Page 45 of The Sea Witch
“No idling, navy man.” Thérèse brandished the glowing burr for emphasis.
Staying ahead of her, he clanked his way up the quarterdeck. He followed the ember of Alys’s presence. Her face was turned toward the horizon as she stood at the wheel, steering the vessel. A fist closed around his heart, squeezing, welcoming and painful.
The Greek woman, her quartermaster, leaned against the rail and watched Ben through narrowed eyes.
“I have him, Thérèse,” Alys said. “You can return to your duties.”
Thérèse brought her fingers together, and the spiked ball turned back into three metal nails. After pocketing them, she turned to go, but not before shooting Ben a warning glare.
“Anyone who says women are the gentler sex hasn’t been aboard a pirate ship entirely crewed by females,” he said to the captain.
“There’s a whole flotilla of us?” she asked archly, though she didn’t gaze in his direction.
“TheSea Witchmight be the only one of its kind.”
“We are,” she answered, still not looking at him, “in all ways extraordinary.”
“Anyone who argues otherwise is a fool.”
“And you’re no fool, Sailing Master.”
Her hands turned the handles of the wheel with a loose yet capable grip.
“Even more extraordinary, no helmsman, but a captain at the wheel,” he added.
“Hua’s our coxswain, but every now and again I like to take the helm. Get the feel of the ship beneath me and the wind in her sails.”
“Joy,” he blurted. When she frowned at him, he explained, “Sailing a ship. It gives you joy.”
Her expression shuttered. Wariness rose up like a wall of redbrick.
“I don’t suppose you’d give me a razor?” he asked to break the strained silence. He tried running a hand down his face, cautiously avoiding the chain between his manacles. Stubble abraded his fingers. His beard always came in at an alarming rate.
“Not even a comb to neaten your mane.”
He exhaled. “I probably resemble a man who’s been marooned.”
“The village sot whose spent the night sleeping under a hedge.”
“I shudder at the dressing down I’d get from my superior officers.” He shook his head.
A corner of her mouth lifted. “What’ve you learned this morning?”
He glanced toward the quartermaster, who scowled at him as she cleaned her fingernails with a wicked-looking knife. He had learned from this morning’s interviews that her name was Stasia Angelidis, but she’d had no information about his father’s murder. The magpie on her shoulder fixed Ben with a dark and calculating eye.
“For your ears alone, Captain,” he answered.
Stasia jutted her jaw forward, but at Alys’s look, she pushed from the rail and went down the companionway to join the rest of the crew. As she walked away, the magpie looked back at him.
“That bird is scowling at me,” he murmured.
“Eris has no liking for men.”
“Like many of the people who crew this ship.” Cold glares from the company continued to singe his back with frost.
“Go ahead and explain to themwhymen don’t deserve suspicion.”
“That is a challenge I believe I shall decline.”
