“I think maybe we’ve seen the worst.Now we have to build yer strength back so ye’ll be strong for the baby.”
“Baby,” Elizabeth whispered.“I’ve never thought about being a mother before.”
Annie’s mouth curved into an unconscious smile.“Ye’ll make a fine one.Just like yer own dear mother.Do ye realize it will be the third generation o’ Trents for me?”
Elizabeth smiled affectionately as she sipped the tea Annie had given her.“You’ve been with us a long time.And to tell you the truth, I remember you more than I can recall Mother.”Elizabeth reached out and squeezed Annie’s hand.“You were always there when I fell down and scraped my knees.You were the one who hugged me and wiped my tears away.”
‘Yer mother was a fine lady, lass.”
“I’m not saying she wasn’t, but in a way you are my mother, too.”
Annie stood abruptly.“Dinna ye go getting me all sentimental,” she said gruffly.She brushed away a stray tear with the back of her hand.“If ye feel like it tomorrow, I’ll take ye up top and let ye get some sun.”
“That sounds like heaven.”
The morning dawnedwith a dull gray light as the clouds opened up and released a cold rain that pelted theShanna Leefor the third day in a row.
Jonathan prowled the deck, holding onto the ropes and riggings so he wouldn’t be washed into the choppy sea.Wrapping his coat tighter around him, he made his way to the helm to visit Jean’s captain, Dominic You.
Dominic stood behind the big wheel, his feet spread apart as he guided the ship.He was a small man, but broad-shouldered and strong.His hair was light even though it was wet and plastered to his darkly tanned face.When he was angry he resembled a ruffled eagle, but his outbursts were rare.
“I hope this damnable weather doesn’t follow us the whole trip,” Jonathan said when he drew up next to You.
“Aye,” Dominic said.His response held a note of impatience.“Here, take the wheel.I have to find another hat.Mine blew away.”
Jonathan grasped the wheel with his left hand, his injured right arm hanging as usual by his side.
“No, no.You must use both hands.”Dominic grabbed Jonathan’s right arm and placed it on the wheel.
“I have no strength in that arm.”Jonathan said.
“Nor will you if you do not use it.”Dominic reached down in a box beside the wheel and retrieved a fresh tricorn hat, which he pulled down tight so the water would run off away from his eyes.
“Look,” he said as he pulled up his shirtsleeve and revealed a twelve-inch gash on his arm.“I was injured once, and I almost gave up until I started lifting those wooden pins that we use to play skittles.”He pointed.“There are a few pins over by the ropes.It takes time, but I believe you’ll regain the use of your arm just like I did.Remember, you’re no longer a landlubber.”
When Dominic retook the wheel, Jonathan went over and picked up a couple of pins that were about twelve inches long and rather heavy.What the hell, he thought as he returned to his cabin.What could it hurt?
After several weeks at sea, Jonathan wasn’t sure he liked sailing, but he could tell he was changing.This environment was nothing like the ballrooms in England, but for now he was content here.He associated with men who flashed dirks and wore cutlasses hanging from their belts.
He was learning that they had their own community aboard ship.Jonathan had been assigned the job of Sailing Master.He read the maps and planned where to sail.The “where” was always where Jean said he wanted to go.Everyone always obeyed the captain.
Jonathan knew most of the crew by name.There was Bobby, the peg leg cook, Henry, the ship’s surgeon, and Jamie, the carpenter, who took the surgeon’s place when needed.God help him should he require a doctor.Jonathan would have to be half dead before he allowed Henry to touch him.
They all dressed in wild costumes to frighten their victims.A few wore tricorn hats, while the others had scarves tied around their heads or necks.They wore baggy canvas breeches that came to their knees, which Jonathan found very comfortable.
Pistols were worn in several places—in their breeches or in a string of leather across their chests, strapped to their ankles, and probably a few places he hadn’t seen.They were a rough—yet likable— lot.
The food was vastly different than that found in the dining rooms of London or New Orleans.Beer was the common beverage.He was glad of that when we saw the food that was served.They had meat that was salted and stewed in a large iron pot, and then there was the crew’s favorite: green turtles.All Jonathan could think was, “Thank God for the beer!”
He had wanted a change, Jonathan had to remind himself more than once, and that was what he was getting.Even though he was on a ship of cutthroats, Jonathan found he was losing the tension he’d felt for so long.And it felt damn good to shed the bitterness he’d bottled up for months.
They’d been a month out to sea when they came upon a Spanish craft.
“She sits heavy in the water, my friend,” Jean said as he pointed toward the vessel.“I believe the Spanish can do without a ship or two.”Jean laughed.“Are you ready for a little adventure?”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Jonathan admitted.
“Good.”Jean nodded.“They are Spanish.We show no mercy.”
