Of Sea and Song

by Chanda Hahn

  I placed the serving tray on the table and raised the dome to reveal soft-boiled eggs, warm rolls, butter, and jam. Different from the plain oatmeal the rest had eaten. I boarded after breakfast and my stomach growled. Stepping back, I awaited orders. The captain had not risen from his bed.

  I couldn’t keep the frown of disapproval from my face. What kind of captain laid abed all day while his men work?

  He got out of bed, stepped out of the shadows, and passed in front of the great windows to grab his shirt off the back of a chair, and I gasped. One, because when he passed in front of the light, I saw just how tall he was. He was giant, and thick muscles covered his back.

  His head shot up at my gasp, and those eyes glared at me. I could feel his anger like a knife.

  The captain moved away from the window, and I still couldn’t get a good look at his face. His sheer size distracted me. The captain put on his shirt and turned his attention to the food in front of him, his back facing me.

  He picked up a knife and buttered his roll. “What are your skills?” he asked.

  “Skills?” I repeated numbly.

  “You signed on as a cabin boy. I expect you are here to learn the ways of sailing, but I also want to know what else you can do.” He tossed the knife back onto the plate.

  “Uh, I can mend, wash, clean, and cook.”

  “Geez, you sound like a woman.” He turned around, the light hitting his face just right, and we both froze.

  Captain Pike was the giant. I mean, the captain was Brennon, the traveler who I escaped on the road, only to wind up trapped on a ship with him. Not just any ship. His ship.

  I was only lucky that it was dark and stuffy in the room and he hadn’t given me his full attention until now.

  Brennon stared at me. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Come into the light,” he demanded.

  I berated myself for not having the gift of glamour like Eden, where I could easily change my appearance. I hesitated, and he slammed his fist down on the table.

  “Now!” he roared.

  I scampered forward to the table where the light from the window illuminated me, but I kept my eyes lowered. I couldn’t control my hands from trembling, and I clasped them behind my back.

  Brennon leaned over the table to study me. “You look sickly.”

  I sucked my breath in at the insult. “I assure you I am not.”

  He leaned closer, his face inches from mine. His eyes scanned my face, and then he looked up at my knit hat. He frowned. He seemed displeased with what he saw, but I hoped the dirt I had smudged on my face helped disguise me. I focused on the white cowrie shells he wore around his neck.

  Brennon pulled out the chair, sat, and gestured to the bottle of wine and the goblet on the tray. I stood rooted to the spot for three seconds and saw his fist raise to cuff me, and I lurched forward. Grabbing the bottle, I pulled the cork with my teeth and poured him a glass. The fragrance of the wine tickled my nose. He must’ve been nursing a hangover for him to need a drink this early.

  He swirled the contents in the glass. “It is hard work being a cabin boy. You’ve signed on and are now tasked with handling all the grueling demands of the ship—” His voice lowered. “—and her captain.”

  There was an underlying threat to his words, and I knew the color must have drained from my face.

  “But take heed. I have been known to be a fair master. I’ve only had to flog one of my cabin boys in the past.” He flashed me a wicked grin, and I was proud that my legs did not buckle beneath me.

  When I said nothing in retort, he frowned again then went back to his breakfast. It was an agonizing and silent affair, as he directed me to stand a few feet away where he could watch me the entire time he ate. When he peeled an egg, he would sprinkle it with salt from the salt cellar on the table and eat it in one bite.

  I tried to keep my face neutral as he tore into the warm roll, slathering it with the jam, licking the sugary substance from his fingers instead of using a napkin.

  My stomach betrayed me with a low growl. Brennon stopped, the hot roll inches from his mouth. My mouth was watering, and he leaned back and held out the roll to me.

  I turned my head and ignored the offering. I didn’t need his handouts.

  Brennon stood up, his chair screeched across the floor. The roll in his hand, he moved in front of me and put it an inch from my mouth. My eyes and stomach betrayed me again.

  I pinched my lips tight and shook my head.

  “I order you, as your captain, to eat.”

