The Voyage of the Sea Wolf (2 page)

“I can see that.”

“Step back, all of you!”

Heads turned to that voice. There was the shuffle of reluctant feet sliding away from me.

The wind had eased now and the forceful voice came to me clearly. “Jenks, take off that putrid rag of a shirt you're wearing and give it to her.”

I lay, dazed, not believing what I was hearing. It was a woman's voice that had given the order. A voice of authority but distinctly female. The captain was a woman!

“Aye aye, Cap'n,” the man, maybe Jenks, said and a foul-smelling shirt was dropped on my back. I wriggled into it and pulled it around me before I tried to get up. It fell to cover my exposed bosoms and stomach and the flute, still safe in what was left of the band on my trousers.

“Help her, you nincompoops. Help her up and then stand away,” the woman shouted.

“I'm able myself,” I said and struggled to my feet.

For the first time I saw her.

She was tall, so tall, and her hair was a red bush that circled her head, as big around as the wheel of a small cart. Her eyes were fixed on me with curiosity but I saw no vile intent in them. Her costume was that of any sailor, a loose striped shirt and bagging trousers. I saw the sharp edge of a cutlass dragging just below the hem of the shirt.

“Captain,” I said in a voice as strong as I could make it. “Thank you for saving us.”

William was beside me now. “Are ye all right?” His arm circled my shivering shoulders.

“Aye,” I whispered.

“Who have we here?” the captain asked. “Did ye put yer correct foot on my deck, ye lubber?”

William didn't answer.

She was staring at him now and I heard the loud intake of her breath and saw her reach out toward him then pull her hand back. All she said was, “Who are you?”

“I am William. I was cabin boy on the pirate ship
Reprisal
.”

The captain slapped the shoulder of the man beside her whom I took to be the quartermaster. “The
Reprisal
is it, ahead o' us? I was right in my surmising. It was worth our time to pick them up.”

Bandit took a step forward. “We hurried them back to ye, Cap'n.” The servility in his voice made me cringe.

I had recovered enough now to really look at her. I'd never seen anyone like her. She was one of those Amazon women I had read about, a race of warrior women in ancient Greece, so big and ruthless that all were afraid of them. This Amazon was taller than any woman I had ever seen and broad of shoulder. Her red hair gave off sparks and her eyes... they were RED. Red eyes. It could not be true! Who was she, this captain with the red hair and the red eyes, a woman so fierce and dominant that a ship filled with seamen did her bidding? A ship filled with pirates, for already I knew that was what they were. They crowded around us, watching and listening.

“Cook,” the captain called and a swarthy man stepped forward. “Yes, Cap'n?”

“Bring water and two dishes of that hen soup we had last night for our guests. Be sure there's meat in it. Make haste.” She spoke her orders but I noticed her eyes were always on William. It made me uneasy.

But the thought of food was overpowering.

Saliva spurted into my mouth. Hen soup! Water! My thirst was suddenly so strong that my whole body shook.

“Now, the rest of you, you lazy stinking dogs, get this ship underway. We'll need to catch up with the
Reprisal
before she comes upon the
Isabella
. Mr. Forthinggale! You stay here.”

“Aye, Cap'n.”

There was a scurrying, a rush of men to the masts, voices calling orders. Lines were loosed. I heard the grating heavy scrape of a chain and realized the anchor was being raised.

I stood, stunned. She was after the
Reprisal
! I'd never thought to see that ship again. The deck, stained with my father's blood. Hopper and Herc who had marooned us.

Mr. Forthinggale stood by the captain. The remembrance of Mr. Trimble, quartermaster on the
Reprisal
, came to me. Mr. Trimble, quartermaster and friend to my father. Mr. Trimble who had betrayed me. I brought my mind back quickly for the Amazon captain was addressing me.

“You!”

William's arm tightened around me.

“Leave go of her, William,” the captain said. “She be's a woman. She can stand on her own. How are you called?” she asked me.

William's grip did not loosen.

Under that red, angry stare he stood firm.

I spoke at once before the captain could scream or slash at him.

