The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  Those tingles up the back of her legs started jumping around in her belly. Could she do this? Not just the job, but stay up there and keep her balance and not run away in fear?

  Boatswain Johnson must have read her thoughts. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you are well trained. In the meantime, how much can you read and write?”

  What answer would work best? “Some, I guess. Do I need to know?”

  He chuckled. “No, but I was wondering if you might assist me by taking notes. I have to keep track of the financial logs and the other ship’s logs for this voyage along with overseeing the crew for the master.”

  “I think I can help you.”

  “Good. You stay here. I will send Mr. Swain up. He will train you for up here. When you come down, find me and I will show you what I need. It will help me with keeping the logs.”

  She nodded, and he went down the ladder to the deck.

  Alone, Maybe gave more scrutiny to where she was. The top was a round platform surrounding the mast up about a third of the way. It had a rail about it, so it wasn’t completely unsafe. But glancing over the edge didn’t exactly foster security. This high up, each wave that crashed against the side caused swaying. Of course, there was movement on deck as the ship sailed through the water. However, from where she stood, it was more than a little movement. She would not be sick. She must not be sick. Her feet stepped backward until she felt the mast at her back, where she could slide down and sit on the platform, her legs sticking straight in front of her. Her feet came to the edge. She wasn’t sure she could stand again, but at least her stomach flopped less.

  Maybe reminded herself that as frightening as this might seem, it was nothing compared to what belonging to Eleazar Ferguson would be. She was alive and unharmed, had a place to sleep, and food to eat. She also had Willie. He was becoming a good friend.

  She shook her head. What brought that thought? Well, he was handsome and funny and caring. Aye, a good friend. But make that the extent of it.

  * * *

  Boatswain Sam Johnson was a praying man, and something about that new boy, Maybe, called him to pray. Perhaps it was he understood having no people. Or, it could have been his expression as the wind whipped through his hair. But whatever, as he watched Maybe up top he knew that boy needed prayer. Something was different about him. He behaved older than the twelve or thirteen years he claimed, displaying a type of maturity. Did it come about because of having to make his way in the world from such a young age? But Sam noticed something else. Nothing he could name, but given more time, he’d figure it out. The boy still had a vulnerability too. Funny how life had not hardened him.

  That Stewart lad, Willie, was protective of the boy. That relationship was strange.

  However, if it did not affect the crew or the job, then it was none of his concern. But if it did, as boatswain he would be swift in remedying the problem.

  * * *

  Willie received a lesson on using the chip log. Mr. Cox showed how to toss the log into the water and let out the log line while counting the knots. Boatswain Johnson kept note, plugging in the time from the sand glass and working the equation to figure how many knots of speed they moved. By keeping a consistent record, they knew how far they had traveled and about how soon to expect to arrive in New York harbor. It generally took one week, but if the prevailing winds were in their favor, they might make it in six or six and a half days.

  Willie couldn’t remember New York. He’d been born right before his family arrived in New Rochelle, but all his memories were of the south. The thought of seeing some place different excited him.

  He caught Boatswain Johnson watching, so he returned his attention to his lesson with the chip log, this time, on how to roll the knotted line back up and stow it until next use.

  It had been nearly twenty-four hours since they left port in Beaufort. Five to six more days like this until New York. When he looked forward, his excitement grew. When he remembered what he left, all the buoyancy of the trip was sucked from him. Would he ever be able to just enjoy living his dream? One thing was clear, this sailing life was more than he imagined. And he loved every minute.

  As long as he quit remembering.

  * * *

  Cookie came looking for Maybe that afternoon, after Boatswain Johnson dismissed her. “Feel like peeling potatoes again, boy?”

  It wasn’t a request. But Maybe didn’t mind. It was something she knew how to do, posing little danger other than the razor-sharp knives in Cookie’s arsenal. Again, it was a quiet job until she caught Cookie making sideways glances at her.

