"He didn't search for survivors," Davis muttered as they continued to watch the Miriam sail farther away, themselves drifting gently across the bay.

"I left a letter with his secretary," Miles explained. "With the instructions to deliver it when in sight of the Abigail Cobb. I assured him no one was left on board and thanked him for several years of employment and a respectable first prize for our privateer. I also reminded him that I had mentioned the ship was in need of maintenance and could not sail again so soon, not even to Boston. And that I hoped he understood I meant no ill will toward the daughter he named the ship after."

Clark laughed. "You've always been a good captain, but I didn't know you were this brilliant."

Miles shrugged. "I may never have truly liked the man, but I certainly didn't want him to worry if he had one bit of care for any of us. It seemed cruel."

"What's next?" Davis asked, voicing what he was certain the crew was ready to ask. Most of them were watching him.

"One more day here," Miles replied. "I want to make certain we have everything we need, and we need to bring on Mr. Finley, our backer. He'll be sailing with us to Boston. I've heard Boston was likely picked bare of all stores and supplies while the British occupied it. We'll need what we can get here. I'd also like to take a final count of the crew and devise the watch schedule. Then we'll put the ones who don't wish to stay onto the whaleboat we took from the Abigail Cobb and let them go as they please before making for Boston. We'll stop there long enough to offload the whale oil and see whomever we need to see. Mr. Mack has agreed to remain there as prize master until all is done. Meanwhile, we will go find another prize."

"Sounds excellent to me," Turner declared, to which the other lieutenants nodded in agreement.

"While we're sailing I plan to have the entire crew drilled on battle preparation," Miles continued, glancing at Asher. "Mr. Sands will be tasked with that, as he is the most experienced."

Asher nodded. "Of course."

"On the subject, is there a drummer here?"

Asher looked out across the ship's deck thoughtfully. "Not that I can recall. Would you accept pipes?"

Miles grinned. "All the better."

"Mr. McFadden," Asher called.

A young man approached the quarterdeck. "Aye, sir?" he asked, his accent heavy.

"Do you still have those acursed pipes?"

He smiled. "'Course."

Miles nodded. "Very good. How would you like to play them in place of a drummer?"

McFadden appeared surprised, but nodded. "'Course, sir. Would be an honor."

"We'll discuss the tune later," Miles told him. "For now, let's prepare to depart with our prize."

When Mr. Finley and Mr. Goodman joined them, Miles was happy to welcome them aboard. Finley gazed around at the ship in something akin to wonder.

"I can scarcely believe you took this from the Royal Navy," Finley declared.

Miles grinned. At moments he could hardly believe it himself. "I wouldn't have been able to take it without my old friend here, Lieutenant Asher Sands. Formerly of His Majesty's Navy, now of the Scot privateer."

Asher shook his hand. "Thank you for giving Captain Dunn, and therefore myself, this opportunity."

Finley smiled. "Thank you for the ship. It's lovely."

"Come, I'll give you a tour," Miles offered. "And there is a cabin near the captain's quarters you can use for the voyage. We leave tomorrow before first light. It'll take at least a day to reach Boston, depending on the wind."

Finley nodded. "Thank you."

As he showed them about, Miles made certain to introduce Finley as their merchant backer, so everyone on the crew knew to respect him as a source of income, if nothing else. He considered also introducing Goodman as a backer, but being conscious of why they used the ruse, he chose not to. Neither Finley nor Goodman objected.

During the tour Clark and a small crew returned with more stores, including some livestock and fresh water. No sooner was it all handed over to the crew to get stored away than Clark asked to speak to him.

"It's a lucky thing Mr. Cobb chose to leave so much sooner," Clark explained. "There was a group of local men who noticed a British frigate cruising off the coast for so long. They were planning to raise a force to harass it. I doubt it would have accomplished much against a true navy ship, but they were eager to see it gone. When they saw what happened this morning and took notice of the flag, they were surprised and even more excited. Of course they saw us come directly from it, so they knew immediately that you were the captain when I was the one who came ashore. It's all over the island that Captain Miles Dunn is sailing an English frigate under a letter of marque for Massachusetts."

"And what do the people of Nantucket think about that?" Miles asked, curious.

Clark grinned. "I got better prices than I ever have on some of our supplies, and was approached by several men who wished to know if we needed more crew."

Miles usually enjoyed eating with the crew, but he decided to eat that evening in his cabin with Finley and Goodman, after he had spent some hours on shore hiring on nearly a dozen more crew members, a mix of sailors and landsmen. He knew he'd need to hire more still in Boston, if he could.

"You named the ship the Scot," Finley said as they ate. "I've been meaning to ask if you knew him. Your grandfather. Captain Gawen Dunn. They called him The Scot."

Miles put down his cup and nodded. "I did. I grew up believing he was a fisherman and had been captain of a privateer. He was the reason my father chose privateering, and I joined him. My grandfather was ill when we left, and the next time we were home we learned he had died. I never truly knew if my father was aware he'd been a pirate before then, but he'd been raised in the smuggling business. When my grandfather died he left his journals to my father, except for one. My father didn't know for some time that I had been given it, until I mentioned it to him in passing. The journal was more personal, while the ones my father inherited were logs and crew lists. It explained how he had indeed begun on a privateer when he was a young man. On board that ship he learned to read and write, taught by the surgeon, who enjoyed teaching the crew about medicine, too, when they felt like learning. He worked his way quickly from there into becoming a captain with his own letter of marque and command of a sloop. Eventually that particular war ended and employment was hard to come by. That sloop was still sitting in the harbor, waiting to be sold intact or dismantled for other ships. So he gathered most of his crew back together and they stole it. He soon met your grandfather in an American town that did business with pirates. He never wrote down what town, possibly to protect your grandfather as his partner."

Finley nodded. "My family has moved all along the coast. I never knew, either."

"Why did he decide to turn to fishing and smuggling?" Mr. Goodman asked.

"It was becoming more difficult to deal with pirates," Mr. Finley replied. "My grandfather told me when I once asked why he was invested in smuggling goods. He said eventually the laws and the navy made it nearly impossible to conduct business with pirates, and taxes were too high for honest merchant trading – according to his views on what constitutes high taxes, of course. I can't speak for what they were truly like."

Miles nodded. "And at that time my father was born. My grandfather had a wife in Scotland. He found out about my father and that my grandmother had died soon after giving birth to him. His sister was caring for my father, and refused to allow my grandfather to have anything to do with raising him unless he stopped being a pirate. He'd made something of a name for himself, though he was never one of the most dangerous ones the navy hunted. He was a good man who chose good men for his crews. They simply lacked other opportunities and turned to the sea for their future. Mr. Finley was able to assist him, and those in his crew who desired it, in acquiring a pardon. He then invited my grandfather to America to establish a fishing and smuggling business. His sister moved with him. I don't know if she knew he was smuggling, but my father was raised on the smuggling ships, more or less, as were myself and my brother."

"And here you are with your stolen frigate and a letter of marque," Goodman commented before taking a drink.

"I believe my grandfather would be happy with me," Miles said with a smile. "My father possibly less so. He was always cautious when dealing with the Royal Navy, and he wasn't fighting against them."

"I heard your father was quite successful with the smuggling business," Finley told him. "The privateering was also decent, but my father did say he was cautious. I wouldn't have come to speak with you if I had been led to believe he hadn't been a sound investment for my father. Perhaps I was fortunate to learn you were more akin to your grandfather, however."

Miles nodded. "Thank you. I hope to ensure your confidence was not misplaced."

Finley saluted him with his cup. "I'm certain you will, Captain."

Beside him, Goodman grinned.