Owned by the Ocean (15 page)

* * *

Catherine
stayed in her cabin for the remainder of the day until she became
hungry and decided to venture out and find something to sustain
her. She didn’t have to go very far before she ran into a young boy
who gave her a charming smile.

“
Hello, Miss Marshall. Captain Foxton has asked me to invite
you to join him and his men for dinner. They’re in the dining
room.”

“
Thank you.”

She didn’t
give the boy a second look or thought. He was grubby, a mere cabin
boy and she fully intended to keep her contact with the crew
members to a minimum.

Catherine
entered the dining room and the men all stood up around the table.
The captain pulled out a chair for her to his right and she seated
herself, observing the array of food on the table. It was mostly
all things that would keep for some time; potatoes, salted meat and
a few pieces of fruit that they must have picked up in their last
port.

The captain
seemed quite young to have his own ship. He was also well mannered
and educated. Where had he come from? And what story did his life
tell? He was quite obviously not of the King’s navy and he had
admitted earlier to being a privateer but it was strange for
someone of good breeding to choose this life, and he was obviously
of good breeding by the way he spoke and held himself.

Catherine ate
her food in silence unless addressed directly and concentrated very
hard on ignoring the overbearing meaty taste of the salted pork. On
any normal occasion she wouldn’t have touched it, but Catherine was
also raised better than to refuse food and even in the company of a
bunch of sailors she would not allow her manners to fall to the
wayside.

The captain
was jovial with his crew. He laughed and teased and asked their
advice on matters. He was by far the youngest man in the room, with
the possible exception of the sailing master, Casper.

As dinner drew
to a close the men left one by one until the only ones remaining
were Captain Foxton and his quarter master, Karl.

“
Did you enjoy dinner, Miss Marshall?” asked the
captain.

“
Very much, thank you.”

“
And is there anything we can do for you or get for you before
we retire for the evening?”

Catherine
glanced at the small windup clock on the wall and was shocked to
see it was nearing ten o’clock. “No, thank you. I would like to get
some changes of clothes tomorrow if that’s possible. You mentioned
you might have some in your cargo.”

“
Yes, of course. We’ll take care of that in the
morning.”

Catherine
smiled and stood up, politely wished them a good night and making
her way back to the cabin she was borrowing from the captain.

* * *

“
Any news on the boy we took to the doc?” asked Brant after
Catherine had left.

Karl shook his
head. “No. Doc stitched him up as best he could but only time will
tell if he’ll pull through. He needs to wake up.”

“
And if he doesn’t?”

“
If infection don’t set in I think he’ll be fine, but I ain’t
no doc.”

Brant nodded.
“There aren’t many men I hate and I know some pretty questionable
characters, but Old Richard is some low life scum that I wish I
could rid the world of.”

“
Yer mad about the boy? Tis just the business of things.
You’ve killed boys too.”

Brant shook
his head. “No. I’m mad about the lady. What would have happened to
her if they had found her?”

Karl shrugged.
“She was only shaken up a bit. No real harm done in the end.
Everything they ruined of hers she can probably afford to replace
ten times over. Don’t you go pickin’ fights you shouldn’t be.”

“
But you don’t like Old Richard either.”

“
No one has a liking for Old Richard but he be a ruthless one.
Don’t get involved, Brant.”

“
I’m not going to hunt the man, but if he ever happens to
cross my path I’m not going to let him run away with his tail
between his legs.”

“
You best not hunt him,” Karl warned, standing up and leaving
the room.

Brant leaned
back in his chair balancing it on the back two legs while throwing
his booted feet up on the table. Closing his eyes, he listened to
the creaking timbers of the ship and the slapping of the waves on
the hull. It was a peaceful night. One of the men on watch was
playing a harmonica and the haunting tune floated in to greet
Brant’s ears. He sighed and sat there for nearly an hour listening
to everything and nothing. Finally, resting the chair down on all
four legs, Brant got up and snuffed out the lanterns around the
dining area before walking back on deck where he climbed up to the
crow’s nest.

He came up
here when he wanted to be alone and to think. He thought about how
his life had progressed in the six years since he had left home. It
was hard to believe that he had managed to work his way up from a
nothing cabin boy to a captain in five years and now he had his
younger brother to raise, which was an enormous responsibility, one
that he struggled with every waking moment of every day. Brant
often toyed with the idea of leaving this life behind and starting
a family of his own while giving James a proper life, but every
time he started thinking about it he realized what a hold the ocean
had on him. There was no way he could ever leave this life and he
couldn’t bring himself to begin a family when he would never be
around. He had vowed long ago that he would be a better father than
his had been if he ever had the opportunity to have a wife and
children. Right now it was completely out of the question. Children
aside, where would he ever find a woman who could love him for who
he was and what he did? Not that he was overly interested in women
right now. His life was complicated enough as it was and a woman
only ever succeeded in complicating things more.

Brant casually
looked over the edge of the crow’s nest down towards the deck and
saw the two men who were on watch casually leaning against the mast
and conversing quietly. Brant smiled and looked over towards the
steps that led to the hold, crew’s quarters, officer’s quarters,
galley and even a small room for the doc. It was a small, cramped
ship but it served its purpose well. It carried a crew of about
seventy men, all hardy, well trained, and efficient killers. The
ship doctor walked out from the stairwell and leaned against the
starboard side railing, lighting a pipe. Brant decided it was time
to leave his thoughts behind and climbed down to talk to him.

“
Hello, Doc.”

“
Cap’n.”

“
How is the patient doing?”

