Water & Storm Country

I shake my head. The attack, Barney lying,the investigation: it’s all too much to think about. Just when Ithought I was starting to instill order on the Mayhem, the shipreverted back to its namesake with one thrown scrub brush.

“Shall I hand over the brush to Hobbs?”Barney asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” I say, louder than necessary given ourclose proximity. “I mean, no, just, um, just toss it overboard.” Iclose my eyes, wait for Barney to laugh at me, to reprimand me forbeing a silly boy, to mock me with sarcastic sirs andLieutenants.

“Aye, aye, Lieutenant,” he says, his wordsfirm and respectful.

And when I open my eyes he’s gone, havingopened and closed the door to my cabin so quietly I didn’t hearit.

~~~

From the shadows streaming through myporthole, it’s clear night’s upon us already, so I don’t leave mycabin.

The ship lurches and rolls and I know we’removing—have probably been moving for a while now, the last ship inthe fleet, falling behind the others already.

Barney brings me supper an hour later, andalthough the baked waterfowl looks, smells, and tastes delicious, Ipick at it, unable to stomach such a hearty meal with my head stillpounding between my ears.

“Is it done?” I ask between nibbles.

“Is what done, sir?” Barney says, but hissmile doesn’t match his words. The blood-flecked brush is on thebottom of the ocean, or in the stomach of a sharp-tooth. And ifBarney is the only witness…

“Will Hobbs and Cain find anything else?” Iask.

“I ca

“I want to go on deck,” I say, but each wordcracks like a hammer to my skull.

“You should rest, Lieutenant.”

I push the plate away, clench my fists infrustration. I was gaining respect from the men, improving theship’s performance, instilling work ethic…and then a bilge rat—anda girl no less—had to go and mess it all up. If I can just findher, talk to her, ask her why she did what she did. Try tounderstand. And if I don’t like her answer, maybe I’ll throw herover the rail myself. I laugh inwardly at my thoughts, knowing fullwell I wouldn’t have the stomach for that sort of thing.

“Bring Cain down if he’s available,” Isay.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Barney says, opening thedoor. Over his shoulder, he asks, “Shall I invite Lieutenant Hobbs,too?”

“No. This will not be in regards to theinvestigation.”

“Very well, sir.”

I sit in bed for a few minutes, chewing on mylip and thinking, but eventually my eyelids grow heavy and I slumponto my pillow once more. I hear the door open and, behind myeyelids, see the room darken as someone blows out the lantern.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant,” Cain says. “I’vespoken to Barney. Don’t you worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

And my last thought before sleep takes me:He knows.

~~~

I’ve been watching her for a week. And she’sbeen ignoring me, going about her business as if I don’t exist. ButI know she knows I’m watching her, because yesterday she walkedright past me carrying a bucket of soapy water, and “accidentally”sloshed it over the side and onto my boots. She didn’t look at me,but I detected the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner ofher lips. The nerve of this girl!

She has to know I hold her life in my hands,that with a simple accusation I can make her life worth less thanthe new scrub brush she’s been using to scour every inch of theship.

And yet she continues on with her disrespectand subtle insults. Even now, as she uses her extraordinary andunique climbing ability to scrub the main mast so hard it’s likegetting the salt off is an offering to the Deep Blue, I can see therebellion in the lines of her hard jaw, in the way her eyes smoldereach time they flash around the mast, piercing me with hot anger. Iknow she wants to throw another brush, perhaps to add a matchingred bulge to the opposite side of my forehead, but thus far, she’srestrained herself, either fulfilling a deep need forself-preservation, or simply due to the multitude of witnesses ondeck.

As I keep the bilge rat girl on the edge ofmy vision, I curl my nose when a putrid scent fills mynostrils.

“Why does it always smell like fish?” I ask,sniffing the air.

Beside me, Barney laughs. “It’s Stew, thecook. He thinks fish heads keep away the demons. He stashes themeverywhere. No one can stop him or find them all, so we’ve all justlearned to live with it.”

Typical Mayhem mentality. “Tell him that Iorder him to stop with the fish-head-hiding,” I say, shaking myhead. “Or I’ll send him to the brig.” Since recovering from my headinjury, I’ve used the brig as often as possible. Although the shipis still the worst-performing in the fleet, our speed has improvedby double and you won’t find a single midshipman lounging on thedeck under the warmth of the afternoon sun. Everyone works.

“If you send Stew to the brig, we’ll all gohungry,” Barney says.

I’m finally getting used to Barney’s awkwardsense of humor, so I don’t bat an eye. “If I’m forced to send Stewto the brig, you’ll take his place as cook.” Although I say it witha light tongue, I’m not joking.

“I’ll inform him immediately,” Barney says,scurrying off.

As I watch him go, I feel the hairs prick upon the back of my neck. I glance at the bilge rat to see if it’sthe strength of her glare that’s raising my hackles, but she’s nolonger clinging to the mast, having slid to the deck in search ofsomething else to clean. A presence looms behind me.

Hobbs. “What do you find so interesting aboutthe bilge rat girl?” he asks.

Good morning to you too. I stand, lookhim in the eye, try to conceal the fear I still feel when he’s nearwith a steady gaze. “I’m concerned with everyone on my ship,” Isay. “A watchful captain is a ready captain.” When my father taughtme that expression he had just forced me to watch as a young boywas horse-whipped for stealing bread from the kitchen. I’m stillnot sure what watching a beating prepares anyone for, but thelesson stuck with me, so maybe that was the point.

“It’s not your ship,” he says.

“Is it Captain Montgomery’s?” I ask,motioning to the opposite end of the quarterdeck, where Jeb swingsback and forth in his hammock.

Even Hobbs, with his rules-are-rulesmentality, doesn’t have an answer for that one. He frowns. Scoreone for me.

“How’s the investigation going?” I say,changing the subject without ever really changing it.

“None of the women saw anything,” he says.“And Lieutenant Cain is questioning the last of the men as wespeak. We may never find your attacker.”

I nod absently, watching as, right on cue,Cain crosses the mid deck. A handful of bilge rats do their best toget out of his way. In his wake, I see the girl, angry andbrushless, her scrubber discarded on the deck, issuing what appearto be whispered rebukes. Is she berating them for having been inCain’s way in the first place, or because they were so quick tomove aside for him? In any case, even her own friends seem to bescared of her wrath. Strange.

We meet Cain at the top of the steps.“Anything?” Hobbs asks.

I try not to hold my breath, but I doanyway.

Cain’s gaze flickers to me before settling onHobbs and his question. He shakes his head and I push out my breathslowly. “Nothing. No one saw a bloody thing.”

Hobbs curses, lifts a fist to his mouth wherehe bites on his knuckles. “The admiral will not be pleased,” hesays through his hand. “I’ll tell him at first light when we dropanchor.” He stomps away so loudly that Captain Montgomery snortsout a throaty snore and rolls over, his eyes flashing open for amoment before fluttering closed once more.

“Huck, we need to talk,” Cain says when Hobbsis out of earshot.

“I know,” I say. Although on multipleoccasions I’ve felt compelled to ask Cain to explain exactly whathe meant when he said my secret’s safe with him, I haven’t broachedthe subject as of yet. Secrets are better kept if they’re leftunspoken.