Virgin Star (30 page)

Fate was indeed a fickle, but an obliging lady that day. For just as Butcher began to lift up the lid, and sudden light poured into her world, a crew member burst inside to announce the emergency: "Cap'n, our wake just tipped a boat o' fishermen!"

"Oh, really!"

This came from Seanessy. Butcher dropped the lid with a curse. "Well, be they floatin', man?"

"Not one of them. Edward dropped over the side to rescue the bloke."

"Curse all! That's the best way to get drowned! If I lose my quartermaster—"

The three men went through the door.

A hot wave of relief washed over her. Now or never. They would be back soon, heading for the maps. She lifted the lid, climbed out. As soon as her unsteady legs felt her weight, her knees collapsed. Dizziness engulfed her. An enormous thirst burned in her throat and her stomach grumbled unpleasantly. Slops's stew sounded appetizing.

One thing at a time.

She looked around for a better hiding place.

The amber eyes swept the room she remembered so well because it was somehow so like him. She did not let her interested stare linger long at the magnificent tapestry hung on the polished wood wall. She looked at the low table occupying one corner, surrounded by colorful brocaded pillows and cushions. How long could she stay hidden there in those pillows? Not long if he had more than three crew members dining with him. She passed over the old-fashioned rifles mounted on the other wall. There was the bed ...

She could hide under the bed, which had been ingeniously placed on rollers to absorb the motion of the ship. "Twas so large too, over seven paces long and nearly as wide. She rushed over, peered underneath and saw a goodly space between the two rollers. Perfect!

She needed pillows.

She looked at them. Her heart pounded in anticipation as if she were a thief about to be caught.

She took two pillows, hurriedly stuffing them under the bed.

Nature's urges were undeniable. There was, needless to say, no plumbing on the ship, if one did not count the outside "head" as sailors called it—the darkest place on any ship. What could she use as a chamber pot?

There was nothing here! Spartan was an apt description of the furnishings, or lack thereof, in this room.

A number of obscenities sounded from topside, Seanessy's voice the loudest.

Hurry, hurry, hurry ...

There was nothing but the iron welded goblet sitting innocently on top of the table. She picked it up, almost laughing when she saw it was full of water. She drained it, savoring the cool fresh water sliding down her throat. Now or never.

Blushing, she shrugged and hurriedly undid her belt.

Once finished, and after seeing there was no food to be had, she thought to take a book. Aye, the light would be poor, but if luck stayed with her, it promised to be a long, long wait. She snatched the first book she touched and raced to the bed. She shimmied under the less-than-a-foot-tall space. Settled against the wall and with a pillow at her head and shoulders, she twisted to see what book she had caught: Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley.

A brand-new book. Maybe not such a long wait after all. She began reading immediately.

After watching three fat fishermen bobbing in the cold winter water for the last hour and still laughing, Seanessy came through the door. Butcher and Edward followed, expletives pouring forth in a hearty torrent. Seanessy went for the maps. Butcher and Edward—dry now—sat at the table, still laughing heartily. Seanessy opened his trunk.

"What the blazes?" Over half of his books were missing. He reached for the maps, crunched as if someone had sat on them. He lifted one out, staring in stark disbelief that rapidly changed to ire. The kind that killed. He always took pains storing these precious maps after losing half a week and a hundred miles once due to the tiniest of creases.

"Someone is going to be skinned. Butcher, look at this. Just look at this." He opened the other trunk, his clothes trunk. It looked perfectly normal.

Butcher and Edward moved to the trunk where they peered inside. "Sean, all your books are gone—"

Edward knelt down and lifted one up. "I saw Barker and Cherry Joe carrying it on board," Edward said with a shake of his head. "Neither man attended the science academies, but no one would be stupid enough to steal your books."

Shalyn covered her ears upon the first of Sean's expletives. Within minutes boots sounded against the wood floor, the door opened, and a man shouted. "Aye, ayes!" came back.

Seanessy said, "Good men both. I do not care how much a bookseller would give for them—" He turned to see the men step through the door. "Cherry Joe! What the devil happened to my trunks?"

"Yer trunks? Why, we carried them on board, is what. Tis all I know about 'em, Cap'n. Edward gave us the duty."

"This trunk is half-empty!"

Cherry Joe looked confused, taking the liberty of stepping over to the trunk and peering inside. "It sure as hell did not feel like it was half-empty! Nearly busted me weak shin, I did, as heavy as my own dear wife last time I—-"

"Cherry Joe." Edward leaned over the trunk, looking inside. "Did you by chance leave the trunks for a moment as you made your merry way?"

"Well, aye. Halfway to dock one of the nags threw a shoe. We had to rehitch with a borrowed one from Dodger's Stables. You know, off Wilkes Street?'

"Sean." Edward grinned. "It looks as if we have a stowaway."

Seanessy hardly cared at this point. It would take his agent two months to replace the books and another half a year or more before he could get them to their library in Malacca. The books were gone, that's all he knew.

He began pressing out the crinkles in a map. "Find our merry trickster. Then toss him over the side with a barrel of slop, I want to see a few hungry sharks swimming beneath the nervy bastard."

Shalyn almost screamed.

It took nearly an hour before she could return to the compelling story of Frankenstein. She wished she had better light. Still she kept turning the pages, her eyes widening with horror as Dr. Frankenstein forced electricity into his monster and he came alive...

Seanessy finally settled at the table, studying the maps. The quiet was interrupted by the pleasant sound of men's feet above on the quarterdeck, calls and shouts that were about the running of the ship, the flap of sails and the waves against the sides of the ship.

