A sudden shock took over Jessop as he realized what his left hand felt and he pushed Patrick away. Patrick spun facing him. “I can explain,” he said.
“No. I don’t think you can,” Jessop said pacing back and forth looking around to make sure no one had spied what had happened. With no notice, he sheathed his sword, grabbed Patrick’s wrist and dragged him to the captain’s quarters.
“What’s this? Lessons did not go well?”
“Not at all,” Jessop said, hauling Patrick behind him and shutting the door.
“When were you going to tell me?” Jessop said angrily to the captain.
“Tell you what?”
“That your son is your daughter,” Jessop whispered loudly.
“Come again?” the captain said in confusion.
“HE is a SHE.”
“Ah. Yes. Well, I wasn’t planning on telling you unless it needed to be said.”
“You brought a woman on to a ship at sea with sixty men? Are you insane? How long did you think you could hide such a thing.”
“As long as I could. Seemed to be working just fine until now.”
Jessop flopped into a chair pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to stave off an oncoming headache unsuccessfully. After a moment of silence he leaned forward supporting himself with his elbows on his knees.
“This is going to end badly. You know that, right? If Fin catches on, he’ll kill you both. It was bad enough if Fin found Patrick to be your son, but this…this is beyond that. Way beyond that. You know how superstitious sailors are about women being aboard.”
The captain didn’t answer, just let Jessop vent until he finally said, “And how is it that you came to your conclusion.”
“I was trying to teach him, I mean her…evasive move to catch an opponent off their guard from behind, holding him over the shoulder and across the chest, when I found I had more in my hand than the chest of a young man.” Jessop blushed and refused to glance towards the female standing by a chair nearby.
“I see. I suppose I should have anticipated this, but it’s not a daily event for one man to be grabbing the chest of another, so I don’t think this is something to get too worried about.”
“Not worry? How can you even suggest it?”
“Because it has to be. There is no other solution. You need to go on as if everything is exactly as it was yesterday.”
“You want me to continue teaching her to fight?” Jessop said appalled at the thought.
“Yes. You must. If you don’t, it will look suspicious. You must act as if nothing has changed.”
“But it has.”
“Maybe, but no one else needs to know.”
“How can you guarantee that?”
“I can’t, but I can keep her from socializing much by limiting her appearances. She can keep to the here and her own quarters.”
“I’m standing right here. Why must you talk about me as if I’m not in the room?” she interjected.
“I’m sorry, darling, it’s just going to have to be this way from now on. You’ll have your daily lessons with Mr. Andrews, but the rest of the time you should be out of sight as much as possible.”
“You can’t be serious, Captain?” Jessop said.
“Dead serious. Now leave me, both of you. I’ve got coordinate calculations to go over.”
Jessop rose frustrated but offered the young lady to go before him.
“And none of that,” the captain said. “You’re going to have to put your gentlemanly ways aside and treat her like you would William. You don’t, and YOU will be the one exposing our secret, not her.”
With that, an angered Jessop practically ran her over trying to get out of the door bumping her shoulder as he passed.
This was going to be hard—very hard.
* * *
The next few weeks proved to be as exasperating as Jessop had guessed they would be. He did as the captain said and progressed with the lessons of Patrick…He realized he didn’t even know her real name. Needless to say, Jessop spoke as little as possible to anyone on the ship. Carrying a secret as big and dangerous as this around ate at him constantly, and he feared for the lives of the captain and his daughter—always.
As a hopeful distraction, he helped Olaf with his mead making.
While the honey, water, and the totem stick simmered in the large pot filling the room with heat and sweet aromatic scents, Olaf told him a story of something that happened a few days ago.
“Ja. I was working on the rigging way up on the top sail and I got the ropes all in a tangled mess.
“Stubby was below me working on his sail and laughing something terrible. I thought he was going to tumble out of his swing he was guffawing so much.
“When I finally started loosening one of the knots with the tip of my knife, it slipped and sliced my knuckle. I said, ‘oofta’ out loud and the laughing below me stopped. I looked down and Stubby says to me, ‘Did you just put a viking curse on me?’ You know how superstitious Stubby is.”
“Yes, I do. He’s one of the worst,” Jessop answered enjoying the story.
“No. I says to him. ‘Oofta’ is like you saying ‘blimey’ or ‘bloody hell’. I don’t know that he believed me, but I certainly got the last laugh that day.”
“I’ll bet.”
They transferred the heated mix to a large demijohn and Olaf put a hand blown airlock over the bung hole to keep any wild yeast from making its way into the mixture and ruining the batch.
“There we go. Now all we do is wait,” Olaf said patting the giant bulbous glass bottle with affection.
“How long did you say it takes?”
“A few weeks. You’ll know it’s done when the raisins float to the top.”
“Interesting. And that’s it, no more mixing or changing bottles?”
“That’s it. Though some do ferment the mixture in a harsch crock then transfer it over to a cask or a bottle. It’s all the way you were taught or what you have available. For what we’re fixin’ to do and considering where we are, this will be just fine.”
