by Arlem Hawks
Eliab grunted. After a moment, he said, “Let’s go find Josias. He should know his brilliant scheme backfired.”
Marah followed him out of the cabin, still breathing deeply to slow her racing pulse. Silently she implored the heavens that her assessment of the commander had been right, and he would not act in retribution. Hoping the captain would let her continue as bosun was as useless as wishing for a life of romance and bliss.
Chapter 4
Marah slid a two of spades from her hand and flipped it onto the deck. She’d dealt herself a terrible hand, and only had herself to blame.
Not unlike her current situation.
Josias smugly collected the trick. Normally she was the threat, but paired with Adam and holding an obviously stellar hand, Josias was sure to win.
“Are you even trying?” Eliab grumbled across the circle.
No, she wasn’t. She’d already made plenty of careless moves in this game. More than once someone had been forced to call her attention away from the stars above them and back to the cards. Isabel would have been disappointed. So many evenings they’d been forced to play quadrille at Mrs. Vernal’s card table, teaming up against the teacher so one of them won every game. Though the goal was always to make Mrs. Vernal lose, Marah kept a mental tally of her own wins. She’d pulled ahead of Isabel the night before receiving news of Papa’s death.
At least they hadn’t been forced to dance a quadrille all those nights. That was best left to Phoebe’s expertise.
“You seem distracted tonight,” Adam said as he pulled a card from his hand. He tapped it against his knee, waiting for her to play.
“The captain hasn’t said anything since yesterday.” She’d met wary silence whenever they passed each other. If only he’d tell her what he planned to do. That would be better than this anxious waiting. He didn’t have many options and most of them would prove bad for Marah. She played a card, biting back the tears that tried to surface. Mama’s farm in the countryside would have to wait even longer.
“Perhaps he’s decided to allow things to continue as they were,” Josias said, taking another trick.
“I doubt he would do that. I lied to him. And he wasn’t happy with me doing bosun’s work in the first place.”
Eliab shrugged. “It isn’t as if he could promote Cyrus.”
Their younger brother, who had been dozing outside of their circle, sat up. “I’ve been promoted?”
Josias snorted, and Eliab ruffled Cyrus’s cap.
“Marah knows this brig better than any of us,” Adam said. “He’d have to be an imbecile to take the position away.”
“Don’t talk that way.” Marah kept her eyes on the cards before them. “He’s our commander, regardless of what we think of him.” And while it should have been easy for her to hate Captain Boyd for uncovering their secret, threatening her livelihood and all her plans, she couldn’t be angry at him. Another captain would have shouted at her, cursed at her, called her filthy names, and made her feel as worthless as a barnacle on the hull. He didn’t. She saw hurt, frustration, and confusion in his eyes, but no anger.
“With a little persuasion, I’m sure we can find a satisfactory outcome.” A sly grin stole across Josias’s face.
“Persuasion?”
“He means flirtation,” Eliab said disapprovingly. He’d been wary of keeping Stephen’s death a secret from the start.
Give me strength. The last time one of her brothers had suggested she encourage a man, it had led to a proposal she couldn’t refuse. One she would always regret. But Eliab had suggested encouraging Stephen. Now Josias was taking his turn. “I will not flirt with Captain Boyd. That is hardly honest.”
“Isn’t that what they teach you in those girls schools?” Josias asked. “To flirt to get your way?”
“Rather the opposite.” At least with Mrs. Vernal in charge. Marah gathered the cards, even though she hadn’t won the trick.
“It wouldn’t be a bad thing to seek a friendship,” Adam said. “Surely he would give you the wages you’d earned at the end of this. I doubt he’d allow you to stay on, but you’d be better off than if he reported you to the Admiralty and refused payment.”
Josias leaned back, chuckling. “Friendship. Flirtation. Is there really much difference in this situation?”
Yes, there definitely was. Her husband hadn’t been in his grave a year. She’d been unable to give him the love he deserved, but she wouldn’t dishonor him by acting the part of a silly temptress. “I suppose I could try to befriend him.”
“What do you think, Eliab?” Josias asked.
Eliab took the gathered cards from Marah. “I think friendship often turns to more.” He did not add “should you let it.” He didn’t have to.
This friendship wouldn’t lead to anything. Captain Boyd came from a world of parties and feasts, much like her friends from school. His neat appearance and well-made clothing suggested nothing less. He wouldn’t find anything of value in a lower-class widow who’d kept the truth from him. She was safe on that count. “I will try to befriend, if only to better explain my situation.”
Josias put an arm around her and hugged her to him. “We will make it work. Don’t give up.”
Footsteps on the deck and the shadow of a well-fitted jacket announced a visitor. They all scrambled to their feet at Captain Boyd’s arrival.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the captain said. There was a hesitancy in his voice, as though he wished to say more but could not find the words. Finally he continued on.
Marah risked a glance at the captain and met his eyes as he passed. She softened her frown, giving him the barest of smiles. He paused, glanced around the group, then hurried on toward the quarterdeck.
Perhaps forming a friendship would not be so terrible, so long as she kept a tight rein on her heart. His love was definitely not one she could afford.
