Chapter 24

  Jonathon sat at his desk in his cabin, staring at his logbook, and sighed as he stared at his latest entry.

  Day 72

  Today remains the same as yesterday. No news from the Quartermaster, Bosun, Gunner, or Navigator.

  He looked at the entries from the last week; they all read the same. He sighed heavily again and let his head hang over his desk for a moment. “Gods, this is boring,” he muttered to himself, the rumble in the back of his throat a reflection of his frustration.

  It had been a little over two weeks since they had finished their repairs and left the scene of the battle with the sea monster. It had never returned, but they also had never found a body. This led to a rather comedic scene of grown, battle-hardened pirates behaving like scared children in the water, treading water and scrunching their legs up in an attempt to keep their bodies as close to the surface as possible, screaming at the slightest change in sensation or perceived movement. Indeed, once the rest of the repairs had been completed, most of the crew had found it an amusing pastime to watch their fellow crewmates struggle in the water, some calling out about the ‘movements’ and ‘shapes’ they saw nearby. This provided the men with a great source of amusement that helped to settle the air of fear and grief that the battle had stirred.

  Since their departure, however, their journey had been maddeningly uneventful. They had encountered neither ships nor monsters; they hadn’t even had any of the petty disputes that usually arose on board. Aside from the occasional poor weather, they had had smooth sailing during this time. There had initially been an air of excitement for Jonathon following the piece each day, but after a week of barely any change in the direction the piece pointed, he began to lose interest.

  The waters north of the Brightstone-Silvercove trade route were largely unsailed and unknown. He had hoped when they crossed it a few days ago that they’d begin seeing signs of the missing ship, but the days continued to be the same as the ones before, and eventually his hope, like his enthusiasm, withered away. Thus, Jonathon sat, bored at his desk, wondering again what the hells he was going to do with his day.

  He lifted his head and walked over to his bookshelf. He lazily traced his fingers across the spines of the books as his eyes half-read the titles that he could probably recite in order from memory at this point.

  He walked over to his bed and went to lie down, but before he could even place his head on his pillow, he stood back up and did a spin in place, grabbing his face in frustration. “Ugh! I don’t want to lie down!” he exclaimed to absolutely no one.

  He turned and looked his cabin over once more before breathing what felt like his hundredth sigh just this morning. “Well,” he said aloud, “guess we’ll see what everyone else is up to.”

  He exited his cabin and stepped out onto the quarterdeck, the morning sun glinting off the calm sea. Beckett stood diligently at the helm, looking back and forth between the compass, the piece, and the skies. Jonathon approached the man and said, “How’re we doin’ today, Beckett?”

  Jonathon thought he saw a tension form in the man’s shoulders before he said, “Ah, Cap’n. Always ‘appy to see ye. Aye, we’re doin’ alright today. Same as we were an hour or so ago during our meetin’.”

  “Any change in the piece’s direction?” he asked hopefully.

  “No, sir,” Beckett replied. “As we’ve discussed, as soon as it changes, I’ll be sure to come find ye meself.”

  They stood in an awkward, tense silence as Beckett squinted his eyes and cast his gaze this way and that, pretending to scrutinize the horizon.

  “Any signs of foul weather out there?” Jonathon asked after a moment.

  “No, sir,” Beckett answered.

  “I see,” Jonathon said, increasingly disappointed. “Very good. Carry on, Beckett. Let me know if anything changes.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” he responded, his gaze already back on the compass.

  Jonathon took a few steps forward to the railing overlooking the main deck and observed the crew. The men moved about sluggishly, casually seeing to the occasional sailing instruction they received from Beckett or Dryden. Ryden and his men were nowhere to be seen. Likely below deck, Jonathon thought to himself.

  He walked down to the main deck and approached Dryden. “Dry,” he called out. “How’s everything going?”

  Dryden jumped at the captain’s calling. “Uh, goin’ well, Cap,” he replied hastily. “Just, uh, workin’ on the rigging.”

  Jonathon noticed hesitation in the boy’s face. “Everything okay, Dryden?”

  Dryden hesitated for a moment and said, “I…uh…I mean…everything’s well ‘nough, Cap. But, I mean, if you’re not busy, I was hopin’ I might get a chance to speak with you ‘bout somethin’.”

  Jonathon felt a surge of excitement. Finally, something to do. “Of course. Do you want to speak out here, or would you prefer to speak back in my cabin?”

