“Yes,” she says. “And no, I won’t refuse payment.” She watches the steam rise from her coffee. After a moment, she says, “I wish the journey wasn’t coming to an end.”
Jack taps his glass. “About that. I may as well tell you now.”
“Tell me what?”
“The crew has petitioned me to keep you on for the next few runs.They reckon you bring the ship good fortune, which is funny, as you know what they say about women on board. Ill luck and all that. But not you, they say. Between that first night, when you worked with them on deck while it blew a gale, and the general success of the run, not to mention this mightily favorable wind, they’re convinced.”
She stares at him over the edge of her glass. Is he saying what she thinks he’s saying? She quickly gulps down some more coffee, scalding her tongue and throat this time. “Convinced of what?”
“You know of what. The story you dislike so—that the Sea Bucca’s daughter protects the ship.” A pause, then, “So what do you say?”
“Do you mean to say you agree with them?”
“Of course not. I don’t believe you bring the ship good fortune, nor should you sail with us. It’s far too dangerous—I’ve told you my view many times. But as you may have realized, sailors are a superstitious bunch.”
He takes a small sip and blows on the coffee again. “Cornish sailors more than most, I reckon. Which means if Idon’tkeep you on board, the next time we run afoul of the Revenue Service or we’ve got a man overboard or a storm blows away the staysail, it won’t be because of the wiles of fate or the unpredictability of the weather, it’ll be because I chose not to keep you on. I can’t have that. The crew and I, we need to be of one mind. So, much as I wish otherwise, I suppose I’m offering you a place aboard theRapideduring our next voyage back to Roscoff. I imagine Madame Cuvelier will be glad to see you again. Captain Cuvelier told me you’ve become fast friends.”
When she doesn’t say anything, he says, “It’ll be a means of securing an income of your own. Considering your views on your independence, that can only be pleasing to you.”
She’s silent for so long Jack says, “Will you give me an answer tothisproposal, at least?” She’s shaking her head in disbelief and then she’s laughing. She reaches for his hand, saying, “I get to go to sea with you again?” Her voice is high and punctuated by laughter. “You mean it?”
He laughs, too, in spite of himself. “That’s a yes then?”
“I didn’t realize you needed an answer. I should like it of all things, Jack. Oh, I can’t think of anything more wonderful!”
“Can you honestly not?” he says more soberly.
It’s as if she has swallowed a sharp-edged pebble. Quickly, she says, “I didn’t mean it like that. But if I were to say yes to your other proposal, would you still be inclined to respond favorably to your crew’s petition?”
“That remains to be seen.” He drums his fingers on the desk. He’s about to say more but is stopped by a shout from the deck: “Captain! Ship ahoy!”
Jack sets his glass down so hard it sounds as if he meant to break it. He’s out the door and up the ladder in seconds. Isabel follows more slowly. By the time she reaches the deck, Harry Tremayne has handed the spyglass to Jack, who trains it on a speck in the distance.
“You see it, Captain?” Harry says.
Jack says, “I see it, all right.” The minutes lengthen as he watches the speck while the crew watches him. After a while, he calls, “Dick! Come here and have a look.”
Dick takes the spyglass. “It’s her, isn’t it, Captain?”
“That’s what I thought. Harry?”
“TheSwallow,isn’t she, sir? I thought she was, only my eyes aren’t as good as Dick’s.”
“Neither are mine,” says Jack. “But with that bowline, yes, I wager she’s theSwallowand she’s gaining on us.”
“As she’s wont to do,” Harry says. “She’s got twice the sail.”
“Twice the weight, too, if we didn’t have our cargo,” says Jack. “Without the cargo, we could outrun her.” He lowers the spyglass and taps his fingers on it, thinking. “Set all sails!” he calls, and then, “Run a lead line, will you, Betham? And you, Will. Tell me your findings the moment you have them.”
“How long before she’s upon us, Captain?” Oppy says, gripping the helm.
“I reckon we’ve got about half an hour. Let’s hope the sea isn’t too deep here.”
A few minutes later, Betham calls, “By the mark seven. Sand and broken shell, sir!”
“Very good. Thank you, Betham,” Jack calls back. And to Harry Tremayne: “Seven fathoms. Do you think the lines will reach that far?”
“I believe so, Captain.”
