Kamira’seyeswidenedatthe young Captain’s words. All she could think was that these men were about to disrobe her.
“Nothing to worry about, lad.” She jumped as an older man, who she would have originally thought to be the Captain, stepped up beside her. His eyes held a softness that eased her fear.
“Don’t worry, son. Dressing down has to do with treating the sails. Come, I’ll show you.” He smiled, beckoning Kamira forward. “It’s a messy task, but it needs to be done.”
Kamira let her eyes travel, observing each member of the crew on the main deck. Each man she looked at was staring at her with a look that seemed both curious and cautious, as if saying,one wrong move and we’ll throw you overboard.It sent an uneasiness through her causing her limbs to shake of their own volition. She tried to hide it by focusing on the man in front of her.
“The name’s Cormac by the way.”
“Zev,” she offered. “What is your role on the ship?” If she was going to stay on board and work as a member of the crew, she needed to know the proper chain of command. If this man wasn’t the Captain, she assumed he was someone important. .
“Quartermaster. I’m the Captain’s right hand.”
Kamira hesitantly followed the older man, noticing the gray peppered evenly through his full head of auburn hair and thick beard. Wrinkles were etched on either side of his cerulean eyes like a creased sheet of paper, a clear indication that this man spent a good deal of time laughing. The observation brought her father to mind. He had the same lines carved into his features. She doubted she would ever be able to see him again. If she were going to kill off who she’d been, she would need to ensure her past stayed buried. She could never go back home again.
“Alright.” Cormac pulled her from her harsh thoughts. “See how this sail is worn and thin?”
She nodded numbly.
“We use the wax and oil to treat them so that they can still be of use to us. Like this.” She watched as he gently rubbed the wax over the sail, careful not to tear any of the thinner spots of the fabric. He held out the wax brush to her. “Here, you try now.”
She took it from him with trembling fingers. The faded brown sail still showed patches of black along one edge, untouched from the sun's hot, bleaching rays. The fabric was thicker than she expected it to be, stiff and rough to the touch, but still light in her hands. She took the jar of wax from him and dipped the coarse brush inside before painting the mixture across the fabric, mirroring his demonstration.
“Good, good. Do that until you have completed the entire sail,” the Quartermaster said before leaving her alone at the bow of the ship.
Was this to be her life now? Could she really do this?Kamira thought to herself. It had seemed a genius plan, a sure way of survival, but now that she was here and these men had kept her on board, could she live this life?
A stinging began behind her eyes and a thickness clogged her throat as tears welled, threatening to spill free. One single moment, one decision, and her entire life was flipped on its axis. She refused to cry about it. She needed to accept it, to adapt and survive just like her brother had taught her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing the tears back down and continued working along the sail.
Kamira watched as the other crew members moved about the main deck, each with a job, preparing for departure. She couldn’t help but notice the age of the men in comparison to the Captain. Most of them looked as if they could be his father, and the one the Captain had called Jorne could have been his grandfather, if she was being honest. It made her wonder how someone so young came to command an entire crew, no matter how small the crew was. As far as she could tell, they were missing a number of members, but it didn’t seem to slow them down. They had readied the ship and set sail almost as fast as a fully manned vessel.
“How did you get by me?”
Kamira froze, heart racing as a large shadow stretched across the sail. She turned to find Jorne towering over her. His thick forearms were blanketed with orange hair as he folded them over his broad chest. She gulped down the fear that threatened to crawl up her throat, resisting the urge to cry out. He was definitely the largest man on the ship and he didn’t seem like someone who took things lightly.
She clenched her trembling hands around the jar of wax and wooden brush handle, willing them to stop. She blew out a shaking breath before saying, “I hid behind that barrel there and ran down the steps into the hull when your back was turned.”
There was no use lying.
Jorne cocked his head to the side, small eyes narrowed as he pursed his lips. Kamira looked back down to the sail in her hands, unsure if his anger would bring forth any retaliation. She closed her eyes, waiting for whatever was about to come.
“Well done, lad.”
What?She looked back up to see a wide grin spread across his red face and almost choked on relief as a laugh bubbled up her throat, which only made Jorne’s smile grow wider. He was exactly what Kamira expected a pirate to look like. His smile revealed two missing teeth, and a scraggly orange beard matched the thinning hair on his head perfectly. A jagged pink scar traveled from the left corner of his mouth all the way across his nose and along his right cheek, giving him an almost menacing look. His eyes seemed far too small and close together for his round face — their color so dark they appeared black in the firelight. He was rough and unkept, and not an attractive man in the slightest.
He was the very picture of a storybook pirate.
“Well done?” She gaped at him. “Are you mad?”
That only brought forth a hearty, low-bellied laugh from him. “We are all a bit mad here,” he said with a wink. “Anyone who can get by me without making a sound is worthy to join our crew, if you ask me. I’ve got the ears of a bat. Can hear the smallest of sounds well before the others. It’s why they left me in charge of theCursed Soulwhile they were gone.” He hooked his thumbs through the straps of his gun holster and rocked himself up onto his toes before settling back down on his heels.
“Well, I have been told that I have light feet, and it makes it easier when you don’t have any shoes.” She pointed down to her bare feet caked in grime. She could barely feel them any longer from how cold they were.
“You ain’t got no shoes, lad! That’s a good way to get yourself sick. Best ask Cap'n for a pair of his old ones. He was only a lad like yourself when he first came upon this vessel. Probably still has his old boots thrown somewhere.” Jorne threw out the words casually, but she drank them in like she had been dying of thirst.
So the Captain had only been a boy when he joined this crew. How had he become Captain then? Had he staged some kind of mutiny with the previous Captain and these men had stayed by his side? That would explain the lack of a full crew.
“How long have you been a part of the Captain’s crew?” she found herself asking, curiosity getting the better of her.