  Dryden looked around at his men moving about before looking back at Jonathon. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d prefer to speak in your cabin.”

  “Of course,” Jonathon said with a reassuring smile. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  “Aye, sir,” Dryden said before looking back to one of his men. “Oi, Lincoln, you’ve got temporary control while I go speak with the Cap. Aye?”

  “Aye,” the man responded.

  Inside Jonathon’s cabin, the door clicked shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the crew outside. The two moved over to the desk and took a seat. “So,” Jonathon began, “what’s on your mind?”

  Dryden sat in silence, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he stared at the desk–the waves lapping at the sides of the ship the only sound to be heard. After a few moments, he spoke up, “It’s nothin’ big, Cap. I…” he paused again, “...was just hopin’ to get your advice on what to do with my work.”

  Jonathon looked at the boy, confused. “What do you mean?”

  Dryden’s eyes darted back and forth as he formulated his thoughts. “It’s just, Cass is the quartermaster, yeah? She does what she does, and she does it well. Obviously. So well, in fact, that she’s training Naomi.

  “Ryden is the gunner, and he’s pretty much been good at his job since day one, right? A real natural at his job. He almost never gets in trouble or messes up. In the morning meetings, he always says what he’s s’posed to and never makes mistakes.

  “Beckett is…well, Beckett. I don’t think there’s a navigator alive that knows more’n he does. Plus, he knows how to do both mine and Ryden’s jobs–and he knows how to do ‘em well. Well enough that he taught us both how to do ‘em–well, along with Cass, of course.

  “And even Naomi seems to be learning the responsibilities of a quartermaster really quickly. And then there’s me…”

  He trailed off, his fidgeting increasing as his eyes began darting back and forth rapidly. After a moment, Jonathon noticed the glossy sheen that had formed in the boy’s eyes. When he spoke next, Dryden’s voice was tight with an uncharacteristic vulnerability. “When it comes to me, I can’t seem to do anything right. I still have to be reminded by Beckett almost daily to do certain things. Cass has to repeat orders to me a lot. Hells, even some of my men will move and do things that need doin’ before I even give the command. And it’s not like it’s because they knew I’d give the command, it’s because it needed to be done, and I hadn’t even thought to give the command at all! It’s like I’m a step behind everyone else, Cap’n. Like I don’t belong here.” The tears that had been threatening to fall finally won as Jonathon saw two streaks form on the boy’s cheeks.

  Jonathon, completely blindsided by this display of reflection and emotion from the twin, found himself caught off guard at the boy’s sudden outburst. The twins were always joking and laughing. Aside from when they were giving orders, Jonathon had never really seen any hint of deeper seriousness or introspection from either of the lads. He knew Dryden had obviously not taken to his role as well as Ryden had, but it never seemed to bother the boy as much as it so clearly did right now.

  He stared at the boy in front of him, the tears flowing uninhibited at this point. Hard to remember he’s only seventeen sometimes, he thought. Sure, he had already been working on a ship by that point in his own life, but even he hadn’t held the same level of responsibility that either Dryden or Ryden did. He continued to study the boy as he searched for the right words. Finally, he said, “Dryden, where is all this coming from? What makes you think you’re doing any less than any of the others you mentioned?”

  Dryden sniffed, rubbing his eyes with the his shirt. “Pretty much all the things I just said, Cap’n. Cassie and Beckett obviously have more experience than me, so it’s easier to not feel as bad about not being as good as they are, but Ryden and Naomi are in the same boat, if not at a bigger disadvantage than me, and they’re both doing better than I am. Naomi’s never even been on a boat before and yet she did such a good job leading her group when we raided that trader and when we got attacked by that kraken. And Ryden’s been working just as long as I have, but like I said, he never makes mistakes. And he’s really good at his job on top of that! I’ve never heard or seen any of his men have to do his job for him…” He paused again and continued to stare at the table. “…It’s just…it feels like I’m the only one who’s struggling to do their job. Even the new crew members we picked up don’t seem to struggle as much as I do. And I tried to ignore it, but it’s been months now and I’m not gettin’ any better…”

  Jonathon felt pity for his bosun. And empathy. He could feel the pain in his chest. The self-doubt, the feelings of not belonging. The despair of feeling alone on a ship full of people. “Well,” he started, “I have some thoughts on the matter, if you’d like to hear them.”