  I raised my hand to take it from him, but he pulled it away. He brought it back to my mouth and waited. He would lord his power over me by feeding me. I opened, and Brennon pressed the roll into my mouth. Waiting for me to take a bite.

  The warm roll melted in my mouth; the sweetness of the jam made me moan in pleasure. Brennon was watching my reaction closely. I looked at the other half in his hand expectantly and licked my lips.

  His mouth parted, and I heard him inhale. “Here.” He thrust it into my hands and headed back to his breakfast.

  When he was done, he waved me to take the tray away. I was glad to do so and leave the company of the captain.

  “And when you are finished in the galley, you are to return here to clean.”

  “Yes,” I grumbled out moodily.

  “What was that, boy?”

  “I said yes, Captain Pike.”

  “That’s better.”

  I left the room with a bitter taste in my mouth.

  Chapter Seven

  I walked to the galley below the gun deck. It was wide and comprised of a cast-iron stove, built-in shelves, a long wooden table for food prep, and bench seating. Along the back wall were cupboards with slotted shelves that stored the tin plates and serving bowls. Barrels of brined meats, pickled fish, hardtack, bags of flour, beans, oats, salt, and lots of ale and wine filled the rest of the space.

  One of the advantages I learned of going to port was access to fresh meat and vegetables for the next few days instead of the normal dried and pickled fare we would all be receiving at sea.

  On the far end of the kitchen was a small stall, where a milking goat and chickens in wooden crates were kept. On our earlier tour, I saw there were more livestock kept farther below in the bottom of the boat. But Howland had a soft spot for Pickle, his goat who lived in the galley.

  Because the weather was fair, we carried the stockpot of soup and a crate full of bowls up to the main deck and served the meal. In inclement weather, the crew would eat in their berth or cook their rations in cook boxes which were boxes with metal bottoms filled with sand. While I was happy to be in the fresh air, I was in direct line of sight of Captain Pike. Fang was next to him, his voice raised, arms flailing as he vented about some new complaint.

  I hoped it wasn’t about me.

  Howland nodded toward my enemy. “Ye best stay clear of Fang. Ye already got on his nerves and therefore have a target on yer back.”

  “Why?”

  “He be the quartermaster. It’s his job to enact the captain's orders and deal out punishments.”

  “Why is he even on this ship if he’s so cruel?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Because the previous captain of the Bella Donna was Fang’s father. The captain didn’t want to remove the man from the only home he ever knew.”

  “How did Brennon become captain over Fang? Why didn’t it go to the son?”

  “That’s not how the line of succession works. The Bella Donna is the fastest ship in the sea, and her captain, Captain Saverge, was the fiercest sailor. If ye wanted to learn, ye learned from the best. Brennon worked his way up. When Captain Saverge died, Brennon challenged for Captain of the Bella Donna, fought Fang in hand-to-hand combat, and won.”

  My eyes drifted to Fang, and for a split second, I felt sorry for the man who lost his inheritance, but when I saw him verbally abuse a slow sailor, I changed my mind.

  I scooped the soup and held it out as the next hungry sailor approach
ed.

  “What about him?” I asked. Pointing toward a bull of a man with a gray tricorn pulled over his dark and greasy hair. He seemed to be Fang’s shadow, never far from the man.

  “Thorn, like Fang, is from the old crew. Although I have to say he’s nicknamed Thorn because of the way he yields the whip. For each strike is like a thousand thorns raking across yer skin. He could flay a man like a fish and leave him still standin’ to within an inch of life.”

  Vasili came to get his dinner. Even though he had a very relaxed persona, there was a dangerous air about him, like a string of a bow pulled tight. I had no doubt that at any minute he could attack.

  Howland followed my gaze, and when Vasili was out of hearing distance, he whispered under his breath, “He’s from the Undersea.” The awe with which Howland said Undersea wasn’t lost on me. I heard they were fierce warriors.

  Vasili gave a wary and cursory sniff of the dinner. When he thought no one was looking, he dumped it over the side of the ship.

  I pinched my lips to hide my mirth.

