Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga

by Andrea Jones

“Well, it depends on the lady, now, doesn’t it? Some respect a man’s duty, some deliberately tempt a man away from it. Your mother, now, she tempts better than any, but she understands duty. She knows I’d never—” Abruptly, Smee turned to the box and began measuring the thread. Forcing his mind back to the lecture, he continued. “She knows she’s honor-bound to follow our captain, no matter what. Just like you two.”

  “Aye, and that little Miss is one to use the rules against a man! I’ve learned my lesson. My first loyalty is to the captain.”

  “Tell Mr. Smee what Jill said, Tom. Go on.”

  Smee pulled the twine through the needle and cut it. “What did she say, lad?”

  “She came to me when I was drudging for Cook in the galley, Mr. Smee. She gave me that look she gets when she’s mad.”

  Smee grinned. “Aye, I know the one!”

  “But she wasn’t mad. She grabbed my jaw and looked me over, and then she says ‘Don’t tell me what you did, Mr. Tootles. Tell me what you’re going to do.’ And I says ‘Ma’am, I’m sorry and ashamed.’ And then her eyes fired up and she smacked me hard on the face, and she says, ‘No son of mine has any business being ashamed. Get on with your punishment and then get on with your life,’ she says…because shame brings a man down, but learning from a mistake makes you strong. That’s what she said, and then she sent Nibs for my spare shirt, cleaned me up, and offered to send for the doctor.”

  “Which you declined.”

  “Aye, and she wouldn’t leave until I promised to come to you.”

  The bo’sun took a deep breath. “She’s a wise one, for all she’s so young. Listen to her, and hold your head up tomorrow when you see that girl again.”

  The rum was beginning its work on Tom. He blinked with one eye and leaned against the wall. “Aye. Once I’m stitched together again, I’ll get on with my duty, and not bother with her any more.” He took a last gulp and handed his cup to Nibs.

  Smee’s strong arm slipped behind Tom and hoisted him. He shifted the pillow and laid the young man down. “Take this and bite down, lad. It tastes bad, but it’ll save your tongue.” He stuck a strip of leather between Tom’s teeth. “But if you think your worries are over, I’ll be warning you now. If you ignore that girl, she’ll only find another way to make trouble. Mark my words, and be on your guard.”

  Nibs stared at Smee, questioning. “But that’s what she’s wanted all along. To be left alone.”

  “Has she now? Then why am I about to sew up your brother for helping her? Hold this lantern steady, and let’s get on with it. Take a firm grip of his wrists, now, and don’t look, if it makes you queasy.”

  “No, Sir, I’ll watch. It’s sort of a punishment for me, too. I should have taken better care of him.”

  “Tom made his own decision. And remember what the lady said, Mr. Nibs. No shame.”

  Smee took note of the way these young men were looking at him, and hid the smile. It was good to be a hero sometimes. And tonight, these lads needed one far more than did the ladies aboard.

  Tom mumbled incoherently around the leather strap.

  Bending over his face, Smee got to work. “That’s right, Mr. Tootles….Whatever it was you said.”

  Chapter 11

  Dangerous Truths

  Discussion of the incident involving Tom Tootles and the girl had all but died down. Once the worst was over, most of the men ribbed Tom, but he remembered Jill’s admonition and shrugged their ridicule away. The exceptions were Nibs, of course, who had lost his light-heartedness; Mr. Starkey, who badgered Tom to work harder than ever; and Mr. Cecco, who insisted wryly that when he had advised Tom to make his own luck, he hadn’t meant for him to produce it under Mr. Starkey’s scarry nose.

  Tom was stiff and sore and his favorite yellow shirt was torn beyond repair, but the welts had changed color and there was no question that under the jibes, his mates accepted him. He’d made a boy’s mistake, but he’d taken the consequences like a man.

  Miss was more watched, and more alone, than ever. She and her tea tray were seen early each day heading from the galley to the captain’s quarters, where she spent most of the mornings. Later she would run her errands, and then she kept to her cabin. It was noted, quietly, that she had taken to going barefoot, and her ink-stained fingers crocheted an attractive net for her hair that didn’t offend her father’s sense of propriety. When consulting the surgeon, the crewmen chose to talk to him in the spare cabin next to his quarters rather than run the risks inherent in close proximity to her. Consistent with his policy, the captain seemed to ignore her. Only the lady tried to talk to her at all, and she, too, was guarded. Everyone else steered clear of Miss. It was apparent that she was, indeed, bad luck.

