Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1)

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Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1) Page 9

by Starla Huchton


  Rachel stood up from her chair. “I’m simply ready to be away from here. The longer we stay, the greater the chances we’ll be detained.” She didn’t need to clarify by whom they might be detained. “I’m going for a bit of air.”

  “Do not call it anything but what it is.” The first mate did not look up from her book. “You’re going to watch for them and nothing more. This is pointless as it won’t speed their arrival.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes, refusing to acknowledge that Iris was correct about her motivations. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t do well with delay. It was difficult to not feel on edge while sitting on a boatload of illegal cargo going to a destination that was currently under a blockade. To top it off, they were taking on not one, but four additional passengers she wasn’t familiar with, and two of them were keeping her from leaving.

  She leaned on the railing at the bow of the ship and closed her eyes, imagining them already away. A light breeze lifted her hair, and she looked out down the pier.

  A knot of dread tied itself in the pit of her stomach. Coming down the dock carrying a small wooden crate was a man she most definitely recognized. She rubbed her eyes, convinced she was only seeing things, yet there he was again, even closer and clearer now. As she stared, dumbfounded at the coincidence, a young man appeared next to him, talking excitedly as he hefted their baggage. Surely fortune was not such a fickle mistress that these were her mystery passengers?

  She backed away from the side and plastered herself against the forward mast, too stunned to fully grasp the implications of this turn of events. She never considered for a moment that the man she shared such an intimate encounter with would be someone she would have to face every day on their voyage to Singapore. The more she thought back to their conversation, however, the more plausible this seemed, and she wondered how she could have missed the many similarities between the Silas she knew, and the man Danton and Iris agreed to give passage to. Her head spun as she tried to think of any way at all to keep this from happening, but fate decided and thought of anything she might come up with to thwart it.

  “Ah, Miss Singh!” His familiar voice sounded behind her. Time sped up without her, and he was already aboard. “A pleasure to see you again! I do hope we aren’t too late?”

  She couldn’t turn herself to look.

  “Mr. Jensen, I’m glad you could make it. The captain was worried that perhaps you wouldn’t be joining us after all.” Iris’s pleasant voice greeted the passengers.

  “If only,” muttered Rachel.

  “Of course not! Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I dare say young Eddie here would’ve had my head if we’d missed the underway.” He chuckled. “So where is Captain Sterling? I’m quite interested in meeting him.”

  Rachel groaned to herself. This was not going to go well. She steeled herself and prepared for a very rough few weeks.

  “It seems you already have.” She rounded the side of the mast, keeping her face unreadable. “Although I hadn’t thought we’d meet again so soon.” She forced herself not to choke on the words.

  At the sight of her, Silas nearly dropped the wooden box. “R-Rachel?” Was all he managed to sputter out.

  Iris looked nearly as shocked as Silas. “You’ve already met?” She looked from one to the other, a look of understanding slowly creeping over her face. Rachel repressed the urge to strangle her first mate as she could see the fits of laughter Iris would undoubtedly subject her to later. Rachel shot her a deadly look, and the smile faded from her face, leaving only the pink in her cheeks and the amused sparkle in her eye. “Well, this is a happy coincidence then. Introductions aren’t necessary.”

  “You’re the captain?” the boy blurted out. “But you’re—”

  “Someone you’d do well not to insult,” she interrupted him coolly. “And you are?”

  He saluted her, which only earned him a raised eyebrow. “Edison Maclaren, ma’am. At your service.”

  Rachel crossed her arms and studied him. “So you say, but we shall see.” She turned to Iris, still refusing to meet Silas’ confused gaze. “Best have them shown to their room. We’ll be off immediately.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Iris spun on her heel and started off, still abundantly amused at this turn of events. “Come on then. This way.”

  Eddie bounded after Iris, Silas hesitating a moment before following behind. When they were below deck, Rachel turned and knocked her head against the mast. This would be a very rough few weeks, indeed.

  “How do you know Captain Sterling, Mr. Jensen?” Eddie asked as he trotted backwards behind the crewman showing them to their room. Ms. Singh had gone back topside to assist the captain in pulling the ship out from the dock as soon as she found a spare man to show them the rest of the way.

  Silas was unsure how to answer this question, so he did it as vaguely as he could. “I wouldn’t say I really know her all that well.” That was not a lie. “I met her the night before last at my lodgings while you stayed aboard the ship.”

  “Bit odd for a captain to be a woman, isn’t it?”

  “If she’s as competent as I hear tell, I think it makes no difference. Nor should it to you.” His gaze stayed fixed to the back of the man escorting them.

  They came to another stairwell and Eddie was forced to turn around or risk plunging backwards and headlong down the metal steps.

  “I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” he continued once they had reached the bottom. “Just meant that it was out of the ordinary. Say, if you met her already, how come you didn’t know she was the captain of this ship?”

  “Because she didn’t tell me, obviously.”

  “If I was the captain of a ship like this, I’d tell everybody!”

  Silas chuckled. “Some people don’t need the entire world to know what they do or where they do it.”

  “I suppose not, but I thought Captain Sterling was famous?”

  “No, infamous. There’s a difference.”

