Call of the Sea (6 page)

Using a piece of sea sponge, she scrubbed at a crusty pot. Her nose wrinkled as the irony of her situation struck.
Here I am, finally aboard a ship, but instead of the smell of the sea and the wind in my hair, I’m stuck in a dank galley scrubbing dishes like a scullery maid.

Elbow deep in grease and lye, Ellie glanced over her shoulder at the cook. “How long have you worked for Captain Harris?”

The beefy blond Dutchman didn’t lift his gaze from the mutton on the cutting board in front of him. He spoke between chops. “Seven…no…vait…eight years.”

Ellie bit back a giggle. His thick accent made him hard to understand.

By the time she’d finished scouring the mountainous pile of cookware, Ellie’s hands were raw and her back throbbed from bending over the washbasin. She straightened, rolled out her shoulders, and turned to face Sven. “All finished.” Ellie slipped the apron from her neck and hung it on a nearby peg.

Sitting on a rum barrel, pipe dangling between his lips, the cook glanced at Ellie through wafts of pungent smoke. “Goot, goot. Make sure ja see ze captain. He was looking for ja.” At Ellie’s nod, he waved a hand. “Off with ja, then. See ja in ze morning, Ellis. At daybreak.”

Ellie suppressed a groan and stepped through the hatch. She worked her way down the narrow gangway to the deck. Clean air swept down the passage to greet her as she emerged to the setting sun.

Crimson gold streaked the sky and shaded the bottoms of fluffy clouds. Ellie filled her lungs with the evening’s fresh beauty. Her gaze swept down the masts. It was all she had imagined. She climbed the steps to the quarterdeck and headed for the captain’s cabin.

“A pox on the Merrie Monarch and ’is blasted Letter of Marque!” Captain Harris’s voice bubbled with anger.

Ellie’s feet stuttered to a halt outside the open doorway. She pressed herself against the wall.

“The king’s yoke didn’t sit well on me neck, anyway. We’ll just petition the Dutch for their support. See what the king thinks of that.”

“He’ll think it’s an act of treason.” Ellie recognized Gorgon’s gruff voice. “Which it is. What do you plan to tell the men?”

“I see no need to tell ’em anythin’ at the moment. We’re just delivering spices this trip. Shouldn’t run into any trouble.” A threatening tone entered Harris’s voice. “And ye better not be sayin’ anythin’ either.”

Ellie chewed her lower lip.
How can we sail without a Letter of Marque?

Without the king’s seal, they had no protection from attack from any number of England’s enemies. Ellie frowned. She was probably overreacting. She’d have to think on this, and maybe talk it over with Nelson if he proved to be someone she could trust.

At the moment, she had a job to do. Ellie took a deep breath, moved away from the wall, and knocked on the wall beside the open doorway.

“Enter.”

Ellie stepped through the opening and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sparse light. The smell of whale oil filled the confined space. “Evening, Captain.”

“Give Rodgers the new headings, Gorgon.” Captain Harris turned to Ellie. “Greetings, boy.” He swung an arm toward the corner. “Laundry’s over there.”

“Aye, Captain.” She bobbed her head and gathered up the foul-smelling pile. Holding the bundle at arm’s length, she hurried from the captain’s quarters. As soon as she got out on open deck, Ellie heaved the pile away from her. She rubbed her arms as if it would keep the putrid stench from clinging to her and ducked around the corner. Ellie removed the washbasin from a hook on the wall and turned to grab the bucket.

“You’re late.”

She gasped, pressing herself to the nearest bulkhead. The washtub slipped from her fingers to clatter at her feet.

Nelson stood with his arms folded over his chest, eyes hard.

“Sorry.” She swallowed. “I just got finished in the galley. There were a lot more pots and–”

“You aren’t Sven’s lackey, you’re mine. Leave the laundry there for now. We need to talk.” Nelson turned and strode away, movements stiff.

Ellie jumped to action and fell in step behind him. She didn’t understand what had made him so angry. It wasn’t like she’d been sloughing off during his absence.

When he reached the mainmast, Nelson stopped and faced her. His dark eyes swept left and right before centering on Ellie.

A shiver coursed through her.

Nelson leaned close, studied her face.

Ellie held her breath.

“Why are you here?” The whispered words hissed through his teeth. His intense gaze rooted Ellie to the decking.

