The Stowaway

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"Well, yes, it is true. I have become accustomed to fine things." Very recently. She, of course, had not grown up with riches. She had always lived rather modestly compared to the extravagance of her life in Plymouth. "But I am afraid that I am unlike many other women with regards to my desires."

Eliza could have sworn that she saw Zacky's eyes momentarily darken. "Desires?" he repeated huskily, before quickly clearing his throat.

"I desire more than a life of social calls and charity baskets and church gossip," Eliza stressed. "My mother would have me married, as though it was all that I was meant to be. Someone's wife. It does not matter to whom, so long as he has valuable connections and a little money.

"My sister married very well, you see ..." Eliza trailed off as she thought of Katy. Oh, how Eliza knew Katy would be angry. Katy would be furious at her, more than ever before. Katy was always having to put up with Eliza. It was a wonder Katy never gave up on her, which was only reason for Eliza to adore her more.

But if anyone was going to understand why Eliza had slipped away as she did, it was Katy, no matter how angry she would be.

Eliza shut her mouth. She had only just met Zacky, and without even knowing his full name, she was divulging her familial troubles.

"Do you know what? It really is inconsequential. I am here for an adventure and let us leave it at that."

Cian and Diarmuid returned a few minutes later with their instruments. A violin, and a strange, circular guitar. Perhaps it was Irish? The men all seemed to converge once the instruments had been brought out, and the rum was being passed around generously.

Eliza even found herself with a cupful. The smell still turned her stomach, but she endeavoured to take a sip, and then another, and another.

Cian and Diarmuid began to play their instruments, and very well indeed. The music was fast and upbeat, with an infectious tempo that demanded dancing.

"Irish folk music," Zacky explained, leaning toward her.

The men were all clapping along, adding to the rhythm by drumming their hands on the crates on which they were sitting, or by stomping their feet.

Cian and Diarmuid looked like they were having the most jovial time as they moved with their instruments. Cian's bow moved over the fiddle effortlessly, and Diarmuid's fingers plucked at the strings of his round guitar as though they were their own entities.

Eliza kept drinking as she enjoyed the music, and she even found herself tapping her foot along.

"Would you dance with me, Miss Eliza Lee?" Zacky asked, rhyming playfully as he extended his hand.

"I am afraid I do not know this dance," she confessed. "I only know English dances."

Zacky chuckled. "Neither do I," he replied. "Come on, let us make it up as we go along," he urged, extending his hand further.

Maybe Eliza would blame making a fool of herself on the rum in the morning. She placed her hand in Zacky's and he enthusiastically pulled her to her feet. Zacky clasped her hand in his tightly and placed his other hand on her waist. She shook off her reservations and put her other hand on his shoulder. As soon as she was in position, Zacky began to eagerly lead her in circles, bouncing ever so lightly on his feet as they moved together to the fast, joyful music.

The energy made her laugh, and she felt pure delight and fun. She was quickly claimed by Jonesy, and soon after by Echo, and she was delighted to have such amusement with both sailors after their awkward punishment.