How I wished to be with them. Scrubbing a deck, raising a sail, watching for land. I would be with them… if I were a boy.
“Benjamin,” I said, “I need your help with something.”
Chapter Four
“I’ll help you with anything, Charlotte.” Benjamin followed me upstairs to Eric’s room, the dim candlelight offering nothing but dancing shadows.
“I know.” I took a moment in the doorway of Eric’s room to look at Benjamin. How did I tell him I was leaving? How did I make him understand I had to go?
He grabbed my hands. “You’re scaring me.”
An uneasy look washed across his face. A good face. One I’d seen practically every day. Benjamin’s face was a perfect combination of his parents, as if he had gotten the best each of them had to offer. His father had given him dark, unruly brown hair and a long slender nose. Deep green eyes and full lips from his mother. Hours of hauling crates around his father’s shop—a shop destined to be his—had given him defined muscles in his arms and chest. He was kind and generous and would make a wonderful husband.
For somebody else.
“I need to be like you,” I finally said.
“Like me? What do you mean?” He let go of my hands and sat on the end of Eric’s bed.
“I need to be a boy.”
“Charlotte, you’re not making any sense.” He leaned back on his elbows so he was almost lying down on Eric’s bed. The skin between his brows squished together in confusion.
“To get on the Rose,” I said. “I need to be a boy.”
Benjamin shot back to sitting and opened his mouth to say something, but I held up my hand.
“Just listen first, all right?”
He closed his mouth and waved a hand for me to continue.
“You know I’ve never meant to stay on land,” I started. “I’ve always wanted to sail. I can’t do that on any of the ships that frequent Southampton because everyone knows about my father’s disapproval. That new ship, the Rose, is my only hope, Benjamin. With a simple enough disguise, it’ll be easy to fool an outsider into thinking I’m a boy. We know the Rose’s captain is short a deckhand. I could take his spot. It all makes perfect sense.”
“Until you get caught,” Benjamin said. “Charlotte, this is crazy. You have a perfectly fine job at Lady Elizabeth’s where—”
“She’s going to ask me to be governess to her child,” I finished. “Take a minute to picture it, Benjamin. I’m suffocating here. Cripes, I can’t breathe. I don’t want to take charge of a little one. I don’t want to serve tea and scones in the garden. I want to be on the water. I want answers to my questions about what’s out there. I want to see the world. You… you could come with me.”
I hadn’t meant to say the last part, but seeing the pained look in his eyes made me want to take him along.
“You know I can’t leave Southampton,” Benjamin said. “My father isn’t well. You’ve seen him. He’s been training me to take over Watkins’s Post, and you know what? I want to take it over. I do. I like working there. I like being close to the water without having to be on it. I like getting the sailors the supplies they need. I like it here, Charlotte, and I like having you here too.”
He ran his hand through his hair and let out a long breath. “I won’t ask you to stay, though, because I know it’ll kill you. I want you to be happy, Charlotte, wherever that is.”
I took a hesitant step closer to him and put my hands on his shoulders. He caught me around the waist with his arms and pulled me to him so his head rested on my stomach. It wasn’t awkward as I thought it might be. Instead, it was safe, like a warm blanket on a chilly, winter night.
Benjamin was the first to drop his arms, and I took a step back. He walked over to Eric’s wardrobe.
“One disguise, coming up.” He opened the wardrobe and scanned the clothing Eric had left behind. I came to stand behind him and peered into the closet as well. Several pairs of breeches, a number of plain tunics, a waistcoat, and a homespun sweater still hung on their wooden pegs.
I pulled out a pair of tan breeches and held them up to my waist. Though I was thinner than both my brothers, I was not much shorter than either of them. Eric’s breeches reached to my heels and could be stuffed into a pair of boots. A rope belt could solve the waist difference.
I surveyed a linen tunic next. I would need to sew up the front a bit so it wasn’t so open at the neck, perhaps add some laces to tie it closed. After shrugging out of Eric’s other coat I was wearing, I slipped on the waistcoat.