  Dryden sniffed again and said, “I guess so. I guess that’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you, but now that I’ve said it, I just don’t know what you’d be able to say that would help me be better at my job…”

  “Nothing,” Jonathon said simply. He watched as the tears threatened to return. “Hold on now,” he said quickly. “What I mean to say is that there’s nothing I can say that’s going to magically make you ‘better’ at your job. I can tell you all about your role and the responsibilities you have, but I think we both know by now that you’re already well aware of them. But,” he said, trying to add a tone of positivity to the word, “what I can tell you is what I see. And what I see is a young man who is in a role at an age far younger than any I’ve ever heard of before. Now, would you have typically been who we hired for the job–”

  “Exactly! That too,” Dryden interrupted. “The only reason I even got this stupid job is because Ryden is so good at shootin’ things, and he said he’d only join if I got my job. I wasn’t even good ‘nough to earn my place.”

  In that moment, Jonathon saw the real problem. Not just self-doubt, the boy didn’t even think he deserved his spot on the crew. “Is that what this is about, Dryden? You don’t think you deserve to be my bosun?”

  Dryden briefly looked at his captain and said, “Kinda, yeah…”

  Jonathon shook his head. “Well, let me go ahead and spoil what I was going to say for you: you most certainly do deserve your job. Did Ryden help you get your job? Sure, he had a hand in your consideration. Would I have given you the job if I thought you wouldn’t be able to do it? Not even if Ryden was able to be the best quartermaster, navigator, and gunner all at the same time. I saw how you were eager to learn. You didn’t just want to raid and pillage and go drink your share away, you wanted to learn. And you were good at it. Are Beckett and Cass good at their jobs? Yes. I wouldn’t replace them if you paid my weight in gold. Is Ryden a damned good gunner? Absolutely. He has the potential to be the deadliest gunner on the sea. I’ve never seen somebody with his level of raw talent.” Jonathon could see Dryden’s shoulders slumping further and further with each of his comments. “Now listen though, let me finish. Them being good at their jobs shouldn’t make you feel worse. I know you feel like it just confirms your theory, but that’s where the similarities in our assessment end.

  “For starters, their abilities and success should be reinforcement to you that I don’t suffer inadequacy on my ship. I don’t hire because of someone’s background or connections. Every member on board got where they were because they earned it. The same goes for you. Like I was saying before, you are the youngest bosun I’ve ever heard of. You have more responsibility now than I did at your age. Not by much, mind you,” he added with a smile, “but you still do. Do you make mistakes? Sure. Do you forget things? Yeah. But let me ask you, compared to a few months ago, how many times did Beckett have to remind you of your duties?”

  “I don’t know,” Dryden mumbled to the table.

  “I do,” Jonathon said. “Multiple times. Multiple times a day. Now it’s what, ‘almost every day’? Every other day? Maybe longer. I know he doesn’t complain near as much as he used to. In fact, the only thing he says now is how much you’ve improved and how good of a job you’ve been doing. Same goes for Cass. And me. I know you may not realize it, but I keep track of all my men. I watch you all when you’re on deck. I watch as Ryden organizes and commands his teams. I watch as Cass silently double-checks everything I do to make sure I’m not forgetting anything. I watch as each crew member runs to do the jobs they’re assigned and how well each of them does it. And I watch you. I watch you ordering the men to manage multiple riggings and lines. I watch you constantly scouring Mother’s Myth for any signs of leaks or damage. I see you constantly improving your skills at repairs while out at sea. And I see you learning how to accurately report what it is you are doing. Are you perfect? No. Do I expect you to be perfect? I’d be a fool if I said yes. But do you deserve to be where you are? Absolutely.

  “And you’re not the only one to feel this way. Everyone on this ship has felt the way you do now at some point or another. Even me. Hells, when I first took command of Mother’s Myth, I had doubts. I’d look at my crew–men who’d been sailing longer than I’d been, who’d seen more battles, who knew these waters better than I–and I’d wonder if I was fit to lead them. But here’s the thing, Dryden: no one is perfect at their job from the start. Not Cass, not Ryden, not even Beckett. They’ve all had to learn, and so will you. And the fact that you’re here, worried about this, tells me you care enough to do better. That’s what matters.”

  Dryden looked at Jonathon, his eyes threatening reassurance, but seeking condemnation and deceit in his captain’s expression. “But what about Naomi? She’s never been on a ship and is already better than me. And what about the men who do my job before I even think about it? Wouldn’t they be better suited?”