Collin lay back in his cot and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He’d known being commander of any ship, even a brig so small as the Teaspoon, would be exhausting, but he hadn’t anticipated its extent. Most captains did not have to handle the revelation that their bosun was dead and his wife was manning the ship—fixing the rigging, overseeing repairs, ordering the men about, relaying commands.
What an idiot he was. He should have insisted on an initial meeting with Kinsley. Then he would have discovered the problem before leaving port, not in the midst of cruising enemy waters. Collin let his hands drop to his sides. When his superiors caught wind of this debacle, they’d never promote him to post-captain. He’d be sentenced to career-long lieutenant-hood.
He rolled over, and the cot tapped lightly against the wall. The sea was smooth tonight, to the point he missed the normal cadence of waves against the hull. That must have been why he didn’t instantly fall asleep.
Things would work out. They always did. Society didn’t even want him to be in this position, and here he was, in command of a brig in His Majesty’s navy. Squared shoulders and a smile had pulled him through.
Mrs. Kinsley’s face, pale with worry, loomed before his mind’s eye. Society most definitely did not want her in this situation, either. Whereas the Admiralty did not mind how a person came to be, just that he could do his job well, they did care if someone in their ranks was a woman. There were rules about having women on board, though captains interpreted them how they would. But Collin didn’t think employing a woman for a man’s job would count as a valid interpretation in the Admiralty’s eyes.
A murmur of voices from the upper deck filtered through the planks above him. Riley, Emmerson, the Talbert brothers, and Mrs. Kinsley continued their nightly chatter. It reminded him of evenings on board the Andersen when he was a young midshipman in Captain King’s merry crew. That year had been a rare time of friendship, almost kinship, in his life. Part of him wished to return above and try to find a place in their circle. He hadn’t had a place to belong for so long. But they wouldn’t accept him now, not when he’d uncovered their secret
.
Mrs. Kinsley and Dr. Emmerson always seemed to keep rather close quarters during those gatherings. A week ago he thought he’d seen Emmerson’s arm around her but had brushed the thought aside. Collin groaned, pulling the pillow over his head. Of course he hadn’t been mistaken. She and Emmerson had worked so closely covering up her husband’s death. They must have developed feelings for each other.
He ground his teeth at the sinking feeling in his gut. It shouldn’t matter to him one way or the other. As commander of the Teaspoon, he didn’t have time for silly flirtations. And he hardly knew anything about her beyond her skill as a bosun, her stubbornness, and her ability to distract him at any given moment. He’d caught himself watching her deft movements throughout the boat on too many occasions.
He traced the curve of her parted lips in his mind. How right he’d been that first day on board—she’d already caused him a world of trouble. He couldn’t allow her to be in charge of the sails and rigging, directing the men and climbing aloft as though she’d been born to sail. Yet, how could he take away her livelihood by denying pay and reporting her to the Admiralty? What if she had family depending on her? Or worse, what if she was alone in the world? Just like he was. He would have to confront her about this, but the thought of facing her stubborn scowl—and worse, doling out judgment—turned his stomach.
The Teaspoon creaked out a long, melancholy note that drowned out the sound of friendly conversation from above. Collin let out a long breath, wishing for sleep. If only it would take away the decision before him.
Chapter 5
Marah paused before the door of the captain’s quarters, wringing her hands. The ship’s boy who summoned her hadn’t mentioned what the captain wanted, but it wasn’t difficult to guess. Isabel would insist she deserved the position as much as anyone on the ship, and that she deserved equal wages for the work she’d already done. Phoebe would be steady and composed. She needed to imitate her friends for this meeting with the commander.
With straightened back, she knocked on the door, then entered at his bidding. She went to close the door and hesitated. Mrs. Vernal would have been appalled at her for allowing such an intimate audience with a young man only a few years older than she. But he was a class above her own now. She shut the door with a click.
She raised her chin and, running Phoebe’s graceful curtsy through her mind, dipped into one of her own. Captain Boyd got to his feet and gave a short bow.
A bow? She couldn’t remember the last time a gentleman gave her a proper bow. A nod of the head was more common.
“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Kinsley. Won’t you sit down?” The commander motioned to a chair on the opposite side of his desk.
The cabin, which could be crossed in half a dozen strides, was bright with morning light that caught in his soft brown eyes.
“I would prefer to stand, sir.”
He blinked and glanced at his own chair. She was beneath him. He did not have to stand in her presence. But Captain Boyd clasped his hands behind his back and stepped away from the chair. “I have been deep in thought since discovering…” He let the words trail off and pulled his gaze from her.
Marah’s heart pounded. Stay firm like Isabel. Like Phoebe.
“I have decided to allow you to continue in your role as bosun until the end of our voyage.”
She opened her mouth, but the arguments died on her tongue. He…what?
“Cyrus is too inexperienced to take the position, and Talbert has too many other duties keeping this brig afloat.” The commander rocked forward and back ever so slightly as he spoke. She would have missed the action if she hadn’t been staring. “And I will see that the wages are awarded justly.”
Marah clutched the edges of her apron. He was letting her work.
