Page 64 of A Prince Among Pirates
“I forgot what ye look like when ye aren’t pukin’,” Trevor says kindly.
Tristan kicks him but laughs anyway. “Yer lookin’ fancy.”
“I’m feeling fancy,” I say as I sit on the deck beside them.
Tristan instantly snatches a maduro from my plate and crams it into his mouth. “Cap’n says we’re goin’ to Le Cap as soon as everyone’s back.”
“He told me,” I say, after shooting him a glare and turning away to protect my plate. “How many men are we still waiting for?” I can see that much of the crew is here, either eating or working in the rigging. I’m sure there are more belowdecks.
“Just one er two.”
I can hear the splash of oars now, and a moment later the low thuds and clunks of men climbing the rope ladder to come aboard. I can’t see who’s climbed aboard from where I sit, but someone calls “Everyone accounted for, Captain!” over the clamor of the skiff being hauled back into place.
I get to my feet once I finish my food, brushing off the back of my trousers. Then I turn—and see Renard making his way across the deck, looking harassed and tired. Apparently, he is once again the last of the men to return from port. The glance he shoots my way is brief but irritated. As he disappears belowdecks, I am left wondering if I imagined the expression on his face, or if I have somehow mishandled this entire situation.
Twenty-Two
Becalmed.
“What does that mean exactly?” I ask two days later. I am sitting on the settee in Captain Sharpe’s cabin, my and Jeffrey Reuter’s ledgers spread out across the low coffee table. It’s especially hot today. I’ve dressed down to a pair of knee-length olive breeches, a light shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a brown-and-gold waistcoat, which I have entirely unbuttoned and allowed to hang open. It’s so hot that I have removed my stockings and shoes and am seriously contemplating removing the waistcoat as well, which is superfluous if it’s not properly done up.
Captain Sharpe and Mr. Tydes both turn from the captain’s desk to face me. Mr. Tydes grimaces, but Captain Sharpe looks resigned. “We’ve lost the wind.”
I blink at their expressions, then adjust my body so I mightface them without twisting my spine. I lean against the back of the settee and squint at them. “Is someone… looking for it?” I ask, realizing only as the words leave my mouth how daft I sound.
Captain Sharpe’s mouth falls open, and he takes in a breath as if he might answer me… but then he squints back at me and closes his mouth once more. Now we’re both confused.
“We’re stuck in place until the wind picks up again,” Mr. Tydes explains, all but rolling his eyes at us both.
“No wonder it’s so hot,” I grumble.
“It’s only going to get hotter,” Mr. Tydes offers.
What a cheering thought.
“Well, how long do we have to wait?”
“I’m not a mystical being, Kit. I don’t control the wind.”
My brows shoot up and I sit a little straighter. Mr. Tydes has never been quite this bitchy to me—at least, not since the day he tricked me into boarding this ship. “Ah.”
Sharpe sighs and leans back in his chair. “We’re a day, perhaps two, away from Le Cap. I’m not going to worry yet; it’s only been a few hours.”
“The men are getting antsy,” Mr. Tydes says with a frown.
I’m beginning to realize that this is more serious than I first thought. Mr. Tydes appears genuinely concerned, and though Sharpe says he isn’t worried, there are creases between his brows as he stares down at his desk over steepled fingers.
“Tell the men—”
“All due respect, Reggie,” Mr. Tydes says. “The men arespooked after Port Royal. They’re talking about the curse. I think you should say a few words.”
Reggie? I’ve never heard anyone use Captain Sharpe’s Christian name before. In fact, I’m not sure it even occurred to me that hehadone until this very moment. I’ve shared a bed with this man—albeit purely platonically—and I had no idea his given name was Reggie. What is it short for, I wonder? Reginald? I wrinkle my nose as I consider this. He doesn’t look like a Reginald. What a stuffy name for a man like Captain Sharpe.
Sharpe sighs and gets to his feet. “Kitten, put the ledgers away.”
“Aye, Captain,” I say, but I don’t move yet. I watch him don his hat and his jacket, despite the heat. He opens the cabin door, glancing back at me once before following Mr. Tydes out on deck.
Once I have the ledgers closed and packed away in the locked drawer, I step out to join them. The crew is already gathered. I can see Tristan hanging upside down in the rigging, his shirt hanging precariously and revealing part of his belly. Trevor sits beside him, balanced with his feet and hands wrapped around the ropes on either side of him.