  Jonathon wondered how long the boy had been struggling with this before working up the courage to talk to him. “What about them?” he asked matter-of-factly. “Naomi’s good at leading men into combat…and? You forget she was a Banshee with her tribe, and the granddaughter of The Matriarch. What do you think she was doing until we showed up? And about your men doing things without you remembering to tell them–let me ask you, do you hear Ryden telling his spongers to wipe the barrel down after every shot? Do you hear him instructing the rammers how to pack their shots?”

  “No,” Dryden said, the smallest hint of understanding creeping into his voice.

  “No, you don’t,” Jonathon reinforced. “Why is that, you think? Is it because they’re better than him? Do they deserve his position more? No. It’s because he runs drills with them all the time. Hells, even if he didn’t, they’d still not need to be told. Those boys have been doin’ their jobs for at least a year now. The same can be said for the men you command. You run drills with them all the time. And a lot of them have been working with this ship for longer than you’ve been here. Most know their roles even without your presence. Your job is to be able to remind them of their roles when they can’t remember. When battle is thick and their minds can only focus on if the next cannon shot will turn them to mist, you’re the one who calls them back to the present and instructs them on what to do to ensure we all survive. While they’re each working on the singular task they’ve been assigned to, you’re looking at the system as a whole, making sure each task is working together as intended. You decide who to send up to make repairs. You guide your men…and from what I’ve seen, you guide them well.

  “Do you have room to grow? Yes. Will you? I have no doubt. You just have to stop being so hard on yourself and allow that growth to happen. If all you ever seek is perfection, all you’ll ever find is failure.

  “Take the time and cut yourself some slack. You’re doing fine, Dryden. You’ve more than earned your spot aboard my ship. And if you don’t believe in your own opinion on the matter, believe in your captain, because I believe it.”

  Jonathon could see his words taking hold in the boy. Dryden sniffed again and cleared his throat as he wiped his face on his sleeve. “Thank you, Cap’n,” he said sincerely. “You’ve said a lot of things that I hadn’t even thought about until now. I know I’m not the best yet, but I’ll keep getting better, and I’ll try not to be so hard on myself. Thank you.”

  Jonathon smiled at his bosun. “Anytime, lad.”

  He gave Dryden another half hour to calm down and recollect himself. He spent the time asking the boy questions about the journey so far and his plans for when they returned to Gravenfair. By the time the half hour had passed, Dryden was back to his usual self. “Thank you, Cap, I won’t let you down,” he said as he and Jonathon exited the cabin.

  “You haven’t yet,” Jonathon replied as he watched the boy return to his spot on the main deck.

  It was a rare moment of connection, but Jonathon was glad to see the boy maturing and growing right before his eyes. He made a mental note to revisit their discussion when they returned to Gravenfair.

  Jonathon nodded to himself and turned to head down below deck. As he stepped onto the main deck, he glanced up at the doors to Cass’s cabin and thought about going to see her next, but decided against it. She had seemed mildly irritable at the meeting this morning.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I’ll go see her after checking on everyone else, he thought to himself as he descended below deck.

  He stepped off the companionway and surveyed the lower deck. He saw the remainder of his crew sitting idly about. Most played cards, others discussed various topics amongst themselves, and still others napped in their hammocks. Aside from the ones napping, they all had a tankard of grog in hand. Though not as crowded as it had been before, Jonathon could still see they were pushing their limits on space. But, it seemed the men had adapted well enough to the over-crowded conditions. Their goal made putting up with those conditions a little easier, of course, but he was still grateful for their understanding.

  Maybe I’ll join the crew for a few games after I check in with everyone, he thought.

  He continued scanning the deck, but didn’t see his gunner anywhere. “Sailor,” he said, approaching a nearby group of men playing cards, “any of you seen Ryden?”

  The men looked up and scanned the deck as Jonathon had. They looked back and shook their heads. “No, Cap’n. We ain’t seen ‘im since he went down to the hold. Mayhaps he’s still down there?”

  Jonathon nodded and said, “Thank you. Carry on. Mayhaps I’ll join ye later for a game or two.”

  The men smiled back, and the one who had previously spoken said, “Aye, Cap’n, we’ll be sure to save ye a seat.”

  Jonathon decided to check in on the powder monkeys before heading down to the hold.

  Since the battle, the powder monkeys had taken to filling Thayer’s place. Given they would occasionally help the man with the cooking, they were the most qualified to fill the role until they could find a new cook, but the change in meal quality was apparent to all, including the young boys themselves.

  He walked over to the group of young boys who were frantically rushing around the galley, shouting back and forth.

