The smell of the ships grew stronger as they neared the ships. Tar, rotted fish, salt air, sewage, and seaweed filled the air, but there were underlying scents of old wood and smoke. The Captain seemed to perk up with the intense smells.
When they reached The Rose, the gangplank was in place. At the top, on the quarterdeck, slept an enormously fat man snoring so loud that dogs, two streets away were awakened and barked in response. They went up the gangplank and stepped around the sleeping man without ever waking him.
The Captain said, “Wait here.”
He left them on the deck while he entered a door. They heard him shouting at someone and then he returned. “Coffee and food as quick as that lazy cook can get a fire going. Follow me.”
He climbed a small exterior ladder and wound his way in the growing light to a deck above the others. A carved railing ran around it, and a cargo hatch provided impromptu seating. From there the whole of the ship could be seen, a slender boat with a high, pointed bow. There were two masts, each taller than the norm. In the dim light, the patchwork rolled sails appeared like when they were new, as did the ropes, rigging, pulleys, and wood. Tanner couldn’t see the chipped and peeling paint, the trash in the scuppers, and the general air of decay.
They sat. The Captain stood and paced. He leaned over the rail and shouted again for the coffee to be brought up as soon as it was done. “Bring four mugs and the pot.”
The smell of smoke curled from a small metal pipe attached to the front of the deck they stood on. People ashore were beginning to move around as the city woke. A wagon rolled by with iron-rimmed wheels rumbling on the pave stones. A crew called to each other as they navigated a fishing boat down the channel.
The four of them remained silent. Tanner liked the early morning routine, the chill in the air, and the dawn of a new day. What would it bring? He breathed the tang and stink in the air and decided he could have been born a sailor and not be disappointed.
The cook appeared as the sun rose above the horizon. He served the Captain first, and said, “Got some jacks almost ready.” He left the pot and empty mugs.
Carrion poured coffee for the three of them. He asked, “What are ‘jacks’?”
“Thin batter poured on a hot stove. Slop butter and whatever you have on them and roll um up.”
“Griddlecakes?” Tanner asked.
“Same thing, but bigger. Eat them rolled around meat or cheese or whatever was left over from dinner last night.”
“Sounds good,” Devlin said, for almost his first comment of the morning.
Tanner chuckled to himself. Boys his age take an unusual interest in food, especially when hungry. He said, “I’m so hungry I’ll try anything.:
As if he heard their comments, the cook returned with a plate of jacks piled high. He carried the second plate with small jars of cubed fruit, melted butter, and two unidentified items, one smelling strongly of cinnamon.
Devlin reached for the top jack and smeared fruit over it before rolling it into a log. He held the jack in one hand and the mug in the other. Overall, he looked as contented as Tanner had ever seen him.
The morning brought early fog and later warmth. By the time they had eaten their fill, the Captain was acting somewhat impatient. Carrion looked at Tanner, “Can the two of you go back to the Inn and wait for any who arrive and might have business with me? Pay no more than one-tenth of the face of the paper. Be sure to have them sign the paper over to you before handing over the coin.”
Tanner realized that the coins in his purse would pay for them, but Carrion was trying to be alone with the Captain. He said, “We’ll be there until the noon meal.”
“Will we eat there?” Devlin asked as he rolled another jack.
Tanner laughed as he led the way. The fat sailor at the head of the gangplank was still sleeping so they stepped over him. The condition of the ship up close was worse than he’d imagined. The paint had flaked off, and the wood below rotted. Frayed ends of ropes told of the lack of care. The few crewmen he saw seemed to use the ship as a place to flop when drunk. None did any work.
Once on the dock, Tanner paused and examined the hull again. It had been built by master craftsmen and looked solid, but he wouldn’t trust it until after an inspection by a surveyor. The ship required a lot more work than he had believed. How much, he didn’t know. Tanner lived away from the sea, but if the ship were a house, he’d recommend burning it and start building a replacement.
Tanner said, “I’ve heard of sea worms that eat the wood below the waterline.”
Devlin swallowed the last of his food and said, “No worries about that. The river dumps fresh water into the bay. It flows right by here. This water is almost drinkable.”
“You know something of this?”
“Only what everyone knows. Ships sail across the sea from fresh water to fresh water. The worms and seaweeds that get on the hulls are killed by fresh water. Any slime that grows on them in fresh water is killed by the salt water in the sea.”
The explanation was simple, straightforward, and made sense to Tanner. Thinking of all ports he knew of, they all existed at the mouth of rivers, and some were upriver. “That green I see down there will die in the sea?”
“Yes. And the ship will sail faster once it’s gone.” Devlin said as they started walking to the Anchor Inn.
“Have you ever sailed?”
There was a definite hesitation before the boy answered. He chose his words carefully. “I assume so, because of the tattoos on my arms.”
“You don’t remember?”
“We are marked soon after birth. I could have been a baby when I came here.”
“You don’t talk as if you’re someone who’s never been educated. You actually sound like you have. In my family, there are teachers who work with the children although the schooling is not formal. Could yours have been like mine?”
Devlin acted uncomfortable at the questioning but didn’t resist. “How can I know? I do remember, or think I remember, a woman. She held me and talked.”
“How old were you?”
“Little. Four or five?”
Tanner said, “That’s old enough to learn how to learn. That’s what’s important. Now, at the next corner, we’re going to turn and hide, if possible. We’re being followed.”
“There is a doorway and an alley only a few steps down that street. You take one and I’ll take the other.”
Devlin knew the streets, back streets, and alleys of Racine like Tanner knew the highlands of his home. He didn’t question the boy. As they turned off the street and were temporarily out of sight to anyone behind them, they dashed to the doorway and alley.
They waited. A thin man stepped around the corner and pulled to a stop. His eyes scanned the street and possible shops they might have entered. An expression of near pain crossed his face as if he knew punishment awaited him for losing sight of the pair. Tanner watched it from the alley, behind a pile of packing crates.
When the thin man passed the mouth of the alley, he had perhaps ten steps to go until he came even with the doorway where Devlin hid. Tanner slipped his knife from his hip and stepped quietly until he was nearly even with him. His arm went around the neck of the other, the blade went to his throat and drew blood. Tanner backed into the alley, taking the man with him.
He called, “Devlin. In the alley.”
Devlin entered. “Well, what do you have here?”