Page 99 of A Prince Among Pirates
“As ifIcould competently captain a ship.”
He chuckles. “Then as Captain, let me remind you, rooms are for officers.”
“Thomas is my valet. He’ll have a room. And my trunk from Falmouth—he can keep his things in it.”
“You aren’t a prince on this ship, Kitten,” Sharpe says with an amused smirk. “You don’t get to give orders.”
I lift my brow and smile slowly. I have no intention of backing down, and he knows it. “Watch me.”
Of course I win the battle for Thomas’s room. He’s given the first one belowdecks, so he can come and go from the captain’s cabin with ease. It isn’t large, but he’s happy with it. My old trunk is brought down and secured to the floor at the foot of his bed.
This ship is smaller than theDeliverance, and though theofficers’ staterooms are a bit cramped, there are more of them. Mr. Tydes, Billy, and Cook, of course, will each have their own rooms. I’ve given the twins one to share as well—and the joint responsibility of boatswain.
Captain Sharpe lets me do all this, likely only because he agrees with me. As I stand on deck and rattle off my decisions with the sunrise at my back, he lounges on the stairs to the quarterdeck, looking amused. I can tell Mr. Tydes is annoyed by Sharpe allowing me to give orders like this, but he must agree with my decisions as well, for even though he’s scowling at me, he’s also nodding along.
It will take less than a day to sail to Portsmouth. It might be quicker had we more than eight men on board. Thomas and I don’t count, so six able-bodied men are currently sailing this ship. We take our time, but it is a short journey, and the weather is cold but clear. When we port at Portsmouth, it’s sunset, and Thomas, Sharpe, and Trevor are the only three to disembark. Thomas to buy provisions for himself and me—whatever it is he thinks we need that we don’t already have, of course. Sharpe and Trevor to gather the men, who will each do their own due diligence in stocking the ship.
I don’t see theDeliveranceat port. I look out at the ships, but although I see a few damaged ones, she isn’t one of them.
“Where is she?” I ask Tristan as we stand together at the rail.
“Destroyed,” he says with a sigh. “We got what we could off her, ’n’ then we sold her for parts. Mr. Tydes sold the sugar ’n’ silks.”
I nod and look at him. “Was anyone hurt?”
Tristan shakes his head and crosses his arms with a shiver. “The navy didn’t bother with us once they had ye. Cap’n agreed not to follow ’em, ’n’ so they agreed to leave us be. I guess they didn’t feel like dealin’ with us, ’n’ they likely thought we’d sink anyway.”
“Renard is probably imprisoned at Newgate,” I say, staring out at the docks for any glimpse of a familiar face. “I’m sure they’ll hang him, if they haven’t already.”
“That’s the easy way out,” Tristan says sharply. “He’s lucky the navy took him ’n’ didn’t leave him with us. We have ways of dealin’ with mutineers.”
It sounds so harsh—but I suppose when you live at sea, you have to be. “Do you think I’ll have any trouble with the men?”
Tristan’s mouth turns down into a quizzical frown. “?’Cause yer a prince?”
I shrug.
“It’s not much different than ye bein’ a viscount,” he offers with a shrug.
I laugh at that. “It’s quite a great deal different, I assure you.”
Tristan squints at me, like he’s trying to decide whether what he has to say will offend me. “Words are words,” he says. “Ye don’t have a kingdom er land er a crown. They call ye a prince, but ye aren’t really. Just like ye weren’t really a viscount. Yer just Kit.”
I chuckle a little and lean against the rail. “I suppose you have a point. What about Thomas?”
Tristan grins. “Oh, I ’spect he’ll have as easy a time as you did the first few months.”
Poor Thomas. “Go easy on him.”
Tristan shrugs a bit. “We’ll see. Ah! There!” He points to the docks. “It’s Billy ’n’ Naeem! And Trev!”
I look where he’s pointing and see that he’s right. Billy, Naeem, and Cook are coming towards the ship along with a few other men, Trevor leading the way, each carrying various sacks and crates. Soon enough the deck is alive with the noise and chaos I’ve grown used to, with men coming and going as they set up rigging to haul things up on deck.
I greet the men as they board, and they slap me on the back or bow to me to try to make me uncomfortable. I let them. Because even if theyaremaking fun of me, this is what I missed the most: beingoneof them.
The men, myself included, don’t seem to relax entirely until we see the sliver of land that is England drop into the horizon. Even so, I may never truly relax again. Though my father has no way of knowing where I went, someday someone will recognize me, and word of where I am will get back to him. No one has said it out loud, but I’m sure the crew know that the threat of being found hangs ever-present in the air.
Well. I suppose it’s an occupational hazard.
