Privateer's Apprentice by Susan Verrico

Author:Susan Verrico [Verrico, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781561459292
Publisher: Peachtree Publishers
Published: 2012-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

After my bath, I go below to feed and water the animals. Then I pull on the clean sleeping shirt that Cook gave me from one of the crates. The pain that shoots through my arm as I dress reminds me that much has changed since the sun rose in the morning sky.

The sleeves of the nightshirt are long, with cuffs that have two rows of silver stitching sewn in loops around the edge. The soft ivory cloth feels cold against my skin. I rub my finger gently over the threads. Cook told me that the shirt came from the Orient where magical worms weave the fabric day and night. He said ‘twas likely I would find myself curled up like a grub in the morning if I wore it to bed.

For the first time since leaving Charles Towne, I am excited for morning to come. Solitaire Peep wouldn’t tell me a lot about the island to which we sail, only that it is crossed, much like the St. George’s Cross that adorns Her Majesty’s flag. Jabbart said he hoped it was the same island they had sailed to several seasons ago, as the trees were plentiful and he would be sure to find what he needed for the new mast.

The ship dips hard tonight, and I can hear the waves beating into its sides. Cook says that the lack of stars in the sky means that come morning, we will be in the midst of a battle between the gods of the sea and wind. He claims a starless night means the gods have all taken cover so they will not be pulled down from the heavens or washed away by the sea. Already the ship rocks, and each dip causes my stomach to roll. I lie back down and try to settle in, but the pains are so sharp that they force me up a few minutes later. Holding my stomach, I belch loudly several times, but the ache does not subside. The spasms spread from my naval to my ribs, and each throb flushes my body with heat. The goat nudges me, bleating softly. I shake my head and gently push her away. “It was that awful sea creature,” I mutter, wondering why Cook didn’t toss it back into the sea. The storage room is filled with food; eating such a beast makes no sense. I curl up on my mat and hope the pain will pass so I do not have to go in search of the night bucket. Instead the throbbing grows worse. Finally, I throw off my sheet. Morning is hours away, and I cannot wait.

The ship tilts abruptly and I stumble down the unlit hall, pressing my palms against the wall for support. The ship heaves and lurches as if in a game of tug-of-war. The night bucket is nowhere to be found, so I am forced to go up on deck.

A chilly blast of wet air envelopes me as I ease open the hatch.

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