“Where’s Jam?”
She hesitated.
“Don’t give me that. It’s a small ship, I can find him in a heartbeat.” His face had turned red, and his eyes squinted.
“I think he went back there.”
The bos’n turned and stormed along the walkway that took him behind the wheelhouse. He hadn’t been there long when Jam ran into sight and back to her. “Give me that brush, damn you.”
“I didn’t tell on you.”
He reached over and snatched the brush. She stood, “Okay, if that’s the way you want it, Jam. But between you and me, you’re not half the threat of the women in the kitchen where I used to work.”
He stood back up, fists balled.
“Another step my way would be a mistake,” she said, prepared to swing for his nose.
She noticed the bos’n had come up behind Jam but was still eight or ten steps away, where he heard every word. Prin could have turned and walked away, but didn’t. She’d met others like Jam, those who blamed their shortfalls on others. They were bullies as long as someone didn’t stand up to them.
Jam lifted the broad brush as if ready to use it as a club. Without thinking, Prin reached down and under her long skirt and withdrew the dagger. “Like I said, that would be a mistake.”
The bos’n didn’t move to stop them. Jam finally started to clean the deck again, and Prin slipped the knife back into its sheath. When she looked up, the bos’n was still standing in the same place, but he gave her a curt nod.
“Anything you want me to do, Bos’n?”
“Go below to hold number two. Check every rope, put blocks between crates and the hull, check for leaks and report back to me.”
She had seen a small scuttle where he pointed, leading to the cargo hold, and went down inside. The little light filtered in through cracks between the deck boards, but her eyes adjusted. She started on one side and was working her way in the direction of the bow when she found an orange cat watching her. She didn’t care for cats, or their attitude, so left it alone. Two ropes were loose, and she tightened them. More had granny knots instead of squared ones. She added soft blocks between crates and the hull of the ship, like others that were already in place. The blocks had rope loops, and there seemed to be plenty left over, hanging from a beam, so she used nearly all of them, thinking too many were better than not enough.
She was working her way aft on the other side when she heard the bos’n entering. He went to the side she had finished and tightened one rope, but otherwise checked her work and approved. He pointed to the blocks she had placed and raised his eyebrows in question.
“I thought more wouldn’t hurt.”
“But too few might sink us. How many ropes were loose?”
“A few.”
“Three? Ten?”
“Closer to ten, I guess.”
“Figured it would be more like twenty, but one crate shifting down here in a storm will put a hole in our hull and send us to the bottom. You did a good job, Prin.”
“Thank you.”
“Which gives me a problem. Know what that is?”
She shook her head.
“I already sent Jam down here to do what you just did, and he did his usual lazy job. I’ll tell you right off I’d take you on my crew before him, and if you were going to stay with the Merry Princess, I’d promote you over Jam today. But, I don’t expect you’ll be here that long, so I must work with him. Understand what I’m saying?”
“No.”
“I’m saying, he’s the future of this ship. His father is captain and part owner. He’ll be my boss one day, and he knows it. People like you and me have to take up his slack and keep our mouths shut.”
“I think I understand. Did you know there’s a cat down here?”
“And there’s one that hangs out in the wheelhouse. All ships have them. We carry food as cargo, and that attracts mice and rats. A good cat is necessary on a ship, but don’t feed her and try to make friends.”
“Why not?”
“Feed her, and she won’t hunt mice. She’s a working crew member as much as you and me.”
Prin glanced at the cat lying on her side while licking her front paws and acting as if she owned the ship. The cat gave her the same expression as Jam had earlier. So now she had two enemies on the ship.
A bell struck. The bos’n said, “Dinner.”
She followed him from the hold, and as she emerged, she caught sight of Jam peeking between two crates spying on them. Her reaction was to charge to him and make the accusation, but she let her eyes slide away as if she was watching the shore. Knowing your enemy’s intention was as good as defeating him.
Jam would either hint or make accusations about her and the bos’n being alone in the cargo hold. However, when she suspected he was about to, she would make them about her spying on her. She would make hers first, if possible.
She found most of the crew already eating. The counter held three different kinds of cheese, dense bread, pea soup, and water with slices of apple in it. As she served herself, she realized Jam hadn’t come inside, yet. Most people have habits. They usually stand in the same places and sit at the same. Again, there were two open seats. One was beside the captain. The other at the second table, the chair where Jam had sat at breakfast.
She carried her food to the second table and asked the others innocently, “Is it okay if I join you?”
She knew all but a man with skin as dark as old leather, yet he was not much older than her. “I’m Prin.”
“Sayed is my name.” The accent was so thick she barely understood, but his smile was warm and his welcome genuine.
Jam entered the dining hall and pulled to a stop when he found her in his seat. Waiting to leap to her feet with an apology, showing all how accommodating she could be, Jam surprised her. The flash of anger was evident to see, but he spun and left, slamming the door behind without eating.
Sara was climbing down the stairs with a plate of fresh bread. She said, “What was that about?”
“I have no idea,” Prin said with her most innocent tone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“The captain agreed you can stay here in the galley after lunch and study for a time each day, unless there’s a storm, but not too long because I have to go help with supper.”
“Sara, that’s great. Do I need to find the crate with my writing materials?”
“I know where it is, but no.” She reached to a higher shelf and pulled a small book from it.
“Where’d that come from?”
“Sailors are big readers. I didn’t know that. There are at least ten books up in the wheelhouse we can use. This one has smaller words for you. The story is sort of silly, but it does have a dog in it.”
Prin accepted it as if made of glass. She placed it on the table and opened it to the first page. A drawing of a funny dog with a tail far too long greeted her.
Sara said, “I have to clean up and wash these dishes. You try to read the first page. When I get back, I want to hear it.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I think you can. It’s just a matter of practice.”
Sara left her sitting alone, the odd little book in her hands. She bent over the first page and recognized the first word. The. Big. Dog. Three words in a row. The big dog. But she stumbled over the next word until she sounded it out and realized it said, named. She kept on until she reached the bottom of the page and started at the top again.
When she reached to the bottom again, after having read every word, she found Sara sitting on the top step watching her. She didn’t know how long she had been there.