Benjamin laughed and shook his head. “Too big and fancy.” He held out his hand and I gave him the waistcoat. “You want to stick to simple. Deckhands do a great deal of the dirty work on a ship.” He returned the waistcoat to the wardrobe and pulled out the sweater. My throat grew tight as I took it from him.
My mother had made it.
The sweater was a simple brown pattern, squarely cut with a crew neck. The yarn was itchy wool and tightly knit. I slipped it on and felt my mother’s arms around me again.
“That’s perfect for a deckhand,” Benjamin said.
I nodded, my composure too near falling apart for words. After setting aside the breeches, tunic, and sweater, I rummaged around Eric’s wardrobe some more and, with Benjamin’s help, we put together some acceptable selections. I rushed over to my room across the hall and retrieved a burlap sack. I stuffed the efforts of our raid in my brother’s room into the sack.
“I need to alter these tunics,” I said as we came back downstairs.
“You’ll also need a few more things. Let me run back to the store and see what I can get you.”
“Benjamin,” I said as he turned around to leave.
He looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“I said I’d help you with anything, Charlotte, and I meant it.” He offered me a smile as he disappeared down the stairs.
I set to work on altering the tunics. As I worked at a fevered pace, the blurry edges of my plan came into focus. After an hour’s time, three tunics were sufficiently fixed to suit me. Taking a deep breath, I freed myself from the confines of my feminine garb. I eased my legs into the breeches, secured a corded belt at the waist, and slipped on one of the altered tunics. Back upstairs in my room, I stared at myself in the long looking-glass.
“Almost… but not quite.”
Turning to my bed, my gaze rested on a small pillow. I slipped it under the tunic and positioned it so instead of having the developing bosom of a girl, I had the belly of a portly boy. It was the perfect size and fit comfortably in place, but I would have to keep my stomach guarded.
I pulled the sweater on over the tunic and slipped my feet into my own boots, which were a plain brown leather with no elaborate detailing. I examined my image once again. From the neck down, I was easily a male. Only one other thing that needed adjusting to make my transformation complete.
My hair.
My long locks of blonde hair would surely give me away. While boys often wore their hair long and tied back, mine hung to my waist with a rippling wave to it. Too long and fancy for a boy. Far too much of it as well. My eyes stung as I thought about what would have to be done.
I stood in front of the looking-glass, thinking of cutting away my hair, cutting away a piece of my mother.
“Charlotte?”
I turned to see Benjamin standing in the doorway.
“Here.” He tossed a small sack onto my bed. I rifled through it to find a compass, a knife, and a few other necessities.
“Thanks.” I stuffed the sack into my larger one already filled with clothing.
“Let’s see about that lip.” Benjamin walked over to the washstand I had filled while he was gone. He dabbed a clean cloth into the water and stepped over to me. Grabbing my chin, he ran the cloth along my swollen lip, washing away the dried blood, soothing away the ache. His touch was feather light, gentle.
“There. That’s better. Does it hurt much?”
I shook my head and took a step back before I changed my mind about this plan and about leaving Benjamin behind. “Would you help me cut my hair?”
He picked up the shears on the washstand.
“You’re sure about this?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Nothing I can say to change your mind?”
“No.”
“Hope this is like shearing Mother’s sheep.” Benjamin divided my hair into two sections and hesitated behind me. “I feel as if cutting this is a sin, Charlotte.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Just do it.”
He ran my tresses through the shears. A sizable chunk of hair dropped to the floor, and although I was horrified to see that much of my own hair on the ground, it felt right. So incredibly right.
Benjamin hacked at the rest of my hair until the back of my neck was out in the cold. What was left fell below my ears and could be tied back or crammed up into a hat. Looking to the floor at my feet, I cringed at the golden blonde pile that had taken me a lifetime to grow.
