After suffering the indignity of a kiss full on the mouth from the girl, Cat beat a hasty retreat back to the ship, where she spent the rest of the night and most of the morning in a curious series of dreams in which Sally, Blossom, and the captain moved in and out.
When Cat finally roused herself, sunshine was filling the cabin, and she jumped up in alarm at the lateness of the hour. Glancing furtively at the captain’s bed, she realized she had no cause for worry because he wasn’t there. In fact, it hadn't been slept in at all. So, why wasn’t she relieved?
Cat was up on deck when the captain finally returned to the ship. She instantly regretted the education she had received from Blossom, for she pictured Ransom and Sally doing everything the girl had described. And what had sounded exotic and exciting in the rum-filled darkness took on a decidedly different cast in the bright light of day.
In fact, Cat was not sure what Blossom had described and what she herself had dreamed up, for it all seemed strange and a bit embarrassing now. Some of her feelings must have shown on her face, for Ransom eyed her a bit too closely.
"Have a nice evening, Cat?"
"Yes, very fine, thank you, captain," she answered lightly, feigning interest in the topmast as she craned her eyes upward.
The captain chuckled and threw her a small bundle. "Here’s something to keep you busy for awhile," he said.
Looking up at him curiously, Cat nearly missed catching the object he tossed so casually. At his nod, she unwrapped the heavy cloth to reveal a small sheathed blade with an ornate silver handle. Warmth and wonder filled her, and she raised her gaze to his.
"For me?" she whispered, in awe.
"Yes, for you, scamp. Now you can quit pestering me to borrow mine." With a lazy grin, Ransom slapped her on the back, and Cat had to restrain herself from throwing her arms around him in exuberant thanks.
The two stood in companionable silence while Cat tried out her new weapon. But nagging questions prevented her from concentrating until finally she forced herself to draw a deep breath and ask them.
"Captain, why haven’t you ever married?"
Ransom’s short burst of laughter caused Cat to send her shiny new blade wide of its mark.
"Marriage," he said, with a snort. "Now there’s a fool’s deed. What on earth put that into your head, lad? One of those hussies didn’t try to rope you into anything, did she?"
Blushing, Cat shook her head. "I was just thinking on... women, and I wondered."
Ransom frowned. "You’d do best to steer of them, for most are spoiled, spiteful, and deceitful," he said, while Cat squirmed in her breeches. "As for marriage..." There was a long pause before he laughed mirthlessly. "It benefits no man, lad."
Then, as if to shake off the mood, Ransom shrugged. "Women on the whole are boring creatures," he said. "When you’re a little older I think you’ll view them with a more jaundiced eye. Look at Tom Clapper. He’s the fellow to talk to about marriage. I forget how many times he has wed." Ransom chuckled, as if amused by his dismissal of the entire gender.
Cat had often laughed at Tom’s stories. He’d had three wives so far and complained about all of them on a regular basis. When asked why he kept marrying, Tom declared the vixens tricked him, one and all.
But his shipmates maintained he collected wives the way some amassed seashells. Marriage was his hobby, and a right expensive one, too, they would add. Yet for all his grumbling, Tom seemed to hold a higher opinion of females than did his captain.
Cat frowned, but before she could form another question, Ransom was called away by Mr. Peabody. She watched him walk off, reluctantly admiring his movements even as she condemned his words. So women are boring, are they? Cat thought resentfully. If you only knew.
Shaking her head at his comments, Cat fought against her first sense of disappointment in the man she had so admired. Instead, she focused on the prize in her hand instead. Reverently, she ran her finger over the intricate design of the knife’s silver handle as if to commit each detail to memory.
No matter what nonsense he had spouted, this was something real - tangible proof of his fondness for her. Slipping it into her pocket, Cat swore to carry the captain’s gift with her always.
***
By cornering most of her shipmates at one time or another and pestering them to share their experience, Cat gradually acquired a host of new skills as the Reckless wended its way through the Leewards.
