*
Samantha stared atthe uneven boards above her head and wiped her eyes. When she swallowed, a harsh burning filled her throat.Though she’d grown accustomed to the stench, the rancid air was taking a toll on her. She turned to the flickering lantern and sighed.
There was no good way to keep track of time down here with no view outside, but to the best of her knowledge, two days had passed. They could be as far as The Bahamas by now.
How much farther would they go? And what would her uncle do? He knew better than to believe Thorne would let her go if he turned the map over. Not that he even could. The map still lay curled in her conch, aboard theHurricane. And no one knew.
The hatch lifted with a groan and she jumped to her feet. When the small boots of the cabin boy came into view, she breathed out. Most of the time he was the one who came to bring her meals. She preferred him to the giant, who checked on her periodically.
The boy jumped to the floor and held up a tray. “Brought yer dinner.”
He slid it under the bars and she pulled up her nose at the stale hunk of bread and dried fish. The exact same thing she’d been given for every meal.
She picked it up and asked him the same question she asked each time. “Where are we sailing?”
As always, he ignored her. After a moment, he pointed to the bucket in the corner. “I’m to grab yer piss bucket too.”
Thank God. She gingerly picked it up and brought it over. The boy pulled a key from his pocket and slipped it into the lock. When the door swung open, just wide enough to pass the bucket through, her muscles coiled.
She could overpower this whelp. About the same height as her, he was all gangly limbs. Her shoulders slumped. But then what? Escaping her cell while at open sea served her no good.
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t try nothin’.”
Samantha flashed him a weak smile and he grabbed the bucket from her. The clank of the lock a moment later reverberated in herhead and she forced the smile to stay.Get him to talk.
When he turned to the stairs, she cleared her throat. He paused and looked back. How could she get the young teen to open up?Play to his pride.Of course.
“What’s it like being cabin boy to such a notorious pirate?”
It worked.
The boy gave her a crooked grin. “It’s real swell. He says I’m the only one good enough to keep his schedule. Get to do all his laundry and bring him his meals.” He gave a pointed look at the tray she’d set down. “He eats a lot finer than that.”
“I’m sure he does,” she said dryly. But this was good info. “A pirate that keeps a tight schedule?”
“Yep. He eats at seven-o-clock on the dot every night no matter what.”
She nodded at the keys still in one hand. “He must trust you an awful lot to let you hold the keys to the brig.”
His dirty fingers clenched around the metal ring and his chest puffed out. “There’s only one set of keys on this whole boat. Capt’n keeps them on him at all times, ’cept when we check on ye.”
“Only one set? That seems risky. What if he falls in battle?”
The boy looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns. “That wouldn’t ever happen.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I meant hypothetically.” He blinked at the word and she revised. “What if someone stole them from him?”
“I dunno. Guess ye’d rot then. Ain’t no one getting the keys from him though. He’s got more pockets than one would have time to search.”
In other words, little chance of her getting the keys, unless she swiped them from the boy.
She flashed him a smile. “Well then, I hope, for my sake, he doesn’t come to any misfortune.”
He cocked his head. “If someone was going to kill me, I’d wish forsomething bad to happen to him.”
Cool iron pressed into her forehead when she leaned against the bars. “What’s your name?”
“Skip.” His eyes dropped to his boots. “But most hands just call me ‘boy.’”
