The Mage's Daughter 2: Book Two: Enlightenment

by LeRoy Clary

  “Anything you want me to do, Bos’n?”

  “Go below to hold number two. Check every rope, put blocks between crates and the hull, check for leaks and report back to me.”

  She had seen a small scuttle where he pointed, leading to the cargo hold, and went down inside. The little light filtered in through cracks between the deck boards, but her eyes adjusted. She started on one side and was working her way in the direction of the bow when she found an orange cat watching her. She didn’t care for cats, or their attitude, so left it alone. Two ropes were loose, and she tightened them. More had granny knots instead of squared ones. She added soft blocks between crates and the hull of the ship, like others that were already in place. The blocks had rope loops, and there seemed to be plenty left over, hanging from a beam, so she used nearly all of them, thinking too many were better than not enough.

  She was working her way aft on the other side when she heard the bos’n entering. He went to the side she had finished and tightened one rope, but otherwise checked her work and approved. He pointed to the blocks she had placed and raised his eyebrows in question.

  “I thought more wouldn’t hurt.”

  “But too few might sink us. How many ropes were loose?”

  “A few.”

  “Three? Ten?”

  “Closer to ten, I guess.”

  “Figured it would be more like twenty, but one crate shifting down here in a storm will put a hole in our hull and send us to the bottom. You did a good job, Prin.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Which gives me a problem. Know what that is?”

  She shook her head.

  “I already sent Jam down here to do what you just did, and he did his usual lazy job. I’ll tell you right off I’d take you on my crew before him, and if you were going to stay with the Merry Princess, I’d promote you over Jam today. But, I don’t expect you’ll be here that long, so I must work with him. Understand what I’m saying?”

  “No.”

  “I’m saying, he’s the future of this ship. His father is captain and part owner. He’ll be my boss one day, and he knows it. People like you and me have to take up his slack and keep our mouths shut.”

  “I think I understand. Did you know there’s a cat down here?”

  “And there’s one that hangs out in the wheelhouse. All ships have them. We carry food as cargo, and that attracts mice and rats. A good cat is necessary on a ship, but don’t feed her and try to make friends.”

  “Why not?”

  “Feed her, and she won’t hunt mice. She’s a working crew member as much as you and me.”

  Prin glanced at the cat lying on her side while licking her front paws and acting as if she owned the ship. The cat gave her the same expression as Jam had earlier. So now she had two enemies on the ship.

  A bell struck. The bos’n said, “Dinner.”

  She followed him from the hold, and as she emerged, she caught sight of Jam peeking between two crates spying on them. Her reaction was to charge to him and make the accusation, but she let her eyes slide away as if she was watching the shore. Knowing your enemy’s intention was as good as defeating him.

  Jam would either hint or make accusations about her and the bos’n being alone in the cargo hold. However, when she suspected he was about to, she would make them about her spying on her. She would make hers first, if possible.

  She found most of the crew already eating. The counter held three different kinds of cheese, dense bread, pea soup, and water with slices of apple in it. As she served herself, she realized Jam hadn’t come inside, yet. Most people have habits. They usually stand in the same places and sit at the same. Again, there were two open seats. One was beside the captain. The other at the second table, the chair where Jam had sat at breakfast.

  She carried her food to the second table and asked the others innocently, “Is it okay if I join you?”

  She knew all but a man with skin as dark as old leather, yet he was not much older than her. “I’m Prin.”

  “Sayed is my name.” The accent was so thick she barely understood, but his smile was warm and his welcome genuine.

  Jam entered the dining hall and pulled to a stop when he found her in his seat. Waiting to leap to her feet with an apology, showing all how accommodating she could be, Jam surprised her. The flash of anger was evident to see, but he spun and left, slamming the door behind without eating.

  Sara was climbing down the stairs with a plate of fresh bread. She said, “What was that about?”

  “I have no idea,” Prin said with her most innocent tone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “The captain agreed you can stay here in the galley after lunch and study for a time each day, unless there’s a storm, but not too long because I have to go help with supper.”

  “Sara, that’s great. Do I need to find the crate with my writing materials?”

  “I know where it is, but no.” She reached to a higher shelf and pulled a small book from it.

  “Where’d that come from?”

  “Sailors are big readers. I didn’t know that. There are at least ten books up in the wheelhouse we can use. This one has smaller words for you. The story is sort of silly, but it does have a dog in it.”

  Prin accepted it as if made of glass. She placed it on the table and opened it to the first page. A drawing of a funny dog with a tail far too long greeted her.

  Sara said, “I have to clean up and wash these dishes. You try to read the first page. When I get back, I want to hear it.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “I think you can. It’s just a matter of practice.”

  Sara left her sitting alone, the odd little book in her hands. She bent over the first page and recognized the first word. The. Big. Dog. Three words in a row. The big dog. But she stumbled over the next word until she sounded it out and realized it said, named. She kept on until she reached the bottom of the page and started at the top again.

  When she reached to the bottom again, after having read every word, she found Sara sitting on the top step watching her. She didn’t know how long she had been there.

  Sara said, “Are you ready for me?”

