Page 21 of Unearthing the Smuggler's Heart
He sighed, unable to summon that mocking smile to the surface just now. Perhaps he was just tired.
A few moments later, having stomped into a game of cards and startled the daylights out of his deck swabs, he felt a grim echo of his cheer beginning to return. They stumbled over their explanations, pointing at one another and stammering, each insisting that it was not his designated time to see to the deck.
"It isalwaysyour designated time. All of you," Mathias had snapped back. "But for the sake of argument, why don't you tell me whose time it supposedly was?"
They exchanged glances and mumbled the name of a crewman who, at present, was stuck chopping onions in the galley due to a pair of broken toes.
"See to it," Mathias had ground out through clenched teeth, before turning on his heel and leaving them to work out their damned designations for themselves. He knew it wasn't the men behind this anyhow, it was that damned girl and her damned schedules. He found himself marching with a purpose toward the quarters where Miss Ferris likely was passing the height of the afternoon, a simmering anticipation building in his chest.
He had humored her, let her play her games of organization on the ship, so long as it had remained unobtrusive. In truth, he had been itching for a reason to make her stop, and now he finally had one. Now he wasjustified!
He did not even knock, instead shoving open the cracked door to entry. He immediately regretted it, seeing Isabelle startle up from a tangle of sheets, apparently having been deep in a midday nap. Miss Ferris was seated on the floor, surrounded by a circle of unfurled cloth fans, with a booklet of symbols and numbers next to her in the center. She looked like some fairytale witch about to summon a demon.
"Captain!" she gasped, shooting to her feet, as Isabelle moaned in annoyance and dropped back into her pillows.
"Miss Ferris, we need to talk," he said, then added pointedly, "alone."
"Then let us find a quiet area on the deck," Jade Ferris said quickly, casting an anxious look at the other woman, who was already pulling blankets back up and over her head. She took his arm, which surprised him enough that he allowed himself to be steered out of the room and into the sun once again, amidst a sudden flurry of deck-swabbing activity.
She frowned, looking around at the sudden fervor of suds and scraping, clearly puzzled by what she was seeing. This was enough to rout Mathias back into control. He secured a hand over hers in the crook of his arm and turned them sharply to the left, heading toward the cargo hold where they would have some privacy to talk.
He knew that there were other places he could have taken her, but returning to the cargo hold was what felt right, and she did not resist, even once it became apparent where they were headed. In fact, her demeanor was much as it ever was, wide-eyed and stoic, and more than anything, Mathias wanted to put a dent in that mask of placidity. He wanted to uncover what hid beneath it.
They did not push into the back of the hold, where the bathtub had been the other night, during their last confrontation. Instead, they stopped near the supply closets and sundry, where there was sunlight allowed into the room from cleverly cut wooden beams above. The occasional footfall over the source of light cast shadows through the wooden room, but they could see one another perfectly well.
He wasn't sure if he was reading a spark of alarm in her eyes or if that was simply the effect of the sunlight reflecting in their deep, green pools. "Miss Ferris," he said, taking a deep, steadying breath as they broke apart and came to face one another. He searched his mind for the right way to begin this conversation, for the most satisfying way to make a rebuke against her incessant meddling.
She just blinked at him, patiently awaiting whatever he was planning to do, her hands folded primly in front of her.
"I wish to talk to you about your...erm, work, on theHarpy," he began, rather more lamely than intended. "While I know that it has been your intention to assist, some of your methods have done more harm than good. Part of maintaining the proper running of a vessel such as this is an understanding of common duty, and an ability to act on instinct rather than awaiting instruction."
"I see," she said, in a voice that made clear she did not see at all.
He rubbed his forefinger and thumb over his eyes, sighing. "The problem is," he tried again, the patience in his voice creaking with effort, "that when instructions are too explicit, the men will refuse to do anything outside of those instructions, even if they can see it needs doing. It is orderly, yes, but also a hindrance to the dynamic necessities of a sea voyage."
"Has something happened?" she inquired, her eyebrows high in apparent skepticism of what he was telling her.
"Yes! Yes.” He huffed. “Yates broke his toes, and as a result, your entire plan for swab duty promptly collapsed because he was no longer filling one rung on the ladder. It might not seem like a large thing to you, but wood rot can destroy an entire ship."
"Oh." She looked away, realization of the flurry she'd seen on the deck settling over her. She frowned. "I hadn't considered the willingness of the men to flout duty."
"Yes, well," he said patiently, "this is your first voyage. It is to be expected that you cannot predict these things."
He immediately felt a load lift, relieved that she had quickly taken his meaning. With this out of the way, he could now prevent her from making further changes to the running of the ship.
"It is all right, Miss Ferris," he said indulgently. "You are not expected to predict such things, especially living as you have in such confines. I am certain you meant well."
She turned back to him in a very sudden movement, still frowning, with her brows drawn together. Her eyes seemed to narrow on him at this outburst, and just as he opened his mouth to reassure her once more, she held a hand up to silence him.
"Flexibility is important, I am sure," she said, "but I am not entirely ignorant to the running of a household, Captain, and your shipisa household, make no mistake. Do you know how much food has gone rancid due to poor pantry organization? Have you not enjoyed better meals and smoother days with my assistance? I resent the implication that I am some bumbling naif, who hasn't the first idea how to manage anything of substance."
He scoffed, crossing his arms. "I said nothing of the sort. Only that this ismyship, and—"
"Yes, I know it isyourship," she returned sharply. "Woe be it for anyone to attempt to assist, I suppose. I knew you saw me as fragile and strange, a curiosity with which to amuse yourself, but I did not imagine you found meincompetentas well."
His mouth dropped open, indignation skittering up his spine. "I beg your damned pardon! I am making a reasonable request, when, as captain of this vessel, I could just as easily issue a command.”
“Oh, a command?” she replied sarcastically. “I think that might actually be preferable to patronizing coddling.”