“Thank you, Olaf. This was great.”
“Nothing like making mjod to relax your mind. I’ve been meaning to ask, but you have seemed preoccupied of late.”
“I suppose I have. Have you ever had to carry around a volatile secret—keeping it from your friends and family?”
“Volatile? No. Damaging? Yes. And it was not a pleasant time for me.”
“No, I imagine not.”
“Is that why you’ve been reserved?”
“Yes. I figure the less I’m around others, the less likely I’ll be to say something damaging.”
“That’s a lot to ask of anyone.”
“It is, but there’s not a lot of choice in the matter.”
“Hmmm. That is a pickle. Everyone has a secret or two they don’t want shared, but something that could harm someone, that makes quite a fix.”
“Indeed.”
“The funny thing about secrets is that they almost always are revealed at some point.”
“That is my worry. That and there’s always someone digging around in hopes of finding what they can.”
“Oh, yes. Always. If there weren’t secrets, wouldn’t be a problem,” Olaf chuckled.
“I suppose not,” Jessop said with a smile.
“I’m guessing you have a ‘digger’ in your midst?”
“Yes. A very large and dangerous one at that.”
“You must be referring to Fin.”
“Yes,” Jessop didn’t like admitting.
“He doesn’t much like you, either.”
“No, he does not.”
“I knew a guy like Fin at home. Quiet, brooding, and always looking for something to give him an advantage over others.”
“How did you deal with him?”
“Thing about men like that, they often have a secret of their own. You don’t dig around in someone’s garden without getting your hands dirty.”
“That’s t
rue.”
“It’s just an observation.”
“Thanks, Olaf. You’ve been a great help.”
“Any time, Jesse. Anytime.”
Jessop kept a low profile and his inventions and words to himself. No need to antagonize Fin more than he had to. He kept to his duties, his lessons with Patrick or whatever her name was, and listened to Fin’s followers for any clues or news he could get.
Unfortunately his actions did not go unnoticed by Fin. One night when Jessop was on deck on his way to check on the mead’s progress, Fin came out of the shadows and shoved Jessop up against the railing.
“I found a little something that might be interesting you, Andrews or should I call you Aster?”
Jessop felt his stomach do a backflip. He swallowed hard, how could Fin know his true identity.
“What might ye bein’ up to?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fin.”
“Don’t ya? That strikes me odd. I found me a journal amongst the booty of items we scavenged from the Victory. Can ye guess whose that might be?”
“No,” Jessop answered his mind reeling and searching frantically for a name or an answer as to how this came to be.
“A Lt. Damian Crock. He has an entry about ye and yer very wealthy father—Maximillian is it?”
Jessop didn’t answer he tried to show no emotion whatsoever as Fin revealed his skeletons.
“Don’t know why you’d be keeping such secrets. I imagine the good lieutenant would have sent ye home to daddy for a fee. Or did he not have time to correct the mistake his pressgang had made?
“What I be wantin’ to know is why would ye be lying about yer name when ye came aboard the Revenge?”
“I don’t know, Fin. If you’re so smart, you tell me?”
“I’m thinkin’ daddy liked to beat ya with his riding crop, or maybe he liked to…”
But before he could say another word, Olaf who had just emerged from the middle deck and had overheard a bit of the conversation, gave Fin a monumental shove surprising him and throwing him off his balance.
“What…you. This ain’t concernin’ you, viking.”
“Jesse is my friend and that makes it my business,” Olaf said.
“That’s not even the lad’s name. It’s Cornelius of all things.”
“Doesn’t matter. His name could be Dritthode for all I care. You need to gi rom!”
“Or what?”
“I think we both know I’m bigger than you, I’m stronger than you and in a fight, I will beat you down. Now, se til helvete å pell deg vekk!”
“This is far from bein’ over, Aster. I’ll find out what yer up to one way or the other,” Fin said as he headed to the quarterdeck.
“Was this your dangerous secret revealed?” Olaf whispered.
“No…this…this is nothing. The dangerous secret isn’t mine, it’s just one I have to bear.”
“Well then. That’s a relief.”
“I’m not sure I would agree. Now that he knows my secret, he’ll dig further to see if there’s more.”
“Will he find something?”
“Not from me, but you know how it is with trouble—if you go looking for it, it usually finds you.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No, but thank you for what you did tonight. Fin was surely looking for a fight and as frustrated as I’ve been, he’d probably have found one.”
“Take care of yourself, Jesse, or should I call you Cornelius?”
“No. Jesse is fine. That’s what my mother called me—short for Jessop my middle name. Cornelius was my father’s idea and like most of his ideas, they’re not to my liking.”
“Goodnight, then Jesse. Sleep well.”
“You, too.”
* * *
A week passed after the incident with Fin. He did not go to the captain for he felt Fin’s eyes always upon him. He wouldn’t inform the captain of what had happened and his true identity until it was safe. They’d already been at sea for three weeks prior so it was just a matter of time before they would go to shore for supplies and that was when he’d make contact with the captain.