  “Did I grow another nose, Cookie?”

  He coughed and shook his head. The silence continued until she thought he’d pop. “Who taught you to peel potatoes? Never seen a boy so skilled.” His cheeks had turned to crimson.

  Maybe searched her brain for a plausible story. “Back home, Ireland, sometimes the only food to find were potatoes. Ye learnt to peel them with care so as to have more to eat.”

  Cookie nodded, satisfied.

  Maybe wanted to sigh with relief but feared not appearing manly.

  It was something of which she needed to be constantly aware. So far, she’d managed to relieve herself in privacy. Willie stayed close most of the time, so she slept without too much fear. Those little things they hadn’t considered gave her the most pause. What might happen when her monthly visitor arrived? Could she keep that from giving her away?

  “That be the last potato, Cookie. How else can I help?”

  “Nothing else, boy. You did good. Now run along.” The scruffy curmudgeon waved her on.

  Maybe didn’t give him time to change his mind. As she came back on deck, she found Willie. Funny how her heart beat a tad faster at the sight of him. She wasn’t sure she liked that. It made her tingle all peculiar. She considered going the other direction when he spotted her and waved. She waved back, her heart picking up its pounding pace.

  “Ho there, Maybe! What do you think? It looks like we could be in New York in five to six days! Can you imagine?” There was something genuine and open about his excitement. He loved being on this ship.

  She was happy for him, though for her, this was something necessary, a situation to be tolerated for a greater good. Sure, she enjoyed it some, but not like Willie. Pasting a smile on her face, she tried to join in his excitement. “Only five to six days? That is amazing.”

  “I’m learning more about this ship. Already did my turn at the wheel, and I helped Mr. Cox with the chip log. Oh, there’s much to learn, and when I’m trained, there’ll be lots of work to do. They say it is a hard life, but what I’m seeing is that it isn’t hard when it is a joy. Do you know what I mean?” He turned his face to her, his blue eyes pulling her into his view of their adventure.

  That’s what it was for him, an adventure. She understood that. “Aye, Willie, I ken yer meaning.” She turned away before she revealed more than she should.

  * * *

  Maybe turned away, but as she did, Willie nearly gasped at the ocean depth in her eyes. He could drown in those eyes.

  What did that mean? He’d never be able to explain it. Something akin to having the breath ripped from his lungs. A sudden urge to run his fingers through her hair made his hand curl into a fist at his side before he forced his palm open. The memory of the raven locks he sliced away crashed on his brain. No matter how hard he tried, he would always see Maybe as a young woman.

  “Willie, what is it ye plan on doing once we get to Ireland and England? Will ye return with the ship to Beaufort?”

  That was a good question. He hadn’t planned that far ahead. If he went back to Beaufort, would his father let him leave again? “I don’t know. What about you? Will you stay until England or leave before then?”

  “I might go to Ireland. At least I know people there.”

  Willie nodded. He hadn’t considered that she might not want to keep sailing. Of course, she wouldn’t. It would mean never being herself again. He tried for a
moment to consider what it was like to constantly behave as someone completely foreign to oneself. It was nothing he could do. “Maybe, I am here. I’ll help you all I can. You can depend on me.”

  She chuckled. “What do ye think I’ve been doing? I thank ye, Willie, for all ye’ve done. Ye dinna have to help me, and it has cost ye dear to do so. I’m grateful to ye.” Her eyes, full of deep purple storms, turned on him and it took everything he had not to pull her into his arms, where he might protect her, hold her, make her his own.

  “Let’s walk. I want to see if one of the mates can show me how to tie more knots.” He held her elbow, directing her.

  She didn’t fight him but walked alongside. Why had he worried she’d fight? Willie was more confused than he’d ever been, and no help was in sight.

