Chapter 13
For the next few days, I focused on my new duties while trying to sort out my feelings for Mr. Ashby.
It was impossible to avoid him, and it was not as if I wished to, either.
Despite my heightened awareness of him, we had become friends, and such a commodity was far too valuable aboard a ship to give up entirely.
I did tend to avoid meeting his eyes, and I kept my distance from him when checking the rat traps.
But other than that, our interactions were much the same as before and it seemed only I had become uncomfortable.
One afternoon, the three of us were walking fore and aft during my watch. We would often join each other on watches if we could. I stopped near the forecastle and looked high up at the crow’s nest. “I wonder what it’s like up there?” I said aloud.
“It is far too dangerous for you to go up there, Miss Findlay,” Mr. Ashby reiterated.
I glanced at him and pulled up a corner of my mouth. “I’d like to decide that for myself.”
Since creating my trouser-dress, I had made up my mind to climb up there.
I knew he disapproved, so I had to act quickly.
I had seen the cabin boys do this enough times to understand how.
Before anyone could stop me, I rushed to the railing and grasped the side-rigging to pull myself up and around it.
Now there was nothing between me and the sea but air.
I held on tightly, focusing my full attention on my goal, the top of the shroud.
I heard Patrice’s and Mr. Ashby’s voices but did not allow them to stop me.
Their warnings were unnecessary. Falling was not an option.
My knuckles were stark white as I gripped the ropes.
Then I put one foot above the other, and climbed.
My muscles strained from the exertion; muscles I did not even know I had.
I reached the nest, but getting into it was tricky; I had to climb above it and then drop down onto the platform.
Once I let go of the rigging and dropped to my feet, my arms were shaking fiercely.
I looked down below at my friends, only to find that Mr. Ashby had followed and had almost reached the top himself.
I looked around me, noticing the lack of space on the platform, and wondered if we would both fit.
Before I knew it, Mr. Ashby had dropped down into the nest beside me.
As expected, we were pressed up against each other.
Perhaps it would have been better if he were taller.
As it was, his face was much too near my own.
Our noses almost met. Rather than allowing the awkward moment to continue, I called attention to it.
“You did not think about the limited space here, I suppose.”
His blue eyes, so close to mine, reflected the endless sea behind me. “It was not made for two adults, it seems.”
The ship lurched, sending Mr. Ashby toward me.
My back pressed harder into the rail and his hands came around either side of me to hold his body back from mine.
I unintentionally took hold of his shoulders.
And still his eyes bored into mine. My stomach filled with multiple kaleidoscopes of butterflies.
Or perhaps they were hummingbirds, as the sensation was not at all the delicate fluttering one usually associated with butterflies.
When his gaze drifted to my lips, I swallowed and met his eyes as they traveled back to mine. Surely he could see my thoughts as clearly as I saw his. He was tempted. We were on the verge of making a decision, one that would alter the course of our journey irrevocably.
“Elsie…” he said in barely a whisper.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Don’t, I wanted to say. But how could I tell him no when I clearly wanted it as much as he did? Self-control had never been a strength of mine. But if ever there was a time to acquire such a talent, it was now.
With herculean effort, I placed a palm on his chest and pushed.
His eyes cleared and I heard an intake of breath as he leaned away.
It was a moment where one of us should offer an apology, but he didn’t and neither did I.
Perhaps because we didn’t wish to acknowledge the torrent of emotions passing between us.
Avoiding that truth was the only choice we had.
With our journey nearly complete, Graham would stand firmly between us and I could relax.
After a long moment, Mr. Ashby spoke, his voice harsher. “What were you thinking?” he berated me.
I couldn’t respond right away. My thoughts were still full of his closeness. I had to consider what he meant by his question. Once I understood, I sent him a small smile. “I was thinking how I’d love to see the view.”
He heaved a great sigh. Then, shaking his head, he looked above us. “Let’s go back down. You’ll soon feel ill. Men are sent up here for punishment sometimes.”