  Prin started reading, and Sara came to sit at her side. Only twice did she help Prin. When she reached the bottom of the page, Sara reached over and turned the page. “Let’s see how you do on this.”

  Prin recognized two words, then correctly sounded out the third. Sara made her read each word in a sentence, then read it all at once. Prin’s eyes were smiling when Sara told Prin she had to go to work. Prin placed the book back on the shelf and went in search of the bos’n. Along the way, she went to the head and sat. Her eyes were drawn to movement, and again she found Jam watching while pretending to work.

  She walked to the cargo stacked on the deck near him, and as she passed each crate, she tested the ropes, just to be sure. Near the main mast her eyes went up to the top of the wheelhouse, and she found the bos’n there, watching.

  Suddenly, she felt no privacy. People watched everything she did. Her anger flared briefly, then calmed. They watched her because she was new to the ship, because she had never been to sea, and because they didn’t know her. They did know that she came aboard under mysterious circumstances. Not every sailor came to a ship hidden inside a crate.

  Yes, they knew there was more than one thing odd about her. They had to be forgiven for their curiosity. All but Jam. He was different, and suddenly she understood the vague words of the bos’n. If he were not the son of the captain, the bos’n would have thrown him overboard long ago—but he was. Then bos’n accepted that, and she would also have.

  Back in the kitchens, Prin had used what little skill she had to defend herself, but one of the most effective weapons had been what her mother called, killing with kindness. She smiled to herself. That was her best option here.

  If she caused Jam problems, and those reached the captain’s ears, he would side with his blood. So, she wouldn’t let that happen
, mostly because the bos’n had mentioned something about it. The captain had no choice but to support his son.

  She went to where she’d last seen Jam watching her. He held a paintbrush, but she saw no can of paint nearby. “May I help?”

  “Help what?”

  “Paint. I have always liked to paint, but haven’t had much experience.”

  He handed her the brush. “The can is over there,” he jabbed a thumb.

  “But what do I paint?”

  “If it’s white, paint it.”

  He left her as he scurried to the stern of the ship again. She wondered what was back there that was so interesting to him. She was determined to think of an excuse to check on Jam. In the meantime, she painted and watched the river and banks pass by. There were buildings on the shore, usually small farmhouses, and the ground looked marshy. There were more farm animals than crops.

  As she worked her way down the one side of the ship, she painted anything white, which was always iron. The only people she’d seen on deck were the bos’n and Jam. She hadn’t met Sammy, the helmsman at night, and the captain spent his time in the wheelhouse. The cook and Sara were in the galley. She didn’t know where Sayed worked. Counting her, that made seven, a full crew.

  The ship that had been astern caught up and as it passed, she stood at the rail and watched, comparing it with the Merry Princess, a wonderful play on words for the ship she sailed, although only her and Sara would understand the joke about her name.

  The other ship was taller, something unexpected. Its three masts pushed a ship nearly twice as long. She counted nine on deck and knew there had to be at least one cook, two helmsmen, a captain, and probably more. All told, it held at minimum thirteen. It also carried cargo on the decks, and probably below, but it carried at least three times as much.

  She gave a friendly wave of her arm as they pulled alongside, and a few waved back. Soon the ship was well ahead of the Merry Princess, and Prin was back to painting anything white that didn’t move. The bos’n stormed to her side. “What’r you doing?”

  “Painting.”

  “Who told you to do that?”

  “Oh, I didn’t see you, so I asked Jam if I could help him.”

  “And he readily agreed? But, he is not helping?”

  “He did give me the brush, but it was my fault. I asked him.”

  The bos’n stormed away, heading directly for the stern. That told her something else. The bos’n knew where to look for Jam, so he must have been there several times. Prin turned back to her painting when an odd scent tickled her nose, overriding the strong smell of wet paint. She looked up and found that ahead, the water was no longer greenish, but blue.

  She looked at the sides of the river and could barely see them in the hazy distance. The smell of the air held a tang, and the rocking motion of the boat increased. It now surged ahead and slowed, surged and slowed, as well as it rolled slowly from side to side. Her stomach twisted, and she felt dizzy.

  The ship made a turn to her right, and the waves struck the ship from the left side, causing it to roll more, and her stomach did the same. She took hold of the railing and closed her eyes, but it got worse. She broke out in a sweat and tried to regain her balance, but the deck refused to hold still long enough.

  Her meal came up without warning. She managed to direct most of it over the side, but glanced down and saw there was more on the deck to clean—but she didn’t care. The movement of the ship’s rolling and plunging unpredictably caused her to lose her balance, and she almost fell to the deck. She sat and groaned, and threw up again.

  The motion continued. She watched the rolling waves strike the side of the ship and anticipated the next roll, and that seemed to help somewhat. Her body felt weak and tired. When her feet touched the ground again, she would walk back to Indore.

  Sayed touched her shoulder. “Come with me little one.”

