“For Certain, Captain. Consider it done.”

He might as well have given her instructions to breathe as tell her to train the men. What did he think she did with her time? Strut around the deck barking orders at the seagulls? Like as not. This captain confounded her but for all that she did not regret her berth or the bit of mad boldness that made her seek out the position in the first place. The ship that willingly had one woman was surely the best place for a second. Not that there was much in common between the two besides a tongue. She could not complain, he did not take advantage of her, as so many others did. He did not expect a certain sort of gratitude and so she fought down her irritation at the confusion and lack of control and did her work. Brilliantly, she liked to think. 

She was a like to be reading Naval history and Maritime sciences as she was to be reading books on botany or astronomy. She was well versed in technique and if anything was said to be her flaw it was in spontaneity. She was a brilliant strategist when there was a map and markers and a sense of the battle that was upcoming. Unknowns and changes were hard for her. She would panic, over plan and though when the time came she would not flounder but would act, it was hard. The insight and brilliance she lacked in this regard the Captain more than made up for, and as her eyes flicked to the grey-eyed look-out, or perhaps the team of them made up for. 

Regardless of the source of brilliance she sensed that the captain was unsatisfied with her answer, with her in general despite his grin at Antonia just then. She found that her hands were twisting the edge of her ruined coat where it lay over the edge of her chair and told herself to calm down. Nothing was going to happen to her there, she had not lost her place. She had done nothing wrong. The words did not help settle her nerves. She knew what would.

“Besides general location and assumed condition of this ship, what else do we know? I can best help you with more information.” She said as her hands slipped into her pocket and brought out a scrap of parchment grey from having been written on so many times, and a nub of charcoal. 

“How big was the original fleet, for starts. Do we know where they are at currently? Who commanded the fleet and who commands the prey?” she asked, charcoal nub held in shaking hands over the well-used paper.