I stuck out my lip in a pout. “But I’ve barely even seen the view.”
Though it was difficult to do so in the cramped space without pressing my entire body into him, I turned to face outward and gasped with pleasure.
I thought the view from the main deck was impressive.
This left me in complete awe. There was nothing in my vision but ocean and sky.
Puffy clouds dotted the skyline on one side, and as I turned my head to the other, I noticed gray ones darkening and moving toward us.
I pointed toward them, leaning my head back toward Mr. Ashby so he could hear me over the wind.
“A storm is approaching from the north,” I said.
The ship rocked and Mr. Ashby’s chest pressed into my back, his hands braced on either side of me again.
One would imagine such a position better than facing each other.
Indeed, it was not. His lips were now at my ear, and not seeing his face somehow made his nearness more enticing.
Without thinking, I leaned back against him.
I felt his nod against my neck. “We’ll report it once we return to the deck.” His words were like a warm breeze across the ridges of my ear. I had to bite my lip to force away the shiver of delight that raced down my spine.
The waves suddenly shifted and the ship lurched again, as if mimicking my tumultuous emotions. Mr. Ashby’s warm hands took hold of my shoulders. “We should climb down now,” he said seriously.
“That might be best,” I responded. The waves seemed to have grown suddenly, even though the storm was far off. That did not bode well.
He went first and then took my hand to help me back up into the rigging.
The rougher winds and waves made the climb more frightening than before.
At one point, my foot slipped and I felt Mr. Ashby’s warm hand on my ankle to steady me.
It did so in more ways than one. I felt confident that if I fell, he would catch me.
Finally reaching the deck, I put my hands on my hips triumphantly. “There. See? I’m capable as any man.”
Patrice clapped slowly, her expression pained. “Ye nearly made me faint, but that was well done.”
I curtsied. “Thank you.” I turned to Mr. Ashby. “Surely you are not worried about me any longer. I think I have proven myself seaworthy.”
He watched me for a moment without a hint of teasing, vividly reminding me of the charged moment we’d had far above the deck. Every word he spoke was serious. “You will be the death of me, I am certain of it.”
Then he stepped forward, and to my surprise, he clapped a hand on my shoulder as if I were a comrade.
I’d seen him do so to the cabin boys. His serious expression changed to one I was more familiar with.
He smiled, and those crinkles appeared around his eyes.
“Regardless of your determination to cause me concern, however, I have confidence, as I always have, that you will accomplish all you set out to do.”
Such a statement regarding my ability, followed by his warm smile, caused my heart to melt, and the heat of it rose to my cheeks. I grinned back at him.
We startled when a bright flash, quickly followed by a thunder clap, came from the sky.
We looked around to find the storm much closer than it had been moments ago.
It could be a rain squall, which, from what I’d heard, could cause significant damage to a ship, although they didn’t last longer than an hour.
Mr. Ashby jumped into action. He rang the bell and called out, “Storm’s approaching! Batten down!”
“You two, go below deck and help Cook. I’ll work with the sailors to take down the sails.”
Patrice and I followed his orders quickly, pausing only to let sailors rush up the hatch to join Mr. Ashby.
Nerves had begun in my stomach. I’d never experienced a storm at sea.
I’d heard stories of capsizing, broken masts, lost rudders, being thrown off course and lost at sea. Surely these would not happen to us…
As worries ran through my mind, I ran through the galley to tie down anything that was not bolted to the deck. Patrice worked with the cook to prepare quick meals for the sailors once they completed their duties above deck.
Everyone would need their strength to ride out the storm, and fires would be doused to avoid the ship catching fire while we rode it out. We finished in the galley and went back to our cabin to secure everything there.
Patrice met my eyes and took my hand. We exchanged a moment of silent encouragement. We could get through this as we had gotten through everything else so far. Our spirits were unbroken. I nodded to her once, and we went back out onto the mess deck.