The Voyage of the Sea Wolf (3 page)

Without another word she walked away.

William smiled down at me, that smile that melted my heart. He did not touch me or take my hand. Mr. Forthinggale was beside us but even he could not control
William's smile.

I watched Captain Medb Moriarty strut along the deck. She carried herself like a queen, as if she owned the ship and the world and everything in it.

I saw her look down at the clump of yellow hair she still held then slide it carefully into the pocket of her canvas trousers.

We walked the deck, Mr. Forthinggale between us.

The pirates stopped their work as we passed and the faces turned toward us were dark and hostile. There were low mutterings and words that I could occasionally hear.

“Another woman on board.”

“Bad fortune the day you picked her up, Bandit.”

“There be's many a dark night with the sea waitin',” a tall, gangling pirate growled and spat on the deck.

I stopped and turned toward him. “The captain makes decisions on the ship,” I said. “She has made her decision about me. It would not be wise to go against her.”

William strode forward and grabbed his shoulder.
“You miserable cur,” he said. “You touch one hair o' her head...”

Mr. Forthinggale jerked him back. “Ye'll answer to me afore ye answer to the captain, if'n ye harm her,” he said. “They're here, the two of them. Captain's orders, if ye see them touching or hear them conversing you are to disclose it to her. And ye're to keep yer hands off the wench and yer remarks to yerselves. She is no plaything, brought on board for yer pleasure.”

To me his words lacked conviction. I doubted if he would ever protect me should the need arise.

I saw Skelly, who'd given us water in the longship, and Magruder, who'd been there, too. My eyes lingered for a second on Magruder and he made that obscene kissing sound that was more horrifying to me than the spoken threats.

Right then I knew I would have to get a knife and keep it by me, awake or asleep.

Walking the length of the deck with Mr. Forthinggale I got my first real look at the
Sea Wolf
. She was beautiful, all polished wood and small embellishments. A golden horseshoe was nailed to the main mast. A carved oaken board hung above the door to the bridge. On it were etched the words Bonne Chance, which I knew to be French for “good luck.” It had likely been on a pillaged
French ship. The railings shone. They were scarred and battle wounded but still they gleamed. I thought they might be made of oak also. There was no roughness in this ship, no shoddiness. Loving hands had made her and she had been valued.

Now she was under full sail, the wind making that brisk lapping sound as it spread the canvas. I heard the slap-snap of the flag, the lying English flag. The deck sloped, lifted itself, dropped with the motion of the ship so that I saw the whole sweep of sky and clouds and sea. The salt mist of spray filled my senses. If only this had been another time and another place, if this had been our ship, mine and William's, and we were off on a new adventure...

I reminded myself of what a miracle it was that he and I had been rescued from certain death and how fortunate that the ship had a woman captain. Had it been a man, he might have made a different judgment. She was a strange woman, but a woman. I sensed in her a mixture of lady and villain. But the way she had acted with William disturbed me greatly.

I had a flash of something like jealousy, which I told myself was absurd. The captain must be at least twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age. It was possible that she found him handsome. Who would not? But to be
jealous of her was foolish. I had enough to concern me.

Mr. Forthinggale held up his hand for us to stop. He kicked the side of a battered wooden chest that was pushed against a bulwark then lifted the lid with the toe of his boot. The chest was half-filled with clothing and the smell that wafted up from it told me it had been a long time since anything in it had been washed. The foul odors of sweat, urine, and old, stale whiskey or rum overpowered the clean smell of the salt air. Bile rose in my throat.

“Find what you need.” Forthinggale made a disgusted face as he lifted an old torn shirt with the point of his knife and dropped it back on top of the filthy jumble inside.

“Here girl,” he said then. “These were Frenchy's. He got tired o' them. They're high style and right for you.” He waved a pair of green satin pantaloons like a flag and held them out to me. One glance told me they were almost clean and untorn. I took them off the knife's point and set them beside me.