They made their way through the Davis Strait, Labrador Sea, then downward into the Gulf of St. Lawrence heading to Diamond Island, looking for lone British ships as they did. Once on land and a night of drinking and eating, Jessop snuck out of the inn and to the lighthouse making sure he was unseen.
He knocked lightly looking around him in the darkness of the night when Patrick opened the door and invited him in.
“I’m sorry to disturb you both, but I needed to talk to you and I didn’t think it was safe to do on the ship.”
“What is it?” the captain asked.
“It’s Fin. He’s found a journal from the Victory where the quartermaster Crock had noted my identity.”
“What do you mean your identity?”
“I mean I’m the son of a wealthy aristocrat—Maxmillian Aster.”
“And you kept your identity hidden, why?”
“No offense, sir, but we had been captured by pirates. I didn’t know what I might be getting into if you knew I was from a wealthy family.”
“Why didn’t you have the Victory return you to your family? I’m sure they would have given your lineage’s ties to the king.”
“I imagine they would have had we gone to port, but we were attacked by the Revenge before it could all be arranged.”
“What is your given name,” asked the captain’s daughter.
“I could ask you the same,” Jessop retorted.
The captain chuckled. “I guess you two really haven’t been properly introduced, now have you. May I present to you my daughter, Patience Hartly.”
“It’s a pleasure. My given name is Cornelius Jessop Aster. I’ve always hated the name Cornelius and took the opportunity of being away from my father to be recognized as Jesse instead.”
“Though I admit I’m surprised by your identity admission I don’t think it is something to be alarmed about.”
“That in itself is not the issue, the problem is that Fin is digging and he won’t be happy until he finds something that he can use against us. I told you Fin’s men have been suspicious about where it is you go when we’re here…If I can easily find that out, don’t you think it’s plausible they might do the same?”
Jessop turned to Patience and said, “And you, you cannot be wearing such garb in the presence of the captain.”
“What? I haven’t been clean and in a dress in weeks, I…”
Her complaints resonated in his head. Seeing her washed, her hair up hanging spirals down to her neck. “You…It’s you, isn’t it. All this time I knew I had met you somewhere. You’re egg woman. You’re Miss Patti.”
His head ached. How could he have not noticed it before? He couldn’t think—heck he couldn’t breathe. He backed away from her as if just being around her was lethal. He tripped over a stool fell backwards hitting his head on a nearby table making stars appear before his eyes before everything washed to a gray-black.
* * *
Jessop felt something snug around his head. His eyes opened and blinked several times. He didn’t know where he was. Nothing looked familiar until a face appeared before him—her face.
“It’s okay. You’ve hit your head pretty hard on the table,” she said to him.
If he could have moved away from her, he would have, but his back was firm against a bed and his head hurt too much to move much.
“Here, drink this,” she offered strange smelling tea.
“What is it?”
“Just drink it. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” he said with alarm.
“Yes. It’s not my fault you’re uncoordinated. I didn’t push you over the stool.”
“Patience. Give the man a moment. He’s only just awoken after a good fall.”
“Fine,” she said in a huff setting the tea cup down hard on the side table.
“How are you feeling
, Jesse?” the captain asked.
“A little foggy, sir.”
“I can imagine. I want to thank you for coming here last night to warn us of Fin and his meddling. You’re right, we need to be more cautious about our dealings with him—especially you, Patience.”
“Me? What did I do, Daddy?”
“Jesse has been kind enough to keep our secret, which I’m sure has been no easy task. Fin’s turned his eye to Jesse for the moment, but he’ll be back to us soon enough. I know this has been hard on you, Patience, but it’s going to get a whole lot worse when he starts sniffing around us. No more midnight showers. I suggest too, that you start binding your chest.”
“But no one can see anything with these big blousy shirts.”
“Maybe not, but what if you bump into someone. Something as innocent as bumping you with an elbow could reveal your femininity. Best be safe.”
“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled.
“You think I like seeing my beautiful daughter dressed like a ragamuffin sailor? No. It kills me, but dressed like a man and close to me where I can protect you if need be.”
Jessop was fading in and out during the conversation, but he got the gist of it. He was still trying to make his brain figure out how he had not recognized Patrick all this time to be Patti, but it was no use, it wasn’t working well and he was starting to get a little nauseated thinking at all.
He drank the tea Patti made for him and after twenty minutes or more, he was actually able to sit up and focus on objects around the room. Patti was dressed in her Patrick clothing, though she seemed to be pouting about it.
Patti was able to get food down Jessop and later they went outside for a walk for fresh air and to get Jessop up and about. He kept his distance from Patti. It was obvious she noted it.
They came to a bluff where a large downed tree laid and he asked if they could sit. He was having problems breathing, something that he’d always had trouble with this time of year. He coughed with every other breath or so, making his head pound in pain.
Patti said, “Look at us…we’re sitting next to one another and you haven’t hurt yourself or me?”
Hades's Revenge Page 12