Catching the captain in a good mood one afternoon, she even picked up the sextant and asked about navigation, something few ordinary seamen could explain. Expecting a rebuff, she was surprised when he heaved a sigh and showed her a problem. But his annoyance turned to astonishment when he discovered the extent of her mathematical knowledge.
"I assume your grandfather, the esteemed sailor, taught you this?" Ransom asked.
"Who?" Cat asked, intent upon her work.
"I thought as much," Ransom answered dryly. And Cat never realized her blunder. She only knew that Ransom was sharing his knowledge and precious time with her.
Cat loved being with him. Although she had many friends aboard and especially cared for Bert, her companion of choice was the captain. She adored his biting sense of humor and sometimes choked on her food when he related a story about some hapless sailor on a past voyage or the behavior of a greedy merchant. He was handsome, interesting, and amusing, and he treated her with a reluctant affection that set her heart skipping.
A few days later, she was thrilled when he invited her to join him at supper.
"Come, lad, quit waiting on me and have a chat," Ransom said, and Cat needed no further urging.
"How are you faring?" he asked when his cabin boy was seated across from him.
"Fine, captain," Cat answered with a grin.
"No troubles with... let’s see, what were your pet names for them? Blubber Belly or Shark Bait?"
"No, sir. Blubber Belly, or rather the cook, is more bark than bite, and well, you know Mule. It’s best just to keep out of his way."
"Ah, yes," Ransom said. "I’m afraid that mariners in general are not known for their kind dispositions. Or their cooking skills," he added as he gnawed a hard biscuit.
"Oh, I think there are more than a few good fellows aboard," Cat said, with enthusiasm as she tackled her salt pork. "I wouldn’t know about other ships, though, especially the navy vessels and the whalers and the stinking slavers..." Gauging the extent of his good mood, she paused before blurting out a question.
"Have you ever met any pirates?"
Ransom smiled, shaking his head at her excitement. "Yes and no," he said. "I’ve never fought a pirate ship, but I have met men who crewed on them. Believe me, lad, they’re not the stuff of romantic legend. The pirates I’ve known are so filthy and mean they make Mule look like a model of decorum. They’re the kind who would snatch your purse in broad daylight, then slit your throat as an afterthought. And some privateers are little better than foul criminals hiding behind a letter of marque."
"No," Cat whispered.
Ransom laughed. "Yes. Even the Reckless was mistaken for a pirate ship once," he said, when Cat eyed him skeptically.
"We came upon a Spanish schooner, many-gunned, but big and slow. She put up no resistance, and when we boarded her we found out why." Ransom paused, and Cat could not help noticing how his lips curved when he spoke.
"The crew had mutinied, locked the officers below, and broken into some casks of rum in the hold," he said. "They were all drunk as only sailors can be, and, certain we were pirates, they clamored to join our crew. We were nearly forced to fight them off and lucky to get away without any extra men."
Cat laughed, as much for the pleasure of Ransom’s company as for the humor in his tale. Her heart swelled, and only great strength of will stopped her from propping her chin in her hand and mooning over him like a lovesick female. Drawing in a sharp breath, she straightened and turned her attention back to her food, recalling just in time who she was supposed to be.
/> ***
Despite Cat’s increasing variety of skills, she was ordered to stay in the captain’s cabin whenever a prize was taken, a command that did not sit well with her. If she were truly a member of the crew, as she was supposed to be, then she should be able to do her part. So when the Reckless suddenly scared up a French merchantman around a deserted reef, Cat seized her chance.
She was up on the mizzenmast, and she simply remained where she was, transfixed by the sights and sounds as the Reckless sent a warning shot booming over the other vessel’s bow. She reasoned it was already too late to climb down from the rigging, and as if to prove her point, the warning shot was answered with a volley of twelve-pounders, beginning the battle in earnest.
Cat clung to her position until a shot nearly topped the mast above her, the creaking timber and heavy sails pulling, in turn, on the mainmast. Without a moment's hesitation, she scrambled upward amid the perilously cumbersome canvas to cut the lines, freeing the mizzen royal and relieving the pressure on the mainmast.