Confusion clouded her thoughts and her heartbeat accelerated. “Wh–what?”

“You heard me. What brings you to
The Surf Runner
, Elysandra?”

Her breath hitched.
How could he know me?
“I…who…is that?”

Nelson rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, child. I saw your frantic mother at the docks while you were in the galley.”

A vice gripped Ellie’s chest.
Frantic?
“My mother?”

“She had a small portrait of you. I will admit your disguise is quite effective.” He reached up and flicked a short curl with his finger. “If it weren’t for this mop of red and your striking eyes, I’d never have made the connection.”

Panic rattled around her brain. “What…did you tell her?” She twisted her fingers together. “She’d have come for me already if you’d told her, right?” Ellie gnawed her lower lip.

“None of that answers my question. What are you doing aboard this ship? This is no place for little girls.”

His words stabbed into her, aggravating a long festering wound. A ball of fire sparked in Ellie’s stomach, and her hands balled into fists. “I am
not
a little girl.”

Nelson waved a dismissive hand. “Bah! We both know the truth of things.” He looked down his nose at her. “You expect me to ignore this information, like it has no bearing? Keep this from my captain?”

“What bearing does it have?” Desperation laced her voice. She’d been rehearsing the conversation in her mind for close to four years—except her father always stood where Nelson did. “I can perform any task a male cabin boy can. Challenge me. I’ll pass any test you put before me. I was born to be here, Nelson. The sea is in my blood.”

“What kind of bosh is that? Sea in your blood, my arse. What are you, a damn mermaid?”

“My father is a captain, as was his father before him. My great-grandfather, too, for that matter.” Heat flushed Ellie’s cheeks.
What if he sends me away?
“Just give me a chance, please. Being a privateer is all I have ever wanted.”

“What the ’ell are you two doin’ just standin’ around?”

Ellie swung about to find Captain Harris barreling toward them, arms waving.

“Ye said ye were gonna show the lad how to use the footropes and tend the yards.” Harris pointed toward the maze of rigging and ropes overhead. “Last time I checked they were up there, not down here. And ye left me skivvies strewn all over the quarterdeck.”

Nelson’s sharp gaze shifted to Ellie before returning to the captain. “Actually, Ellis and I were just discussing your laundry, as well as his other duties. I’m glad you’re here. The lad has something he wants to tell you.”

Ellie froze.

Captain Harris locked his eyes on her and raised a fat gray eyebrow. “What is it? Don’t tell me ye’re afraid of heights.”

She struggled for something to say. “Er…uh…no, sir, not at all. I…uh…I just wanted you to know…uh…what a fine job Nelson is doing of training me, sir.”

Nelson made a pained face over the captain’s shoulder.

“And to thank you again for the opportunity, sir.” She didn’t know what Nelson expected her to say, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell the captain her secret or ask to leave the ship. If Nelson wanted the truth known, it would be up to him to rat her out.

Captain Harris frowned and shook his head. “That is the biggest pile of pig shit I have ever seen shoveled, boy.” He turned hard eyes on Nelson. “Get the hell to work.”

“Yes, sir.” After the captain moved away, Nelson turned back to Ellie. His dark eyes bored into her.

A shiver raced along her flesh. Her jaw flexed and her chin notched upward.

After a few seconds, Nelson nodded. “I will not speak of this again, Ellis.” He blew out a sigh and shook his head. “Lord, help me.” Nelson put a bare foot into the loop of rope wrapped around the mainmast and grabbed a handhold on another further up the pole. “C’mon. Looks like it’s time for your rigging lessons.” He scaled the mast, hand over hand, placing his feet in footholds that ran up its length.

Ellie blinked, let out the breath she hadn’t realized she held and followed Nelson up the rigging. A smile bowed her lips as she maneuvered her way up ropework.
Guess he can be trusted.

The wind whipped at her clothing and sent delicious tingles through her. Once she reached the top, Ellie poked her head over the rim of the crow’s nest and grinned at Nelson. “That wasn’t as hard as I expected.”

“This is my favorite spot on the entire ship.” Nelson’s bald head gleamed beneath the setting sun. His eyes lit with pleasure.

Ellie climbed over the side of the nest and settled on her bottom beside him. “Don’t you get sunburn on your head up here without a hat?”

