Of Sea and Song

by Chanda Hahn

  “A what?” he mumbled. The men thrust him aside as they barged into the establishment.

  Cries of distress were heard and lanterns were lit when the search began. Only one man remained outside, and he was busy holding the horses.

  “Now, hold on there!” the innkeeper cried out.

  Many of the patrons didn’t take kindly to being woken and having their rooms searched, and I used the distraction to slink back away into the night, being very careful to tuck and toss my other hair braids into various establishments. Another inn, a pleasure house, and a tavern. Just for fun, I tossed a braid down a latrine.

  I snickered when I imagined the men deciding who would go down there to search for me. My mother would be very proud of my resourcefulness. After I laid my fake trail, I slipped down to the pier and found a covered rowboat moored to the stone wall. Grateful for a place that was dry and out of the wind, I slid under the canvas and curled into a ball and tried to rest my eyes. The gentle bob of the rowboat on the water, and the knock of the wood as it swayed into the dock, eventually lulled me to sleep.

  But my sleep was restless and my dreams chaotic.

  I had never seen the ocean before, and in the light of day and from a distance, the gentle swell looked beautiful. A picture painted by a master’s hand, one to be admired from afar. The subtle waves were like a soothing mistress that beckoned to a lost lover. There was no end in sight. The blue horizon went on forever, and on the skyline, there wasn’t a speck of land. At that moment, sailing into that unknown seemed unfathomable.

  I stepped off the stone pier onto the wooden dock that led to the large three-mast ship, the Bella Donna, and my heartbeat thrummed in my ears. The dock moved with the sway of the water, and my mouth went dry in fear. I was wrong. The waves were not a gentle mistress but a tyrannical overlord, and I was the wayward servant about to be beaten down for my failure to bow to its power.

  My legs betrayed me, and I collapsed to my knees, my vision blurry, my chest compressing, and my lungs ready to explode. Frantically, I crawled off the dock to the safety of the stone pier and slowly regained my composure.

  The Bella Donna had already begun preparations for departure. I could see the sailors bringing the last of the provisions on board, and they were unfurling their masts. Once it pulled from the slip and sailed away, so would my escape plan. But the dock seemed too long and the ship so small. Surely it would be battered and tossed about at the first sign of a storm.

  “C’mon, Meri girl,” I muttered to myself. “Pull yourself together.”

  I adjusted the stocking cap, pulling it low over my brows, and made sure I tucked all my red hair away. With a quick pat on my vest, I made sure my disguise was still firmly in place.

  I tried to take another step onto the dock, but my nerves abandoned me, and I stood frozen for a second time. This time, it was regret that held me back. By stepping aboard, I might never set foot on this land again. I might never see my sisters or adoptive mother.

  “Hey, you. Boy!” a guttural cry came from behind me.

  “What?” I answered, turning with my head bowed. My eyes stayed on the black boots of the speaker.

  “Have you seen this girl?”

  He shoved a rough parchment under my nose. I stepped back to let my eyes adjust and took in the Wanted poster with my picture on it. I quickly glanced at the speaker, revealing the uniform of the town’s guard. At least it wasn’t one of the Brunes Guild.

  Keeping my head down, I shook my head.

  “Look again,” the guard demanded, his firm hand digging into my shoulder. I held back my cry of pain.

  “No, I haven’t,” I said.

  I turned, grabbed my sack, and tossed it over my shoulder. No sooner had I turned my back did the guard’s boot kick me in the back and sent me tumbling onto the dock.

  “That’s ‘no, sir’ to you. You lowlife scum!” he sneered and spat on the wood in front of me.

  It took every ounce of self-preservation to keep my head down in a subservient fashion. His boot to my rump was the final prompting I needed to get moving. I grabbed my sack and picked up my pace, half running toward the ship, not even slowing as I ran up the boarding plank.

  In my hurry to board, my foot caught on an excess rigging line. I tumbled forward, landed face-first on the deck, my jaw smacking the wood, and I groaned.

