Sail With Me (A Discovery Series Book)

by Christy Major

  Finally he said, “Daniel Connor, apparently the nursemaid to all the incompetent new deckhands.” He extended his left hand to me instead of his right.

  I looked up to his face from under the brim of Benjamin’s cap as he turned all the way around to face me. I quickly realized why he did not offer his right hand.

  He didn’t have one.

  As I stood dumbly in front of him, Daniel stepped forward and slapped my still outstretched right hand with his left to get it out of his way. He paced by me and pushed out another loud breath.

  “I wish my uncle would refer to me as the ‘kid with one arm’ instead of the ‘tall kid.’ That’s what he called me, isn’t it?”

  “I beg your pardon. I did not expect… I thought…” I trailed off as I forced my gaze back to his face. A rather nice face if you ignored the scowl.

  “If you think I care about what you thought, fish,” Daniel said, “you’d be mistaken. Hugely. And don’t think I can’t beat the piss out of you because I have one arm. Ask any of them. They’ll tell you how it is.”

  The line of crew still working mumbled their agreement, sweat dotting their sunburned faces. Daniel grunted something back to them I couldn’t hear then dragged me into the line. Apparently Edward Scarsdale had not been lying about the grouch nephew part.

  “Stand right there and when Michael hands you the bucket of water, pass it along. You got that, fish?”

  “I got it.”

  Daniel paused for a moment and lifted the brim of my cap. I held my breath as he studied my face and angled his own head. Prey being sniffed out by a predator. His scrutiny of my face broke when I grabbed the bucket Michael handed me.

  “Come find me at supper,” Daniel finally said. “If you last that long.”

  He didn’t wait for me to reply. My throat was too dry for words anyway. As he walked over to the Rose, he glanced back over his shoulder at me once then continued on his way. Not exactly a grand welcome to the crew, but I wasn’t interested in making friends.

  Getting to the Americas was my only goal, and now I was a step closer to achieving it.

  ****

  I hefted water buckets for the rest of the afternoon, stealing glances at the ocean from time to time. To be working this close to her, to know I was only days away from sailing on her, made my skin feel as if it could barely contain my insides.

  The sun finally slipped below the horizon, and the ships tied to the docks were black ghosts on the water. The men working on the Rose—about sixty of them in the entire crew—abandoned their tools. We piled the buckets up in a heap near the ship, and I followed the men, my sack still slung around me, into the woods to the camp that had been set up.

  A large fire blazed at the center of the camp, and Daniel poked at it with a long stick. Some game roasted on a spit over the fire, and I realized how hungry working had made me. My arm muscles burned from today’s bucket toting, but I welcomed the ache. I was finally doing something.

  Daniel looked up from tending the fire at the sound of us approaching, and his gaze settled on mine as if he’d been looking for me. He rested the poker against his chest and pointed to me then to the ground at his feet. I felt like a pup being called by its master, but I obliged him anyway. Thankful for the dimming light, I wove through the crowd of crewmembers to stand next to Daniel.

  “I watched you out there, fish. Didn’t drop a bucket, slow down the line, or complain.”

  He handed me the poker and motioned to the fire with his chin. I adjusted some of the logs, and the flames blazed a little higher.

  “Can stoke a fire too,” he said.

  Of course I could. I had built thousands of fires for Lady Elizabeth.

  “You sure you’re what you say you are?”

  I swallowed loudly and avoided Daniel’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “Most new fish can’t lace up their own boots, never mind hop on the job and do it right.”

  I alternated my gaze between the fire and Daniel. He chopped some vegetables and tossed them into a huge black pot. After a few moments, he pulled the game from the spit and hoisted the pot up, placing it on the fire itself.

  “I’ve been around ships my whole life,” I said.

  “Don’t make you an expert.”

  “No, but I’m not an idiot,” I said, a new edge to my voice. I didn’t want to make an enemy of Daniel, but he wasn’t friendly. “I know how a crew works.”

  “Bet you don’t know more than me,” he said, a challenge in his tone.

