Freedom's Horizon (WLW)

Part One: Chapter Eleven

December 1674, The Caribbean Sea, Onboard the Midnight Scarlet, Main Deck

Aimee stopped at the top of the stairs and watched in confusion as Esme walked past her to the main deck before she followed, staring at the jar in her hands. She put it in the pocket of her trousers and glanced back up at Esme as the morning sun came into view, momentarily blinding her. Aimee could've sworn that she was looking at the ointment like she wanted to take it back. Esme even touched it twice, but didn't take it from her.

What was going on with their captain?

Aimee turned the jar over in her pocket as she made her way further onto the main deck, watching Esme move to the poop deck. She thought back to the way Esme looked at her and felt a warmth in her chest that sent butterflies fluttering to her belly for the second time. It was new, very new, but each time she looked at her the way in which only she seemed capable, Aimee felt her knees turning to jelly. Whatever that gaze meant, she was sure it would be her undoing and she put it away from her mind.

Aimee looked around for a moment, watching as the crew jostled about enjoying their breakfast as they went about their work stations. She was on the cusp of joining them, but her curiosity won out and she pulled the jar from her pocket once more. Aimee turned it around several times and noticed something written in a language she didn't recognize on the bottom. She glanced up in search of someone who could tell her what it meant and found the surgeon, Margaret, at the port side peacefully glancing over the water. She was a native to these waters like Felipe and Esme. She could know what it said and...maybe she could tell her the importance of--

"Where did you get that?" Margaret stared at Aimee's hands with wide eyes and she held the ointment out.

Tentatively, Aimee replied, "Felipe and Genny gave it to me last night after you and Gally cleaned my lashes. They dressed my wounds with it."

Margaret visibly blanched and looked as though she may be sick. Then, in an instant, she was enraged and grabbed the ointment from her hands. She got in Aimee's face and glared down at her, terrifying her into a stone in but a second. She hadn't ever seen this side of Margaret and didn't much care for how it turned her to cement.

"You never saw this. Nor did you use it. Don't let the captain know--"

Even more befuddled, Aimee interrupted, "She already does. What is going on, Margaret?"

Margaret paled again and turned away. "Get to your post. Don't doddle."

She walked briskly toward the quarter deck. Aimee moved to the side and peeked past the crew working and moving along the shrouds. She watched as Margaret walked up to the captain and began speaking with her very energetically. She shoved the jar into her hands and Esme gulped, her jaw clenching. She glanced up at Margaret and said something very softly, leaning in toward her. The surgeon shook her head and looked up scanning over their crewmates, prompting Aimee to duck behind the main mast.

She peeked around again and Felipe was joining them. Esme handed him the jar and his eyes grew wide as she leaned in and said a few things into his ear. He shook his head and began shoving the jar into Margaret's right hand pocket. Esme put her hand on his shoulder, growing quite concerned by the look of it, but before Aimee could watch anymore, the carpenter stepped into her view.

Weizz crossed his arms over his chest and smiled rather excitedly. "Cap says I'm meant'a teach ya a thing er two 'bout mendin' the ship. Startin' with the boat you's nearly sunk. Come on, young'n. Let's get ta work. Abouts how old'er you's anyhow?"

Aimee let herself be led away, feeling the persistent tug of the carpenter's hand on her arm, but peeked over her shoulder back toward the captain as she answered, "I turned nineteen several weeks ago."

"Ah. Yer older than I thought. Well, come on, then. Cap likes work done firs' thing and there's lots ta learn."

Aimee remained off in a world of her own as she absentmindedly walked where she was pulled, keeping her eyes on the captain. She made eye contact with Esme and she didn't look pleased. However, it wasn't a look of disdain or irritation as she expected. It was one of strife and Aimee could have sworn she saw Esme's veins bulging from that far away. Aimee exhaled and turned back toward the port side, making her way to the boat that awaited her mending.