“Find yerselves some shirts. Never get any cheaper,” Forthinggale said with that high-pitched giggle that did not match his appearance.

William rustled through the chest and brought out some clothing that looked usable. As he shook out a faded flowered shirt, rat droppings fell from it in a soft patter on
the deck. Mr. Forthinggale flattened them with his boot and ground them into the wood.

“Is there a place to wash these things?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “There's a bucket below decks. Ye can draw up some water.”

William examined a sweat-stained white shirt then pulled it on.

The shirt was small. He was thin from the island but still it strained against his shoulders. I watched him roll up the sleeves, the small golden hairs on his arms glinting in the sun.

“Who wore this clothing afore us?” he asked.

“The crew.” Mr. Forthinggale's voice was disinterested. “When we takes over another ship the men seize the captives' garments, if they're any better than their own. That's afore they cuts their throats. Come on.”

He turned and William and I secretly touched hands before we bundled the clothes and followed him.

The wind was in front of us, the deck alive with activity. No one turned as we walked past. Backs were bent, hands were busy.

Then I saw why.

Captain Medb Moriarity leaned against a coil of rope, deep in conversation with the smallest man I'd ever seen in my life. He had a shock of black hair that curled out
from under a red kerchief and his top half was sturdy and strong looking. But his legs were short and stubby as a small child's. I had never seen a dwarf before but I knew this pirate to be one. Neither of them looked at us as we passed and the captain made no answer to Mr. Forthinggale's polite “Captain?”

The man was speaking.

“One only,” he said. His voice was low and I began to wonder if I'd interpreted his words correctly.

“How was it?” the captain asked.

“Empty.”

The captain breathed hard. “Empty? That is not good. She has come out then? She is here. Could she be the girl?”

The dwarf looked up at me and narrowed his eyes.

“Step forward, Catherine,” the captain ordered.

I took a pace forward. What was this? Panic choked my throat. What had she meant when she asked, “Could she be the girl?”

The dwarf stood in front of me, his little legs planted apart.

“Cap'n,” William began and the captain held up a hand and hissed. “Be quiet.”

I stood still, enduring the steady gaze of the little man. I tried to think of other things but my mind was strangely blank.

After what seemed forever he shook his head and moved back.

“Ye have no need to worry, Cap'n. Not on this account.”

The captain indicated for me to step back.

“Captain?” Mr. Forthinggale asked, timidly I thought.

The captain swung around. “What is it? You know better than to interrupt me when I'm speakin' wi' Sebastian.”

“Aye, Captain. I just want to ask if ye'll be giving the oath right away. Or are the marooners to be cleaned up first?”

The dwarf, Sebastian, examined his fingers, sucking on one of them.

“They'll take the oath the way they are.” The captain's voice was calmer. “I apologize for my rudeness, Mr. Forthinggale. You know I am not always on line with the horizon when I am in discussion with Sebastian.” Her head inclined toward us. “Sebastian, these are Catherine and William.”

When she said William's name it seemed to me her whole manner softened, became boneless, the way a cat's does when it sleeps. I was fancying it, I knew. And then I saw her gently touch the pocket of her trousers where I'd earlier seen her slip the cutting of his hair.

I bit my lip. No, I was not fancying anything.

Mr. Forthinggale held a sheet of paper. He indicated to me to sit on the cannon nearest to him. I set my bundle of clothes on the deck.

Standing by the railing was the dwarf, Sebastian. His gaze on me was steady as it had been when he had examined me for the captain and made that strange pronouncement, “Ye have no need to worry. Not on this account.” What did it mean?

“Should I administer the oath to the both of them together?” Mr. Forthinggale asked the captain. “It would save time.”

The captain glared. “Have ye not hearkened to me?
There's to be nothin' for them together. Did I not make myself clear?”

“Aye, Captain.” Mr. Forthinggale's face turned an unbecoming shade of red.

