Catherine laughed. “Oh, I still think you’re a bunch of common criminals that deserve to be hung, but I’ll try not to voice that sentiment.”
Brant smiled. “I can live with that. I’m pretty sure even the king harbors those feelings. And please, call me Brant.”
“Does that mean you will be having dinner with me tonight, Brant?”
“It does.”
Catherine smiled and walked away, leaving Brant to do his work. She hadn’t expected that conversation to go so well. In fact, she had half expected it to blow up in her face and turn into another argument. Instead she had been pleasantly surprised by Brant’s civility. He had struck her as more of a hot head when they had first met, but then again he confused her more and more each day. One minute he was a gentleman, the next a rogue, the next brooding and then suddenly he was friendly. He had too many faces to put a finger on his personality.
Dinner was an interesting affair that night. Brant seated her next to him for the first time in over three weeks and he spoke with her, joked, and even teased her a little. Catherine tried to carry on conversations with the other officers. She had already spoken with Karl on numerous occasions but it was hard to forget her upbringing. She kept telling herself that it was okay to talk to these men and that no one would frown on her behaviour, but it was hard to let go of rules that had been ingrained in her since childhood.
After dinner Brant walked with Catherine back to her cabin. As he opened the door for her she turned to him and stopped. “Will you be climbing up to the crow’s nest now?”
Brant looked at her questioningly and nodded. “Yes.”
“Why do you go up there?”
“To think. It’s the most isolated place I know and the view is spectacular. Would you like to come?”
Catherine shook her head. “Maybe some other time. Good night, Captain.”
“Goodnight, Catherine.”
Brant walked away leaving Catherine alone in the doorway of her cabin.
Chapter Eleven
Brant found himself enjoying Catherine’s company now that they had agreed to be civil and attempt a friendship. Quite often he found himself getting caught up in conversation with her throughout the day. She had many questions about the ship and how things were run, which Brant was more than happy to answer. He was beginning to regret ever thinking she was uneducated or naïve; it seemed like she wanted to learn everything she could about her surroundings and he was quickly beginning to realize through their conversations that she knew quite a bit about politics and the state of the current world.
That evening, after dinner Catherine joined Brant on a walk around the deck.
“I won’t deny the usefulness of the economic warfare privateers wage on the Spanish. But, don’t you think that eventually they’ll get tired of it and rise up? They’re prideful people and won’t sit idly by forever, nor will they accept the excuse that men like you are acting of your own volition outside of the law.”
Brant nodded “But you can’t deny that if we weren’t making their country poorer then they probably would have already declared war.”
“Possibly, but if the pot wasn’t being continually stirred a more stable peace may have been negotiated by now. The Spanish are becoming extremely angry and it’s becoming more and more dangerous for my father to make his trips there. Pretty soon he will be unable to safely go there and then we will be on the brink of war. Spain still thinks that England is rightfully theirs after Prince Philip married Bloody Mary.”
“Then how will negotiations change their mind?”
“It would buy us some time.”
“See, now you’re going back on what you said. We’re buying you time already and making England richer in the process.”
“Do you want me to say you are serving your country?”
“That would be nice.”
“Well, I won’t, Brant Foxton. You can dress up a pig but a pig is still a pig. We can give you a letter making you untouchable but you’re still a murderer and thief.”
Brant smirked. “A pig, huh? And do you still have a problem with that, with me?”
Catherine smiled slightly and turned to face him. “When it comes to you, my convictions are beginning to crumble a bit. But overall my view of privateering remains the same.”
“Good. Then I suppose your time here will not be such a waste after all.”
Catherine laughed and continued walking the perimeter of the ship. “Depends what you consider a waste.”
Brant smiled and fell back into step beside her. They completed their round and he walked her back to her cabin where he wished her good night and went to climb up to the crow’s nest to clear his head for the day. However, this evening his mind was full of the sophisticated young woman who had taken up residence in his cabin. He found himself enjoying her company more and more and was already looking forward to when morning would dawn and he could see her again.
* * *
Brant was disappointed that Catherine spent most of the next morning with Matthew, rather than him, but he was glad to see how caring and kind she was being. It was like he was seeing a whole different woman than the one that had been held back by class just a few short weeks ago.
So, taking advantage of Catherine being busy, he holed himself up in his cabin that he had been letting her use and looked over some paperwork. James had taken inventory last week and supplies were getting low but there weren’t many places to stop any more. Studying the map, Brant decided that they would make port in Casablanca, Morocco and pick up supplies, spend a few days for some much needed rest and then continue on their way. Brant hoped that they would reach their destination in another month after that.
Calling Casper in, Brant went over the detour in their course and sent him to make the appropriate changes. He was so busy with paperwork and inventory lists that he didn’t even notice Catherine walk in.
“I see you’re making use of your desk.”
Brant looked up and smiled. “I’m afraid I couldn’t put my paperwork off any longer. I’m sorry if I invaded your space.”
