The Nightingale

Chapter Seventeen

Natasha followed Alexander around the ship, trying to ignore the dozens of eyes that followed her movements and focus only on Alexander as he spoke quietly at her side, whispering names for parts of the ship as well as the rankings of the men around them. In her mind, Natasha traced out an image of the ship on paper, labeling her drawing as they walked, from the bowsprit to the crow's nest, which reminded her of the trees she used to climb at home, to the stern, underneath which was John's quarters. Keeping track of the ship's parts was much easier than trying to keep track of the scores of men and their different jobs.

Castille was John's Quarter Master, essentially an equal to him in the eyes of the men on board. He was easily discernable, with the pinkish-purple scar that cut across his cheek and his sunken blue eyes, standing out clearly against the black and gray hair that hung around his face. In the morning light, he looked just as gnarled and rough as he had the night they met on the beach, but at least he didn't look at Natasha with as much disdain as the other men, despite his first and only words to her being an insult.

The man standing at the helm with John and Castille, Maverick, was the Sailing Master, in charge of navigating the ship at most times. His black hair was shaved almost to his scalp, but his dark beard was full around his lips and twisted to a point a few inches below his chin. His eyes were as dark as his hair, small and beady against his olive tanned skin, which, combined with the unusual accent with which Natasha heard him speak, made her wonder where he came from.

Adan, the only crew member to show her kindness since her arrival on board, was the Boatswain, supervisor of the ship's maintenance and supply stores. A fourth man, one of the largest on board in both size and weight, as well as one of the meanest looking, was the ship's Master Gunner, in charge of all arms and ammunition. His arms were covered with black markings, swirls of what looked like ink twisting across his skin in various size markings, making him look even more intimidating. On more than one occasion, Natasha had caught Rover glaring at her from wherever he was working. After his name, the rest of the mates and sailors around them all started to blend together, faces of sun-tanned men with glaring eyes.

As they rounded the ship a second time, Alexander paused at the side of the main deck, and Natasha stopped to stand beside him. He leaned casually back against the wooden siding of the ship, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at ease on board The Nightingale, despite having been gone for a few years. The men still seemed to welcome him, treat him with the same kind of respect they showed to the other men, but Natasha wondered if they would start to glare behind his back as well for his friendship with her, the way they seemed to glare at John when the two of them were next to each other.

"Natasha?" Alexander pulled her front her thoughts, and she looked up from the spot on the water where she had let her gaze linger as her mind wandered. She looked across her shoulder at Alexander, his back still to the water she was facing.

"Please tell me you weren't off in some other world like that the entire time I was speaking to you," he teased, his eyes shining as he looked down at her. Natasha turned her back to the ocean, leaning back against the ship the way Alexander was as she smiled and started listing off the information that Alexander had just given her, until he laughed, stopping her before she was even half way through.

"Alright, you've made your point. You're a quick study in all aspects, I see," he commented, as Natasha turned back to him, grinning. "I told John how quickly you seemed to take to sword fighting. He was impressed."

"Was he?" Natasha mused, surprised as she let her eyes wander to where John stood, flanked by Castille and Maverick. "He asked me how our training want, but didn't seem interested beyond that."