I thought how strange it was that this bullying, unpleasant man should be cowed by her. It was an indication to me of her strength that she could so easily intimidate him and the rest of the crew. Perhaps not Sebastian. With him she had been even respectful.

I straddled the cold metal of the cannon. My tattered trousers left my legs almost bare, torn as they were from waist to ankle. I saw the looks and nudges of the men who had gathered to listen and I tried to arrange the tattered trousers like a long skirt to better cover me.

I smiled reassurance at William who stood to the side.

Mr. Forthinggale cleared his throat and began.

The Code of Conduct was almost the same as the one I had taken on my father's ship.

I was not to gamble at cards or dice. The crew of the
Reprisal
had been bound by the same order but they had gambled ferociously, even on the rats that they brought up from the bilges.

I was not to have a candle lighted after eight at night for fear of fire.

I was not to strike another member of the crew while
aboard the
Sea Wolf
.

“Hear that, Skull?” someone shouted. “Ye should be put in irons for what ye did to me.”

“Shut yer mouth! Ye started it.”

There was a small scuffle, quickly subdued.

My mind wandered back to the way it had been on the
Reprisal
when it had been my father's voice reading the conditions of the Code. There had been the one provision in his that was not included here. The one that stated that the musicians were on duty every day except for Sundays. Captain Moriarity had no time for music.

As Mr. Forthinggale continued, telling how the shares of plunder would be divided, I found myself wondering why the captain herself did not administer the oath. As captain, I thought, it should be her business, not the quartermaster's. And then I thought, she considers herself Medb, who was born daughter to the High King of Ireland and who herself became Queen of Connacht. She had peasants to do her bidding. Captain Medb had peasants to do
her
bidding. Their names were pirates.

I listened as the quartermaster's voice droned on.

The day was lovely, filled with sunshine and sea. Small clouds bubbled in the sky. The sails were bursting with wind and, even though I was in danger, I felt in that moment happy to be alive, to be here, to be able to
look across and see my love, my William.

When the ceremony came to an end I climbed carefully off the cannon, mindful of some modesty, and signed my name to the papers. Catherine DeVault. For better or worse I was now a crewmember on the
Sea Wolf
.

William took the same oath after me. I had wondered if the captain would let me stay to see him and I tried to make myself small as I stood a little apart, hoping she would not notice me.

I watched as he signed the Code. There would be only William written on the paper. No last name. He had never had one.

“Men! All is over.” The captain made a dismissal signal with her arms. “William, you go with them. Ye'll do what's needed, scrub decks, empty the bilges, check the cannons. Ye'll sleep wi' the crew. Get a hammock if there is one or find a place for yerself on the fo'c's'le though the men are stuck together there like salt fish in a barrel.”

“Pork can squeeze hisself a bit,” someone yelled. “He's such'n a fat pig he takes up two places.”

There was much laughter and punching. Like the pirates on the
Reprisal
this was a companionship of ruffians and if you didn't know better you would think them all jolly and fun loving. They were, when it suited them. But underneath they were thieves and murderers and scum.

William was following them but he stopped and turned when the captain addressed me.

“Cate,” the captain began.

“Her name is Catherine,” William called back.

“She'll be Cate on my ship.” The captain's voice was harsh and angry. “Ye'll not be callin' her with any name nor talkin' to her neither. So ye have no need to worry.”

“Then she'll be Catherine in my thoughts,” William said. “And there'll be plenty of them, you can lay to that.”

I touched a finger to my lips.

“There'll be none o' that neither,” the captain said. There was fury in her face.

None o' that.

But I would be in his thoughts and even Queen Medb could not take those away.

“Cate! Sebastian is sail master on the
Sea Wolf
. He has asked that ye work with him on the sails. 'Tis an important task. Ye'll be busy on them from mornin' to sunset and Sebastian will be keeping a watch on ye. Ye'll take yer orders from him. Ye're to sleep in my cabin. And I'll be watching ye there. So any notion ye might have on sneakin' away to William, put it out of yer mind. Do ye understand? You'd better!”