Zypheria's Call (A Tanyth Fairport Adventure) (31 page)

“What’s the second mate’s job, then?” Tanyth asked, settling back in her chair and helping herself to the lees in the teapot.

“Watch standing and cargo handler, miss. I have to make sure the boxes and barrels in the hold get balanced properly and tied down so they don’t go bouncing around down there while we’re trying to sail about.”

Tanyth thought for a moment about her odd dreams. “You know a lot about below decks then?”

“Oh, yes, mum. All of us do, really, but Ben takes care of the stuff above the deck and anything below is my duty, more or less.”

“Are there any small critters aboard?”

“Critters, mum?” He looked confused by the change of direction. “You mean rats, mum?”

He didn’t seem as upset as she thought he might be. “Dunno. Are there?”

He drew a deep breath and blew it out his nose, before leaning forward across the table. “I never said this, mum.” He looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

“Said what, Mr. Jameson?”

“Captain Groves keeps a clean ship. Clean as they come and sometimes cleaner than is right, but he’s a good skipper and knows his vessel, the waters he sails in, and the realities of our chosen profession as well as any man afloat.”

“But?” she prompted.

“But he has a deathly aversion to vermin of the four-footed kind. Under no circumstances are there ever any rats on the
Zypheria’s Call
, mum.” He paused and laid one long finger along side his patrician nose and winked at her.

“Thank you, Mr. Jameson. I’m greatly relieved.”

“Why d’you ask, mum?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Jameson. Just thought I might have seen one and I’m greatly relieved that I was mistaken.”

“The shadows on the decks, mum. They can be deceiving.”

“That must have been it then, Mr. Jameson.”

“I’m certain it was, mum.” He paused for a moment and then looked at her a bit sideways. “Uh, mum?”

“Yes, Mr. Jameson?”

“If you ever think you don’t see one in the future, would you let me know?”

“Of course, Mr. Jameson. It would be my pleasure.”

He smiled. “Thank you, mum, and please, call me Scott.”

She held her hand across the table. “Tanyth when we’re ta home, Scott. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

Introductions complete, Tanyth nodded at the bookshelf. “Now help me pick out somethin’ to read. If I have to sit around all day tomorrow, I’ll go mad.”

Chapter Twenty-Three:
Sunrise, Sunset

Tanyth woke with the sun and found herself blinking at the wooden overhead while listening to the bell ring four times. She levered herself out of the enclosed bunk and managed to get her pants on without falling over. After a quick trip to the water closet, she returned to her cabin for her heavy, blue coat.

Rebecca, apparently accustomed to the bells, snored delicately in her bunk and Tanyth left her sleeping there while she went to find something to do.

The path to the cookhouse wasn’t any where as difficult as she remembered. As promised, her feet found the deck easiest when she didn’t think about it. The dense wool kept the wind off her torso so she didn’t feel quite so exposed. Cook looked up in surprise when she opened the door and slipped into the warmest place on the ship.

“Mum! You’re up early. You looking for a cuppa?”

“I am, Cook, but I’m lookin’ for somethin’ to do as well.”

“Something to do, mum?”

“Yeah. You need a helper?”

“Well, I have help, mum. Usually there’s a sailor crossed the bosun the wrong way or just somebody drew short straw.”

“You got anybody who knows how to cook?”

He blinked. “Well, no, mum, but mostly it’s just scullery work. Peeling vegetables and chopping onions.”

She slipped her coat off and hung it on a peg by the door. “Put me to work then, Cook. I can’t stand ta sit in that cabin another day.”

“Mum? It’s only the second day out.”

Her fierce grin set him back a half step. “Now you know how desperate I am, Cook. Whatever you need doing, long’s I can do it right here and help out. That’s what I need.”

He shrugged and said, “All right, mum, but if you get tired of it, you just lemme know. There’s not so much to do, really, but I’m grateful for the company, even at that.”

She clapped her hands together. “Ok, then where do I start?”

He nodded to the hot water tank. “Wash your hands and grab a knife out of the block there. There’s about half a hundred weight of potatoes need peeling.”