  “So how come no one knows she’s a she?”

  Silas sighed impatiently. “Perhaps it’s because no one thinks to ask. I don’t know, Eddie. Really, how do so many questions fit inside that head of yours?”

  Eddie shot him a cross look. “Did you fight with her or something?”

  “What?”

  “With Captain Sterling. Did you spill your ale on her or insult her mother?”

  “Why on Earth would you think so?”

  He shrugged. “It seemed like she didn’t like you much, is all.”

  “No. Now watch where you’re going,” Silas said. The man they followed led them down a final passageway and stopped in front of a metal door that looked much like all the others they passed. “S-15” was engraved on a brass plaque on the front, the only indicator that it was any different than any other room on board. The crewman unlocked the door and opened it while Silas hauled his crate inside and set it between the cots. Without so much as a word, the man tossed him a key, turned, and went back to whatever task he’d been pulled from.

  Silas and Eddie took in their little piece of the Antigone’s Wrath. They’d be calling these four walls home for the duration, but it wasn’t much to look at. They were surrounded by steel and wood on all sides, with the exception of a small rug in the middle of the room that was so faded you could no longer tell if it had ever had a pattern. There were two cots that looked more comfortable than their beds on the last ship, so that was an improvement, at any rate. A single porthole showed them they were right above the dock’s level.

  A horn sounded three times and the ship lurched beneath them, catching them off guard.

  “Oh no!” Eddie cried as he found his footing. “I’m missing all the action!” Before Silas could stop him, he bolted out the door and was on his way back to the upper deck. He could only hope he wouldn’t get in the way and get tossed overboard. Not wanting to add to the problem, Silas flopped down on one of the cots and did his best to relax and think of how to stay out of Rachel’s way over the course of
the journey.

  Chapter Ten

  The Situation

  Rachel tried to pretend nothing happened when Iris entered the pilothouse. She set about departing immediately, not allowing the Iris time for a snide comment about her familiarity with Mr. Jensen. All preparations were made before the passengers arrived, so they pulled away as soon as the first mate took her place at the controls.

  The underway went smoothly, despite young Edison’s appearance after they began moving. The lad was anxious to help and to learn about the ship, but when she’d rather leave and not worry about inexperienced hands, it was more irritating than it was helpful. She’d have a crewman teach him a few things when all was settled down, but for the moment she wanted him out of the way.

  “Shall we prepare to go airborne?” Iris asked, tweaking a pressure valve to allow for the current.

  Rachel considered, and then shook her head. “No, I think not. We’ll keep to the sea for now, and maybe cut over land at Cameroon. I’d prefer to avoid attention until it can’t be helped any longer. As I’m not sure where the blockade forces are set up, we’ll most likely stop in Baraawe and gather information there. It would be considerably easier to do that in Muqdisho, but as we’re going for stealth, Baraawe is a safer bet. And if we can’t find what we need there, I’ll send you or Danton north.”

  “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything,” Iris said innocently.

  “Do not test my mood, Iris. I haven’t the patience for it today.”

  A muffled chuckle was barely audible before the “Aye, Captain,” that followed.

  There was no more discussion until they were well clear of La Rochelle. Rachel plopped back into her chair and tried to release the tension of the past two days. She hated this constant edginess. Even her past brushes with the law didn’t leave her feeling so hunted. There was a deeper pursuit for her now, one she couldn’t track or predict. Any eyes could be enemy eyes and not only ones behind the guise of a uniform.

  “So how do you intend to…” Iris coughed to squelch a laugh. “Handle his presence on board?”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “I do not intend to handle it at all, Iris. I will avoid as much contact with him as I can and treat what little time remains with cool professionalism.”

  “And if he broaches the subject?”

  Rachel spun in her chair to face the first mate. “If he attempts to engage me with a discussion on our previous dealings I will warn him once. If he doesn’t comply I will toss him overboard myself.”

  “You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger and spoke through gritted teeth. “Bother me about it much more, and I might make an example of you.”

  Iris said nothing, but wore a smug smile. The captain stood.

  “I have charts to mark up,” Rachel said.

  “You’re not going down to dinner?”

  “Not hungry.” She reached for the door. “Maybe later I’ll have Danton send something up.”

  Without another word, she was off down the stairs, out onto the deck, and down the passage to her quarters.

  The next twenty-four hours were blessedly uneventful, and Rachel took the opportunity to not only get all the charting done for the journey to Baraawe, but to begin her sketches for ship upgrades. Despite her best efforts to ignore Silas’s presence on board, she could barely resist the urge to ask for his assistance in drawing up the plans. These details weren’t her strong suit. Small ideas she tackled easily, but the mechanics and calculations required for this sort of engine work were far beyond her capabilities.

  It was near dinnertime on their second day of travel and she was perched on the railing, one leg dangling over the side, the other firmly planted on the deck. Rachel was trying to think through the pipe schematics of the ballast tanks, determining where they would intertwine with the new exhaust output. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but she’d spent countless hours staring at blueprints and needed a change of scenery. A fresh blast of sea air chilled her slightly and cleared her mind, and she started over, mentally tracing the pipes.