Seanessy reached for his goblet of water. The movement of his arm stopped. He peered inside. His brow creased. He rose, stepping to the door.

"Hey, Butcher!" Seanessy called out.

A moment later: "Aye Sean?" "What do you make of this?"

She heard a long pause. Finally: "'Tis a sorry day when a cap'n asks his first mate to smell a cup of piss."

Seanessy looked into the cup curiously again before walking topside to the rail. The offending goblet was tossed unceremoniously into the deep blue sea.

Shalyn tensed with the expectancy of Seanessy's discovery, far more frightening even than Dr. Frankenstein's monster. No such thing happened. Gradually, as minutes gathered into an hour, she began to relax as nothing seemed to be happening. She returned to her book.

At last she heard the quartermaster. Edward stepped inside with Butcher and announced the conclusion of a thorough search of the ship top to bottom, starboard to port, bow to stern. "No stowaway, Sean."

"In other words," Seanessy said as he spread out the detailed map of the Gold Coast. "You're telling me someone sneaked aboard my ship in my trunk, only to change their travel plans at the last minute and leave. Again undetected?"

An uncomfortable pause followed this logic. "Ah, Sean." Butcher often buffered Seanessy's sternness, a well-respected sternness but sternness nonetheless. "There must have been five dozen people on board the ship for departure. Seems it's possible just that thing happened, a good deal more possible than some ragtag stowaway passing through a rubdown undetected."

Seanessy's skeptical expression changed to one of irritation. "Oh, very well. I suppose if they did manage the trick, the misbegotten whoreson will turn up soon enough. Well, get Mister Slops to produce something edible, will you? Preferably supper."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n."

The men returned to their work. She returned to her book, trying to ignore her hunger and thirst. It was one of any number of things she was going to have to get used to. Like the way men talked when there were no women about. It was an education. At least she'd be losing her ability to blush soon...

*****

Chapter 9

Shalyn woke with a start. Darkness greeted her opened eyes. The air felt cool, and she was cold. She lay perfectly still, every fiber of her being intent on listening. The quiet sound of his slumber told her he was asleep just above her. She felt the gentle rise and fall of the ship at sea. In the distance, soft as a whisper, she heard someone on night duty whistling as he worked. She heard her own escalating heartbeat and the loud rumble of her stomach.

She was fully awake.

Half-starved, more thirsty than that, and desperate to relieve herself again, she would have to take a risk. He was asleep. She had fallen asleep before him, so she had no idea how long he had been asleep, but the quiet told her now was as good a time as any. Moving soundlessly, she emerged from her hiding place. In a cloak of silence she stood up and stretched before turning to inspect her nemesis. Which was a surprise. For he was quite naked.

The faintest light filled the space, the distant light of stars above a sea mist streamed through the small portholes. He lay flat on his back, with his muscled arms cushioning his head like a pillow. A thin cotton sheet covered one leg, that was all. She stared at the slow steady rise and fall of the huge width of his chest before she found the courage necessary to look down.

The monstrous flaccid part of him made her breath catch. A tingling raced up and down her spine. She closed her eyes, washed in a hot wave of dizziness. A memory emerged. A memory of the raw sting and scrape of ropes cutting her wrists. She rubbed her wrists, staring at them as she remembered the sick dread and the terrible helplessness. She remembered trying desperately not to move, to show any sign of life, feeling panic and fear-

She forced herself to quietly turn away. With her heart racing, she spotted the bowl of fruit sitting on the table alongside a wood platter of after-supper bread and cheese. A huge pitcher of water sat nearby as if waiting for her. The awful memory stole her appetite. Still shaken, she forced herself to eat as much as she could, certain she would pay later if she did not. Then she wisely wrapped two thick slices of cheese in some bread and quietly pushed it under the bed. No doubt she'd not be able to come out until the next time he fell asleep. She quietly slipped outside.

The moist sea mist engulfed the ship. It was cold. The ship appeared deserted but she knew better. She studied the darkness a long time before risking a move. It took her nearly fifteen minutes to determine the location and activity of each of three members of the night crew who sat topside. They sat in a semicircle on the far deck; she suspected they mended masts by certain words that reached her. No light shone nearby. The nearest lantern hung beneath the quarterdeck, near the ladder some paces from where she stood. It took another ten minutes to convince herself it was safe, that they could not see her in this darkness.

Then she made a silent move toward the head.

The sweet scent woke Oliver from his slumber. The dog sat up. Small animal eyes swept the deck in the direction of the smell. He rose to find the girl, coming to the head.

Shalyn greeted the dog outside. The huge furry beast wagged his tail. She smiled down, careful not to say a word but welcoming the friendly creature with vigorous strokes of kind hands.

Oliver followed the girl from dark shadow to dark shadow until she reached the side of the ship hidden by a darker shadow of the carpenter's room. Standing at the rail, she stared into the dark misty sea as she drank in the cold fresh air. The ship rose and fell over huge swells. After waiting for something to happen, the dog finally lay down at her feet with a small whine.

Shalyn closed her eyes to the darkness.

Another memory emerged: of insufferable heat, the worn wood planks of a ship deck, the loud roar of the ocean, the smaller sounds of men working to keep the ship on course.

So she had sailed before ...

Aye. Of course she knew that. Ships were familiar to her. She knew the names of sails, the importance of rigging, masts, lines, stays, helm, all of it, even certain knots to secure the sails. She knew about sailing.