“But I cannot in good conscience allow you to remain in your position without the Admiralty’s knowledge. I must report to my superiors what has happened so they may procure a new bosun.”
She didn’t let her shoulders sag as they wanted to. So she had this job until the end of the voyage, but not further. It was more than she’d hoped for, but the thought that she only had a few more weeks with the Teaspoon strangely saddened her. So much had happened on this little brig—awkward days as a new bride, comfortable companionship as they went about their tasks, long hours of Stephen’s patient teaching, terrifying and sleepless nights trying to fathom what she should do after his death. This vessel had been more than her home the last three—nearly four—years. It had shaped the rest of her life.
“Is that satisfactory?” he asked, voice uncertain.
Marah curtsied again in her best impression of Phoebe, fighting the urge to sigh. “You are very generous, sir.” For the briefest moment she had hoped he’d leave the brig at the end of their assignment and remain silent. Of course his sense of duty and honor would not allow him to let the deception go on. She would have to be grateful for the allowance she received and pray she could find work when they returned.
“I have one stipulation.” His rocking intensified, and he scratched at the back of his head, not meeting her gaze. “I must insist that there be no flirtations between yourself and any of the other sailors. Or officers. It is too much of a…a distraction.”
Marah pursed her lips. Flirtations! Her nostrils flared as her insides coiled. “Is that all you think women can do? Flirt with every trouser-clad brute who crosses their path?”
Captain Boyd threw up his hands. “No, no, of course I don’t!”
“I am a widow, sir. Of less than a year. And I take exception to your implications.”
Despite his well-tied cravat, she glimpsed his throat bob. “I meant no disrespect, Mrs. Kinsley.” He skirted the desk.
Her face burned, but whether from embarrassment or anger she couldn’t say. Perhaps she’d emulated Isabel a little too well. “But you meant no respect, either.”
His voice came out pinched and small. “I meant only that women can be a great distraction on ships.”
Marah retreated. “Is that the woman’s fault, especially if she is simply trying to do her work?” She raised her brow. “Or is it the fault of the men who allow themselves to be distracted?”
Captain Boyd blanched.
“Thank you for your kind gesture.” She spun on her heel. “I will try my best not to be a distraction. So long as it doesn’t interfere with my duties.”
She swept from the room and slammed the door behind her. Isabel would have cheered had she witnessed that interchange, but an inkling of fear carried Marah quickly up the ladder to the main deck in search of her brothers. This small victory might have caused more trouble with the way she’d scolded her commanding officer. But with what he’d suggested…
Marah pushed her hair out of her eyes as she paused near the hatchway. She had to cling to whatever hope crossed her path and pray her indignation hadn’t ruined everything.
Collin waited at the hatchway for Emmerson to come above. The rest of the warrant officers and Mrs. Kinsley sat in their usual evening place near the mainmast. He’d hidden in the shadows when she appeared. She must think him a cad after their conversation that morning, and he could hardly blame her. He shouldn’t have made the request about flirtations. She’d had every right to stand up to him as she did.
Her face through the conversation—it had brightened for the briefest of moments to the point he could hardly remember what he was to say next. But how quickly it had fallen at the mention of informing his superiors, and even more quickly flashed in resentment.
She’d been right. He was the only one thrown off course by her presence, by the sight of her running about, wind playing through her soft hair.
He pulled at the cuffs of his coat. Where was the surgeon? Collin was about to humiliate himself again, but he couldn’t let the question rest. If Emmerson had feelings for Mrs. Kinsley, Collin needed to know. Not that he had his own feelings for the woman. It was nothing more than a passing interest. He would ask simply to put an end to
the curiosity eating away his focus.
Emmerson finally appeared, the usual pleasantness spread across his features.
“Might I have a word, Doctor?”
Emmerson glanced behind him at the gathering of his friends. “Certainly.”
Of course he wouldn’t refuse, but it didn’t help the guilt that tugged at Collin’s consciousness for keeping the man from his friends. “I will be brief.” He hurried up to the quarterdeck with Emmerson following. If Mrs. Kinsley overheard, he couldn’t see her being pleased at his inquiry.
“How may I help, sir?” Emmerson asked, leaning against the bulwark. The old wood protested his weight.
Collin stood at attention, as though he were the inferior officer. “I fear I have a question on a delicate matter, but I will be blunt so as not to keep you.”
“I appreciate frankness.”
Collin sighed. He had to say it. He turned away and tried to make his voice as gruff and unassuming as possible. “Do you have an understanding with Mrs. Kinsley?”
Water lapping against the hull filled the silence between them. A low chuckle bubbled up from the doctor. Collin squirmed inside, and it was all he could do to keep his body from following suit.
“An understanding? Heavens, no.”
“I don’t find the humor in my question,” Collin said. “It is a valid concern, as I often see the two of you in private conversation and, in truth, situations one could consider compromising to her reputation.”
Emmerson clapped him on the shoulder in a manner more familiar than someone of lower rank should be with a commanding officer. “Never fear, Captain. Mrs. Kinsley is my half-sister. We share a mother.”