“Not at all, it’s fine.”
“You sure do leave it messy though,” Brant said, frowning as he looked around the room at the various items of clothing strewn around the floor.
“Normally I would be travelling with my hand maiden but she was taken during the attack.”
Brant studied Catherine’s face, searching for any sign of sorrow or sadness for the fate of the girl who had spent so much time with her. “Aren’t you upset about that?”
“Well, yes but at least she isn’t dead.”
“She might as well be.”
Catherine was taken aback. “What did they do to her?”
“Likely sold her into slavery. Old Richard is not a kind man and he’ll make a profit off of whatever he can.”
Catherine paled but held herself strong. “I wish you didn’t tell me that.”
Brant shrugged. “You should be more aware of some of the evils in the world.”
Catherine nodded and walked over to the chair she had placed next to the large rear facing window and sat down, picking up her book and reading. Brant watched her for a few minutes and then went back to the work at hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a time.
Catherine looked up. “It’s okay.”
“I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“It’s okay. You’re right; I need to be more aware.”
They fell back into their silence, one reading, the other working until James came to tell them dinner was ready.
Both putting down what had been occupying their attention for the last few hours, Brant and Catherine walked together to the dining room. It was a pleasant dinner. Most of them had been since Brant and Catherine had stopped their feuding, but this one seemed to have a particular joy about it. There was more laughter than usual and everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Perhaps because it had been weeks since any of them had to kill a man or com
mit a crime… Or perhaps it was just something in the air. Whatever it was, Brant liked it.
After dinner, when he walked Catherine back to her cabin he invited her to join him up on the crow’s nest.
“Oh, I couldn’t! It’s so very high and dresses are not meant for climbing in.”
Brant laughed. “Then change. Borrow a pair of my breeches.”
Catherine looked thoughtful but laughed and shook her head in protest again. “I can’t!”
“You can do anything you put your mind to, Miss Marshall.”
“Not this.”
“Anything.”
Catherine threw up her hands in surrender. “Fine! Just let me change.”
She disappeared into the cabin and came back out moments later in a pair of Brant’s breeches that fit her quite nicely, clinging closely in all the right places. “Okay let’s go before I change my mind.”
Brant laughed and took her hand, leading her towards the mast and the long climb up to the lookout post otherwise known as the crow’s nest.
“You go up first. I’ll be right behind you to make sure you don’t fall.”
“Now I’m really glad I’m not wearing a dress,” she mumbled as she began climbing. Brant chuckled and followed a few rungs behind.
“You think that I’d be so dishonourable as to peek up a ladies dress?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past you, Captain Brant Foxton.”
Brant laughed loudly and fully. “You make me out to be such a rogue!”
Catherine mumbled something under her breath that Brant didn’t manage to catch but he figured it wasn’t very nice anyway so it probably wasn’t worth hearing.
As they climbed the last few rungs Catherine pulled herself up onto the platform, Brant right behind. She was panting slighting from the exertion, not used to physical activity, but she was smiling wildly as she looked around. “This is amazing, Brant.”
“You’re glad you made the climb?”
“Yes, very much so. Thank you.”
Brant smiled and put his arm around her—telling himself it was to protect her from the cool breeze, but really he just enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms.
“I can understand why you come up here so often. It’s incredibly peaceful.”
“It is, so don’t you go invading my personal time now. Even captains need to clear their heads sometimes.”
Catherine smiled and snuggled in a little closer as a burst of cold wind enveloped them.
“It won’t be long now until we reach London, you know.”
Catherine nodded. “Yes. I’m looking forward to being home again. How long have we been sailing?”
“Just over a month. We’re going to make port in Casablanca, Morocco for a couple of days. If you like I can take you to shore so that you can explore a bit.”
“Could you? I think I would enjoy that.”
They fell into a comfortable silence for a while--both alone in their thoughts. It was quite unbelievable to Brant that he had such a beautiful and smart woman sitting with him in the crow’s nest of his own ship. He almost dreaded the day that they would dock in London and she would walk out of his life for good.
“Are you happy here, Catherine?” he asked, breaking the silence.
She didn’t answer right away, mulling his question over for a couple of minutes. “I suppose I am. I’ve never been able to let go of my inhibitions quite like I’ve been able to here. And it’s very refreshing to have you, a man, see me as an intelligent person. In my circles women are expected to be good at running their house and raising a family, which is all very good but sometimes I wish the men would talk politics with me. My father is the only man who ever has before you. It’s refreshing. Thank you, Brant.”
“You a very smart woman, Catherine. You should let people know. What’s stopping you from joining in the men’s conversations if that is what you wish to discuss?”
“Decorum.”
Brant nodded. “Of course. You know, you and I didn’t start out so differently.”
Catherine turned to face Brant, moving out from under his arm in the process. “Am I going to hear the story of Brant Foxton’s past?”
