typically a stark contrast to the state of his office. He wore a suit of coordinating blues and a perfect white wig, slightly out of fashion for everyone except himself.

"Oh good, Captain Dunn," Cobb said in greeting. "I've been expecting you to return any day. How was the hunt?"

"It was excellent," Miles replied. "Until we were stopped by the navy on our way home. We were saved from impressment because our ship's owner swore us to the British whaling fleet, I was told."

Cobb forced a smile onto his lined face. It seemed he'd aged more than a year in the time Miles had been away. "That is correct. I wasn't able to contact you, so I've waited for your return to complete the transfer. I'll need you to begin taking your catches to Whitby. I'm sure you're familiar with it. It isn't London, but I've family there who will set us up well."

"This won't sit well with my crew," Miles told him frankly. "Many of them have family here, not in Whitby or anywhere else in England."

Cobb waved a hand dismissively. "About two weeks from now, I'll be traveling back to Whitby myself. I've arranged to take the families along, and to assist in finding them housing in Whitby."

Miles had his concerns immediately. "All the families? You'll move Indians and black families to Whitby? French families?"

"All the families with a place in Britain already," Cobb corrected.

Miles had thought as much. That would put him down nearly half his crew, because they wouldn't leave their wives, children, parents, lovers, or land behind for England. They'd be unhappy or without work, whichever they chose.

"In two weeks you will follow my ship to Whitby, with your full catch," Cobb went on. "That should give your men time to settle things."

Miles hardly thought that enough time, even if all members of the crew and their families wanted to leave for Whitby or would be able to. "The ship needs maintenance," he told Isaac Cobb. "We have blubber that needs to go to the tryworks."

"She'll survive," Cobb replied, speaking as someone who knew little of ship maintenance. "Do what you can at drift away from the harbor. If we lose her on the way it isn't a concern. I've insured her and the cargo, and we won't be so far from you that we can't take the crew onboard. Use your tryworks while you drift. Why else did I have them installed onboard?"

A pity he hadn't asked why the catch hadn't been tried out already. Miles would have explained the storm that had come upon them as they'd been cutting what they could from their catch. They'd barely had the opportunity to prepare the ship when it had come over them. The ship had taken minor damage, and the decision had been made to sail for home without trying the blubber, which risked decreasing the oil's quality when it was processed, something Cobb would normally have objected to. Though, he wasn't one to understand or care about the reasoning. He was a man of profits and expenses. The oil was what he could sell in England. Miles knew he was not going to have the ship's hull cleaned and the repairs completed in the middle of the harbor while the tryworks were being used. What Cobb was asking was nearly impossible. 

In that moment he knew for certain he was not taking the Abigail Cobb to Whitby.

Yet, he knew not what other option he had in that moment.

"As you say," Miles said with a nod. "I will do what I can."

Cobb smiled. "I look forward to continuing our business in a new locale. Please replace the colonial flag with the British one on board. If it has gone missing, please tell me immediately. I'm afraid it may become nearly impossible to secure a new one here soon enough."

Cobb's words were all Miles needed to conclude that the war had not, in fact, come to an end already. The flag the Abigail Cobb flew was one of Cobb's own devising, a green pine tree surrounded by four blue stars, all on a series of red and white stripes. The pine, at least, displayed the ship's association with New England. If Mr. Cobb did not want such a flag flown on his ship, surely it meant the symbol was being used elsewhere in opposition to England. 

"It has been stored safely and it will fly the moment I return," Miles assured him, then took his leave.

He had barely left the step of the office when a well-dressed man addressed him, "Sir, would you be Captain Dunn?"

Miles gazed at him, unsure what to think of the man who had spoken to him. He was no more than thirty years of age – if he was even that old – thin and tall, and wearing a well-cut tan suit. His blond hair was covered by a black cocked hat and he was clean-shaven, with a spark in his blue eyes. He seemed too wealthy to be looking for work, but Miles had been surprised by others who had given him the same impression.

Just behind him stood another man, one Miles assumed to be a manservant. He was also well-dressed, in a suit of gray, that was only slightly more worn than his master's. Had he had paler skin Miles would have taken him to be another gentleman – and indeed perhaps he was. Instead, Miles knew his presence and appearance were purely for his master's benefit.

"I am he," Miles replied. "What can I do for you?"

The man smiled. "My name is Levi Finley. I have a business proposal for you."

The voice of Miles's father ran through his mind. "Know that the Finleys treated us right, when they come for you."

He smiled and nodded for Finley to walk with him, which he and his companion did. "What is your proposal, Mr. Finley?"

"How much do you know about my family's association with yours?" Finley asked. Oddly, he seemed slightly uncomfortable for a man making a business proposal. "My father tells me your father didn't bring you into his second, or third, rather, career, and so I'm not certain you know of their business dealings."