It took her only a few minutes and a bit of instruction to figure out the process. A bucket of cold water on the deck, and a clever fold-out work surface defined her space. A burlap sack of potatoes provided what promised to be endless amusement. She propped herself against the bulkhead and let her hands and blade find the peel. Each fresh white tuber plopped into the bucket of water on the deck. Eventually she had so many peeled potatoes, water slopped out of the bucket and onto the decking.

“Here, here,” Cook said. “Lemme fix that! No need to be making a shambles of my galley.”

His idea of fixing it was to pour some of the water off into a fresh bucket, place the fresh bucket in place of the old, and scrape the small mountain of parings off her board and into a metal pail.

“There you go, mum. Fill that and we’ll find ya something else to do.”

The morning unwound with the regular dinging of the ship’s bell and a parade of sailors through the small cookhouse. Breakfast turned out to be a queued up affair at seven bells. The sailors lined up outside and Cook ladled beans into a heavy crockery bowl for each hand. A basket of biscuits hung from a peg in the bulkhead and spoons stood in a mug. One at a time, the sailors entered the cookhouse, took the offered bowl, stuck a spoon in the bowl, grabbed a biscuit out of the basket, and picked up a full mug of tea off the sideboard. As each sailor left, the next took his place. Cook assigned Tanyth to line up a dozen mugs and fill them up from the big teapot he kept warm on the side of the stove. In less than five minutes, all dozen sailors had food and drink. They lined up on the deck outside, backs to the railing or the deckhouse. They spoke very little but ate with gusto and apparent good humor. When all the sailors had been through the line once, a couple had already lined up for a second helping. Cook ladled until the last person in line stepped up and Tanyth saw Rebecca holding out her hand for a bowl.

“G’mornin’, miss,” Cook said. “You feelin’ a little more lively today, then?”

She smiled. “Yeah, thank you, Cook.” She looked to Tanyth. “You seem to have found a good place to hide, mum.”

“Not exactly hiding, but I found something I could help with. Keep my hands busy.”

Rebecca nodded, helped herself to a biscuit and stepped outside to sit on the deck. At a quick glance, she blended right in with the crew. None of them seemed too concerned about sharing the deck with a woman, so Tanyth focused on what she was doing.

“How many beans do you make, Cook?” Tanyth asked once the door closed again.

“I use ten pounds of dried beans at a time, a pound of molasses and half a pound of hard sugar. Salt pork, dry mustard, and a couple onions.” He grinned. “It lasts a couple days and I swear the second day’s better’n the first.”

“You bake beans every other day?”

“Aye, mum. And bread in between. Biscuits whenever I have a moment. They keep pretty well in the sea air and if we run into bad weather, dry biscuits smeared with cold beans is better’n an empty belly.”

“Cold beans?”

“Aye, mum. If the seas get too big, we have to shut down cooking in here. Wouldn’t do to get a fire loose in heavy weather. We take it real easy.”

“Does that happen much?”

He sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Not so much, but almost a day or two every trip north. Coastal routes ain’t so bad, mum. We can duck into a harbor most places. Out here there’s nowhere to hide.”

She cast her eyes around the windows, blue-green water on every side. “I see what you mean.”

“Thought you might, mum.”

Tanyth looked about and asked, “So, now what d’we do?”

Cook’s twinkling grin never faded. “Now we clean up.”

The sailors queued up with their dirty dishes, reaching into the cook shack to place them in the tray just inside the door.

Tanyth looked at the tray and then looked at the grinning Cook. She grinned back and started pushing up the sleeves of her pullover. “I know what has to happen with dirty dishes, Cook. Show me how we do it here.”

He laughed a high-pitched laugh and hefted the full tray off the deck, placing it on the fold-out table that she’d spent so much time peeling potatoes on. A splash of hot water from the tank and a bit of cold from the butt went in on top of the dirty dishes and almost filled the tray.

“Wash fast, mum, and you’ll be done before the rinse water cools.”