“If you care to sit through it. It’s a long one.”
“Please.”
Brant sighed and looked out to the ocean. “Not tonight. It’s getting late. I promise I will tell you soon, though.”
Catherine looked disappointed but she forced a smile and stood up, allowing Brant to lead the way down the ladder.
* * *
Catherine didn’t see much of Brant the next couple days as they drew closer to land and made their way up the coastline to Morocco. She found herself missing his company but she kept herself busy by looking after Matthew and reading. She would watch the crew from time-to-time, wondering about their lives outside of the BlackFox. Did they have families or sweethearts they had left behind?
Eventually it grew tiring so she retreated to her cabin where she spent the remainder of the afternoon reading. Brant had a good sized collection of books and Catherine was enjoying it immensely. She had finished multiple books, being as there wasn’t much of anything else for her to fill her time with. After dinner she finally got Brant to herself again, the first time in three days.
“You’ve been busy lately.”
Brant strolled with her around the deck. “Yes. Casper isn’t quite what a sailing master should be so when it comes to navigating closer to shore I have to step in. It will be like this for most of the remaining voyage.”
“So I shall have no friend to talk to?”
Brant smiled. “I’ll still make time for you. Don’t you worry about that.”
“And you still have to tell me your story. You promised.”
“Be patient. I will tell you in good time. Don’t forget that it won’t be long before we dock in Casablanca and then we can explore the beauties of Morocco for a few days. I’m giving you one thing to look forward to at a time.”
“So you’re saying that I won’t hear the story until after Casablanca?”
“Correct.”
Catherine pouted a little causing Brant to laugh. “You’re much prettier when you smile. Don’t look so disappointed, it will be worth the wait.”
“It had better be.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“Then I won’t be your friend anymore. I cannot abide a liar.”
Brant laughed and opened the door to Catherine’s cabin. “I’m going to have to bid you good night now. I’m afraid I have an early start in the morning as we expect to be getting close to land.”
“Good night, Brant.” She kissed him on the cheek before ducking into her cabin and closing the door behind her, but not before seeing the shocked look and blush creeping up Brant’s face as he stood, stock still and dumbfounded.
* * *
When they docked in Casablanca on Friday, Brant went in search of Catherine to bring her ashore, as promised. But, she was nowhere to be found. He went around to the crew members asking if they had seen her but they all shook their heads. How a young woman had just disappeared off a ship was beyond Brant. Not sure where she was, he decided to leave for the afternoon, hoping that she would show up for dinner. Walking down the ramp, he heard a woman shouting his name. Looking around he saw no one but then he looked up and saw Catherine standing in the crow’s nest waving down at him. She had a pair of his breeches on again and her long blonde hair, which was usually done up carefully, was flowing freely in the wind like a banner. Chuckling, he trotted back up on deck and climbed up to meet her.
“What are you doing up here? I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“I wanted to see the city as we sailed into the harbor and what better vantage point than the crow’s nest?”
Brant shook his and head laughed. “Would you like to actually go into the city now?”
“Oh yes! Just let me get changed into something more proper.”
Brant shook his head. “Either you come right thi
s minute or you have to wait till tomorrow.” He wasn’t willing to wait for her to get laced and buttoned in to a dress just so that she could look the part of a lady.
Catherine frowned. “But I can’t be seen dressed like this.”
“I’m seeing you right now.”
“And if I wait till tomorrow?”
Brant shrugged.
“Fine then, but I’ll have you know that I think this is highly inappropriate.”
“You’re sailing on a privateer ship. There has been nothing appropriate about your life for the last month.”
Catherine smiled slightly and climbed down the ladder, more confident now than she had been last week when Brant had brought her up.
Walking through the streets of Casablanca, they were bombarded with many colors and loud noises. There were street vendors everywhere. Everyone wanted them to buy their goods or food. There were skinny children that held out their bowls to beg, but some guards chased them away.
“Did you want to buy anything?” Brant asked as he caught Catherine looking at a table full of fabric.
“All my money was stolen during the raid.”
Brant walked over to join her at the table and turned some of the fabric over in his hand. “Which one do you like?”
Catherine pointed at a bright blue bolt of fabric inlaid with silver designs. Brant picked it up, turned it over a couple of times and ran some fabric through his fingers. Nodding slightly he turned to the woman watching the table. “How much?”
“Fifty Durham.”
Brant whistled but nodded. “I have here,” he counted out thirty pieces of eight, “thirty Spanish Reals. Good?”
Catherine shook her head, grabbing Brant’s arm. “It’s too much, Brant. What will I do with it?”
“And I will need some needles and thread.”
The shopkeeper nodded her head fervently and held out her hands greedily. The Spanish Real was worth nearly double the Moroccan Durham. Brant shook his head. “No, you wrap up that fabric first with needles and thread. Then I pay you.”
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