  The sighting of the ship made a welcome diversion for everyone.

  § § §

  The knock sounded above the brass plate, and Capt. Jas. Hook was summoned from his quarters where he was taking supper with Red-Handed Jill. Now positioned by the port rail, he gave the word to sheer the Roger off course toward the vessel. It took some time and some reefing of sails to enter within proper range for the spyglass. In the light of the setting sun, Jill appeared in the captain’s doorway, her fingers wrapped around a cup of wine, and her hair flowing over scarlet taffeta, brushed by an early evening breeze that promised a warm night.

  One devoted sailor had been watching for her. He’d asked Yulunga to keep an eye on the surgeon. These three oddly-matched men were becoming friendly; they had just shared a meal in the galley below. Assured that the physician was occupied for the time being, the sailor slipped unnoticed past the deck hands, some in the rigging and some at the rail, all straining to look east, their backs to the sunset. He heard the deck buzz with murmurs of excitement as his bare feet climbed to the top step of the companionway.

  “Good evening, Mr. Cecco. Have you come to show me more of your magic tricks?” She was satisfied; she smiled. Rubies glowed at her throat.

  And golden chains glittered on his neck. “I will be most pleased to entertain whenever you wish, Madam. But I have come to ask if you have recovered your good health and spirits?”

  “I am quite well, thank you.”

  “Unlike your son’s well-being, yours is, no doubt, attributable to the good doctor’s care.” He smiled with his even teeth.

  Jill couldn’t tell. Was there a touch of sarcasm in his accent? “Mr. Smee took very good care of Tom, and we are both fortunate to enjoy the solicitude of the captain and our shipmates, and also healthy constitutions. In fact, I had planned to resume fencing tomorrow,” her gaze lifted toward the sea, “but it looks as if we may all be otherwise occupied.”

  Hook turned just then to assure himself of her whereabouts, and over the distance that separated them, they exchanged a smile. He registered the presence of his sailor, and then he faced the sea and raised the spyglass again.

  Following Jill’s attention, Mr. Cecco twisted to search out the unidentified vessel. Confronted by the ugly marks on the man’s back, Jill drew away, but she kept looking. The two ends of the leather strap that bound his hair dangled against his scars, too reminiscent of the whip. As he turned back to her, she shifted quickly to meet his eyes, but not quickly enough.

  Cecco said, “We will know soon whether she is a prize or a warship. I am ready for some action! But I see that you are still concerned with my condition.”

  She spoke lightly, but carefully. “It strikes me, Mr. Cecco, that you have now paid for your most famous act of bloodshed.”

  His easy smile became tempered, a little dangerous. “You refer to Gao, Madam?”

  “Yes.…The prison governor’s back, and letters of blood.”

  “The day I carved my name on him. My shipmates are not usually so courageous as to remind me of this incident. But then, you are an unusual shipmate.”

  “I can’t prevent the images from coming to me. It’s part of your story, just as my red hand is part of mine.”

  Now he nodded, his amiability restored.
“Yes, your red hand. The mark that proves you are one of us. May I?” His bracelets chimed as he extended his own hand to her, and when she tilted her head, he explained, “I mean to read your palm.”

  Smiling, she lifted her left hand, palm up.

  “No, the other hand, the stained one. Blood will not mask the truth.”

  She complied, slipping the goblet into her left hand. “What do you see? Please, not more boys to raise! Tom has given me quite enough to worry about.” It was best, she had decided, not to take Mr. Cecco too seriously.

  He scooped his hand under hers and barely touched it, applying just enough pressure to support it. “Ah! I see….No, Madam, no more boys. Only men from now on…and…yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, you will be adored always. But that has never been a mystery! Let me look closer.”

  “By all means, now that you’ve begun your magic again.”

