The Captain's Beloved

33 - Titles that Lead to Trouble

My mouth had gone dry, and I guessed the pounding in my head was partially caused by dehydration. I doubted my scruffy-faced captor kept fresh water aboard his ship, but I was desperate to have him remove the gag so I could breathe properly. "Wather."

"Water, ye say? We don't have none of that on board. But I got rum that come straight from the islands."

I couldn't say what islands he spoke of, and I had never tasted rum, but if that was all he had... I nodded.

"Aright, but cha gotta promise not to yell when I set yer mouth free. Promise?"

I nodded again.

"Not that anyone would come to yer rescue round here," he said as he walked away. "The constables have given up on policin' us."

He clanked and banged around in the next room, and I considered the risks of drinking from the same cup as a man who had clearly not bathed since winter. But he also struck me as someone who might unwittingly let information slip without knowing he'd done it. If I could get him talking, it might improve my chances for escape, as it seemed we were the only two bodies on board.

He reappeared with a bottle in his hand, which he sat on wooden chair while he untied my gag. When the cloth loosened and fell away, I took a deep inhale. While the air that entered my lungs felt thick and polluted, there was more of it, and after a few breaths, my head began to clear.

"I spect that's better, eh?" He picked up the bottle and tipped it over my lips. The bitter liquid splashed cold across my tongue. But once I swallowed, it burned like icy fire. I coughed and sputtered while he laughed. "Ye ain't tried rum afore, have ye?"

"No, I haven't. It is nothing like brandy."

"Nah. Brandy's too refined for my taste. The rum's more tolerable if ye water it down some. But I jes pulled into port and ain't had time to fetch clean water."

"Are you a fisherman?"

His eyes narrowed, and I worried I had pushed too soon. But he seemed to come to a decision as he gave his shoulders a shrug. "I be a jack of every trade, ye could say. Fishin' be one of 'em. Ye need more?"

He held up the bottle and I nodded reluctantly. This time, I succeeded in getting the liquid down without coughing. The smile behind his whiskers appeared almost proud, and I used it as an opportunity to push a wee bit more.

"Do you have a biscuit or something to soak up the sour in my stomach? I fear I might vomit again."

"I got ginger powder. Ye just rub a bit on yer gums. Anyone who spends time on a ship knows of its uses. I take it ye ain't been at sea much." He talked as he disappeared again, and I spoke to his shadow as he lit a lantern in the next room.

"I just spent two months on the Surety helping war wounded soldiers. Before that, I had only taken one holiday on a passenger ship." Clearly, this fellow had not been debriefed by Captain Boucetta, which made me wonder what kind of loyalty he had with the pirate.

"So, yer a nurse? And ye ain't heard of ginger powder?"

"I didn't say I haven't heard of it. And I am not a nurse. I assisted in the laundry for a time. Then I was given the opportunity to attend the wounded in the infirmary...once I proved myself."

When he returned, he held out a small jar, which I tried futility to reach for with my bound hands. This had him grimacing as he looked at his own filthy hands. "I'm afraid I ain't washed proper in a few days."

"I can apply the powder myself if you'll untie my hands." I glanced pointedly down at my bound feet. "I am not going anywhere with my feet tied like they are. I can't even stand on them."