  “I know enough.” I poked at the fire and the flames licked higher still. I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Fire’s easy, fish,” he said. “So is carrying buckets. We’ll see what you can do tomorrow.” A shame those sky blue eyes came with such a sour attitude.

  As I fiddled with the fire, I stole glances at Daniel. The right sleeve of his tunic was cut short and knotted below his shoulder while the left one was rolled up to his bicep. That arm was well muscled, and my gaze traveled to the open portion of his shirt where evidence of an equally fit, tanned chest peeked out.

  I shook my head clear of the reaction watching Daniel had brought on. I couldn’t afford to slip up and lose my pass to the Americas because I liked the looks of some young sailor with an unappealing disposition. I’d never noticed the boys in Southhampton besides Benjamin. Now wasn’t the time to start being interested.

  “Stir that up, will you?” He threw an iron ladle at me.

  I caught it and he narrowed his eyes at me. I plunged the ladle into the pot and soon the fresh aroma of boiling vegetables wafted up into the air. As I stirred, Daniel pulled meat from the game and plopped pieces into wooden bowls he had set up next to the fire. Every now and then, he glanced up at me as if he didn’t trust me.

  Soon, the men wandered over, taking bowls and wanting a ladle full of the vegetable stew. I filled their bowls, and they spread out in little pockets around the camp to eat their supper.

  “Got yourself a partner tonight, eh, Daniel?” one of the crewmen said.

  Daniel’s jaw tensed as he glared at me. We finished filling bowls until only three were left. He pushed me aside and sloppily filled two of the remaining bowls.

  “I don’t need your help, fish, you understand?” He was close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. I had to take a step back to look up at him.

  “You called me over to the fire, Daniel. I didn’t trot over, dying to help you,” I shot back as I filled my own bowl. “I don’t care where I work as long as I’m working. I don’t like to sit still, and I don’t like your mood either.”

  He let out a snort. “This is my good mood, fish. You’re going to hate my bad one.”

  Daniel walked off with two of the bowls resting on his left forearm toward the largest of the tents set up around the perimeter of the camp. He disappeared behind the folds, and I turned around to eat my supper.

  Alone.

  ****

  I carried my bowl and my sack down to the shore. The groups were made and I wasn’t part of any of them. A few of the crewmembers I had hauled buckets with nodded to me, but it wasn’t an invitation. On the bright side, none of them seemed suspicious about me being anything other than what I claimed.

  Except for Daniel, that is.

  I climbed onto a huge rock that jutted out into the sea. Settling on the edge of it so my legs dangled over the water, I ate. The food, simple as it was, tasted like a feast after a day of working out in the sun. I finished it and wiped my mouth with my sleeve, wincing at the stab of pain that flooded through my lip and jaw.

  “Think you’re tough with that bruise?” Daniel said, suddenly behind me.

  “If I were really tough I would have emerged without a bruise.”

  He actually laughed. A nice sound that didn’t match how he’d spoken to me earlier in the day.

  “How old are you, fish?” Daniel asked.

  “Sixteen. And my name’s Charlie.”

  “Fine, Charlie.” He roll
ed his eyes when he said it.

  “How old are you?” I said.

  “Eighteen.”

  “Really? That’s all?”

  “Really.” He laughed again, and the pleasing sound was in sharp contrast to the furrow of his brows, the purse of his lips.

  “How long have you been with your uncle on the Rose?”

  “Since my parents died and… this.” He gestured to his empty right sleeve as he leaned against a nearby rock.

  “What happened?” The question stumbled out before I could stop it. Foolish girl.

  “None of your business what happened.” He folded his left arm across his torso and kicked at some of the sand around his bare feet.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have asked that. I was just curious.”

  “Curious about the monstrosity?”

  “No, I—”

  “Save it, fish. I’ll show you what to do because my uncle asked me to and he’s the captain. We aren’t going to be friends, though, you and me. I know my uncle took you on because he figured you were about my age. Thinks I need a pal or something.” In the shadowy light of the moon, his jaw tensed again. “I don’t need anyone.”

