The Stowaway

XVI

"Before you know it you'll be my age telling your own granddaughter the story of your life and you wanna make it an interesting one, don't you? You wanna be able to tell her some adventures, some excitements, some something. How you live your life, little one, is a gift for those who come after you, a kind of inheritance." Cristina Garcia, I Wanna Be Your Shoebox

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XVI.

Eliza concluded her letter to Katy with a plea. She pleaded that her sister try to calm their mother. She was too cowardly to address a letter to her mother. What words could possibly rectify Eliza's actions? Only Eliza's physical presence would do that, and she would have to be on her hands and knees begging for her mother's forgiveness.

Eliza knew Katy would be just as angry, but she would be the more likely to forgive her.

She folded the letter and addressed it, before using the melting wax from the table's candle to seal it. Eliza blew on it and then pocketed the letter, resolving to find a British ship to send it back with. Though, after hearing that Captain Buckley had not been able to find her passage home, she was not at all optimistic in being able to find one.

Eliza looked up at the Captain, who was now sitting at the bar with his back to her. For one so determined to be rid of her, he had certainly not spent very long searching for her passage home.

"Eliza Lee!" called Diarmuid from the corner of the tavern.

Eliza turned her head to see both Diarmuid and Cian draped in scantily clad women. They were not the only ones. The entire crew scattered about the large tavern, in and amongst sailors and crewmen from other docked vessels. There were at least a dozen ladies present who were doing their best to entertain the men, not that it was very difficult.

"Come and join us!" encouraged Cian. "Have a drink!"

Eliza looked away but felt her cheeks warm. No, she did not think that she would like to partake in whatever the crew were getting up to. Instead, she hurried up to the bar and quickly got the attention of the burly looking innkeeper.

He immediately looked upon her with a disapproving scowl and wiped his hands on his grubby apron before placing them on the bar in front of her.

"Might I have a drink please?" she asked tentatively. "Whatever you recommend."

"No women," he grunted. "Including women who dress like men."

Eliza frowned. "But those women are drinking." She pointed her finger behind her towards the ...wenches.

"Those girls are working," he snapped. "Unless a man is going to buy for you, off with you." He shooed her away with his hands.

Eliza's mouth was agape, and she could have sworn she saw the hint of a smile on Captain Buckley's face. She knew she had to be imagining that as Captain Buckley did not smile.

But he certainly was not making any move to buy her a drink. He just sipped his water calmly.

"Pour her some port, old man," chuckled a man who was sitting at the bar to her left. He slapped a coin down on the bar and the tender was quick to collect it.

Eliza turned towards him. He was an older man, a sailor by the look of his skin, and he wore a light cotton shirt appropriate for the hot temperature. His hat was on the bar beside him, and he was offering Eliza a sly smile of encouragement.

Eliza suddenly had a gut feeling to turn the drink down. "Really, you are too kind," Eliza said tensely. "That is not necessary. I would rather buy my own drink."