Secrets of the Realm

by Bev Stout

  "And here I thought you were the quiet one," Captain Hawke said. "But instead, you are both amusing and daring."

  Annie beamed at the compliment. "Thank you, sir." She almost curtsied before remembering she was now Andrés de la Cruz.

  When the captain jabbed her sharply in the shoulder with his fingers, her grin vanished.

  "Let me give you some advice, boy. You are too daring for your own good, and the element of surprise will not always be in your favor." His left eyebrow shot up. "You must earn the respect of your fellow shipmates. Have I made myself clear?"

  "Yes, perfectly, sir." Annie swallowed hard, saliva and blood. "Does this mean I'm your new cabin boy?"

  He glared at her. "Aye, and you shall be the best cabin boy I have ever had or I will feed you to the sharks. Savvy?" He turned and stomped back to the ship.

  Still assessing the damage done to his breeches and silk stockings, Mr. Montgomery strolled up to Annie. He motioned her to follow Captain Hawke. Annie's pulse raced as she walked up the gangway to join the Realm's motley crew of outcasts and gentlemen.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It did not take Annie long to find Captain Hawke on the main deck. He glanced at her and then called to a young sailor. "Christopher, this is my new cabin boy. Take Andrés below and have Doc look him over."

  "Aye, Aye, Captain." Christopher, a two-year veteran of the Realm, turned to Annie. "Follow me," he said.

  Despite a pronounced limp, the sailor moved quickly. Annie followed close behind to the hatch. Not hampered by a dress or petticoat, she could not resist jumping down the last three steps of the ladder.

  Annie adjusted her eyes to the dimly lit passageway. "It's like a cave down here."

  "You'll get used to it."

  Christopher gave her a quick tour. He pointed out the fo'c'sle where the sailors slept, the mess deck where they ate, and Captain Hawke's cabin.

  Annie jumped when something black dashed by her. "What was that?"

  "He's one of the Realm's cats. Great ratter, that one is."

  Relieved, Annie wanted to learn more about the ship. "I thought only King George's Navy had surgeons."

  Christopher puffed out his chest. "Only the most profitable merchant ships can afford surgeons. But I doubt they pay Doc much. They don't have to."

  "Why not?"

  "He never leaves the ship." Christopher bent down and crooked his finger urging Annie to come closer. "After midnight, he walks the main deck from bow to stern and back again, but never when there's a full moon."

  Christopher watched Annie's eyes widen before he let out a hardy laugh. "I'm teasing. Doc seldom leaves his quarters except to play chess with the captain. Don't look so worried. He's a cranky one, but harmless."

  Christopher knocked on Doc's door. It opened to a man of short stocky build, whose silver hair, mustache and ashen complexion made him look older than his forty-three years. Thick eyebrows hovered over melancholy eyes. He stared at Annie through spectacles of thick glass.

  Doc studied Annie's swollen cheek and the droplets of blood dotting the front of her shirt. "Hop up on the examining table. I want to get a better look."

  Annie did as she was told, all the while biting her lower lip.

  "Open wide, boy."

  She dutifully obeyed.

  "No loose teeth. Your mouth is bleeding. That is easily fixed." After retrieving a bottle from his cabinet, he dabbed a small amount of dry powder to the inside of Annie's cheek.

  Doc took a closer look at her bruised face before looking over his shoulder at Christopher. "How did this happen?"

  "He was in a fight."

  "Do I have the winner or loser of that altercation?" Doc's eyes trained on Annie while he walked around the table.

  "Since he is the captain's new cabin boy, I guess you could say he won," Christopher said.

  "Not like the captain to pick one so young. This one actually looks like a cabin boy." He looked down at Annie. "Captain Hawke would rather they be able to fend for themselves. Are you able to do that, lad?"

  She shrugged. "I suppose."

  "Well, you better."

  Annie winced as Doc's finger traced the back of her shirt where blood oozed through the material.

  "Christopher, you are dismissed. And you, boy, take off that shirt."

  Listening to the door close, Annie didn't move.