  To have a member of the Undersea on board the ship and so close to me, made him even more fascinating. There was something in the way he moved; it was fluid, like water, his eyes so dark they gleamed with a hidden danger.

  “Why is he here?” I asked. “I mean, aboard the Bella Donna and not in the Undersea?”

  Howland gave a shrug and dished out another portion of soup and biscuit to the next crew member in line. “He left that place long ago and is the captain’s friend. The two are inseparable.”

  I wanted to ask a zillion more questions about the Undersea, but I bit my tongue. I knew it wasn’t the right time or place. I followed Vasili's movements through lowered lashes. Why didn’t he eat any of the meat stew? What about it offended him?

  “Look at how happy they be now,” Howland said as the last crew member scuttled off with his bowl. “Just wait until the fresh meat is gone and it’s back to pickled fish and dried rations. Then they be threaten’n us.”

  I took a towel, wrapped it around the pot handle, and carried it back down to the galley. There wasn’t anything left but scrapings. Just looking at the empty pot made my stomach growl.

  “Here.” Howland pulled out a bowl of stew and a biscuit.

  “Where did you get it?” I asked. It was like he pulled the meal out of thin air.

  “Why, I always pull my share out first and hide it before I serve. Otherwise, there ne’er be enough for old Howland.” He gave me a sly wink. “Just keep that in mind. Aboard the ship, things aren’t always fair. And it’s not man’s law we follow but that of the captain and the sea.”

  “Duly noted,” I answered and dug into the stew. Even cold, it still had a good amount of flavor.

  I went back up on deck to grab the crate that was filled with discarded dirty bowls and took those back down to wash them. When the meal was cleaned up, I grabbed a full bucket of soap, rags, and brush and headed up to the captain’s room. Thankfully, he hadn’t returned to his quarters, so it left me alone. I opened the door to let in more light and pulled back the curtains over the remaining windows. Letting the light stream through revealed the hidden layer of dust and salt that coated the room. The last cabin boy must have been lax in his duties.

  Well, I would give the captain no reason to cuff me or find fault with my work.

  I vented all of my frustration about my circumstances over the last few days on the floor. I scrubbed it until it shined and bruises formed along my knees, cursing under my breath at my own predicament. When I was done with the floor, I took the bucket out to the deck and dumped the water overboard. Then I went back and opened up the captain’s trunks and wrinkled my nose at how haphazardly the books were tossed in. Brennon had very little personal possessions in his trunks other than the books. It was the nature of the books that surprised me the most.

  Books on poetry, history, and myths and legends of the Artilleon Sea. The last volume was called The Undersea. The cover was deep-blue and not made of leather but of fish scales with a gold whirl design. I flipped open the book and saw the swirls of colors and dots that perforated the pages. It was like no language I had ever seen or heard of.

  But as I held the book, the words blended together, shifted, and changed into a language I could read.

  I dove in, skimming to the part that seemed to have been folded back and poured over the most. The book spoke of the sea and how the sea loved her people and bestowed upon them a valuable gift. That gift was a powerful treasure that would protect all who dwelled within and above water. They chose the strongest and fiercest warriors of the Undersea to guard the treasure day and night. They had successfully done so for centuries.

  “What are you doing?” Brennon’s stern voice startled me.

  The book toppled from my fingers to the floor. I winced at my folly.

  “N-nothing,” I said.

  “You are to clean. Not snoop,” he reprimanded. Brennon snatched the book from the floor and pocketed it in his long jacket.

  “Yes, Captain.” I closed the trunk and looked wistfully toward the book he hid. I wished to know the secrets hidden within.

  Brennon spun, and I could tell he was about to lay into me with heated words, but then he noticed the shining and clean floor. “Y-you—” Brennon stuttered and looked around the room. “—cleaned?”

  “You ordered me to,” I said, confused.

  Brennon rubbed the back of his unruly hair and said, “It’s never…. I mean, no one has ever cleaned it like this before.”