  “Xander,” came a high-pitched voice from one of the boys in front of a large pot over the stove, “get those ‘tatoes peeled and chopped! We need to get ‘em in the stew now if we’re goin’ to make it in time for lunch!”

  “Aye, Jasper,” Xander called back, earning a glare.

  “Aye, chef,” the boy corrected with a haughty air.

  Xander rolled his eyes and said, “Aye, chef.”

  Jasper smiled proudly and puffed out his chest a little. He turned to another boy. “Olsen, ‘ow’s that meat comin’ along? Did ye find the oldest cuts we ‘ave? ‘Member what Mister Thayer used to tell us, ‘usin’ the old before the new keeps the stew from tastin’ blue!’”

  The lad named Olsen responded, “Aye, chef!” He carried a stack of meat the size of his head as he stumbled over to one of the prep tables and began cutting it into stew-sized pieces.

  “Dalton,” Jasper called to the last boy, “did ye get all o’ the spices we need? ‘Member what Mister Thayer used to say, ‘when the meat’s a little old, spice it up and make it bold!’”

  Jonathon had a brief moment of doubt as he wondered why so many of Thayer’s sayings he taught the boys involved dealing with less-than-fresh ingredients. He also felt a pang of pain as he thought of his cook. The weeks since his passing hadn’t been easy.

  “Aye, chef,” Dalton called, shaking Jonathon from his reminiscing. “I think I’ve got all we need. What’s ‘sy-no-men’?”

  “I don’t know,” Jasper replied, “but I think I remember Mister Thayer using it for his stews. Keep hold of it.”

  “How much of it do we need?” Dalton asked.

  Jasper paused as he muttered to himself, “Was it a ‘little dash’ or a ‘heaping mash’? I can’t remember. Oh well, the more the merrier, right?” He turned to the boy, “Add a bunch! It’ll make it look more brown too!”

  Jonathon was by no means a cook, but he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with the boy’s logic. He shrugged. No better teacher than failure, he thought to himself. Though, if they were wrong, they’d all learn something, himself included.

  “How’s everything going over here, Jasper?” Jonathon asked as he approached the de facto leader of the galley.

  “That’s che–” the boy stopped, and his face blanched as he saw who he was talking to. “Oh! Cap’n! Sorry, sir. Jasper’s me name alright. Aye. Jasper. Everyfin’s goin’ just fine, sir! No problems here, right boys?”

  “Aye chef,” the boys called off in discordant order.

  Jasper smiled sheepishly and chuckled, “Yeah, they call me that for some reason. Not sure why?”

  “Mystery that,” Jonathon said, smiling. “Well, keep up the good work, boys. The men and I look forward to your newest culinary creation!”

  The boys all smiled wide at the captain’s praise and said in unison, “Aye, Captain!”

  Jonathon continued to smile as he walked back toward the companionway that would take him to the hold. They mean well, he thought to himself, they’ll get it right in the end, it’s just a matter of time.

  He stepped off into the hold and made his way to the powder stores where he assumed Ryden would be. As he approached the door, he heard sounds of movement on the other side. Ah, he thought to himself, sounds like he’s still down here.

  He pushed the door open and froze as his eyes processed the scene in front of him. Ryden was in fact down here, but it wasn’t the powder the boy was stirring. Naomi stood, connected to her newfound partner, quickly reddening. She screamed, rapidly moving to cover her exposed body. This alerted Ryden to Jonathon’s presence. He also screamed and quickly began looking about for his clothes.

  “I-I-I,” he stuttered as he picked around for his trousers. “Cap’n, I was just showin’ Naomi here how to…”

  “Clean the cannonballs? Stir the powder? Polish the spears?” Jonathon offered dryly. So much for ‘Ryden never making mistakes’ he thought to himself. If only his brother could see him now.

  For a moment, Ryden’s panic flickered into a sheepish grin at the captain’s puns, but he quickly returned to fumbling excuses. “No, sir. We were just, uh…”

  Jonathon held up his hand to stop the boy’s stammering, “Save it, Ryden. Mayhaps you two should find another place to convene? You of all people should know how bad moisture is for gunpowder.”

  Ryden paused and a smile threatened to cross his face as the fear of punishment slowly drifted from his immediate concerns. “Ay-Aye Cap’n. Naomi and me’ll just, uh, go somewhere else.”