  * * *

  Sam Johnson watched from his perch on the top platform. Something was odd between Maybe and the Stewart boy. Something he wasn’t seeing, no matter how hard he looked. What could it be? Both had done everything asked of them. They showed good attitudes, followed all the rules. They learned about every task given, no matter how menial. In fact, he’d have been hard pressed to find two better new crew members. But, when the two were together... Stewart seemed to take on an elder brother role, a protector presence. Perhaps that’s what he saw.

  Sam tried to convince himself, and he was close to success.

  Close, but not quite.

  * * *

  Joseph left the third establishment feeling dirty. It was a possible O’Malley place of entertainment. He shook his head. Joseph wasn’t an innocent and had his own memories of places that sold liquor and encouraged male bonding. But he had not frequented such places since he and Sarah had been together. However, the tavern back home was nothing like the places in Beaufort. In Beaufort they were located down by the docks to attract the lonely sailor and other travelers, plus they were more elaborate than mere planks and crates. At least some were. But the result was the same. Men paid money to buy whiskey or ale or rum. Some were satisfied with a friendly drink. Some didn’t know when to stop.

  One other thing was the same, at least in Beaufort. They all had met Daniel O’Malley and none of them liked him or mourned him.

  Joseph paused, trying to decide where to go next.

  “Psst! Crockett!”

  Joseph looked to find who whispered his name. “Aye?”

  “Quiet man! Over here.”

  Glancing about, he spotted the speaker peeking from behind a white oak and headed in his direction. “You want a word with me?”

  Now that Joseph saw the man, he spotted how nervous, even a little agitated he appeared. Small of stature and slight, the man was dressed in worn clothing and blond stringy hair swung beneath his work cap. He seemed in constant motion though he didn’t go anywhere. “Aye, that I do. Ye be askin’ about ol’ Daniel O’Malley, God rest his soul, ’tis true?”

  “Aye.” Joseph nodded.

  The man scanned the surroundings before lowering his gravelly voice even more. “Wells, me ’n’ Danny, we was mates. As much as either of us had a mate. He needed money real bad. Someone was after him to pay up and this someone ye just don’t cross. Danny tol’ me he had an idea on how to work a deal with this ’ere someone, so everything should ’ave been good. I dinna know what happened to ol’ Danny boy, but I’m thinkin’ that that someone oughta.”

  “Who might that someone be?”

  “First, ye gotta keep me name out of this. I don’t want no one knowin’ I spoke with ye. That could be me death, and well I know it.”

  Joseph coughed to cover a wry chuckle. “You haven’t told me your name so there is no way I could share it with anyone.”

  The man smiled at that, but again grew serious. “True enough. We best keep it that way, if ye don’t mind.”

  “If that is what you wish. But tell me who was after your mate to pay up.”

  The man sighed. “Master Crockett, I heered ye was a good man, a trustworthy man. All right, I will tell ye the name, but I will deny I ever breathed it in your presence.” He paused. “Eleazar Ferguson.”

  Joseph wasn’t surprised and perhaps that was a disappointment to the man as he repeated. “It’s Eleazar Ferguson wot wanted Danny to pay up. Ye won’t catch him doin’ the deed, though. He has men do that for him. ’Tis Eleazar Ferguson.”

  “Thank you. I will not reveal that the information came from you. But I thank you for your help.”

  “God bless ye, sir. God bless ye.” He tipped his hat and started off for the docks at a rapid pace.

  Now he had the name, but no proof. However, his instinct told him this was true. What did he do with his information? What could he do with it? Another puzzle piece not ready to be added. So, what was his next move?

  * * *

  Elizabeth stood on the dock, the ship sailing away. She had missed it. Her mother waved to her from the deck. She called to her mother, but no sound came out. Then, a grip on her arm. Her stepfather. He dragged her away. She tried to scream, but her voice wouldn’t work.

  She nearly pried herself free, but he threw her to the ground and motioned to someone before turning his back on her. A large shadow fell across Elizabeth. Terror mounted in her stomach and rode its way up her throat. No, no, don’t go!