  I kept my face still while inwardly rolling my eyes. “Excuse me, for I must help Howland with supper.” I struggled to rise to my feet and left without being dismissed.

  The rest of the day flew by, and I was ready to fall over with exhaustion from being on the run and having very little sleep the night before in the rowboat. I headed up to the main deck, and the crew was in a merry mood and celebrating with music and dancing.

  Three of the crew members brought out their instruments while the rest clapped and stomped the deck in rhythm to the upbeat sea chanty, about ladies, drinking, and the sea.

  Jessup was a marvel at the violin, Conroy cut the night air with a melody on his wooden flute, and Adair’s sweet tenor of a voice almost made me cry. I found a perch in a coil of rope where I could sit and observe the men sing and dance. The cares of the world were gone, and I could just relax. My scalp was sweaty and itchy from working all day, and I worried how I would keep myself clean once I started to smell.

  But not everyone was keen to listen to the music. Fang and Thorn were having a quiet argument. One that was not meant for prying ears nor mine if I hadn’t blended into the shadows.

  “I wasn’t able to unload the goods,” Thorn grumbled.

  “Shhh,” Fang said. “Now’s not the place. Is it hidden?”

  “No one will find them. It’s fine.”

  I knew that if they discovered me eavesdropping, I would probably be in for a tongue lashing and a physical one.

  When Vasili drew near, they stopped talking and immediately headed below deck. Once they left, the mood on deck lightened.

  “How was your first day?” Vasili leaned on the deck rail.

  “Exhausting.”

  “I came to apologize for my behavior earlier.”

  “It’s fine. I overreacted.”

  “But I should have been more aware. And for that I am sorry.” He touched his chest and bowed his head. There was such a refinement in his actions that I couldn’t help but wonder why he was working on this ship. He gave me a farewell and headed to his room.

  Although the music called to me, exhaustion took over, and I found my head dropping. It was time for me to retire.

  I quietly slipped away and headed down the steps and into the galley. I took my sack of extra clothes out of a cupboard and climbed back up to the berth deck. I carefully unwrapped the hammock and attached it to the far hook to secure it. With a jump, I hopped into it, tucked my bag under my head,
and wrapped the sides up close over me. Seconds later, I drifted off to sleep.

  “Boy!” Howland hissed down at me from the steps of the main deck. “Boy! Look sharp.”

  Someone grabbed the side of the hammock and lifted. I tumbled out and tried to catch myself as I hit the ground hard.

  I sucked in my breath as my wrist bent at an odd angle.

  Heavy footfalls stopped, and I saw thick black boots. One lifted to kick me, but I rolled away, knocking into another crew member who was preparing for bed.

  “What!” I snapped. Regaining my feet, I cradled my injured wrist and came face-to-face with Fang.

  “The captain is calling for you!” Fang snarled.

  I blinked and looked around at the cabin full of men who were in various stages of undress as they prepared to sleep for the night. I ducked under my hammock and jumped over Fang’s foot as it came around to kick me again, and I scampered up the stairs, using my good hand to slap the steps.

  Fang’s deep laugh followed my reckless escape as I dashed forth to the captain’s quarters. I didn’t need to knock, because the door was already open, and the lights were dim.

  “Yes, Captain,” I spoke aloud to a darkened room.

  Brennon stepped from behind the door and closed it. The latch closed with an ominous click.

  I swallowed nervously. All moisture had disappeared from my mouth.

  Brennon removed his captain’s jacket and tossed it over a chair. I moved to hang it up on the wood peg on the wall, and then when I turned back around, I gasped.

  He tossed his shirt on the floor, and I stared at his bronzed bare chest. He moved to sit on his bed and tugged at his long boots then stopped and gazed at me expectantly. Waiting.

  I hesitated. Catching the hidden meaning, I knew what he wanted, but surely he wouldn’t ask me to come nearer. It wasn’t proper. But then I remembered—I was a boy. I kneeled on the floor before him, grasped the heel with my hands, and pulled hard. It didn’t budge. Panicking, I stood and yanked, throwing my body weight into it. It was impossible.