  "Are you deaf, child? Take off your shirt." The longer Annie remained motionless, the harsher Doc's tone became. "I cannot help you if you won't let me treat your injuries, now, can I?"

  Annie watched the corners of his mouth strain into a smile. A new strategy had emerged.

  "Do you have a name, lad?"

  "Andrés, sir," Annie said while she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

  "That's a fine name—means brave. My son's name was Andrew."

  While Doc retrieved another bottle from the cabinet, Annie quickly unbuttoned her shirt. Once it was off, she pulled it around to her chest before drawing the shirt to her neck. She could not see the shock on Doc's face, but she heard it in his voice.

  "You have open wounds and scars running the length of your back. Who did this to you?"

  Annie's answer was brief. "Aunt Mary."

  "Why would she do such a thing?"

  When the question went unanswered, Doc did not press her further.

  "This is going to sting," he said while he rubbed an astringent into her wounds.

  Gritting her teeth, Annie did not make a sound.

  "You are tougher than you look. Now pull your shirt down, all the way. I need to wrap a dressing around your body."

  "I'd rather not," Annie said.

  "I'm not asking you to take it off, lad. I'm ordering you to take it off."

  Annie closed her eyes. As she held the shirt firmly to her breasts, she knew her days as a cabin boy were over before they even got started. Slowly, she slid the shirt down to her waist.

  Doc gasped when he saw the chest of a pubescent female and not that of a young boy. "Oh, my, Andrés isn't your real name, now is it?"

  She promptly covered herself. "It's Annie—Annie Moore, sir. I have no place to go. Please don't tell the captain."

  He did not reply, but instead gestured for her to remove the shirt again. No sooner had Doc finished wrapping the dressing around Annie's torso, the door opened.

  Captain Hawke sauntered into the cabin unannounced.

  Annie shot a look at Doc. He stared back and sighed. At least for the moment, she knew her secret was safe.

  "Are you going to live, boy?" Captain Hawke asked.

  "Yes, sir." With her back to him, Annie quickly threw on her shirt and buttoned it.

  "It's 'aye, Captain.' You are a sailor now and you bloody well better talk like one."

  "Yes—I mean aye, Captain."

  "Since you are going to live, how should we celebrate our good fortune?" Not waiting for an answer, he headed for the door. "Doc, send the boy to my cabin when you are done with him."

  As the door slammed shut, Doc and Annie stared at each other. Doc broke the silence. "Where are you from?"

  "Surrey County," Annie answered.

  "How did you get to London?"

  "I snuck a ride in the back of a wagon going to market. The farmer never heard me with all that squawking going on from those chickens, and I had no trouble squeezing in between their cages. I jumped out when he got to the outskirts of London."

  "That explains this." Doc plucked a small feather tangled in Annie's hair. "Won't your family miss you?"

  "My cousin Erik will, but no one else will."

  "There must be someone."

  Annie stared down into her lap. "There was Uncle William, but he…he's dead. And I would rather die myself than go back to live with Aunt Mary. She blames me for his death, says I'm cursed." Her voice trailed off.

  "Are you?"

  "Am I what?"

  "Cursed," Doc said.

  "Perhaps I am. My beloved uncle is dead and so are my parents and lit
tle sister, too. They died during the influenza outbreak in…"

  "In 1733, eight years ago," Doc said as he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. "That was a bad time, a very bad time.

  "I apologize for interrupting you. How did your uncle die?"

  "Four days ago, Uncle William was repairing Lord Spencer's stable roof when he fell off. He split his head wide open. Aunt Mary said if it weren't for me, it never would have happened. 'You're cursed', she said. Then she whipped me bad, but I didn't cry. I would never give her the satisfaction.

  "Erik said next time, she would kill me. He gave me some of his brother's clothes and then he cut my hair. He said it would be safer if I pretended to be a boy. Couldn't be an unescorted female in London, now could I."

  Doc's brow wrinkled. "Well, you can't very well be an unescorted female aboard this ship, either."

  Annie crossed her arms. "I'm not going back to Aunt Mary."

  "There must be someone, family or friends, who can take you in."

