Chapter 7
The next day, we sat around a table eating breakfast. I had awoken to the sound of creaking and not much else.
In our secluded area of the ship, I couldn’t even hear the crew speaking to each other.
I was used to hearing birds and crickets and frogs, cows and sheep and horses.
To hear so little seemed unnatural; it was unnerving.
Sitting in the mess and hearing conversation around me felt much better, so I happily chewed on sea biscuits with jam.
“It’s our first full day on the sea,” I said to my companions. “What should we do first?”
“Would you care to see where I spend my time on a ship?” Mr. Ashby flashed a grin. “I should get started on my duties.”
Though I had little understanding of what a purser did, I had no reason to turn down the offer, so Patrice and I agreed to join him in the purser’s office.
After finishing our food and cleaning our plates, he led us into a small room that resembled a study.
There were books on shelves and a desk strewn with papers, but nothing else that reminded me of the studies—there were three in total— at Edleroy.
There was a window that let in welcome light just behind the desk, along with two lanterns hanging overhead, which would provide more than adequate light at night.
As we stood in the doorway, I heard a sigh beside me, though not of exasperation. It sounded like contentment.
Mr. Ashby rubbed his hands together. “This is the true soul of a ship,” he said with a strange excitement.
“I admit to not knowing much about sailing, but I cannot account for why you would think so.”
His eyes twinkled. “That is a very well-placed pun, Miss Findlay. Account.” He chortled as he walked further into the room. That laugh, paired with his preference for a study over the excitement of the decks outside, solidified my impression of him as an academic.
“Considering this ship hasn’t had a purser in several months, I assume things are a mess.
” He looked around the room with an air of delight, hands on his hips as he assessed it.
“It’s just as I thought. I will look through inventory, provisions, and crew lists to get a clear idea of the situation. I am eager to get started.”
I suddenly worried for his sanity, if this was where he’d be cooped up for the next several weeks or months, depending on the ease of the journey.
He smiled, still focused on the room. “My office is usually much more comfortable and…less dusty. But still, this is where I thrive. With accounts and transactions.”
He liked bookkeeping. It caused nothing but frustration for most men. Cameron certainly did not revel in it. I would often walk into his study and see him pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to soothe a headache.
I watched Mr. Ashby take his seat at the desk and sift through the mess atop it. He didn’t glance up at Patrice and me, making me wonder if he had forgotten we were there. I met her eyes and we both smiled with amusement. We were gaining more understanding of Mr. Ashby’s character.
Approaching the desk, I leaned over it and took in everything he was doing.
Sorting the loose pages by date, from what I could tell.
He began murmuring to himself, reading each page he picked up and then putting them in piles.
After a moment, he shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
I tilted my head as I noticed his forearms. If he always worked at a desk, why was he so tanned and muscled?
When my attention returned to his face, I caught his gaze. His face was full of enthusiasm.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I…” Did he want to know what I thought of his forearms? No, he couldn’t mean that. “I think your interests rather singular. You prefer this to working above deck?”
He raised one side of his mouth. “Certainly I prefer it. Did you see how hard they worked up there? Far too much sweating and grunting for my taste.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Somehow I doubt that you dislike physical labor as much as you say.” I could not help but glance at his arms and back to his face with question.
“Ah, well, I do own a fleet…” He frowned, but seemed to push his regrets aside as he continued.
“Did own a fleet of ships. I have done my share of sailing. I admit there are advantages to it. The sea air is refreshing, and the thrill of climbing high in the rigging is unparalleled. Using one’s body to make such a massive vessel sail across the seemingly endless seas…
well, it is satisfying. But this”—he held up the parchment in his hands—“this is where my mind is stimulated.”
“I see. So, what can I do to help?”
He raised his eyebrows. “You want to help with bookkeeping?”
Picking up a page nearest me, I gave it a once-over.
“I know everything about running an estate, thanks to my brother, who humored my curiosity. Bookkeeping on a ship cannot be much different.” As if to prove my point, I placed the page in the pile it belonged in.
He was looking at me without a hint of surprise. Instead, he seemed pleased.
“As I expected. You are as capable as you are courageous.”
His praise was sudden, so I didn’t quite know how to respond at first. I stared at him for a moment.
He cleared his throat. “That is, Graham’s stories led me to believe such a thing.”
At the mention of Graham, I straightened my shoulders. “I may as well have a purpose on this ship. Give me an occupation or I shall go mad.”
“Aye, Mr. Ashby, she’ll make the journey unbearable for us all,” Patrice added.
The corners of Mr. Ashby’s eyes crinkled in a suppressed smile. “Very well. I’ll go through all this and divide the assignments between the three—”
“Two, if ye please. I dinnae know how to read.” Patrice crossed her arms.
I exchanged a glance with Mr. Ashby, shrugging. “I’ve offered to teach her. She refuses me at every attempt.” In my opinion, her refusal stemmed from a lack of confidence. She could do anything that required coordination or dexterity, but disliked formal education.
“I can find other things to do. Dinnae worry about me,” she assured us.
While Patrice busied herself dusting and straightening the books on the shelves, I sat across from Mr. Ashby and watched him work.
He was engrossed in it, so I took advantage of the uninterrupted time to study him.
He hadn’t struck me as handsome at first. The longer I spent in his company, however, the more intriguing—if not attractive—he became.
He wasn’t as tall or broad as Graham, though I’d noticed his muscular build.
His hair was bleached from the sun and his skin was tanned.
Neither attribute was looked upon favorably in society, and yet, it suited him.
His blue eyes reminded me of Melody’s, although much more azure than sapphire.
Like the bluest sky in the middle of summer.
Those sky-blue eyes met mine, and I didn’t pretend as if I hadn’t been staring. I simply smiled at him. “Ready to hand out assignments?”
He chuckled. “Did you glean anything of interest from watching me?”
“You’re rather intuitive.” I didn’t feel embarrassed, and therefore spoke nonchalantly.
“Only a corpse wouldn’t be able to feel your eyes on him.” He leaned back in his chair. “Your stare is very…direct. It sends chills down a man’s spine.” He shivered for effect.
“You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me so.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He laughed and slid a few stacks of papers toward me, along with a leather-bound ledger. “Here’s our first project.”
Mr. Ashby explained it to me briefly without condescension.
I appreciated being treated as a colleague; Cameron certainly never thought of me that way.
We worked for a few hours—if my internal clock was correct—and Patrice was napping in the only cozy chair in the room.
She shifted in her seat with a groan. I stood and stretched, rolling my neck to work out the kinks.
I began to sway with the movement of the ship and had to take hold of the desk for support.
“With your help, we shall be finished sorting all this before the end of the week. Then what will we find to keep you occupied?” Mr. Ashby said.
Patrice let out a loud snore, making Mr. Ashby and me laugh. I responded to him as I leaned against the desk. “What, indeed. I wonder, would it be completely inappropriate for me to learn how to sail?”
Mr. Ashby lifted his eyes to the ceiling, considering. He met my gaze again and nodded with a half-smile. “Undoubtedly. But considering you’re a runaway, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to hold back on account of propriety.”
That response pleased me, so I grinned at him.
I once again felt certain about my decision to elect him as my guide.
Graham had chosen his business partner well.
If I knew nothing else about Mr. Ashby, Graham’s trust in him would have been enough.
But each day brought new reasons to trust him, and to enjoy his company.
I hoped Graham would be glad of our friendship.