“Jamie, lad!” he greeted, putting his black-draped arm around my shoulders. “It is good to see you again.”
“And you, Captain,” I said, his arm warm and heavy around me. While I had been embraced before, something about this gesture from Ambrose felt more intimate than those of others.
“Care to have a look?” he asked, holding the spyglass out to me. “There are some dolphins not too far out.”
I took the spyglass and stepped to the railing, holding it up against my eye. Indeed, there were several dolphins leaping out of the water at not a great distance, splashing delightedly as the sun caught their slippery skin. I had never seen dolphins before, only read about them, and I laughed as they dove and leaped in the waves.
And then suddenly Ambrose was behind me, his hands resting on the railing on either side of where I stood. I could feel the warmth and the brush of his coat against my back, though he was not pressed against me, and I nearly dropped the spyglass. My cheeks and ears suddenly burned, and I shifted a little as the proximity of the handsome man sent a rush of desire through me, down my back and into my trousers. I held the spyglass to my eye with shaking hands at the unfamiliar sensation, then felt Ambrose’s warm breath ghost over my ear. “Aren’t they magnificent?”
“Y… Yes,” I said, the wind stealing the word from me as my sandy blond hair whipped around my face.
“I could stand here and watch them all day,” Ambrose said, not moving, but I felt myself lean into him just a little, the folds of his black coat brushing over my back.
“I could too,” I said softly. I felt him shift just a bit, so he was pressed firmer against me. It only lasted for a moment, and then Ambrose stepped away from me toward the helm to speak with the sailor there. The wind gusted between us, and I forced myself to stare at the dolphins until the heat had left my trousers and my face.
Chapter Five
Myfirstnightatsea was a restless one, for I was unused to the rocking of the ship and the constant roar and splash of the waves. I was in the galley to help Silas prepare breakfast long before the sun crested the horizon. Our awkwardness from the day before seemed to have been forgotten, for this morning he was in a merry mood, whistling softly as he moved around, a jaunty sea tune I did not know. “How long were you in the Royal Navy?” I asked him when he took a pause in his whistling to swallow some water.
The laugh that rumbled inside of him was like the echo of a fired canon. “Longer than half me life,” he said, handing a cup to me. “Was younger than yeh are now when I star’ed. ‘Ad been near all over the worl’ by the time I was twenty.”
I tried to imagine seeing most of the world at such a young age, but it was beyond my comprehension. “What did you do in the Navy?”
“I started jus’ like you, helpin’ in the galley. But I learned real fas’. Fer a while I was a rigger, an’ I learn’ta fight. Ain’ so good with a pistol, but you give ol’ Silas a blade, and ‘e’ll show ‘em what’s what!” He suddenly spun his cutting knife around his hand, swishing it through the air as if fighting invisible marauders, before he slammed it down with deadly accuracy in between two of the table planks where it stuck and quivered. I jumped, clapping my hands in excitement, and he gave me another of his bright grins.
“Did you ever fight pirates?” I asked breathlessly.
Silas let out one of his full-bellied laughs. “I did,” he said. “Not as offen as yeh might think, but it ‘appened a few times.”
“Are there still pirates out there?” I asked, my mind suddenly drifting to the possibility that we might encounter such a vessel on our own voyage.
“Yes,” Silas said, suddenly solemn. “Still qui’a few of ‘em. But never yeh fear, Jamie. No pirate’s gonna harm yeh wif Silas Cross around!”
When the time came for dinner, the squire, Mister Kearns, and Captain Ambrose were in the captain’s private quarters, talking and smoking long, fine cigars. I knocked on the door of the cabin, and Ambrose opened it with a beaming smile that flushed me with heat as I pushed the cart of food inside. I had not yet been in the captain’s quarters, or even seen any before, and I stopped short just inside the doorway. The room was beautiful, decorated with silk curtains and tapestries that I was sure were not made in England. The wood was all dark, highly polished, and skillfully carved. An elegant four-poster bed was in the corner with silk sheets on it. Everything was in a neat and tidy order. I could see that Captain Ambrose was a man of expensive and exquisite taste. I longed to run my fingers over the polished wood and plush cushions, so different from the older, faded pieces the squire had that had been out of fashion for more than twenty years now. Over by the desk was a perch, upon which sat a large blue and yellow parrot with a long, curved beak, who was cleaning his feathers but paused in his work to eye me curiously.
Ambrose caught me staring and laughed, gesturing for me to put the food on the desk. I did so, not taking my eyes off the brightly-colored bird who cocked his head almost upside-down to look at me. “This is Bosun,” he said. “Say hello, Bosun.”
Bosun clicked his beak and made a curious noise that sounded almost like, “Hello.” Ambrose held up his hand, and Bosun gave a mighty flap to land on his arm, leaning in to give the gold ring on Ambrose’s right ear a playful nip.
“He’s beautiful,” I said softly. I had never seen a parrot before.
“You can pet him,” Ambrose said, offering his arm to me, and I tentatively reached out to stroke my fingers down the silky, tropical blue back. Bosun ruffled his feathers and let out a series of sounds that might have been some sort of attempt at speech, making me laugh.
Ambrose offered Bosun a bite of a cracker, and the bird took it in the talons of one foot, nibbling on it as he stared at me with his round, unblinking eyes. Ambrose gestured to the tray of food at the desk. “Come, Kearns, Squire,” he said with his rakish smile. “And Mister Davis, you’ll join us too, lad.”
“I can’t,” I said, hearing the disappointment in my own voice. “I need to help Silas with the crew meal.”
“Ah, yes, that Mister Cross,” Ambrose said with a nod. “New to my crew, he is, but a good-hearted fellow. What do you think of him, Mister Davis?”
“I like him,” I said, to which Ambrose turned his silver smile upon me, and I straightened up to my full height, which was still inconsequential compared to him.
“He does seem a good man, in spite of his injuries,” the squire commented. He picked up something from the desk, and I saw that it was the oilskin packet with George Conley’s map. He wrapped it up and carefully slid it into the inside pocket of his jacket before starting to serve up the meal.
“There’s something about him I don’t like,” Mister Kearns said, heaping his own plate full.
“You think that about everyone,” Squire Harrington said with a chuckle.
“And I have yet to be wrong,” Mister Kearns said, to which the squire and Ambrose both laughed.