  Jonathon put on his most dangerous-looking face before saying to the boy, “You’re lucky we’ve got nothin’ goin’ on, boy. Were today any other day, I’d have Cass flog ye both, naked, in front of the entire crew. And if I find ye in here again, regardless of the day, ye’ll face the same. Understood?” he raised his voice as he finished his question.

  “Aye, Cap’n,” Ryden squeaked.

  “Yes, Captain,” Naomi managed to mumble out, her eyes unable to leave the floor. “I apologize for our behavior. This will not happen again. I swear it.”

  Jonathon felt a twinge of sympathy as he studied the poor girl. He sighed and said, “I’ve no problem with you two enjoying yourselves. This is just not the place to do it. I’m going to leave now. Remember what I said about being found here again.”

  He turned and left before either of the two could stammer out a response.

  Well, he thought to himself, as he walked back toward the companionway, that only leaves one more person to visit. Mayhaps I can convince her to kill some time. Cassandra was by far more beautiful to Jonathon than Naomi, but the erotic nature of what he had just seen had certainly stirred some ideas of his own.

  He stopped outside the door to the quartermaster’s cabin and paused, his hand raised to knock. He looked back over the main deck and saw many of the heads of the men quickly turn away. He suddenly felt very self-conscious as he realized every eye was watching him. Always watching him. After his and Cass’s performance at the celebration, the rumors amongst the crew were rampant. Neither he nor she had done anything to dissuade these rumors as they still weren’t sure where they landed regarding the crew’s knowledge of their relationship. Jonathon figured it didn’t matter in the end; if they confirmed it, the men would naturally believe the rumors. If they denied it, it would make the men believe them even more. So, they just ignored them. In the end, he thought to himself, there would be assumptions made if he were to be seen entering her cabin regardless of whether or not those assumptions were true. This, however, was what made Jonathon feel so self-conscious. He didn’t like the idea of his crew talking about those kinds of things while they were actively happening. It made him feel as though he were being observed in the act, much as his gunner had just recently been. His hand fell from her door and he slowly made his way back to his own cabin.

  He opened his door and walked in to find an unexpected sight: Cassandra standing in front of his bookshelf. In reality, it wasn’t so much the act of her standing in front of his bookshelf or even her presence that caught Jonathon off guard as it was what she was wearing while doing these things.

  She stood, barefoot with one foot flat on the deck while the other was tilted upward on its toes as one of her arms reached out, tracing the spines of his collection as he had done not too long ago. She wore a pair of emerald-green lace panties with a matching top. The top cupped her breasts as if they were the most ineffective breastbands ever created. In fact, Jonathon felt the outfit accentuated her breasts more than they did hide them. The cut was low, coming down to almost a single point in the center of the woman’s chest, where a small clasp sat, a solitary gatekeeper to the treasure that lay underneath. Underneath this, the garment splayed out on either side like an unbuttoned shirt, leaving her stomach and navel enticingly exposed. The fabric around the breasts was see-through; enough to know it was see-through, though not enough to see what lay underneath. The remaining fabric, however, barely served to cover the body as Jonathon could see most of the skin through the thin fabric.

  Her hair was down, her curls dancing wildly across her shoulders and back, glowing in the flickering firelight she had kindled for ambience, the remaining candles snuffed, the curtains drawn. As Jonathon took in the woman in front of him, she turned and smiled. “Like what you see, Captain?”

  He certainly did. The contrast of the green with her orange hair really brought out the warmth in her. He smiled knowingly at her. “I certainly do. I must ask though, where did you find this? Did you buy it in Brightstone?”

  She shook her head and blushed. “Gods, no! I’m not sure I would have ever gone and bought such a thing on my own! No, I found it when I was inventorying the plunder from the ship we hit after we left Brightstone. I figured I could just take it as part of my share.” She spun slowly around for him. “Though based on what I saw in your mirror, I must say, I’m thinking I might should take it out of your share instead.”

  Jonathon stood still, dumbstruck by Cass’s appearance. “I can’t say I would argue that…though, if I’m being honest, I thought you were mad at me. You seemed irritated this morning.”

  She rolled her eyes and smiled. “It’s because you’ve been so restless this last week. Beckett’s starting to get irritated with how much you ‘check-in’ on him every day. And the twins think they’re going to have a heart attack if you keep scaring them with your visits. They’ve started coming up with fake duties just to pull themselves away.”