"The smuggling." Miles chuckled. "He did tell me of it. I was raised on his smuggling and fishing ships. I left it for whaling when I desired something different. I did not know the name of his business partner, however. I learned of your father from his journals I inherited after he died of a fever only three years past."

"And I'm very sorry for the loss of him, sir," Finley replied. "He was a good man, from what I've been told. I don't mean simply for what money he brought my father before he left the trade ten years ago."

Andrew Dunn had been a good man, by Miles's estimation. "Thank you." 

"My grandfather also had many dealings with your grandfather," Finley continued.

Miles grinned. "The smuggling or the piracy?"

"Both, to be truthful. He helped establish the fishing operation to conceal the smuggling. My grandfather didn't want to lose his greatest source of income when The Scot took his pardon."

"The fishing operation that passed to my father, and that my brother still operates," Miles informed him. Though, as an honest fishing business for the first time in its existence. "Yet you didn't seek him out."

They had reached the waterfront and Miles leaned against the side of a warehouse, out of the way of most of the bustle of the docks. He was just able to see the Abigail Cobb sitting out in the harbor from between two schooners at the dock.

"Your brother didn't join your father's privateer, from the crew list my father still holds. You did."

Miles glanced at him, and he could tell by Finley's expression that he knew Miles was interested.

"You're outfitting a privateer?" Miles asked casually.

Finley grew uncomfortable again and looked at the ships in the harbor. "I was. I only discovered, after coming here to offer you command if you were so interested, that the ship I was expecting to outfit had caught fire and burned to nothing. She was a prize ship my father had purchased at auction in Philadelphia. There was an accident during her repairs. I don't know the details. But the ship is gone."

Miles was strangely amused. "So, you have no ship for me to command. Why are you here?"

Finley nodded out to the harbor. "I thought perhaps you'd take the whaler, your Abigail Cobb, as your first prize. I know Isaac Cobb will be relocating his operation to England. That makes her a legal prize. I'd put up half the bond, though I'd only ask a quarter share, not half. You would have three-quarters of all prize money as both owner and captain, and be the one to determine the crew's shares out of that. I'd also outfit her with the guns I planned to purchase for the first ship."

The thought was rather appealing, and precisely the opportunity Miles had been looking for. He didn't even feel the need to argue Finley down on his percentage. "Do you have a letter of marque already?"

Finley drew a packet from inside his jacket. "It only needs to be completed and filed. It's from Massachusetts. I make my office in Boston, though I haven't been within the city for nearly a year. The British have left it, thus I intend to return when our business here is complete. My father makes his office in Philadelphia, my brother in Newport. They could take charge of your prizes at the harbors closest to those cities on my behalf, if ever there is issue getting into Boston. War is an unpredictable thing."

Miles continued to gaze at the Abigail Cobb, thankful to finally allow his mind to visit thoughts he'd been shutting away since he'd first heard hints of war. Memories of his time on his father's ship filled him, along with a much more recent memory.

"What I wouldn't give to be back on your father's privateer."

Miles turned his gaze back to Finley. "What if I wanted a larger ship, one that was already fitted out? Would you still give half the bond?"

Finley was clearly surprised. "I'm certain I could, especially if I don't purchase the guns. How much larger a ship?"

"A frigate."

Finley stared with an open mouth for a moment. Even his manservant appeared surprised. After a moment, Levi Finley managed to ask, in a thin voice, "Where are you planning to get a fitted-out frigate?"

Miles smiled. "The Royal Navy, of course."

"How?"

Miles shrugged. "I know an unhappy lieutenant. I'll go to New York and speak with him. I'm sure you'll hear if I've been arrested for treason. If not, when the Abigail Cobb sails for Whitby under the command of Jonah Clark you can give me up for hanged."

Finley laughed and shook his head. "I don't know if this is madness or brilliance."

"Perhaps both," Miles replied, grinning. "Have you heard of Dunnstown?"

Finley nodded. "I was told I'd find you there if not at Isaac Cobb's."

"Meet me there. Go to the large house on the hill and ask for Mrs. Dunn."

"Your wife?" Finley asked.

Miles chuckled. "My mother. Tell her who you are and that I'll be meeting you there soon. She'll put you up without issue. We can work out the business when I have my ship, though first I need to convince my brother to take me to New York. If I can't have the ship I intend, then I'll take the Abigail Cobb and we will need those guns."

Of course, he hoped he wouldn't need to take the whaler. There would be no telling how long it would require to turn it into a privateer.

Finley nodded. "Very well. Good luck to you." He offered his hand.

Miles shook with him. "Thank you. I would much prefer this to becoming a British whaleman."

Finley smiled. "I thought you might."

"One more thing," Miles said before they could part. "Could you give me an account of this war we're in? I've been gone near to a year."