Sail With Me (A Discovery Series Book) (6 page)

I tugged on Daniel’s sleeve. “We’d better get these supplies back to
camp.”

Daniel tore his gaze away from my father. As we started back on our
errand, a broad hand clamped down on my shoulder. I nearly shrieked, but
managed a short squeak instead.

“Captain Denham wants to see you two,” a big, burly sailor said. Heath
was his name if I remembered correctly.

An enormous smile raced across Daniel’s face. “Really?”

“Really,” Heath said, grunting at Daniel’s eagerness. “This way.”

The hot sweat that had started beneath my cap shot through the rest of
me. I wrestled with the notion of running back to the
Rose,
but Daniel
gave me a look that said I’d better follow him.

Within moments we were standing before my father. He had his left hand on
his gray and black beard and his right arm crossed his chest. He appeared to be
considering something important, and the wait for him to turn around to talk to
us made my heart pound erratically.

Daniel let the sack he carried slide down his leg and rest on the floor.
His fingers then tightened on my arm. Was it really this exciting to be close
to my father, the mighty Captain Denham? Was this why I missed him so much
myself?

“Ah, yes,” my father said as he regarded the two of us with his sharp
green eyes. “Saw you two chaps by the counter and wondered if you’re looking
for work. I’ve got two spots to—”

He stopped as his gaze rested on Daniel’s empty half-sleeve. His brows
furrowed together then he focused his eyes on me. “I’ve got one spot that needs
filling and you, boy, seem like a sturdy one.”

The muscles in Daniel’s jaw tensed up again. I had the silly urge to
defend him against my father’s words, but stopped myself. It was not as if my
father had insulted Benjamin whom I’d been friends with for a lifetime. I
barely knew Daniel. Besides, the less I talked, the better.

“Sorry, Captain, but I have me a job. We both do. Thank you.” I shifted
the sack I carried and nudged Daniel.

“Do you know who I am?” my father said before we could gain any distance
from him.

“Yes, I know who you are, Captain Denham.” Did he know who I was?  

“Haven’t you heard the stories of my great adventures, my wealth?”

“I have.”

“And yet you still refuse my offer?”

“I do.”

I looked my father square in the eye. Foolish. He stared back and angled
his head. Everything in my logical brain said to break the stare. To leave.
Before my secret was discovered. I was held transfixed, however, in this silent
battle of wills. He wanted me to cower and look away first.

I would not.

I loved my father, but he had kept me land bound. He had stood in my way
of being who I wanted to be. I had deferred to his wishes long enough. I was
leaving Southampton and he wasn’t going to stop me. 

My father took two steps closer and lifted the brim of Benjamin’s cap so
it came off entirely. My heart stopped beating for a single second as he
studied my face.

“What is your name?” He narrowed his eyes but still wouldn’t break the
contact.

“Charlie.” I forced my legs into a wider stance so as to look more
masculine. I hugged the sack to my chest and held my breath.

“You sure you don’t want to join my crew?” He wasn’t accustomed to people
saying no to him or to asking something more than once.

“I’m quite happy with my current employment.” I boldly arched out my
pillowed gut against the sack.

He handed back my hat. I took it and plopped it on my head, pulling it
low once more.

With one final look up at my father, I bowed and walked toward Daniel. We
disappeared into the crowd of sailors outside Watkins’s Post. I stored the
details of my father’s face in some part of my mind for it would be a long time
before I’d see him again.

If I saw him again.   

Daniel had not said one word and had not acknowledged my presence as we
walked back to the
Rose
. Guilt about my father’s reaction to him swirled
around inside me.

“Daniel?”

“Hmm,” he replied, still not looking at me.

“Are you all right?”

He stopped walking at the edge of the dock and focused his gaze on a
point somewhere on the water. 

“I’m fine,” he began in a quiet voice. “I just don’t need the reminder
that I’m… not like everyone else. I know the only reason I’m part of the
Rose’s
crew is because my uncle is the captain.” He shrugged his left shoulder.
His brows furrowed now not in the contempt I had first witnessed yesterday, but
with genuine hurt. A hurt my father had caused. “Captain Denham was right not
to want me.”

“He most certainly was not.”

Daniel jumped at the bite in my voice.

“He doesn’t know anything at all. He’s used to everyone doing whatever he
says and having everything be exactly how he wants it all the time. He doesn’t
consider what other people want, what they need.”

Daniel’s eyes opened wide, and the corner of his mouth turned up. “Easy
there, Charlie. You seem more offended than I am.”

I took in a deep breath, set my sack down at my feet, and rubbed my hands
across my face. Raising my voice was a good way to attract attention I didn’t
need.