  He helped stand Prin, and when her knees gave out, he caught her and carried her into the door to the crew’s quarters. He placed her in a hammock strung in the same place as the night before, and he found a shallow bowl in case she upchucked again. The hammock was strung fore and aft, so the rolls of the ship were lessened as the hammock reduced the effect, but the pitch and sudden drops were the same. She curled into a ball, her knees drawn up to her chin.

  Her eyes closed. Later, she refused dinner and acknowledged Sara stringing her hammock beside her with a groan, but couldn’t speak. Keeping herself from throwing up again was as much as she could manage. When she woke later, a small loaf of dry bread had been placed in her hammock, and she nibbled on a piece of crust.

  In the morning, she rolled out of bed with the rest of the crew, finding the motion of the ship didn’t bother her—and she was starving. She ate voraciously, expecting to take a good ribbing from the others, but found only sympathy.

  The bos’n said, “Probably all of us have been there.”

  Sayed said, “Once we were out of the river mouth and changed course, the motion became less, but by then you were too sick to notice.”

  “I didn’t get sick,” Jam declared.

  The captain paused, with a spoon halfway to his mouth. As if in slow motion, he turned. “Not this time.”

  More than one man laughed, telling Prin he’d been sick on another voyage or two. She kept her head down, refusing to laugh with the rest, lest she makes things between them worse.

  Later, at the end of the meal, the bos’n handed out work assignments. When he came to Jam, he said, “Paint the iron.”

  “Again?” Jam whined.

  “And if I find the brush in Prin’s hand, or you at the stern chewing that mind-weed again, you’re going over the side.”

  Jam leaped to his feet, looking to his father for support. The Captain said softly, “I won’t be happy with you if we have to come around and fish you out of the water.”

  Jam strode to the door with as much dignity as he could muster, which was not much. After he had slammed the door, the captain turned to the bos’n. “Do what you have to. You run the deck.”

  The short conversation told Prin a lot about how a ship is run. The captain decided where and when a ship travels, but the bos’n gets it there. Neither will work without the other.

  She had been assigned cleaning, on the deck. Sayed had been assigned cleaning inside, and she finally understood his job. He cleaned the crew quarters, mess, and bridge. He also acted to fill in for any who were ill or hurt, so he had to know all the trades.

  The galley and cooking tasks belonged to Sara and the cook, a dour old man who seemed into only on doing his job and not speaking with anyone. Perhaps he talked to Sara, but Prin hadn’t seen or heard it. Even Sayed avoided the galley.

  Prin found the bucket and mop they called a swab. Soap was not used, but the bucket had a rope attached, and the bos’n wanted plenty of water, first to wet everything, then mop, and finally rinse.

  “Careful to tie off the rope before you lower it get more water or it’ll get free and sink. We have a spare because someone on this deck thinks if he loses the bucket he gets to laze around like a wealthy passenger.”

  “Only square knots, I promise.”

  “No, not for this. Use a couple of half hitches so you can tie and until them quickly.” He took the end of the rope and showed her. “I like to lock it in place by reversing the second hitch, like this.”

  She duplicated the simple knot and started to pitch the bucket over the side. He grabbed her arm and took the bucket from her. He lowered it to the top of the waves passing by and waited for one to crest and half-fill the bucket. He handed her the rope.

  It was all she could do to pull it up. The thing weighed as much as a boulder, and to make matters worse, it swung and struck the side of the ship, spilling most of the water. The bos’n laughed and said, “You’ll figure it out from here.”

  She splashed the little remaining water on the deck and lowered the bucket again. She caught a wave and filled about a third of it while al
lowing the bucket to remain near the water. When the ship rolled to the direction she stood, she quickly pulled it up before it swung back and hit the side.

  “You ratted me out.”

  She knew the voice before turning. Setting the bucket down, she placed the mop inside and said, “No, I tried protecting you.”

  “By telling the bos’n where I was?”

  “I didn’t have to. And I told him that I asked to paint and you let me.”

  “Because of you, I’m confined to the ship.”

  “What’s that mean?” She took the mop out and began to smear the wet deck back and forth.

  “What it means is that when we get to Donella, I have to stay aboard the damned ship. All because of you.”

  Instead of falling into the trap of arguing about who was responsible, she had learned long ago, from people far more experienced and snippy, that she could ignore the barb and proceed with what she wanted to speak about. “Donella?”

  “The port we’re headed for, stupid. Don’t you know anything?”

  “Is it a city? Have you been there?” She lowered the bucket again, catching a cresting wave perfectly and drawing it quickly aboard. She tossed the water, so it sluiced and cleaned as it ran to the edges of the deck and back overboard. She drew more water for the next section.

  “It’s a city, but not like Indore, not half as big, and it’s built next to a mountain.”

  “That sounds interesting.” She said, trying to get him to talk. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the captain in the wheelhouse looking down at them, and not looking happy. She wet the deck and drew another bucket and mopped, her back to the wheelhouse, but knowing he watched. She never paused.

  Jam crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a crate of cargo. “Strange people live there. They talk funny, and their houses are all built the same, made of rocks held together with clay. They put bright colors in the windows and hang flags from the peaks of houses. The roofs are like little hats to keep the water off the walls, so they don’t melt.”