  “What in blazes are you doing here?” a gruff voice questioned. A hand gripped my shirt behind my neck, and I was lifted into the air. My feet dangled below me like a rag doll, my teeth rattling in my mouth like dice.

  “I think we have a stowaway, men!” The man swung me about, showing me off.

  A sea of dirty faces swam before me until I only saw the one who pulled me close and threatened me. “What say we tie him up and give him thirty lashes, eh? That will teach him to stow aboard the Bella Donna!”

  A roar of approval came from the gathered men. My stomach rolled and dropped, my hands clasping the front of my shirt and vest to keep it from riding up and exposing my chest bindings.

  “That, Fang, is the new cabin boy. And I suggest ye drop 'im before he runs away like the last one.” Howland came to my rescue. The older man had come from below deck, and in his arthritic hand was his chef’s knife.

  The deck flew toward me, as I was carelessly dropped without warning. I landed on my rump and had to hold back a gasp of pain. I stumbled to my feet, grabbed my sack, and sought shelter behind Howland.

  I looked up into Fang’s face and felt fear. His deep-set, shrewd eyes sized me up, and I could tell he found me wanting. Part of his earlobe was missing, and he caught me staring at the deformed ear. He sneered at me in disdain. “Then make sure the rat pulls his weight on board or we will find out if rats can swim.”

  “C’mon, boy.” Howland turned and nudged me toward the stairs below deck. “It’s best if we stay out of Fang’s sight.”

  I stood frozen on the step as I contemplated my actions. They had already raised anchor, the gangplank stowed, and we were moving away from the dock. I could still make it. If that was the reception from one man on the ship, Captain Pike surely would be worse. No wonder Caleb, the last cabin boy, ran away.

  I dropped my bag and made my way to the railing, my hand grasping the warm wood, and I adjusted my weight, preparing to jump overboard.

  Then I saw them.

  The Brunes Guild gathered on the dock. The leader, a formidable-looking foe in his dark robe, sat upon his horse, holding the green glowing stone as it pulsed brightly.

  “The ship. She’s on the ship!” he roared, pointing at our departing vessel.

  Others heard him, and they scrambled back down the dock to try to find another way to catch me. A small fishing vessel wouldn’t be fast enough, and I knew of the other ships in the harbor that none were ready to sail. If they could find another ship willing to take them, then they would only be a few hours behind me.

  But surely they’d give up… right?

  I stepped away from the railing and glanced upon the ship. Men climbed the masts and tightened the mainsails. Others were using pulleys to lower the rest of the barrels of fresh water below deck. Fang found another to be the target of his wrath, and I couldn’t help but wince when I heard the man yell. His deep voice was made for bellowing orders.

  “I wouldn’t blame ye if ye jump and swim for it,” Howland spoke softly. He had come up beside me and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Stars know I’ve thought about it a time or two. It’s yer last chance.”

  My breath shuddered as the men on the dock became as small as ants. The threat faded away with each gust of wind that blew into the Bella Donna’s sails. “There’s nothing for me here.”

  “She can be a dangerous mistress, the sea.”

  I gathered my courage and turned to face Howland. “Then teach me to become her master.”

  Chapter Six

  “Ye peel faster than the last lad.” Howland whistled when he saw my full bucket of skinned potatoes. My back was sore
from leaning over the peelings most of the morning, but I was grateful for the menial task to keep my mind and hands occupied. But the irony of peeling potatoes was not lost on me. Howland tossed me an apple, and I caught it with one hand.

  “Let’s see how ye fare with that,” he teased.

  I grinned, adjusted the paring knife in my hand, and quickly took the peel off the apple in one long curl. I held the peel in the air and chucked it into my waste bucket. Then I held out the freshly peeled apple to him.

  “Naw, that’s for ye, boy.”

  “Thanks.” I tried not to drool as I took a mouthful. The juices ran down my chin, and I used the back of my hand to wipe it away. The apple was heaven, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I had taken that bite. I made quick work of my snack, tossed the core in the bucket, and went to work on the carrots.

  Howland came and took the three-legged stool across from me. He grunted as he lowered his form onto the seat and stretched his short legs out in front. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a rag and then gave me a searching look. “I never did ask yer name. Have to write it down on the manifest. Can’t keep callin’ ye ‘boy.’”