“Yes, well, he didn’t need to be so judgmental,” I said. “I guess he’s not
about giving people chances.”

“You know,” Daniel began, “
you
could have taken a job with Captain
Denham. He wanted you.”

I ground my teeth at the thought of sailing with my father on the
Emily
.
Boys’ clothes and chopped hair had fooled him. My own father. What did that say
about how well he knew me? We had no ties, no bond.

I had absolutely no desire to sail with him. Ever.

“I meant what I told Captain Denham. I. Have. A. Job.” I said the words
slowly, deliberately.

“Glad you didn’t let me scare you off yesterday, Charlie.” Still somewhat
amused, Daniel continued, “Looks like I’ll never get to meet Captain Denham’s
daughter now. Oh, well.”

My hands that had still been rubbing my face stopped at my bruised jaw. “What
did you say?”

“Captain Denham has two sons, twins I think, and one daughter whom I’m
told is absolutely breathtaking.” A grin wiped across his face. “Supposed to
have long blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. Just what I like.” Daniel elbowed me
in the side and winked.

I choked on my next breath and let out a cough. Absolutely breathtaking?
I doubled over, and my whole body shook with amusement. I fell to my knees and
stretched my palms out onto the dock. I couldn’t catch my breath. The laughter
overtook me.

“What?” Daniel said. “Do you think Miss Denham would not like me?”

I squelched my laughing and kneeled back on my heels. “No, no. I think
she’d like you just fine, Daniel.”

He gave me a solid shove, and I surprised myself by not rolling off the
dock.

“What about you? You got a girl somewhere?” he said.

I stood and picked up my sack. “No.” I wasn’t sure what to say next. What
would a boy say? “I hear there are pretty girls in the Americas. Why do you
think I’m headed that way?”

Daniel chuckled. “A very good plan.” He jumped off the dock and landed in
the sand. “We’ve got to dump these things off and get back to work if we’re to
leave on schedule.”

I hopped after him, not wanting to hold up our departure date.  

I couldn’t exactly hide the grin on my face. Charlie Hamden might be an
ordinary boy, but Charlotte Denham was “absolutely breathtaking” at least by
someone’s standards.

That, I had to admit, was nice to know.   

****

The noontime sun blazed high in the sky when we reached the camp. I was
hit with the sight of several crewmembers working on the
Rose
bared to
the waist, their tunics cast aside in the heat.

I slowed my step, and Daniel noticed. “What’s the matter?” Dots of
perspiration glistened on his forehead.

“Nothing.” I jogged to catch up with him.

He hoisted his sack of purchases onto his left shoulder and walked, somewhat
off balance, to a group of men shaping wooden hull boards. I followed, hauling
my own sack, and trying not to stare at all the bare male skin around me. My
own tunic was moist under my sweater, and the pillow resting against my stomach
made the heat unbearable. My short hair was wet with sweat underneath
Benjamin’s cap. With each step through the sand, my breeches stuck to my legs,
making me feel hotter and hotter. Wearing a corset wasn’t as uncomfortable as
this. Why did it have to be unseasonably warm on this September day?

We delivered all of the materials and hiked up to Captain Finley’s tent.
The shelter was solidly constructed and up on a hill so as to keep any
rainwater from dribbling inside.

“Uncle?” Daniel called out.

“Come in.”

Daniel pulled aside the tent flap and hunched down as he cleared the
doorway. I walked in behind him, ducking as well.

“All the materials have been purchased and delivered.” Daniel reached
into his pocket and returned the leftover coins.

Captain Finley dropped the money into his own pocket. “Excellent. Repairs
are nearly complete. Hull, masts, sails. Sails look great thanks to Charlie
here.”

I bowed my head toward him, glad he had approved of my handiwork. “Will
we be leaving soon, Captain?”

Captain Finley smiled. A smile like Daniel’s. “That is my hope, boy. The
journey across the Atlantic is about three months long, assuming we don’t run
into any problems.

“It’s September now so I’d like to leave as soon as possible before the
colder weather sets in. Once we get to the Americas we will have warmer
temperatures than we usually have in England this time of year. We’ll scout
around and see what’s in the area. We’ve got some supplies to deliver and I
want to find my son, Ronald. Sound good?” He rested his hands on his hips.

“Yes, sir,” Daniel replied.

“Good,” Captain Finley said. “Now, you two go help with the hull repair.
I think they need a hand with the sanding.” He regarded the two of us after
Daniel slapped me on the shoulder, enthusiastic about working together.

“What is it, Uncle?” Daniel asked.