Damage to the ship was minimal, for despite its efforts, the French vessel was no match for the many-gunned privateer, and soon Cat was racing down the rigging, flush with the thrill of her first real battle, while the Reckless’s crew began transferring cargo from the captured vessel.
"Good work, lad," Bert shouted, giving Cat a hearty slap on the back. She fairly beamed with pride at the praise and the anticipation of more from her captain. Aunt Amelia in Barbados and Cat's very sex were momentarily forgotten as she envisioned a life spent on the seas, her sights on Mr. Peabody’s position.
Indeed, when the captain ordered her to his cabin, she might well have imagined more responsibilities awaited her, but for the expression on his face. Unlike the other crew members, he looked extremely displeased.
"I see that you are down to only seven lives, now," Ransom said, as the two stood facing each other behind his closed door.
"Aye, sir, I suppose so," Cat answered uncertainly, the cold fury on Ransom’s face draining away all her satisfaction.
"I find it incredibly stupid of you to waste one of them on something as trifling as the mizzen royal sail." His words sent Cat reeling in dismay, for she had heard him use that biting tone before, but never on her.
"The damage would have been slight, but you easily could have been killed. I had expected more of you than the actions of a foolhardy braggart."
"But, captain-" Cat began.
He cut her off. "This is not a lark, boy," he said, his voice filled with quiet rage. "This is not an adventure, and it is not a game. It’s real, and it’s deadly."
Suddenly, he grabbed Cat by the arm as if to force some sense into her. "Why do you think the gun deck is painted red?" he demanded, pausing only long enough for Cat to shake her head in ignorance.
"So that you won’t notice the blood," he said softly. Releasing his hold on her, he turned on his heel and exited the cabin, leaving Cat to gape after him, astonished by his behavior.
Ransom’s words stung, and she moped around like a wounded puppy before righteous indignation took hold. Everyone else approved of her actions. Why should she get a dressing down for it?
Having worked herself into a foul mood, she treated Ransom with a frosty disdain guaranteed to set his teeth on edge. At supper, she waited on him silently, her face grim as she set his place before him and returning his attempts at conversation with monosyllables.
"What hideous fare has cook prepared tonight?" he asked, without glancing up.
"The same," Cat mumbled. Giving him a sidelong glance, she noticed that she had captured his attention.
"The same as what, yesterday?" he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.
"Aye." The simple answer was a far cry from Cat’s usual chatter.
"Hmm." The captain grunted, returning his attention to his plate. "And have you kept out of trouble today?"
"Aye."
Again he looked up, his brows drawing together. "Have you lost your tongue, lad?"
Cat shrugged, and Ransom gave up for a time, eating silently. But she could swear he stole a glance at her now and then, grimacing as he did so.
"What ails you?" he finally asked.
When Cat only shrugged again, he reared up from the table and stalked from the room. Cat could only think him well served as the door slammed behind him.
Unfortunately, she discovered after several days that her revenge was not so sweet, for Ransom could be far colder than she. Her anger evaporated in the ever-widening rift between them until the reason for their falling-out no longer mattered. In fact, it seemed rather silly when she thought about it. Suddenly, the world was bleak and empty, and she wanted the comfort that only his friendship could provide.
Cat’s state of mind was not improved when Bert approached her on deck and nodded at the captain’s distant back. "What ails you two?"
"Nothing," Cat muttered into her chest.
"Well, you best take care of it," the first mate said. "Don’t let the captain fool you. For all that he seems cool as ice, the man has a temper, and I, for one, don’t like to see it."
"I’ve already seen it," Cat said glumly.
"Have you? Now what have you been doing, lad, to get the man’s ire up?"
"He yelled at me for cutting those mizzen lines," Cat said, not bothering to hide her outrage.