  He pushed off the rock and walked away before I could respond. I should have been angry about the way he’d talked to me, but for some reason, I wasn’t. Instead, I found myself wanting to make him laugh again. He seemed like a better person when he laughed.

  What was I thinking? I wasn’t dressed like a boy to be chums with anyone, let alone someone who didn’t want a chum. I was on a mission to the Americas. What did I care about Daniel’s bitter attitude? That was his problem, not mine, and why was I still thinking about him?

  At the docks, most of the locals had gone home for the night so a quiet hush stilled the air. Benjamin and his father would have closed up Watkins’s Post by now and would be heading home to a dinner his mother would have waiting for them. I hoped Benjamin would be all right without me. Of course he’d be all right. He had his family, his work, and maybe Rachel Carnigan. He’d be fine.

  And Lady Elizabeth. Benjamin would have told her today that I wasn’t coming back to work for her. What had she said? Was she disappointed in me?

  A wide yawn overtook me and I slid off the rock. Day one was over. Tomorrow would bring more work, and I was eager for it. It was far better than arranging pastries on platters for Lady Elizabeth.

  Most of the men had retired to their tents, the central cook fire dimming to a faint orange glow. I dropped my bowl with the others piled high next to the fire. I had a feeling I’d be the one to wash them come morning. Seemed like the perfect chore for the new “fish” to do.

  I turned in a tight circle, looking at the tents. They weren’t like the accommodations I had enjoyed at Lady Elizabeth’s. No bedclothes with tiny pink flowers stitched with silk threads. No whitewashed walls with expensive artwork. No colorful rugs all the way from Asia to sink my feet into.

  In fact, no tent.

  Was I supposed to walk into one of them and claim a spot? That didn’t seem right, so I sifted some sand between my toes. Soft, cushiony. Better than nothing.

  I dropped down to my knees and slid my sack off my shoulder. Repositioning it several times, I curled up in the sand, content to sleep wherever as long as I could wake up by the sea.

  “Stupid fish.”

  I opened one eye to see Daniel standing over me. He was as good as Benjamin was at sneaking around.

  “What’s wrong?” I closed my eye again in hopes he would be on his way.

  “Are you going to sleep in the sand like a crab?”

  “It seems to work for the crab.” I shifted deeper into the sand, fully prepared to ignore Daniel and his permanent bad attitude.

  His laughter, however, had me opening my eyes again. The sound flowed over me like a gentle, rolling wave.

  “I want to hate you, fish. My uncle’s hired four other sailors about our age in the last two months. Worthless. All of them. Getting rid of them had been easy.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smirk.

  Edward Scarsdale. Had Daniel gotten him tossed off the Rose’s crew?

  “You, on the other hand…” he continued. “You said you weren’t an idiot and I’m starting to believe you.”

  I propped up on one elbow to look at him. Had that been a compliment? The other corner of Daniel’s mouth was now upturned so he sported a full smile. In the dimming embers of the fire, his teeth glowed white, brightening his whole face.

  “Come on, fi—” Daniel hesitated for a moment before stepping over me. “Come on, Charlie. There are two other men in my tent, but you’ll fit too.”

  He walked to a tent next to the largest one. I scrambled to my feet, straightening the pillow at my stomach and clutching my sack.

  Had I had made a friend?

  Did I want one?

  Chapter Six

  When morning came, I woke to a dull throbbing in my arms. Hefting buckets of water had exhausted more muscles than I had expected. My neck was sore as well from sleeping in an awkward position on the ground in my corner of the tent. A rock jabbed my side for most of the night. Such was the inconvenience of being a sailor. At least I had been spared waking up to a mouthful of sand.

  I sat up and found I was the only one still in the tent. Looking down to my chest, I fluffed the pillow hidden beneath my tunic and sweater. It had served me well yesterday and now faced another full day ahead. I smoothed my cropped hair. A low groan escaped from my lips. How long would it take my hair to grow back?