  Disregarding her flippancy, Cecco allowed himself to hold her hand more firmly. Still standing on the top step, he placed one foot on the landing to steady himself, and rested his elbow on his knee. He bent over her hand, and, only half listening, she admired the smooth skin of his broad, tanned shoulders.

  “I read here that you have left behind your home. Two homes….The seas you have loved and sailed are dwindling away— as is the ocean you are now sailing.”

  “What?” He held her full attention now.

  “You will change course yet again. Your palm tells me so. I see other oceans.”

  With his finger he showed her, tracing the branches of three creases, and setting off a tingling in the flesh of her hand. Studying the familiar folds, Jill drew her eyebrows together. She knew enough of magic to believe in it. But did she believe this gypsy?

  Like all his people, Cecco was accustomed to doubters. He shrugged. “I would not twist fortune to mislead you. Such an act would bring twisted fortune upon myself. But fate always has its way. What I have foretold will come to pass.”

  Looking again toward the foreign ship on the horizon, Jill was reminded of the Julianne, and she wondered.…In her preoccupation, she forgot that Cecco still held her hand.

  He had not forgotten. His magic was working again. He placed his other hand flat on top of hers, and gently rubbed in a circular motion. On his third stroke, she became aware of him. Absently, she focused on his face, and, again, her intuition took over her conscious mind. “Giovanni…”

  His big fist grasped the tips of her fingers. His eyes lit up, gratified, but he held the smile in check. “You are too informal, Madam! You will please humor me with the proper form of address. I do not wish to provoke the chastening of our master, nor to incite the envy of my mates.”

  “Aye, Mr. Cecco. I’m sorry. As I say, I can’t stop the stories as they come to me. And your prediction has surprised me.” She looked down at her hand, and with a jingle of jewelry, he released her.

  “The future is always a surprise. Now you are prepared, and perhaps, more open to the possibilities? I hope, always, to make your voyage easier, and more enjoyable.”

  Realizing how tensely she held her body, she relaxed it.

  “But I came to inquire after your health; this I have done. And also I thank you, Lady, for your interest. The doctor has ministered to my back as you ordered, and today has determined I am satisfactorily recovered from my…foolishness.”

  “Flattering foolishness, Mr. Cecco, and I’m pleased to hear of the doctor’s opinion.”

  He nodded, and his voice became flamboyantly mocking. “Now, knowing my interesting story as you do, and of my ardent nature, you will expect me to say something outrageously complimentary to you, such as,” he gestured broadly, comically, and he bowed, “‘I would gladly suffer another whipping for the sake of such beauty!’” Still in a bow, he lifted his head and cocked it, smiling again. “But naturally, that would be a lie.”

  She laughed. “A beauty of a lie! Have you any others?”

  “Yes, certainly, if you wish for lies.” He placed his open hand on his chest. “There is nothing I would not do for you.”

  “As I suspected.”

  “You are the most desirable woman I have yet to experience.”

  “Very good. And?”

  “My words are only the beginning of my wanting.”

  “Oh! Oh, more, please.”

  “I will not rest until you have measured the depth of my devotion…”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “Until you have tasted the honey of my passion.”

  “I’ve never heard that one—”

  “I will love you forever.”

  “I have heard that—”

  “I would bind you to me…with golden chains.”

  “Ah— I…I’ve heard that, too—”

  “I will share with you all my treasure.”

  She exhaled quickly, in a sort of sigh.

  “You tear my heart, as you tore my body.”

  “…Mr. Cecco—”

  “I wish to steal you from my captain, but I cannot break my oath.”

  Jill’s smile vanished. She pulled back, regal, her eyes wide open and disbelieving. Cecco dropped his playful posture. He stared at her, unsmiling, his dusky eyes deadly.

  “Any other man who thinks to touch you, I will kill.”

  “Enough!”

  “After I carve your name on his back. Tell this to your doctor. He will have a hard time, I think, healing himself.” Giving her no chance to respond, he said, “Adio, Bellezza!” He kissed his fingertips and opened them. The next moment, he had stolen back among the deckhands, watching for the captain’s decision as eagerly as the rest.

  Jill’s pent-up breath escaped in a burst, her hand clenched the rail. Her eyes followed him.