  Jonathon felt a pang of guilt with a hint of anger. He defended himself weakly, “Well, it’s not my fault. I’m just trying to make sure no one needs anything…”

  She smiled gently at him. “Aye, and that’s good of you, but maybe you don’t need to ‘make sure’ every hour, hmm?”

  He felt a dash of embarrassment begin to creep into his chest and he said, “So what? You’re here to ‘distract’ me?”

  Cass’s brows furrowed and her eyes squinted, her kind and understanding smile vanishing behind pursed lips. “Excuse me? ‘Distract’ you? You think I see myself as some show to draw your attention whenever you become restless? Do you think I believe myself to be something to be used at your convenience? Or perhaps you believe me to be manipulating you? Using my body to cajole the restless captain into submission?”

  Jonathon took an inadvertent step back, the fire reflecting in her eyes seeming a little too on point for his liking. “Well, um, no,” he stuttered, fumbling around for some form of excuse. “Not really. I certainly never said that. It’s just that you are here, and then you mentioned me being restless and irritating the boys, and–”

  “After you asked why I’d seemed upset with you, Jon,” she said, exasperated. “It’s not like you asked me why I was here, and I gave that answer.” She closed her eyes, took a breath, recollected herself, and smiled before continuing. “No. I’m not here to distract you or keep you from pestering the men. Truth be told, it’s a little more selfish than that. I just wasn’t sure I could wait until tonight.”

  Jonathon’s embarrassment and defensiveness quickly fled from his mind at her words. “Oh yeah?” he said, a teasing smile forming on his face. “Didn’t we just see each other last night? And the night before that?”

  “And the night before that, and the night before that,” she finished, stepping towards him in front of the fire.

  “Then what makes today so different?” he asked, smiling as she brought her body in close to his and began to undo the ties of his pants.

  “Well,” she leaned in, her voice dropping, “to be honest, I was making the rounds when I came across Naomi and Ryden amongst the stockpile of rope in the hold. They were, how should I say, testing its durability.”

  Jonathon laughed to himself. So they had already been caught once and still continued at it. He had to applaud their persistence. Their presence in the powder storage made a little more sense now; it was likely the only place on the ship they hadn’t been found, at least prior to Jonathon’s interruption. “I see. Well, you won’t believe this, but I had a similar experience…”

  Cassandra’s sensual mood returned and she smiled mischievously as she said, “Really? You saw them with the ropes as well? Well, that will save a little bit of explaining for what I had in mind…”

  Jonathon smiled back at her and said, “Oh I think I may know just what you were thinking.” He began to kiss her as they made their way back to his bed.

  ~~

  “Holy hells!” Cass said, lying in bed next to Jonathon. “I didn’t know you could do so much with just a few pieces of rope!”

  Jonathon smiled proudly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “And I didn’t know your body could bend like that.”

  The fire had burned out and, with the blinds drawn, Jonathon began to wonder how long they had been at it. He kissed Cassandra on the head and pulled his arm out from behind her. “I’m curious what time of day it is,” he said as he walked to the window and peeked through the curtains. “Gods! It’s got to be mid-afternoon by now!”

  Cass smiled at him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Surprised, Captain?”

  “What? That you haven’t drained me of all the fluid in my body by now? Yes. Surprised that I’m able to produce as much fluid as I have so far today? Even more so. Wondering how it is that you’re not dehydrated? Definitely.” Why was he asking and answering so many questions today? he wondered to himself. Did he do that a lot? If so, why was he just now realizing it?

  She laughed, interrupting his wandering mind, and said, “I wouldn’t say no to some water, if that’s what you’re offering.”

  Jonathon laughed as he moved towards the supply of water he kept in his cabin. He lit a few of his candles, filling the room with a soft glow as he poured two cups. “Aye, I wouldn’t either,” he said as he walked back to the bed and handed her one of the cups.

  They both drank in silence, each releasing a gasp of air as they drained the first cup in a single swig. Jonathon refilled their cups. When they had both sated their thirst, he laid back down next to her.

  “Midday sex is great,” Jonathon said. “We should do it more often.”

  Cass smiled and said, “Unless you want to end up like Ryden and Naomi, it would probably be best to stick to our nighttime visits only.”

  Jonathon nodded disappointedly. “I guess you have a point. Don’t want to be busy in the middle of an emergency. Besides, it’s probably better to reduce the likelihood of giving you a child. We haven’t exactly been doing anything to reduce those chances in the first place.” He smiled sheepishly.