  She turned. Eleazar Ferguson stood over her. He reached out to her, but she jumped to her feet and ran as if the devil himself gave chase. Into the town she ran. People walked and stopped to chat all around her, but no one paid her any heed. She tried to get their attention. She tugged at their arms. She pointed to Eleazar Ferguson who menacingly walked her way. It was as if they didn’t see her. Her voice still silenced, she couldn’t make herself known. She had no help, no one to save her.

  Eleazar Ferguson now changed his form, his clothing grew scaly, his face changing into that of a snake. And bit by bit, his form slid to the ground and turned into a slithering giant. Still no one on the crowded street took note. The snake slithered closer and closer.

  Elizabeth froze. The snake wrapped its body about her legs. It was cold, slimy. Her chest grew tight, she couldn’t breathe. This was the end. The snake raised its head to strike!

  “Maybe, sh-sh, it’s all right.”

  Willie! Willie had her. She was safe. She was not alone. Exhaling, she leaned into him, unable to stop shaking.

  “Hey, it’s safe now. Only a bad dream. I’m here. Just lay back.” He helped her recline on her bunk.

  She grabbed his hand. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

  “I won’t leave you. Now go to sleep.”

  He spoke as if it were easy. But sleep would not keep her company the rest of the night.

  * * *

  What terrified her so? Willie glanced about the room where other sailors slept. Either everyone was too exhausted to wake or too uninterested to care. No one looked their way. He let out his breath. Whew, good. Maybe would ask come morning. Come morning, she would return to worrying about those things.

  But now he was awake. So many things rushed through his mind, his emotions. He wanted to protect her, keep at bay anything that might bring on terror. And protect her he would. He now realized that was what he’d signed on for when he first offered his help.

  His other emotion was difficult to discern. It was the fluttery race of his heart when she threw herself into his arms. He enjoyed holding her. He could do that all night and day.

  If it wouldn’t put her in danger.

  So, to protect her, he must not fall in love with her.

  That would prove a difficult job. He already had one foot off the edge.

  Chapter Seven

  The night terrors continued to attack, but somehow Willie seemed to sense something was coming in time to grab her hand. His touch chased the terrors away, making Maybe more secure than she had been since her father left, or rather died. It was the same thing really. Both meant he was gone.

  Yet Willie was here. Her irrational fears weren’t driving him away. For that she was grat
eful.

  The days flew. Maybe became proficient at manning the top, doing what they needed with the shrouds as they sailed. She also enjoyed following Boatswain Johnson, keeping notes of things he wanted to remember. On purpose she made her spelling rough, so he wouldn’t think she’d had an education, but clear enough that he might decipher her writing. She was understanding why Willie loved this life. It had its fascinating moments. She especially enjoyed spotting the whale from her post on the platform their fourth day out. It was majestic and graceful and oh, so big! A memory she would cherish.

  But now they were fast approaching the port of New York.

  “Make ready the lines!”

  Each person knew his job, what was expected. From her vantage point above, they appeared like busy little dolls. Aye, Willie was right. This was fun.

  In under an hour, the ship was secure, the last piece of cargo unloaded. After which, they had leave, as long as they maintained a level of discipline and didn’t get soused.

  Willie was the one most excited about leave. Maybe merely wanted to be off the ship for a bit. She had no curiosity about New York. It seemed a little like Beaufort, only bigger with a cloudier sky. Made everything a little gloomier. However, she imagined it was much cooler in the summer than any port in the Carolinas. And it was a change.

  “Come on, Maybe. Let’s go!” Willie stood at the gangplank.

  She shrugged at Boatswain Johnson, who smiled and shook his head, before she bounded after Willie.

  It didn’t matter. She and Willie could be themselves if they got away from the rest of the crew. It was difficult to remain mindful to behave as a boy.

  “Where shall we go?” She had to nearly run to keep up with his long-legged strides. Her sea legs made it even harder. How did he do that?