“Charlie here won me over with his sail repair yesterday,” the captain
said, “but what in the heavens did he do to de-grouch you? Don’t tell me I’ve
finally found someone—”

“I can tolerate,” Daniel finished. “Yes, maybe you have.”

“According to Daniel, I’m not an idiot,” I said.

Captain Finley let out a laugh that sounded as if it had come from deep
inside him. “That’s the only compliment you’re going to get from him. Take it
and run, Charlie.”

He shooed us toward the door. “When you finish sanding, go for a dunk in
the sea. Cool off and clean up.”

We exited the tent, and I cast a wary glance at the sea. I loved her.
That was true enough, but the mention of a “dunk” in her had my hands growing
clammy. Charlotte could swim. Swim well.

But Charlie? He couldn’t swim. Not with all these men around. No way.

****

Sanding was hard work. I had shed my sweater and rolled up the sleeves of
my brother’s tunic. The pillow hiding my femininity was soaked with sweat and
about five pounds heavier. Daniel had relieved himself of his shirt as well,
and I couldn’t help glancing over at him from time to time.

He straddled a wooden board resting across two barrels. In his left hand
he held a stone wrapped in coarse paper and rubbed it with long strokes across
the board beneath him. When his arm sanded back toward him, fine looking
muscles bulged in his arm and along his torso. He was long and lean, solid and
powerful.  

Handsome.

I had seen Benjamin shirtless plenty of times. He was well put together
too, but seeing Daniel’s chest was a different experience somehow. Benjamin was
like a brother to me. I had always known him. Daniel, on the other hand, was
new, a little mysterious, a little older. 

Shaking my head clear from my wandering thoughts, I returned to my own
sanding. A mild burn in the muscles of my arms simmered beneath the sweat that
soaked a good deal of my body. I didn’t mind though. The work kept me busy,
each moment bringing me closer to my intended destination. I increased my fervor
in sanding the board, and in a short time, I had smoothed out all the splintery
edges. Running my palm along the surface of the board, I was pleased at the
results of my labor. I wasn’t the only one.

“Thatta boy,” a sailor everyone called Woody said as he walked the length
of my board, running a finger over it. “Smooth as a newborn’s bottom you’ve
gotten it.”

“Thank you, sir.” I pulled the board off the barrels and handed it to
him. As soon as he had his hands on it, another crewman plopped a second piece
down in front of me. The look on my face prompted a laugh from Woody.

“That’s the problem with good work, Charlie. When we see it once, we be
wanting it again and again.” He cuffed me on the back, harder than I had
expected, and his hand made a loud smack against my soaked tunic.

Woody scrunched up his nose as he shook off his hand. From what I saw of
his filthy palms, my sweat was the least of his problems, but still, he seemed
repulsed.

“Rid yourself of that shirt, chap, ’fore it overflows.” He wiped his hand
on his own sweat-soaked breeches.

“I’m all right, sir.” I picked up my paper-covered stone and tackled my
next board.

“Suit yourself, but I ain’t touching you again.” He headed toward the
careened ship.

“Fine with me.” The less people touched me, the better.

I contented myself with the soft scritch-scratch of sanding until Daniel
jerked away from his board and said, “Ouch!” Across from me, he sucked on his
finger.

“What happened?” I put down my sanding stone and walked over to him.

“Just a sliver.” He flicked his thumb over the small piece of wood wedged
in his middle finger. He fiddled with the end of it, trying to push it out of
his skin, but couldn’t get a grip on it.

“Do you need some help?”

My eyes met his, and the tensed muscles in his jaw said he didn’t like
needing help.    

He drew in a deep breath. “I guess so.” 

I offered him a smile and focused on the splinter. Using my forefinger
and thumb like a pincer, I removed the shard of wood. Daniel jolted his hand
back a bit at the sting, but it hardly bled.

“You’ll live,” I said. “At least for a little while longer.”

“Very funny.” Daniel sucked on his finger again to relieve the rawness.

As I stood in front of him, I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering to his
right shoulder and the area where his arm should have been. The skin there,
though tanned from hours working outdoors and on the sea, was puckered with
scar tissue. Zigzagging lines crossed back and forth like a stitching pattern
on a quilt below the shoulder where about six inches of upper arm still
remained.

“It hurt, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He picked up his sanding
stone and ran it back and forth along the board. “But the worst part was the
nasty infection I got after the surgeon removed my crushed arm. Nearly died, I
did. Guess it wasn’t my time yet though, because I got better and here I am.”

“That’s what counts.”

We both resumed our sanding, a scraping hush filling the silence as
unasked questions filled my head.