  She gave a sly smile. “I wouldn’t want you to stop that anyway. I enjoy feeling the warmth.” She paused, her expression shifting. “Besides…we don’t really need to worry about that anyway.”

  The comment hung in the air for a moment before Jonathon said, “What, uh, what do you mean ‘we don’t need to worry’ about it?”

  “Well…” she said, then stopped. She sat up in his bed and began to toy with the covers over Jonathon’s chest, tracing an unseen pattern over and over again. “So, I, uh…actually…I’m late.”

  Jonathon’s stomach sank. Late? How? Well, he knew how, but really? That fast? Was it that easy? He had never had this problem before–at least, not that he was aware of. Though, he had heard that the women that worked at brothels had a number of methods they used to prevent such occurrences. He doubted Cassandra knew any of them.

  He realized that she was staring at him, her expression inscrutable as he struggled to read her. Was she worried? Angry? Happy? He couldn’t tell. Was she waiting for his response? What was his response? Would he be happy if she was pregnant? He didn’t know. He knew he wanted kids at some point in the future, but that thought had never left the ‘in the future’ stage. He certainly wouldn’t mind children with Cass. In addition to her being the most competent woman he had ever met, she was also beautiful and kind. She supported him even when she didn’t agree with him. She was quick to challenge him when he was wrong, not afraid to speak her mind. She was the first to take his side at any sign of trouble, even if she didn’t know who was at fault. Indeed, he could do much worse than Cassie when it came to picking a partner.

  His eyes registered her stare again and he was brought back to the present once more. He opened his mouth, and after a moment of nothing, said, “You’re late? How late?”

  The mask continued as she said, “Only a week at this point, but still late enough to cause concern.”

  “Concern?” Jonathon found himself asking, suddenly gripped with the idea that she may not want to have kids. Or worse, that she may not want to have his children. Or worse? So her not wanting his kids was worse than not wanting kids at all? Jonathon wondered if that meant he was happy, or if he just didn’t want her to not want his children. Ugh, he thought to himself, why was it so hard to answer a simple question about the way he felt sometimes?

  Cassandra’s mask turned to one of confusion. “Aye…at least…I assumed it was concern. Are you not concerned?”

  Now that she had dropped the mask, she was clearly having difficulty putting it back on. Jonathon could see the war of emotions that played out on her face as clear as he had been thinking about his own not a moment ago.

  He took a deep breath. Now was not the time to be guessing at other people’s feelings. “I…don’t know, honestly,” he started. “To say this is a shock is…well, it’s sort of not a surprise given our actions, but also a complete surprise. I admit, the thought had not crossed my mind prior to this discussion.”

  Her face became a fog of mixed emotions, likely mirroring Jonathon’s own complex uncertainty. “Then, you’re happy?”

  Jonathon thought for a moment and realized that his body was giving him all the answers he needed. The feeling in his stomach wasn’t a pit; it was fluttering. And his heart wasn’t beating fast as though he had been caught by a woman’s husband, but like it had been when she first kissed him only a few weeks ago. Also, despite the amount of time they had just spent making love to each other, he noticed that at least one specific part of his body was responding extremely positively to this news. He suddenly smiled at her and grabbed her around her mid-section with both arms, bringing her in for a deep kiss. He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “I think I am happy, Cass. More than I realized.”

  Cassandra's eyes softened as she heard his words. “Good,” she murmured with a tender smile, “because I think I am too.”

  She gasped at the sudden motion as he quickly flipped her onto the bed and ducked down beneath the covers.

  ~~

  When Jonathon came to, it was dark outside. He looked over and found Cass asleep next to him, sweat still dampening her brow, reflected from the few candles that remained burning. Jonathon’s mind reeled and his stomach felt as though he had jumped from the top of the crow’s nest as he thought about the last few hours. He had made love to many women in his lifetime, but nothing had ever been more visceral, more sensual, more…real, than what he and Cass had experienced after her news.

  Conversely, he had not felt love many times in his life. However, looking now at the woman slicked with sweat next to him, he realized what love truly was. Was his prior experience just a lesser form of love, or simply infatuation? He couldn’t say. But what he did know was that the woman in front of him was the last one he ever hoped to fall asleep next to.

  He reached out, gently brushing a stray curl from Cassandra’s face. She stirred slightly, a contented smile playing on her lips even in sleep. Jonathon smiled back, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the room.

  He laid back down in bed, taking in the scent of Cass’s hair. As he fell back to sleep, for the first time in as long as he could remember, his thoughts did not drift to The Spectre.