“Charlotte Denham…” Benjamin began as his eyes met mine in the looking-glass. “Meet… Charlie Hamden?”
“Charlie.” That would be easy to remember. “Do you think this will work, Benjamin?”
“If you want it bad enough, you’ll make it work. You’re not one to give up. It’s one of the best things about you.”
He put the shears down and stepped away while I swept up my hair.
“I’ll miss you, Charlotte.” He drew me into an embrace and kissed my cheek. His lips were warm and soft against my skin. It was the first time he had ever touched me in that way.
“I’ll miss you too.” I held onto his hands, not sure what else to do.
He gave my hands a tight squeeze before letting them go. Benjamin reached around to pull something out of the back pocket of his breeches. “I brought you this. It’s mine.” He plopped a cap onto my head and pulled it down low. “There now. Your disguise is complete, Charlie. Think of me when you wear it, all right?”
“I’ll think of you a great deal, Benjamin. How could I not?”
I turned back to the looking-glass and compared my new reflection to Benjamin’s.
“Not bad, huh?” I said.
“It should fool an outsider.” His eyes met mine in the reflection and he took a step closer so he was directly behind me. “Wouldn’t fool me, though. I know every detail of your face.”
“So there won’t be any danger you’ll forget me while I’m gone then?” I turned to face him.
“Not a chance.” Benjamin tapped a finger to my nose. “I’ll be here waiting to hear all about your adventure if…” He shook his head. “When you decide to come back. That’s what a best friend does. In the meantime, I wonder if Rachel Carnigan wants to be… friends.”
I gave him a quick shove. “I can’t believe I’m going to try this.”
“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Charlotte. Be safe.” He kissed my cheek again. “I’ll let Lady Elizabeth know you’ve found other employment.”
“Thanks. If my father and brothers come back…”
“I’ll take care of it.”
I pressed my lips to Benjamin’s cheek. “I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did on land without you. You know that, right?” I whispered in his ear.
When I pulled back, he was smiling. “Good bye, Charlotte.” He gave me one last look and left.
Alone now, I studied my new self in the looking glass. The boy who stared back at me would bring the adventure I so craved.
Through Charlie I would sail.
****
I fell asleep at my house that evening and when I awoke in the morning, I slipped into my disguise, tied the shell necklace around my neck, and wasted no time getting to the Rose. I could not believe the sheer size of the vessel. Wide planks of dark wood covered her hull. Four thick masts, stripped of their sails at the moment, jutted out from the deck. The ship herself resembled a fly caught in a spider web. Braided lines extended from the perimeter of the ship and were secured into the sand by large wooden stakes. An enormous, rusted iron anchor was lodged in the sand beside the vessel.
After checking myself over, I jogged down the dock until I reached its end. I jumped into the sand and walked toward the ship. Before I reached the vessel, a man approached me. His shirt had been stripped away, and he had a white-knuckled grip on a mallet in his right hand. He swatted at a mosquito hovering around his sweat-laden head.
“What do you want, boy?” Two brown eyes narrowed at me.
“Hello, sir.” I bowed my head. “Are you Captain Finley?”
“I am.”
“I was asking around the docks if any captains sought extra hands before they sail out. Someone said Captain Finley was and his ship was careened on the south shore.” I pointed to the ship behind him.
Captain Finley studied me as a fresh sweat broke out all over my skin. Why did he have to look so closely at me? It didn’t matter if he recognized me as Charlotte Denham. If he suspected I was a girl—any girl—I was out.
“What skills do you have, son?”
“Clean, cook, fish, trim, and repair sails. I’m a hard worker, and I know how to take orders, sir.” Was I trying too hard? Had I said too much? I glanced up to Captain Finley’s face once then returned my gaze to the ground between us.
“You sound like a real catch with all those skills, if you indeed have them.” He grabbed my chin in his rough hand, angling it to get a better look at me. His calloused thumb pressed into the bruise on my jaw, and I swallowed the pain. “What happened to your face there?”