  Annie wanted to say Lord and Lady Spencer, but reality punched her in the stomach. She was maid and companion to their daughter, Abigail, nothing more, nothing less. "There's no one," she said.

  The floorboards creaked with each step Doc took. Annie caught two words mumbled under his breath: girl and trouble. He stopped, frowned. Deep in concentration, he paced some more. Again, he stopped. This time he scowled at Annie. "There's one thing for certain, you won't be sleeping in the men's quarters if I have anything to say about it. That would be highly improper."

  "Where will I stay then?"

  "Here, of course."

  Doc watched Annie squirm on the table, her bladder about to burst. He pointed to a stained chamber pot in the corner of the room. "Feel free to use it. I won't look."

  "Uh, thank you, but I'll wait until you are out of the room."

  "I don't leave these quarters often."

  Annie blushed. "That's what Christopher told me."

  "But not to worry, it's time I spoke with the captain." Doc proceeded to the door.

  Annie slid off the examining table. "Kind sir, please don't tell him I'm a girl."

  Doc whirled around. "I am not particularly kind and you had best call me Doc like the rest of the crew does. Remember this, nothing gets past the captain. If he discovers you are a girl, he will have you off this ship faster than you can say, 'God save the King.'"

  He smiled. This time, Annie saw it wasn't forced.

  "But he won't find out, because I have a plan," he said.

  * * *

  While waiting for Doc's return, Annie explored his cramped quarters. There was no bed, only a stowed hammock lying next to the chamber pot, now christened with Annie's fresh urine. Books arranged alphabetically were held in place by a one-inch wide wooden slat running the length of a single shelf.

  "No Thomas Carew poems here," Annie said while she thumbed through a book entitled De Morbis Cutaneis: A Treatise on Diseases of the Skin.

  She put the book away and turned toward the medicine cabinet. Pulling open a drawer, Annie looked at its contents, scalpels and scissors. Another drawer contained saws. She picked up one and stared at its serrated edge. Annie realized it was used for hacking off human limbs and not those of trees. She quickly dropped it back into the drawer.

  Annie continued to look through the cabinet. The medicine bottles were in snug individual compartments. An object wrapped in velvet was wedged behind one of the bottles. Before she could remove it to get a better look, Annie saw the door swing open.

  "Find anything to your liking, Annie?" Doc said as he shuffled in.

  "No." She quickly closed the cabinet. "Please, Doc, you can't call me Annie. If I am to have any chance of staying on this ship, you must call me Andrés"

  Doc waved his arms in the air. "This is my home. I will call you whatever I wish to call you in my home. Is that understood?"

  "Yes." Annie changed the subject. "What did you and the captain talk about?"

  "You, of course, his cabin boy."

  Goose bumps peaked on her arms.

  "The captain is allowing you to sleep here only until your infection is gone."

  "You didn't tell me I had an infection."

  "You don't, but I told him you did. I said you would never make it to the colonies if I didn't treat it vigorously."

  "I'm impressed that you convinced him."

  "Oh, I didn't convince him. He is suspicious, but since I have never caused him any trouble, he said he would indulge me in this bit of folly. But you are not to have a hammock."

  "It won't be the first time I have slept on the floor," Annie said. "I don't care if I have a hammock or not."

  "You should care. The captain doesn't want you to have a hammock, because that would be considered permanent. In the meantime, you will sleep on blankets on the floor. You will slide around when we are in rough seas. Not much we can do about that."

  "As long as I can stay here, that is all I care about," Annie said.

  "And once you are healed, Captain Hawke expects you to sleep in the fo'c'sle with the rest of the sailors."

  Annie couldn't help but utter a nervous giggle.

  "That will never happen. Perhaps, you would like to be a surgeon's mate." Seeing the confused look on her face, he added, "My assistant."

  Remembering the saw in the drawer, Annie shivered. "Thank you for wanting me to be your assistant, but I was hired on as a cabin boy. What will my duties be?"

  "You will bring Captain Hawke his meals, mine, too, clean up after him, like a manservant."

