Hopping down became an unfortunately graceless procedure, as her feet had begun falling asleep. Trying to stamp out the pins-and-needles sensation without calling attention to herself was likewise awkward.
Wendy huffed. “They can think whatever they want about me. A pirate’s opinion holds no water.” She snorted a laugh. “Pirate, water. Heh. Never mind,” she added when the cat managed to communicate an eye roll without the actual maneuver.
Taking her time to meander around the railing of the ship, she avoided eye contact with the crew scattered about the deck. No one had called out her odd mutterings or the fact that she laughed at her own jokes. Either they were too far away to have heard or thought it wiser to give the crazy lady space. Eventually,the men stopped trying to watch her with varying levels of discretion. The youngest ones were the most obvious observers, but even they became more interested in their tasks as her slow amble around the deck failed to provide any real entertainment.
Wendy was careful not to lift any lids or poke around under loose tarps. She kept her face mostly toward the sea except where it was necessary to watch her footing. Her eyes began to ache as she strained to scan her surroundings without turning her head. Only a sliver of sun remained above the horizon by the time she reached her goal. The stark relief of the land rimmed by the fiery red crescent highlighted how far she would have to paddle.
Wendy opened her mouth to question whether or not the oars were stored in the boat or nearby. She caught herself, then performed as thorough of a visual scan as she felt safe doing. The growing twilight that helped obscure her actions also hindered. The pulleys that held the little boat looked simple enough to operate, but their distance apart suggested a two-person job.
So as not to arouse suspicion (ormoresuspicion), she continued her journey along the railing. As she walked, she pondered the likelihood of maneuvering the small craft into the water by herself. If she let one pulley loose at a time, going back and forth to prevent dropping it in on one end, she could probably lower it successfully. Detaching it from the ship would be done from inside the boat. And that was the real issue.
TheJolly Rogerwas no sloop; it had to be at least a galleon, as the deck she traversed was rather distant from the water. Gettingherself from the deck to the rowboat would be difficult. With stealth. She could probably shimmy down one of the ropes. A fall from that height would hurt but not maim. Such a procedure was unlikely to be as silent as she required, though.
Which leads to . . .“Timing.” Wendy muttered the last word aloud. When was she going to be able to sneak off the ship?
A smattering of stars had appeared by then. She paused to pretend she was admiring them. In reality, she was scouring the sky for helpful clouds. A cloudbank on the far horizon gave her both hope and anxiety. An overcast sky would almost definitely cause the crew to weigh anchor, since they wouldn’t be able to navigate by the stars. But rain would make Wendy’s task that much harder.
When she continued her ramble around the deck, she chose to avoid the quarterdeck with the ship’s wheel and attendant helmsman. Instead, she returned to her crate of choice and settled in once more. The cat was nowhere to be seen.
About the time true dark fell, a lantern bobbed her way. She had been watching this particular light make its way around the deck, sparking each stationary lantern and segment of the deck in turn. The bearer was revealed to be the fink, Smee, followed by Tam.
“Snitched on me yet?” Wendy asked the old man without rancor. She didn’t know what he knew, but she didn’t want Hook hearing about brothers or sheeries.
Tam plonked a plate of dinner onto the crate next to her. “Smee’s tongue was cut out.”
“Huh,” she stated in a way she hoped communicated her lack of pity or undue curiosity to the condition and didn’t reveal how awkward she felt learning of it in front of the victim. She eyed Smee in the lantern light. “Somehow I doubt that ever stops you,” she mused.
His answering grin held a hint of smirk.
Yup, Wendy thought.He’s definitely up tosomething.
“Here.” Tam interrupted her musings to shove something in her general direction.
Wendy held out her hand and received a metal ring with two keys on it.
He pointed to the first. “This opens the main brig door, and that one is for your cell.”
She curled her fingers around them.
Reading the suspicion in her eyes, Tam added, “I have the other brig key, and if you lock your cell from the inside, no one can unlock it even if we had another key.”
Wendy hummed something that could have been an agreement, which seemed to satisfy Tam, who nodded once, then left. Smee lingered to squint at her. When she returned his stare, he nodded to himself before giving her a quick wave and leaving to follow the black-haired boy.
Weighing the metal objects in her hand for a moment, she decided she trusted Tam not to provide the other brig key toanyone else. Satisfied for the moment, she slipped the ring into one of the spacious pockets sewn into the plum dress—the only thing that might have redeemed the nightmare-inducing nightgown that she’d kicked under the bench. “Ha! Not even pockets could save that mess,” Wendy said as she picked up the plate and dove into another oddly sophisticated dish.
When she had finished eating, she calmly addressed the snoop who had been ducking in and out of sight from behind a nearby barrel. “Hey, you. Do you know where this goes?” She held up the empty plate.
Dark hair, followed by a paler face with soft features, rose slowly from the hiding spot. A young boy who couldn’t have been more than seven stepped around the barrel while keeping a firm grip on the rim. “I can take it for you,” he volunteered.
Wendy smiled. “Thank you—What’s your name?”
Big, dark eyes stared at her out of a thin, golden-brown face. “Davi.”
“Ah. Thank you, Davi.” She held out the dish. “Desjunon?”
Davi inched closer, nodding. Accepting the plate, he took a quick step back to renew the space buffer.
About the time Wendy thought he would dart off into the night, he stood a little taller and asked, “Where are you from?”
