The Forbidden Orchid by Sharon Biggs Waller

Author:Sharon Biggs Waller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-02-23T12:16:53+00:00

SEVENTEEN

I felt hands turn me on my side and slap me between my shoulder blades. I vomited up water, again and again, gasping for air in between each spasm, my knees drawing up to my chest of their own accord.

The gentle hands turned me onto my back, and I opened my eyes, staring, blinking at Alex kneeling over me. His shirt was sodden with seawater, his neck handkerchief askew, and his hat and jacket cast off. “Are you all right?” he said. It was deathly quiet, and I could see the ceremony had halted; the other sailors stood back at a distance.

I coughed again, my lungs still burned from the water I had inhaled. “Yes,” I said.

He took my hand and helped me to sit up.

Holst stood leaning against the mast, watching us, his Neptune mask dangling from one hand. “I’ve never seen this boy before, Mr. Balashov. You appear to know him.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s simply escaped your attention, Mr. Holst.” Alex stood up and picked up his hat and coat. “He works as my steward.” His fingers tightened around the brim of his hat.

Everyone else stood in a huddle at the edge of the ship, standing so still and quiet that they looked like painted scenery on a stage.

“I’ve the running of the crew as acting bos’n, sir,” Holst replied. “And I say again, I have no knowledge of this steward nor have I seen him about the ship.”

“What are you implying, Holst?” Alex said. His face was calm, but a red flush was creeping up from his collar, and his jaw was tight.

Holst ignored him. He looked over the crowd. “Have any of you lot laid eyes upon him?”

“I’ve seen the lad, Mr. Holst.” The man who had spoken was neither constable nor griffin. He stepped out from the crowd of spectators lining the sides of the ship. “I’ve laid eyes on him,” he continued. “The first time I saw him on deck near the heads, and then I saw him again a few times leaving Mr. Balashov’s cabin when I had the early-morning doggy. I thought him to be one of your’n, an apprentice, seeing he’s so young looking an’ all, but now I see I got it wrong.”

I knew the sailor who had spoken. I recognized that gravelly voice—he was the pinching drunkard I had struck with the coil of rope. Fear took hold of me then, cold and hard.

He hadn’t forgotten me in his drunken haze. He remembered.

“Of course you would have seen me leave his cabin, sir,” I replied, careful to pitch my voice low. “It’s my job to look after him.”

“I’m the captain’s steward, and I’ve never seen you turn in with the rest of us. Never seen you in our cabin, in the galley, or anyplace a steward should be.” The man crossed his arms and stared at me, his words falling onto the deck like grapeshot; the effect of his statement was just as disastrous as those miniature cannonballs that could blow a man’s life to bits in a snap of a finger.

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