  “Charlie?” Daniel’s voice startled me, and I almost jumped out of my skin. His head peeked into the tent. “Skittish chap, aren’t you?”

  “When you keep sneaking up on me, yes, I’m skittish.” I looked around the empty tent. “Where is everyone?”

  “Working.” He stepped into the tent, two biscuits in his left hand and a small cask of water under his arm. “Breakfast. Be quick about it, though. Uncle Samuel will be along to see that everyone’s doing something productive. We’re on a tight schedule.”

  I spent a full, silent minute looking at Daniel. He had brought me breakfast and was trying to keep me from getting in trouble with the captain. Could changing his mood toward me have been as simple as making a few jokes?

  “You haven’t got all day, Charlie. Hurry up now.”

  Snapping out of my musings, I took the biscuits and water. After taking an unlady-like chomp out of one of the biscuits, I chased it down with a swig from the cask. It was as if I hadn’t eaten in days.

  “What will I be doing today?” I asked around a mouthful.

  “Did you tell my uncle you could repair sails?”

  “I did.” I took a long swallow of the water, wincing when my lip bumped into the rim of the cask. I ran my tongue over the split and felt the crusted scab.

  “We have some worn out sails. Hopefully you can accomplish something other crewmembers haven’t been able to and maintain my growing belief that you are not an idiot.”

  He was definitely friendlier today, but the scorn was there, lurking under the surface. I was still on trial as far as he was concerned. I didn’t like having to prove myself to him.

  “I told you I’m not an idiot.” I finished the last crumbs of biscuit and downed the rest of the water. “Watch closely, and if you don’t believe me by the end of the day, perhaps you’re the idiot.” I opened the tent flap and stepped outside. The flap rustled behind me.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Daniel grabbed my bicep. His hold was tight, but not painfully so. That crease was back between his eyebrows.

  “It means point me to the sails, and I’ll show you what I can do.” I locked my eyes on his in a silent challenge. My intent was to be the last one to look away, but his eyes were so blue, the exact color of the sky on this crisp morning. The intensity was overpowering. I broke the eye contact first and looked toward the water. The sea, as always, calmed me.

  Nudging me away from the water, Daniel poin
ted to the upper portion of the beach. Wide sheets of white canvas lay sprawled across the sand, and a few crewmembers were on their knees atop the sails.

  “I’ll be up to inspect your work later.” He gave my shoulder a light shove. I’d seen my brothers exchange similiar pushes.

  “Yes. Later. All right.” I was distracted by the task of repairing the sails, eager to work on them.

  Daniel nodded once and sauntered off to his own tasks. I jogged up the beach, confident I could move like a charging rhinoceros as most boys did. When I reached the outspread sails, a white-haired sailor with leathery skin and gnarled hands looked up at me. His eyes were scrunched against the brightness of the sun.

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m here to help mend the sails.”

  “Thank the heavens,” he cried. “These tired, old eyes can’t see a darned thing. I don’t even know what I’m repairing anymore. I’m all shot, boy. Shot.”

  “Let me have a go at it, sir.” I kneeled down next to the man, taking the needle and twine from his hands.

  “Help yourself, lad. You a new fish?”

  “Yes, sir.” I cringed at the unfavorable term.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Charlie Hamden.”

  “Well, hello, Charlie. George Fairwell.”

  “Nice to meet you.” We shook hands.

  As I felt around the canvas, George watched closely. My fingers ran across a weak spot in one of the mainsails. I threaded the twine through the needle and set to work. George busied himself on something else but stayed nearby. In about an hour’s time, I had a solid patch over the weak area of the sail. George came over to stand behind me.

  “Why, that patch looks like a seagull,” he said. Some of the other men in the area stopped their chores and came to observe as well.

  Mumbles rose from those that had gathered to see what I had sewn. I didn’t start out with the intention to make a seagull, but as soon as the needle and thread were in my hand, it was no different than working on Lady Elizabeth’s coverlet.

  Soon a small crowd of people stood behind us, all admiring my adeptness. I received several pats on the back and a couple of shoulder jabs.