Nelson’s bony fingers rubbed his naked dome. “We can’t all have a head of flaming locks like you. ’Sides, I lost most of mine looking after greenhorns these past fifteen years.”

Ellie huffed. Her thoughts returned to what she’d overhead the captain say earlier. “Nelson?”

His eyes swept the horizon before he faced her again. “Aye?”

“What if the captain wasn’t one of the king’s privateers anymore?”

He frowned. “Why would you ask something like that?”

Her eyes sought her hands; she searched her fingernails for an answer. “I sort of overhead Captain Harris say he lost his Letter of Marque.”

“You did what?” Nelson’s gaze shot down to the quarterdeck, where the captain stood with Gorgon at the helm. “Are you sure?”

Ellie nodded. “Positive.”

“Satan’s gonads! He’s going to take us all down with him. With no royal seal to back us up, we’re on our own. Free for attack by any vessel on the seas, and could be declared pirates if we fire a shot to defend ourselves.” Nelson rubbed the wrinkles in his forehead, mouth forming a thin line.

A harsh laugh burst from her. “Oh, wonderful.” She rolled her eyes.
I’ve joined a band of pirates. Papa will be so proud.

Chapter Seven

“The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can head up to the house and get something substantial to eat.”

Daniel finished tying off the yard line he held and nodded to Captain Winters. “Aye, sir.”

It had been a long trip, nearly four months since they’d weighed anchor in their home port of Newquay. A smile blossomed on Daniel’s lips.
Home.
He lifted his gaze to the tufts of gray dotting the sky in wonder. When had he started to think of the tiny port town as home?

The image of Ellie nestled against him on the beach materialized in his mind. She’d visited him each and every night in the three weeks before she’d gone off to school. They sat together on the beach for hours. Sometimes she’d talk to him as if he were human, like it mattered what he thought. Most nights she’d fall asleep snuggled against him. He’d always wake her before dawn so she could slip back into the house undetected.

With a shake of his head, Daniel shoved the memories aside. He focused on Mrs. Winters’ hearty mutton stew and the soft bed the captain had been kind enough to offer in an unused storage shed nestled in the shelter of the bluffs behind their house.

Daniel pulled the last rope taut and tied off the end. He straightened and turned about to find the captain approaching, a rucksack tossed over his shoulder. His blue eyes sparkled with an excited light. “Ready, lad?”

“Aye, Captain. All set.”

Captain Winters nodded and spun on his heel. Long strides carried him across the deck of
The Siren’s Call
. Before he’d travelled more than a dozen steps, two sailors came clamoring up the gangplank.

“Captain Winters!” The short round one waved chubby arms over his head. Sweat slid in rivers down his temples. “Thank the Lord ye’re finally here!”

The panic in the squat man’s voice rippled down the back of Daniel’s neck.

Captain Winters stopped, swung the sack from his shoulder and dropped it on the deck. He held his hands up, palms out. “Easy, Matthews. You look like you’re about to explode. What’s got you in such a state?”

Matthews’ hands fretted with each other over his rotund belly. “It’s yer daughter, sir. She…uh…” His gray eyes sought the decking.

Daniel felt the captain stiffen beside him. The air around them seemed to grow heavy. Despite the warm sunshine heating his skin, a shiver raced down his spine.

“What about my daughter?” The captain took a menacing step toward the stuttering fat man. “Spit it out!” His hands curled into fists.

“She’s missing, Captain Winters. Gone over two weeks now.” Matthews cast a worried glance at his lanky companion. “We tried to get word to ye, but–”

The captain waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind that. Is there any clue to her whereabouts, a note of ransom?”

Matthews studied his toes again.

“She wasn’t taken, Captain Winters,” the tall skinny one spoke up, ramming an elbow into Matthews’ well-padded ribs. “Yer daughter left a note for ye.” He held out a piece of folded yellow paper with a broken wax seal. “Yer wife read it, of course.”

Captain Winters snatched the parchment from the man and unfolded the page. After a few moments, he let out a rush of air, crumpled the note and dropped it at his feet. He grabbed his rucksack from the deck. “If you will excuse us, gentlemen, I need to go see my wife.” He pushed past the startled men and strode toward the gangplank.

Daniel used the distraction to scoop up the crumpled note and stuff it in his pocket. Cheeks flushed and heart hammering, he stepped between the two sailors and hurried to catch up with the captain.