“Accident, Captain. Somebody bumped into me.”
He pursed his lips. “You’re not the fighting type, are you?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Don’t need any hotheads on my crew.” He grabbed my shoulder and gave me a good jostling. “Only one final question then.”
“Aye, sir?” So close.
“What do you do if a man goes overboard?”
Was this one of the trick questions Edward Scarsdale had mentioned outside The Copper Pot? Did Captain Finley want a serious answer or was this a test?
I cleared my throat and said, “If he’s too foolish not to sure his footing, then he’s extra weight we didn’t need.”
Captain Finley barked out a laugh and slapped a hand down onto my shoulder. I swear I sank at least to my ankle into the sand.
“You’ll do, son. That’s my ship yonder, the Rose.” He gestured toward the careened vessel. “What’s your name?”
“Charlie, sir. Charlie Hamden.” Did he notice the waver in my voice?
“Well, Charlie Hamden, it’s good to meet you.” He extended a filthy hand to me.
I took his massive hand in mine and shook it. He held onto it for longer than I expected, and the quaking in my stomach nearly had me running away.
“We’re headed to the Americas, and I am looking for more hands. How old are you?”
“Sixteen.” The truth would be easiest to remember later on.
“Where are your parents?”
“Dead, sir.” The one who had noticed my existence anyway.
“I see. You healthy?”
“Yes, sir. Never get sick.”
No lie there. When I was about seven years old, my entire family except me had gotten ill with the fever. When they had recovered, my mother kept hovering about me, waiting for me to fall ill.
“You are a mystery,” my mother said. “Someone’s looking out for you, Charlotte.” Cripes, I hoped that was true.
“Never get sick, huh?” Captain Finley said, bringing me back to the present moment.
I shook my head, afraid to talk more than I had to.
“Well, then, I cannot pass on a deckhand who promises he never gets sick, now can I?” He smiled, but his eyes still studied me, sized me up. “See that trail of crew filling buckets with water and passing them back to the ship?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You think you’re smart enough to handle something like that?”
“Yes, Captain,” I shouted, nearly hugging the man, which was what a girl would do, so I stopped myself. I walked toward the line of crew.
“Wait a minute,” Captain Finley said.
My heart almost stopped beating. He had figured me out. He smelled a girl. Another chance lost.
“Aren’t you curious about wages, son?”
Wages? I hadn’t been thinking about getting paid to sail. I’d have done it for free.
“I trust your wages are fair.”
Captain Finley laughed again. “Well, then, the Americas are waiting for us, boy. We set sail at the end of the week if you can last that long. We’ve set up camp on the other side of the Rose there while the ship’s on her side. A few more tasks to be done, and we are off to cross the mighty Atlantic.”
He opened his hands to the ocean lapping at the sandy shore. A genuine smile stretched across his face as he breathed in a lungful of sea air. He shook his head as if looking at the sea had overwhelmed him.
I knew the feeling.
“Why are you still standing here? Run along now. See that tall kid there standing next to the line of crew? That’s my nephew, Daniel Connor. Go see him, and he’ll show you what to do.” He pushed me toward the crew, and it took all my resolve to walk calmly toward the line of men.
Charlie Hamden had passed the test.
Chapter Five
Daniel Connor was indeed a tall boy with light brown hair and a pleasant profile. Dressed in black breeches and a beige tunic, he kept the line of crew working smoothly as they passed buckets between them from the shore to the boat.
As I approached, Daniel raised an eyebrow above a bright blue eye, and the corner of his mouth instantly turned down.
“You joining us?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m Charlie Hamden.” I extended my right hand to him.
“Great.” He huffed out a long breath. “Another new fish.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes up to the morning sky.
I stood behind him to his left while he appeared to search among the wispy clouds for something I couldn’t see.
Sail With Me (A Discovery Series Book) Page 3
