“Indeed I do, sir,” Ambrose said, sitting down at the chair the squire proffered, close enough to me that his knee touched mine under the table. “Seeking a few more solid hands before the mast, but we shall be ready to ship out before the end of the week.”
The squire nodded, swiping at his forehead with his handkerchief. “I trust your judgement thus far, Captain, your help has been invaluable.”
Ambrose gave him that bright smile before turning to me, and I felt my cheeks warm as I gazed back into his dark eyes. “The squire says you have never been to sea before, lad.”
“I… I have not, sir,” I said, my voice catching in my throat and making me swallow to get it out. “But my uncle was a shipbuilder, so I am familiar, at least.”
“Excellent,” Ambrose said, his voice a purr that sent a strange heat through my chest and stomach, down to my toes. “I am certain we can find a great use for you, Mister Davis, and I would be pleased to take you under my wing to teach you about seafaring.”
His knee pressed a little harder against mine under the table. At first I thought it might be a mistake, but then it pressed again, and I felt the brush of his booted foot against mine. I knew my cheeks were pink as I said, “I would be pleased to learn under you, Captain.”
Ambrose laughed again, the sound richer than any dark wood or brocaded silk. “Then so you shall, lad, then so you shall!” And we drank to our upcoming voyage and good fortune.
Chapter Four
Theskywasclear,the air breezy the day we were to set sail. Though I had lived by the shore all my life, I had never been near the sea till then. We climbed up the gangplank of the MORAY, which was as fine a vessel as the man who captained it. Polished wood and brass, white sails, the deck freshly scrubbed. Mister Kearns was already aboard, having decided through some arrangement with the squire to accompany us on our journey. I did not know the particulars of his dealings, but I suspected the squire had promised him a share of the treasure in exchange for his help in finding the ship.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said as we stepped onto the ship’s deck. “Are you determined to go on this cruise?”
“Like iron,” answered the squire, and I could see the glint of gold in his eyes and the eyes of Mister Kearns.
The squire had advised me not to talk about the purpose of our expedition or the existence of Captain Locke’s map to anyone; he had taken possession of the packet with the charts before we boarded, and my compass was safely stowed amongst my belongings in my small cabin alongside the squire’s. The room was furnished with only the barest of necessities, but I figured I would not spend much time in it, anyway. I was to have a job on board the ship as an assistant to the cook and the officers.
The first mate’s name was Humbolt, and he was a man of cadaverous thinness and skin the color of a tallow candle. He spoke few words, but when sea shanties were sung, he was amongst the loudest and most enthusiastic of singers. He showed me around the ship, and I drank it all in like a thirsty man drinks water, every piece of rope or fixture or embellishment a treat for my soul that had been locked to land for my eighteen years, despite the call of the sea from my father and uncle.
Once we had surveyed the world above deck, Humbolt led me down a set of stairs into a room filled with more darkness than furniture, to an area that smelled heartily of root vegetables and spices. “The galley,” Humbolt said in his ragged tone, waving a hand around. “And this is our ship’s cook.” A form materialized from the shadows, hulking and moving in a way that sent my skin prickling.
The man was older than I, and even older than Captain Ambrose by more than a few years, perhaps in his late thirties. It was hard to tell from the scars that dug trenches into his face, aging him beyond his years. At one time he might have been a handsome fellow, but it was obvious life had beaten him down more than once.
His skin was a deep brown, almost black, and the sun had not been kind to his ruddy cheeks and forehead. He had a large, flat nose that looked like it had been broken at some point, and his hair was so short that it was almost not there. He was a barrel-chested man, with wide shoulders and waist. He had scars that carved gashes into what at one time must have been smooth skin on his cheek, the side of his mouth, and the corner of his left eye, making it droop slightly.
His unnatural movement was understandable, as I saw now that he only had one leg. His left leg was almost entirely missing, his loose trouser fabric tied up to a stump that, at one point, had been the top part of his thigh. Despite the missing limb, he stood easily on his single good one, leaning lightly on his crutch, though it seemed like he could stand fine even without it. His broad shoulders hunched, making him appear shorter than he actually was. If he had been standing straight, I had no doubt he would have been a good foot taller than I, and more than twice as broad.
“Cross. Silas Cross,” the giant said, holding out one large hand. I took it hesitantly, and he closed his fingers in a firm grasp, giving it a hearty shake. I thought he might be smiling at me, but the twist of his mouth under the scars made it difficult to tell.
“Jamie Davis. It’s nice to meet you, Mister Cross,” I said. His hand was rough and calloused in mine, nearly encompassing it.
Silas Cross let out a soft rumble of laughter from deep in his chest. “No need for formality, Mister Davis. Yeh can jus’ call me Silas.”
“Then you may call me Jamie,” I said with a polite smile. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this large man yet. Something about him unnerved me, though I could not place a finger on it. I had seen men scarred and wounded before; they were not unusual to see in Squire Harrington’s shop, often selling their few remaining trinkets for no more than a mouthful of food or a shot of brandy. But this man was to be my comrade for the foreseeable future, and I was not about to be impolite or start off our relationship on a bad note. “What may I do to help you, Silas?”
Silas glanced at Humbolt, who silently headed back up the stairs, leaving me with the one-legged hulk of a man. He inclined his head at the table he had been sitting at nearby, peeling potatoes and turnips. “If yeh’d be so kind.”
I nodded and took a seat on the bench there. Silas followed after me, moving easily around the galley, unhampered by his missing appendage. He picked up another knife before he came and sat on the other end of the bench, handing it to me. I took it, then watched him pick up his own knife and begin to peel the potatoes with surprising speed and dexterity. The light through the boards above us and the nearby lantern’s glow caught his blade’s edge and made it glint. The potatoes looked like nothing more than river stones in his hands. I noticed as he cut that he also was missing the two furthest fingers on his left hand, but he still easily held the potatoes and worked the blade around them.
I had not meant to stare, but he obviously knew I was as he commented, without looking up from his work, “I was a member of the Royal Navy, no’ so many years ago now. Go’ into a fight wif a long nine and lost.”
I blinked, feeling my face go red. “Oh,” was all that I was able to say.
“Lost my whole company in tha’ battle,” Silas said, still not looking my way. “Those tha’ were left after disease took its toll, tha’ is.”
I didn’t know what I could possibly say to his trite tone, so I managed, “I’m sorry,” though what I was sorry for remained unclear in my own mind.
Silas nodded, still not looking up from his work. “War is hell, Jamie. Avoid it if ever yeh can.”
“Yes, sir,” I said softly, picking up my own knife. We continued the work in uncomfortable silence for a long time after that.
The first time I saw Captain Ambrose on the ship, he was dressed in his fine linen again, but now he had a beautiful black coat with white and silver trim adorning it, and a black tricorn hat to match. If ever a man looked to be a captain, it was Miles Ambrose. If I had seen a king or an archbishop, I could not have been more delighted. He stood on the upper deck by the helm, gazing out to the sea with a brass spyglass. I could not help but stare as the sun caught the silver buttons on his coat and made them glimmer like diamonds. He turned his head, and when he saw me, he gave me another of those smiles that warmed me from my head to my feet. He was extraordinarily handsome, and if I had ever had a doubt in my life that I was attracted to men rather than women, Captain Miles Ambrose crushed that doubt with a single glance. I smiled back at him, and he held up his hand and curled his fingers, gesturing for me to come join him. My heart stuttered in my chest, and I nearly took the stairs two at a time in my haste.