"He did, did he?" Bert asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"I’m not supposed to be on deck during a battle, but I hardly could have climbed down at the time! He says I’m more use to him than most and he doesn’t want me blown to bits, but it doesn’t seem fair to be cooped up in the cabin, while everyone else is doing their part."
"I see," Bert said, his grizzled features set and serious. "Now, you listen to me, lad. The captain’s right, and you should be glad he’s taken a liking to you. There’s precious few that he has, God knows," the first mate muttered.
Bert loosed a low breath. "The people he cares for have a habit of dying on him, so maybe he just wants to make sure you don’t join the others. Now, be a good lad and don’t let the captain down."
"What do you mean?" Cat asked. She wondered if Ransom was an orphan, too, but Bert only shook his head.
"Back to work with you, boy," he said, and Cat swallowed the questions that rose to her lips. Although she would have liked to know more, she understood that Ransom’s anger sprang from concern for her, and she felt guilty over her childish behavior.
Resolved to mend the breach between them, she searched for him, only to realize he was no longer on deck. Going below, she found him seated at the large table in his cabin, looking over the books. He did not even glance up when she entered, and she realized that a reconciliation would not be easy.
"It looks to be a good day, captain," she said. As her first attempt at conversation, it failed miserably.
The captain grunted in reply, his gaze never leaving his work.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Cat asked.
"No."
"Well, if there’s anything you need, just say so," she said. Her words were met with total silence, and she cringed when she remembered that only a few days before she had given Ransom the same treatment. First, she would not speak to him, and now he was not speaking to her. What a pretty kettle of fish.
Unwilling to give up, but uncertain as to her course, Cat perched on the sea chest and began mending a tear in her extra breeches, periodically looking over at her still mute captain. She stayed, quietly sewing in the corner, in the hope that he might say something or she might be struck with inspiration as to how to achieve that end.
Meanwhile, Cat brooded on how much she missed his company. She loved listening to his strong, deep voice and watching his face when he wasn’t looking. She loved his dark eyes, his lazy grin, and the sound of his laughter. She loved the shape of his long, lean fingers and the way the sunlight glinted off his locks as he bent his head. She loved... him.
Cat's sudden gasp caught his attention,
but he only flicked a glance toward her stricken face. She swallowed convulsively, knowing she should say something, but “I love you, captain” did not seem appropriate, and he returned to his work.
She loved him. The realization hit Cat like a broadside, knocking the wind from her. She could only stare miserably at the object of her devotion, her mind turning over the implications of a discovery both wonderful and terrible.
She loved him, and yet there was nothing to be done about it. Why, the man wasn’t even speaking to her. More determined than ever to change that, Cat never left his side the rest of the day, so solicitous that at supper, he slammed his fist down on the table, sending cook’s hard-as-nails biscuits sailing through the air.
"Damn it, Cat. If you don’t quit hovering, I’ll put you off on the first island I see, and I can only hope it will be populated by man-eating Caribs!"
He had spoken to her, at last. Although his words weren’t promising, Cat grasped at her chance. "Whoa, captain! Watch those biscuits! Do you want to put a dent in the wood?" she said lightly as she stopped to pick up the errant foodstuffs. "We might need them for the nine-pounder, as cannon shot," she added, smiling up at him.
Their gazes met briefly before she was rewarded with his lazy grin. "Cook thinks if he makes them hard enough, they’ll repel the weevils," Ransom said, and Cat beamed.
The rift between them was healed, and to Cat all was right with the world again. As for her deeper feelings, she could hardly act upon them. Simply to have his companionship again was enough for her… for now.
***
The reconciliation pleased the captain, too, although he would not admit it, even to himself. Smiling as he watched Cat clear the table, Ransom decided he was glad to have the youngster with the tart tongue and lively sense of humor aboard.
Yet his pleasure at the thought was followed by derision as he realized he was looking at the youth with something akin to fondness. He frowned. If he weren’t careful, the men would be calling him "mother hen," and the Reckless would more resemble a floating nursery than a privateer.
A Heart's Masquerade Page 4
