By the time she finally made it to the head of the line one frustrating hour later, Poppy was hot and tired. Her heavy coat and woolen scarf had both been removed and were draped over her left arm.
“Next,” announced the clerk.
Poppy stepped forward to the wooden counter. She met the clerk’s gaze with all the authority that years of being a sea captain had instilled in her. “I am Poppy Basden, captain of the Empress Catherine, and legal representative of the Basden Line Shipping Company. I have come for the keys for warehouse number fourteen, building two, North Quay. These are my papers.”
She handed the company identification papers over, waiting impatiently while the clerk slowly examined them. This was not how she had planned her day.
I have things to do apart from standing in a queue.
Peering over the rim of his spectacles, the clerk looked her up and down, then quietly snorted. “Do you have the title of ownership papers with you, miss?”
Poppy had dealt with enough port officials during her life to have everything well organized in advance. Delays in getting ships processed through customs and excise could well mean the difference between making a profit on a shipment and losing money.
She cleared her throat. “I am Captain Basden. And I am of the clear understanding that our company solicitor delivered the title papers to this office some months ago. All fees should have been paid. My ship has just arrived, so I am keen to get this matter settled and my cargo offloaded. Would you please go and check with the head clerk? I am, however, quite willing to deal with the superintendent himself if required.”
The clerk’s gaze shifted from her face, and Poppy endured his slow eyeing of her body. His eyes tracked down over her jacket and past her just-below-the-knee skirt. A frown followed. When he got to her trousers, the frown deepened.
Yes, I am wearing trousers. One can hardly stand at the wheel of a ship in a roaring gale whilst clad in a full-length gown.
It wasn’t the first time, that a man had taken the time to conduct a slow study of the female captain standing in front of him. It was rare for a woman to be in charge of a ship, especially in this part of the world. Men seemed to find it odd that a young woman could actually have the brains to command a crew. And also dare to wear men’s trousers.
She bit on her bottom lip as the man’s gaze drifted back up, then settled on the swell of her breasts. There were times when being well endowed was a blessing, but not when she was trying to get a male of the species to take her seriously.
Stop staring at my titties.
Poppy cleared her throat more loudly this time. “When you are quite ready, sir.”
The clerk startled at her words and muttered an apology before hurriedly scurrying off.
While she waited, Poppy let her own gaze roam over the numerous notices which were pinned to the back wall of the office. Ships for sale. Cargos requiring transportation to various places. Missing crewmen.
She snorted at that last one. Sailors had a happy knack of disappearing when they decided they didn’t want to leave port. More often than not, a pretty little lady was the cause.
Another notice caught her attention. She leaned forward, silently mouthing the words as she read the details.
* * *
Public Tender number 145. London Docks. Superintendent’s Office.
The procurement, shipping, and safe storage of spices from India and Ceylon is required.
Reliable and experienced vendors only.
Contract duration is three years commencing February 1st, 1818.
Tenders, in writing, to be submitted by end of day December 12th, 1817
* * *
This was exactly the sort of contract Poppy was looking to secure. The Empress Catherine had arrived in port with a sizeable cargo of cinnamon bales from Ceylon on board. They were going to be stored in the warehouse before being delivered to the local merchants with whom her father had already secured contracts.
If she could find another ready-made customer, it would make things that much easier for her to get the company established in England.
That contract could set me up quite nicely. I have to win it. I know I can.
The clerk soon returned with a small pile of papers in his hand. He spread them out on the counter. Some nodding and humming followed before he finally let out an approving sigh. “Well, everything seems to be in order, Miss Basden.”
Poppy ignored his lack of manners. The man clearly had no intention of acknowledging the fact that she was a sea captain. And while that might be true for only a few hours more, it still meant something to her. That something was respect.