The doctor
puffed on his pipe a few times and then shook his head. “He’s awake
but in pain. There isn’t much to be done but keep the wound clean
and hope that he’s a fighter. It’s a stomach wound, Cap’n. Those
are bad things to get. Infection builds up easily and it’s hard to
fight.”

“
Is he well enough for me to see him?”

“
It can’t do any harm.”

Brant left the
doctor alone to smoke his pipe and walked down into the cramped
doctor’s quarters that held the man’s bed and belongings as well as
an operating table and everything else he would need for his
profession.

A groan came
from the patient and Brant walked over to him and sat down on the
small stool placed next to the bed.

“
How are you feeling?”

“
Like bloody hell. Doc said I got my innards ripped up pretty
good.”

Brant smiled
slightly. “It looks to be that way, but you aren’t dead yet so
you’re a fighter. You’ll make it through. How old are you?”

“
Fifteen, sir.”

“
And at fifteen what exactly were you doing on a ship
belonging to the royal navy? It’s not like you could have completed
training.”

“
No sir. I’m a civilian. I was apprenticing under the sailing
master.”

“
Are you a mate yet?”

“
No sir. I barely started my training.”

“
And what’s your name?”

“
Matthew, sir but everyone calls me Matt.”

“
Matt, I’m Captain Brant Foxton and you’re aboard the
BlackFox.
We are
currently en route to England to bring a passenger home. You will
be looked after as best we can and I assure you our doctor is very
good. Please do not fret about anything as we are more than happy
to feed you and clothe you. Your only job is to get
better.”

The boy smiled
and Brant thought he would have laughed a little if he hadn’t been
in so much pain.

“
Now you rest up. I’ll send someone to visit you
tomorrow.”

Catherine was a late
riser, and when she finally made an appearance on deck the next day
it was well into the afternoon. James had knocked on her cabin door
with a breakfast tray, but when there had been no answer he’d just
slipped it inside and closed the door behind him.

“
Good afternoon, m’lady. Nice of you to finally join us,”
teased Brant.

Catherine didn’t seem
in the least bit phased. “Breakfast was a bit cold. I’d prefer to
have it brought at 9 AM.”

Brant raised an
eyebrow. “We’ll see.”

“
Now, I believe you mentioned something about clothes
yesterday.”

Brant nodded then
waved James over. “Go visit that sailor, Matthew, in the infirmary.
I’m sure he’d enjoy some company.”

Catherine tapped her
foot impatiently.

“
Yes?”

“
Clothes. I’d like something fresh to wear.”

“
Right this way, m’lady.”

Brant led her below
deck and indicated some trunks she could rifle through. He watched
her as she looked through dresses, breeches and shirts. Every one
she picked up, inspected, and then put aside. Karl was right; he
should drop her off at the nearest British settlement and let the
governor deal with her. She was stuck up and arrogant and treated
him as if he was beneath her, scum. That didn’t sit well with him.
He had been born into a family name just as good as hers and just
because he chose to do actual labour for a living did not make him
inferior.

“
Is
there a problem with the clothes?”

“
These are all stolen.”

“
And here for you to use as you please. You need clothes do
you not?”

“
I'm wearing clothes right now,” she responded quite
matter-of-factly.

Brant smirked
and looked at her steadily. “A few minutes ago you were in a hurry
to get something clean and fresh on, now you’re content to wear
that same get up for the entire two month voyage?”

“
If I must.”

“
I'll happily keep them as they're worth some money, but I’ll
give you one last chance to choose something before I retract my
offer.”

Catherine shot
Brant a glare and “humphed” quite childishly. Brant had to bite his
tongue to keep from laughing and instead looked at her smirking,
trying to contain his amusement.

“
Very well, I suppose I have little choice in the matter as
clothing is a necessity.”

“
Well, some of the crew may think that it is optional but I
would very much suggest that you don't follow that way of thinking.
Also, might I suggest you choose some simple things? A ship really
isn't any place to show of your taste in fashion.”

“
I'll wear whatever I wish. Thank you, Captain.”

“
As you wish, Lady Catherine.”

“
That's Lady
Marshall
to you.” She drew herself up to full height and
steadily returned Brant's gaze.

“
Of course. Are you done here then?” he asked looking
pointedly at the small mound of clothing in her arms.”

“
Yes.” Catherine, ever polite, forced a smile and walked with
a purpose past Brant and up the steep set of stairs to the main
deck.

Brant chuckled
in amusement and casually followed his passenger. “You know you
should be a little kinder to your rescuers,” he said as he caught
up with her.

“
I have been perfectly polite.”

“
I’m not talking about polite. I’m talking about getting your
pretty little nose out of the air and acting as if we’re humans,
not the scum of the earth.”

Catherine
threw her clothes down on the floor of her cabin, or rather his
cabin, and turned to face him angrily. “If I treat you as such it
is because you are. You’re nothing more than a criminal that
deserves to be hung and the same goes for every man on this
ship.”

Brant’s eyes
flashed with a fury he hadn’t experienced before. No had ever told
him he deserved to die and if it had been anyone other than the
high and mighty Catherine Marshall he would have challenged her to
a duel to defend his honor which, despite being a privateer, he had
plenty of. “You wish me dead then?”

“
I wish all men of your profession dead. You give the British
a bad name.”

“
We fight for our King. We risk our lives so that you can
attend all your frivolous parties without worry that harm will
befall you. We keep the Spanish, the French, the Dutch or whoever
else said the wrong thing at bay. We keep them just poor enough and
just weak enough that they wouldn’t dare declare war.”

“
You cause aggravation among the countries that are already
near the boiling point.”