“My name is Catherine DeVault. My father was Captain DeVault, of the ship
Reprisal
.” I let myself slide down to sit with my back to the railing.

Under us I felt the deck sway, and when I looked up I saw that the sails were already spread and the
Sea Wolf
was moving.

“I am Captain Medb Moriarity, captain and owner of the
Sea Wolf
,” she said. “My father built this ship. Now she is mine.”

The words came from me before I could stop them. “Medb? You were called after the daughter of the High King of Ireland?

The captain's eyes widened. “You know of her?”

“Yes,” I said. “The most renowned warrior. I have admired her.” I repeated the name. “Medb. I had not known the right pronunciation. Medb, which sounds like ‘seed.' I have read of her exploits.”

She nodded. “So you have learning?”

“Yes, Captain.” I realized I was feeling dizzy and that the deck and the sky were turning circles in my mind. I blinked hard.

“How came ye to be marooned?” Captain Medb Moriarity asked.

I mustered the strength to answer, “When they found me to be female, they...”

The cook placed a bowl of water and another of soup in front of me and handed the same to William.

The smell wafted up to me and my eyes teared with
anticipation. I took a long, sweet draught of water then grabbed the bowl. Grease beaded the top. There were potatoes in the soup and green leafy vegetables of some kind and a hen's yellow foot. It kept bumping against my teeth as I drank. I felt strength coming back to me with each deep swallow.

The captain stood, watching.

When I'd drained every drop I picked up the hen's foot, and gnawed and sucked on its gristle.

William took the hen's foot from his own bowl and reached it to me.

“None of that,” the captain said. “You eat! She has had her share.”

“And I choose to give her my share,” William said and in an instant the captain stepped forward, grabbed the hen's foot that was still in his hand and flung it over the side into the water.

“Next time, do as I tell you,” she said.

William shrugged. “Aye, aye, Cap'n.” His tone was insolent and I knew to be insolent with this woman would be a mistake. I waited for her rage and it came in the flare of her red eyes and the instinctive way her hand dropped to her cutlass.

She stood for a moment then said, “Careful, William. I may not always be this patient with you.”

I saw her look up then and I looked too.

There was the thump of wind in the sails and I could hear the hiss of the sea against the hull.

The
Sea Wolf
was underway.

I wondered what was in store for William and me now.

The ship was moving well.

Captain Moriarity looked from one of us to the other.

“So Mistress Catherine, they put you off because you're a woman. Or almost a woman,” the captain said and it was as if the hen's foot scene had not happened. “Bad cess to them for a band of mangy dogs. Most men are mangy dogs. I've known some.”

Mr. Forthinggale, who had stood quiet behind her, scowled.

She looked at me. “How far ahead would the
Reprisal
be?”

“Ten days at the least,” I answered. “But she had two of her timbers smashed below the waterline. I heard Herc
say they would be pulling her out for repairs on Mutiny Island. Herc is captain now in my father's place.”

The captain's eyes narrowed. “Repairs will take up some of her time. Did the cap'n speak of the
Isabella
?”

“No,” William said.

The captain nodded. “She's not on that course then. She'll take her time.” She squinted at the sparkling ocean. “Does she carry a goodly booty? The
Reprisal
?”

“Aye. She raided two ships since we left Port Teresa.” I had no feeling of disloyalty to my father's old ship and its new captain. Bad cess to them.

“How many guns does she sport?”

“Four,” William said.

Her smile was wolfish. “We carry ten, and eighty crew, all o' them sons o' the
Sea Wolf
, all willin' to shed their blood for a treasure. 'Twill be worth making a small stop on our way to our prize. My crew has need of a diversion.”

Her appraising gaze rested on William and again I felt that nervous twitch inside me. What were her thoughts? I wondered. What was her obvious interest in him?

I watched him, too: so tall and strong, the cuts on his back healed to white stripes, his skin dark and smooth from sea and sun, his face with its trace of a scar, his eyes, blue as the sea, that shock of yellow hair. In that instant I remembered how we had held each other as we lay on the
beach of Pox Island. A shiver coursed through me.