  He couldn’t be lost in the crowd, the bloody-orange sunlight reflected in his earrings and his armbands. Pushing through the sea of stripes and bold-colored shirts, he stepped on a cannon and hauled himself up to straddle the rail, knees and heels clinging. His jovial mates made as if to shove him overboard, but he waved them off and kept his balance, his clean-shaven face smiling like a boy’s.

  But he wasn’t a boy. Jill’s eyes narrowed as she watched him. He knew exactly what he was doing. Considering his words and his appearance, she tried to think as reasonably as she would have done if he’d stopped after telling her fortune— before telling his feeling, cunningly, as if it were a jest. Unlike the surgeon he so mistrusted, Mr. Cecco didn’t keep secrets. Jill, the storyteller, intuited his history. The first name he hadn’t used in years, that even his captain didn’t know, had rolled effortlessly from her lips, and he had confessed a dangerous truth. He wore the scars of his punishment for all the world to see, and his very visible skin had soaked up the sun’s rays and tanned to olive brown. No, Mr. Cecco was a man. A man who never hid much of anything.

  There was something, though, that he covered. Some hidden treasure. And he wanted Jill to discover it. To want to discover it. Glancing again at the lines on her palm, she shivered in the sudden wind that snapped at the half furled canvas above her.

  She believed him.

  She was sure a change awaited her, and one more, dangerous truth. What had he said? Be open to the possibilities. One thing she knew; she was no coward.

  More pleased than angry now, Red-Handed Jill wrapped her prophetic palm around her wineglass, and lifted it to her lips. Always, she thirsted for adventure. She watched the ship on the horizon, as did all the other sailors, and when her captain next looked for her, she let him read her heart.

  She was satisfied; she was smiling. Golden chains on olive-brown skin glittered in the corner of her eye. Rubies burned at her throat.

  And other oceans burned in her palm.

  § § §

  A fearless woman is difficult to defend. Hook tore his gaze from his mistress and examined the ship in the spyglass.

  “She is a Dutch merchantman, Smee. Coming out of the west as we are, she’ll not have spotted us. Sink us back
into the sun. We will take her at dawn.”

  “Aye, Captain! Haul back west, Mr. Noodler! Mark her direction, and follow it.”

  “Aye, aye, Mr. Smee!” Grinning, Noodler worked his backward hands to turn the ship again, eyeing the compass.

  “Drop sails, lads!”

  The men in the rigging spread out to unfurl the canvas, and the spare hands on deck milled loosely in the vicinity of the captain, agitating with anticipation. Like the others, Mr. Cecco, still perched on the rail, craned his neck to inspect the far-off vessel. Hook stowed the glass.

  “We will carry out the plan as conceived, Mr. Smee. Has the carpenter completed the job?”

  “Aye, Sir. He’s turned out four stout pieces, made to order.”

  “Alert Mr. Starkey and inform the crew.” Under black waves of hair, Hook’s eyes looked sharply about the deck. “Only the crew. And when darkness falls, no lights tonight. As soon as we cannot be seen, close in.”

  “Shall you be going along tonight, Sir? Join in the fun?”

  “I think not, Mr. Smee. My attention is required elsewhere, and I shall be more pleasantly engaged. But alert me near midnight, when all is in readiness. I will come to the deck to give the order, and tomorrow, we’ll all enjoy the fun.”

  “Aye. Shall I have the guns readied, Sir?”

  “As usual, but it is my hope to take her without a shot. Raise the proper colors.”

  Smee chortled. “Ha! What’s the proper color for a piece of cake?”

  Hook’s trim whiskers spread with his smile. “Quite right, Mr. Smee. If piracy gets any easier than this, I shall have to consider retirement before I expire from ennui.”

  “Ah, Sir, you’re talking like the Frenchman. I suppose he’ll be invited to the party?”

  “Of course. How better to battle our boredom?”

  Jill’s crimson skirts swirled in the stiffening breeze, catching Smee’s attention again. He admired her as she stood on the top step, feet apart, one hand on the railing. His quick eye had glimpsed it right away— she was wearing the necklace.

  “Begging your pardon, Sir, but I can think of one better way. She’s waiting for you now, and I see a ruby smile.”