  The carrot almost fell from my clumsy fingers. I hadn’t thought of the issue with my name. Meri was short for Merisol, but both were feminine in nature.

  “I uh…” I stammered and tried to think quickly. “Merrill.”

  “Merrill?” he asked. “Ye don’t sound too sure.”

  “No, it’s Merrill, but everyone used to call me Meri.”

  Howland snorted. “Aye, now I understand yer hesitance.”

  My cheeks burned, but the low light of the galley hid my discomfort.

  “I almost forgot. I informed the captain early this morn of your enlistment. He does not want to be bothered. Seems he drank too much last night and is still recoverin’.”

  Great. The captain is a drunkard. This did not bode well.

  “Does he always drink in excess?” I asked hesitantly.

  Howland’s forehead creased in thought. “No, not usually. Yesterday was different. Somethin’ happened that set him on edge. I dare not ask. But just stay away from him when he’s in these dark moods, and ye should be fine. In the meantime, I’ve been tasked with havin’ ye sign this.” He got up from his stool and pulled out an old leather-bound book. “Sign yer name, birthdate, and age. Contract be for a year and a day.”

  “What is the purpose of this?” I asked.

  “So, when the year is up, ye receive yer wages. And also, if our ship goes down, we know who to inform of yer death.”

  It was a solemn moment as I used the quill to sign Merrill Nihill, age twenty. A version of my name and my town. Hopefully, if something ever happened to me, my family could figure out the pseudonym.

  Howland kept me busy for most of the morning, and I was sweating bullets under my stocking cap. But it wasn’t until Howland took me on a tour of the Bella Donna and showed me to the berth that I realized how extremely foolish my venture was. I could never pass as a boy.

  The crew slept on the wide-open gun deck. Their hammocks hung from the ceiling between the cannons, everyone in the same room. Except for those of higher ranks, who may have shared bunks or had their own private quarters like the captain.

  “Where do I sleep?” I asked hesitantly, never having imagined the close and confined sleeping quarters.

  “Well, I suppose ye’d take Caleb’s hammock.” Howland pointed to the jumble of canvas that hung closest to the stairs. “He’s not going to need it. Unless ye’d rather be farther back by the infirmary. It can get quite drafty this close to the stairs. But you also need to be up at first light to help the captain.”

  “What?” I questioned, dumbfounded. “What do you mean help the captain?”

  “Are ye daft? Yer his cabin boy. Ye not only help me, but ye serve him meals and clean his room and, when needed, help him dress.”

  “What? He can’t get dressed on his own?”

  “That’s part of the job, Merrill. Ye wait hand-and-foot on the captain.”

  I shook my head and backed away. I was a fool. I should have thrown myself overboard and took my chances with the bounty hunters.

  “I need air,” I blurted quickly.

  “Go. Go. Get above deck. You’ll get yer sea legs soon.”

  I abandoned the tour and ran up the stairs onto the main deck and up to the quarterdeck. I didn’t stop until I reached the stern of the ship.

  There was only blue for as far as the eye could see. I was trapped aboard a floating prison, surrounded by men who would not take lightly to a female if discovered. Maybe I should have taken my chances and waited for a passenger ship to come into dock at Fairehaven. But who knew how long I would have been able to avoid the bounty hunters?

  Dread filled my soul, and tears stung my eyes as I dwelled on my circumstances. I killed a man and was wanted for murder. I would face my death at sea or on land. I couldn’t run from it.

  Movement in the water caught my eye, and I stared into aquamarine depths at the shadows that passed under the keel of the ship. Confused, I watched the shapes move farther back, and then one crested the water.

  I gasped.

  A silver creature with a horn jumped into the air before diving back into the sea, his massive tail hitting the water playfully. A second horned creature followed suit, and they jumped and dove, playing in the trails of the ship.