  Annie scrunched up her face. "I don't have to dress the gent, do I?"

  "He would box your ears if you tried."

  Her cheeks cooled.

  "Many of your duties won't involve the captain, like helping the ship's cook."

  "So, I'm to be a servant and a cook? I thought my life as a sailor would be more exciting?"

  "You are not a sailor yet. Just be grateful you have a place to stay."

  She ignored his rebuke. "I saw men climbing the masts. Now that would be exciting. I always liked climbing trees."

  "I hope you were good at it, because the captain is sending you aloft this afternoon with Christopher. He says he doesn't want you hidden away in the bowels of the ship like me." Doc pulled out a flask from his desk drawer and unscrewed the top. "I told him maybe he should make you a gunner's mate and then you could simply blow yourself up, a less painful death than falling off a mast."

  Annie's mouth went dry.

  "The captain's not a patient man." The creases in Doc's brow deepened. "Mustn't keep him waiting. Off with you now."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  While Annie stood outside Captain Hawke's cabin, the soft rumblings of her stomach became insistent roars. She began to tremble. Whether it was from hunger or nervousness, she didn't know. Annie grasped the door handle for support. Her knuckles barely made a sound when she knocked on the door.

  No answer. She rapped harder.

  "Come in."

  The captain's voice didn't sound inviting, she thought. Annie opened the door. She took several halting steps into the cabin before her eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed on the Turkish rug.

  In her dreamlike state, she heard an unfamiliar name called. She heard it again, this time louder.

  "Andrés!"

  A sharp slap to her uninjured cheek followed. Her head flopped to one side. An even harder slap stung the same cheek. "Leave me alone," was what she wanted to say, but she could only moan.

  Annie heard retreating footsteps and then quicker ones returning. She remained motionless on the blue, red and yellow carpet until…

  Splash!

  Annie sat up with a start. Captain Hawke stood over her with a dripping tankard in his hand. At first, she did not recognize him without his tricorn hat. She licked the sweet port trickling down her lips before wiping her face on her sleeve.

  Captain Hawke's dark eyebrow jutted upward. "Thought I lost my cabin boy before
we even set sail."

  Annie struggled to focus her eyes.

  "You passed out," he said.

  With eyes half shut, Annie's nose twitched in the direction of the captain's half-eaten breakfast.

  "When was the last time you ate a full meal, boy?"

  Her head throbbing, Annie thought a moment. "I can't remember."

  He waved his arm toward the food. "Help yourself."

  Aware the captain was not helping her off the floor, Annie self-consciously crawled to his desk. She pulled herself into a musty-smelling armchair before reaching for the plate and stuffed her mouth with cold eggs, bangers and mash. She swirled her finger around the dish, wiping it clean of the potatoes. Annie then licked her finger up one side and down the other.

  With the food settling in her stomach, Annie looked at the dish and then at the captain. "Oh my, I didn't mean to eat it all."

  He laughed. "Keep eating like that, boy, and we'll fatten you up in no time."

  "Pardon my poor manners."

  He shrugged, leaving Annie to believe he didn't care one way or the other.

  While light streamed through the stern-side windows, Annie scanned the cabin. She took it all in. There was an unmade bed securely attached to the wall and floor, a hammock stowed next to it. For rough days out at sea, she assumed. Unlike the surgeon's quarters, the ceiling was high enough for the captain to stand at his full height.

  Her attention returned to the desk. Amid rolled charts and maps was an assortment of snuffboxes. One intricately carved box caught her eye. Annie reached for it, and then hesitated. "May I?" she asked.

  Captain Hawke dipped his chin.

  She picked up the box, turning it about in her hands. She opened and closed the lid. No tobacco. After examining the carved figures of two men holding swords, she said, "It is beautiful craftsmanship, Captain."

  Through looking at it, she put the box down on the edge of the mahogany desk and slipped off the chair.

  She rested her hand on the corner of the desk. Confident she would not faint again, Annie ventured across the floor. She looked at the sword and knives of various lengths and shapes, some jewel encrusted, displayed on the wall.