Tanyth laughed and dug in with a will. She soon had clean crockery coming out of soapy water and into the bucket of hot rinse water at her feet.

Cook entertained her by singing bawdy songs while making a rich, meat and potato stew for lunch.

The cleanup took very little time. Not having to move about and having everything immediately at hand made Tanyth’s job easy and she lost herself in the homely chore.

“Mum? You’re makin’ these brawny sailor lads look like pikers with this,” Cook said as she dropped the last of the clean dishes into the still steaming bucket.

“What do I do with this, then?” she asked, pointing to the tray full of dirty water.

Cook shook his head. “Nothing, mum. Just a moment.” He pulled out another bucket and neatly upended the tray into it, pouring out all the slop water and even taking a moment to rinse the tray with fresh, clean water from the tank behind the stove. With a nod and a wink, he put the tray back beside the door and stuck his head out. “Hoy, Scooter!”

The young sailor popped into the cookhouse. “Aye, Cook?”

“Slop water.” Cook pointed to the bucket.

Scooter grinned and hooked the bail with one skinny hand and disappeared out the door. He was back almost before Tanyth could blink and dropped the empty bucket at Cook’s feet. Cook flipped a small, paper wrapped object through the air. Scooter caught it on the fly. “Thanks, Cook.”

“Thank you, Scooter.”

The young man nodded once to Tanyth and disappeared from the cookhouse almost as fast as he’d appeared.

“Hard candies,” Cook said. “Any time I need something lugged to the rail, I poke the nearest sailor. He does it for me and gets a candy in return.”

Tanyth laughed. “Good system.”

“You want one, mum?” Cook produced another candy from his apron pocket and held it up. “You more’n earned it.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, no. I’m not much for candies. Never got the habit.”

“Anytime, mum.” He put it back in his apron. “They’re peppermints. Good for settlin’ the stomach when things gets a bit bouncy.”

“I’ll remember.” She looked around the cookhouse. “What’s next?”

Cook shook his head. “Now I just stir the pot and wait for lunch, mum. You’ve worked me out of chores for now.”

The bell rang twice.

“That’s mid-morning, mum. Couple hours left until lunch. You’ll have to entertain yourself until then.”

“Thank you, Cook. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed chores more.”

“Any time, mum.” He reached for the teapot. “You want to take a cup back to your compartment?”

She shook her head. “I think I’ll go lay in my bunk and read. I borrowed a book from the captain’s library.”

“Come back about seven bells, if you’ve a mind to, mum, but I’ll be just lounging about the cookhouse until then.”

Tanyth lifted the heavy coat off the peg and wrapped it around her for the short walk to her cubby. She felt proud of herself for not stumbling or hesitating on her march across the deck. The smoke from the cookhouse chimney mingled with the clean air and tar to fill her head.

When she stepped into the cramped room, she found Rebecca sitting on the deck with the contents of her pack spread about. The young woman looked up with a smile.

“There you are, my dear. I’m surprised you’re not hanging off the rigging somewhere,” Tanyth said with a grin.

Rebecca grinned. “Prob’ly will be soon enough. Scooter’ll fetch me for the next chore. We’ll be swabbing the decks this afternoon.”

“Sounds like fun,” Tanyth said with a trace of sarcasm.

Rebecca giggled. “It is in a way, mum. I’m low man—well, I suppose low woman—on the chain o’ command so I get to do the stuff that I don’t need to know much about. Mostly it’s do what I’m told and hold on.”

“Hold on?”

“Aye, mum. One hand for the ship, one hand for me. I’m supposed ta always have the one for me wrapped around somethin’ solid when I’m up there.” She cast her eyes upwards.

“Sounds like good advice. I s’pect I’d have trouble lettin’ go with one if ’t were me.”

Rebecca shrugged and rolled up a lightweight shirt, stowing it in the growing pile in her pack. “There’s so much happenin’, mum. It’s hard to find time to be scared.” She glanced up from under lowered brows. “And it’s beautiful up there. Even in the dark, mum.”

“You’re climbin’ the riggin’ in the dark?”