The captain was still staring at him. Her eyes, I now saw, were not red. They were a dark brown that seemed to hold a redness in their depths, like the brandy my father used to drink with Mr. Trimble. Sometimes they would hold their glasses up to the light in a toast to the
Reprisal
or to the new voyage and the brandy inside was the color of leaves in autumn. Perhaps it was the reflection of the captain's mass of red hair that I had seen mirrored in her eyes before.

“Have you used a cutlass? A knife?” she asked William. “Are you adept with the cannon?”

“Aye, Captain,” he replied.

“I can wield such weapons, too,” I said. “I can fight if there's something to fight for.”

The captain nodded. “What work did you do on the
Reprisal
?”

“I played flute with the ship's musicians,” I said. “It was my flute shining that drew you to Pox Island.” I lifted the hem of the grimy shirt that covered me to show it to her.

“Flute?” she asked. “Ship's musicians? Snake's tooth! What kind of a ship was it with nothing to do but listen to music?”

“We played to frighten the enemy. Wavering, they called it. Do not be misled, Captain Moriarity. It was
not all music when the
Reprisal
did battle. I was part of the combat.”

She nodded. “I've heard of this wavering.” She laughed then, a rollicking belly laugh. Behind her Mr. Forthinggale tittered. “Me, I'm content to slaughter my enemies.” Her arm sliced back and forth in front of her, brandishing an imaginary cutlass.

She moved toward me and stared, as though evaluating me. “Catherine? Did you and William...” She paused. “Did you become affectionate with each other? There on that island?”

I pulled the foul-smelling shirt tightly around me and stood straight, not allowing myself to tremble at the sudden sharpness of her voice.

“Yes,” I said.

“Ask yer questions of me,” William said. “Let her be.”

“I address whom I please,” she said coldly. “There'll be none o' that affection on my ship. None! I don't hold with it. And there'll be no chance meetings between the two of yez either.”

She leaned toward me. “There're islands between here and where we're headed,” she said. “You want to be marooned again? I'll put ye off if I hear a babble about the two of you. And it'll be a different island for each. Ye'll be alone. Think on that, the two o' ye. Understand?”

“Yes,” I said and William nodded.

Her face came close to mine. “There's Turtle Rock,” she said. “Two days' sail from here.”

Inside I quaked but I looked straight at her. I had a bargaining tool. A bargaining tool worth fighting for or killing for. The Burmese Sunrise! My father had died for that jewel. It was to be the start of life together for William and me. But I would tell her of it, if the time came to save William's life and mine. Not now. I had watched the pirates on the
Reprisal
playing cards and I knew enough to understand that you kept the strongest card in your hand till the end. You kept it hidden.

“Mr. Forthinggale!” the captain called.

The quartermaster stepped forward.

“Make it known to the crew that these two are never to speak to each other, never to touch. Do ye understand, Quartermaster?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Make sure the crew understand. They are to watch them. If they see or hear aught of them communicatin', they are to report to me. If not, there will be punishment for them too. And they are to leave the girl be. I want no fightin' over a wench on my vessel. Now, cut me off a piece of that yellow hair. And mind you don't cut his head along wi' it.”

“Aye, Cap'n.”

Mr. Forthinggale pulled a knife from his belt. “Don't ye move now, boy,” he said and with one swoop he sliced off a goodly chunk of William's hair.

I couldn't prevent a small cry of distress.

The hair fell in a bright yellow clump on the deck. Wisps of it blew in the breeze, some drifting over into the ocean.

Mr. Forthinggale gathered up what was left on the deck and presented it to the captain.

Why did she want it? It could not be for sentimental reasons. Captain Moriarity was an old woman.

She stood for a moment, looking at the lock of hair, then said, “Mr. Forthinggale! Take the two of them to the clothes chest. Then bring them back on deck to take the oath.”

“Aye, Cap'n.”

I knew she meant the Code of Conduct that we would have to swear to and I wanted to say that we had already taken the oath on the
Reprisal
. But I knew that this was her ship and an old oath would not satisfy her.