  The sound of a throat clearing made her jump. She thought she was alone, with most of the crew being on watch or at the evening meal. As she spun around, she instantly regretted her hasty movements. She lost her balance and began to fall when two strong hands reached out and steadied her.

  “You know, that isn’t a very safe place to sit.” Silas grinned at her startled expression.

  Mortified and angry, she pushed him away, only to lose her balance a second time. He grabbed her again, chuckling. “Maybe try a thank you instead of brute force against someone helping you and you might have better luck.”

  She clutched at the rail and stood. “I’m fine now, thank you. Why aren’t you at dinner?”

  Instead of answering her, he began a grand solo performance: a dramatic dialogue between himself and himself. “Why Silas, it is indeed a surprise to see you again,” he said in a feigned feminine voice, then spun to the side, facing oppositely. “And you as well, dear lady. Had I known your occupation at the time, I would have had quite a bit more to ask you the other evening.” He turned again. “I prefer to maintain a low profile when going ashore, good sir.” Another spin. “Ah, where are my manners? I completely forgot to thank you for the fine shirt you left for me.” The feminine voice returned. “No thanks are necessary. I could not leave you with garments in such a ruined state.”

  He continued this imaginary banter for a few moments more as she tried to decipher what was happening. When she realized he was having a bit of fun with her, her face grew hot with a new wave of anger. “Mister Jensen, are you quite through?”

  He stopped in the middle of another of the faux-female comments. “I suppose I could be if you like, but I was rather enjoying the joke myself.”

  Rachel didn’t see the humor in the situation, and she stepped to him, so closely that her nose was nearly touching his. “I will tell you this only once, Mr. Jensen. I’ve worked very hard to earn the respect of everyone aboard this ship, and I will not have it undone by you. Don’t address me so casually in the future. We are not friends, companions, or anything of the sort. You are here on a business agreement, and nothing more. Are. We. Clear?”

  The punctuation of her final words left no room for misinterpretation. The smile faded from his face and his wistful gray eyes met hers. She balked, the sudden memory of his lips on hers derailing her anger.

  “Unequivocally clear, Captain.” He broke eye contact and gave a light bow. “I understand our relationship very well.”

  “Good. Then the matter is settled.” She brushed past him on her way back to the sanctuary of her private quarters.

  “Am I to assume that you won’t be wanting my help with any improvements to your fine vessel then?” he called after her.

  She halted and turned to face him. “Mr. Jensen, when I have a need for you, I will tell you so.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “I do hope so, Captain Sterling. I look forward to proving just how skilled I am with my hands.”

  Her face burned crimson again at this innuendo and she stormed off in a huff, too flustered and furious to broach the subject of the blueprints she’d been studying.

  Silas watched as she flung open the door leading below deck and tromped down the stairs. Even in her fury, she was irresistible. In fact, it was that spirit of hers that attracted him in the first place. Regardless that she probably knew a hundred different ways to kill him, all he could think of was how wonderful it felt to see her again, even if she seemed to hate him now.

  Her scent lingered in the air, a light, woody fragrance, then dissipated as another breeze blew across the deck. Silas looked out over the horizon, watching the sun drifting into the sea. He wished he could conduct himself with the same control Rachel exhibited. She had extra incentive, he supposed, what with a crew of men watching her every move. Of the fact that they were watching, he was certain. The attitudes of me
n were not easily changed. At that, he felt a pang of empathy for the captain. It must be exhausting to spend every waking moment on guard, maintaining a posture of absolute invulnerability. The eyes of men were everywhere, following each sway of her hips and upward curve of her smile. Developing a reputation for unyielding ferocity would be the only way to command respect.

  He wondered if, had he known Rachel’s true identity, would he have gotten so involved with her? Possibly not, as he’d never have had the courage to speak with her to begin with, let alone…

  Silas sighed, doing his best to push away those memories. It would do him little good to dwell on things that would never again be. Not that it mattered much, as likely the Brotherhood would see him dead by the end of this adventure. Perhaps it was just as well this romance had played itself out.

  She dropped the cog-shaped key to her door three times before her hands steadied enough to set the inlaid gears into motion. This was exactly why she never, ever pursued lasting relationships with men. All this nonsense with Silas tried her patience. Her initial encounter with him was a nice experience, true, but that didn’t mean she wanted to haul him half way across the world for a repeat performance. The key dropped a fourth time as she removed it from the hidden lock, and she kicked the wall in frustration before bending to retrieve it.

  “So it is true.” Danton’s chiding was like the grinding of ungreased gears to her nerves. “It seems our Monsieur Jensen is more than you bargained for.”

  She whirled on him, eyes blazing. “I don’t need another voice telling me I told you so, Monsieur DuSalle. Things are mucked up enough, and I don’t need your condescension to add to my list of reasons to kick everyone off of this ship, retire, and live out my days as a hermit in Tahiti.”

  Danton immediately retreated. “My apologies, Madame le Capitaine. I did not realize things were going so badly for you.”

  “Is there something you need or did you come here only to further irritate me?” She placed her hands on her hips and tried to calm her voice, but the fire remained in her eyes.

 

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