  “They’re a sign of good luck,” a voice spoke behind me. “Which means our voyage will be blessed.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the speaker and froze. One of the most graceful men I had ever seen sat on a crate, a short wooden flute in his lap. He was so quiet, I passed right by and didn’t even notice him. His long, jet-black hair was tied back at the nape of his neck. He was slim and looked to have been carved out of marble his features were so perfect. His eyes were the darkest green rimmed in gold. Dressed in all black, with an intricate necklace of shark teeth, and the handles of two short swords peeked over his shoulder.

  “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “You’re not. I’m Vasili.” He gave me a nod and then fixed his eyes back onto the flute in his lap.

  “I’m Mer—rill, the new cabin boy.” I drug out my name, as I was still getting used to saying it.

  Vasili scrutinized me. “You’re awful scrawny for a cabin boy. You sure you can handle the work?”

  “I can handle it,” I said assuredly.

  Vasili’s fingers froze on his flute. “Time will tell.” He placed it to his lips and blew softly. His eyes took on a faraway gaze as he stared at the ocean.

  The creatures in the water drew my gaze.

  “What are they called?” I asked breathlessly.

  He pulled the flute away from his lips. I could feel the magic in the air lessen, as if magic itself was listening to Vasili’s music.

  “Narwhals, the unicorns of the sea.”

  “Narwhals,” I repeated. “I’ve never seen one before. Well, I’ve never sailed before.”

  Vasili puckered his lips and hopped down off the crate to stand next to me. I could feel his nearness, and his arm brushed my shoulder. “Then you are in for quite an adventure.” His hand came down and patted the top of my head, knocking my hat askew.

  I grabbed my knit hat and ducked, backing away to put as much distance between us. “Don’t touch me!” I yelled.

  My outcry confused Vasili. His green-gold eyes blinked as his hand retreated. “I didn’t mean any harm. Believe me.”

  My breathing ragged from almost being caught, I raced down the steps to the main deck and headed below, searching for a dark corner where I could feel my hair and tuck any stray hairs back under. That was too close. I had only been here a few hours, and I almost blew my cover. I would just need to learn to keep my distance.

  “Boy!” Howland’s voice carried from the galley, and I took off running, unsure how long he had been searching for me.

  “Yes, Howland?” I came rushing into the room a
nd saw a silver tray and dome laid out on the table.

  “Take that to the captain.”

  “The c-captain?”

  Howland’s white brows furrowed. “Yes, Captain Pike. The captain of the Bella Donna, ye twit. He be in a foul mood and is asking for his breakfast.”

  “It’s afternoon,” I said in disbelief.

  “Don’t matter none. It be the captain’s orders.”

  “Right.” Rushing forward, I grabbed the tray, and it shook in my hands. Even though it was past noon, I kept the verbal retort to myself.

  Howland eyed the trembling tray. “Don’t ye dare spill his breakfast on him, or ye may find yerself cuffed on the head or worse, thrown overboard.”

  I briefly recalled that the last boy Caleb had been so terrified of the captain’s wrath that he ran away.

  I nodded in understanding and carefully turned to carry the tray past the first mate's bunk room and to the captain’s quarters. My hands were full, and I wasn’t sure what to do, so I kicked the door with my foot.

  “Come in,” a deep voice answered.

  I eyed the door handle, raised one leg, and batted at the handle, trying to open it with my foot while being careful not to spill the tray or lose my balance.

  The door swung inward, and I stood there like an idiot, balanced on one foot, my other hanging awkwardly in the air.

  “Most would have put the tray down to open the door,” the voice chastised from within the gloomy room, assumingly from the bed.

  Terrified I had already made a spectacle and been a nuisance, I entered the room and quickly searched for a place to deposit the tray. Keeping my head down, I attempted to not make eye contact with the owner of the voice.

  The captain’s quarters were at the back of the ship below the navigational room. The far wall was full of beautifully paneled windows that overlooked the sea. Red drapes hid most of them but one window. The room comprised a large four-poster bed secured to the floor and a long table that could seat six. The room had little clutter, for most of the personal items were stored away in ornate chests and trunks so as not to roll or fall onto the floor. Hooks along the wall held the captain’s long, black, hooded cloak and hat.