Chapter 3
Rosetta pointed to the small map pinned to the table at the helm.
She was speaking to Mr Smith, a trusted crewmember, about their current path through the Pacific Ocean. He was the only person besides herself and Naeem who she allowed to touch the helm.
Mr Smith was her protection and a trusted advisor who communicated her orders to the rest of the crew. With so many strangers aboard, she had to be cautious.
His full name was John Smith, but she only called him John when she felt like it. The rest of the time, though, she knew he liked to feel like a gentleman. So Mr Smith it was.
He was a tall man, one who had once been portly but lost the weight after being out to sea for many years. He was still a happy chap, now easily able to climb the shrouds without his gut getting in the way.
His dark hair was peppered with white while his well-shaped, short beard hid his roundish baby face. His small circular glasses made him appear sophisticated despite all that hair.
Naeem, who was at the helm, listened in on their conversation.
“No, this is a shallow-hull frigate, Mr Smith.” She shook her head before fingering the path she was intending to take on the map.
“We needn’t worry if we come into contact with any shallows near the Sthrill Islands.
” She may have never commanded one of these ships before, but she knew them well enough to direct them safely.
“I want to stay our course. It’s the fastest route, and I want those men off my ship as soon as possible. ”
“I know you’re impatient, but we can’t be reckless. We took this boat by a miracle only.”
“Ahem!” Naeem cleared his throat dramatically. “What you mean to say is she stole this boat with such a brilliance that even the war gods would applaud her.”
A heartfelt smile spread across her features as she looked over at Naeem.
Mr Smith promptly ignored him. “Look, I know you want to get back to sea to hunt for the head fleet, but I do not think it’s wise for us to throw those men overboard without stopping to restock.”
With a sigh, Rosetta pushed off from the table, holding the hilt of her sword as she made her way down the steps.
“Show me how bad the supplies are.” She knew the three men currently bound, gagged, and secured to the mainmast of the deck were staring at her. She didn’t spare them a glance as she walked past. “Did we happen to get all our own supplies aboard?”
They had tied barrels of grog, water, and food to the rowboats of that useless ship she had been steering.
Mr Smith nodded. “Yes. We grabbed everything, even the gold, but this ship barely had enough supplies for themselves.”
“They must have been headed to port in desperation.” She rubbed at her chin as she bounced down the steps to the lower decks. “They may have tried to trade with us had we raised our own black flag.”
She could have used that to her advantage to trick them, rather than the tear-filled act she played with their captain.
I’m still rather surprised by his response. It wasn’t what she had been expecting.
“You there.” She nodded her head to a man she didn’t know, one of the previous captain’s crew. “Take us to your supplies.”
He squinted his eyes, his nose crinkling on one side in disdain, but he led the way. In every corner, she saw her men watching the rest of the crew with suspicion.
Hostile takeovers. She shook her head. It would be a while before the tension went down.
When she entered the large cargo bay below deck, dim of light and smelling musty like mould, the man described the state of their supplies to Mr Smith as she listened. She didn’t join in, preferring not to speak to a stranger if she didn’t have to.
There were only a handful of barrels secured to benches, and a few crates littering the ground, all containing odd bits of food that wouldn’t make good meals.
Most of the crates were half empty, and stacks of empty ones had been haphazardly dumped in a pile in the furthest corner.
“It seems me overtaking this vessel was a godsend for them,” she said as she and Mr Smith walked back up top together. He went through the math so she could have a count of the supplies they now had.
“In estimating the new size of our crew, plus the prisoners, we will have just enough supplies to make it to Dunecaster. Then, if we divert straight away to Vinil port, we should be able to restock before we run out.”
Dunecaster was a large piece of land that took nearly an entire day and night to circle, but most people stayed near the only section of the crescent-moon-shaped island that allowed ships to port all the way inland. The rest of it had long sandbanks – meaning they had to row in.
“Feed our goat to the crew.” Poor Reginald. She had been rather fond of her long-bearded, stubby-horned goat. He used to bleat in joy whenever he saw her. “It’ll help gain their favour if we feed them well.”
It was the last big chunk of fresh meat they had, and the easiest animal they originally had on their old boat to transfer to another. A cow was too big, and chickens... well, they had one left.
“I want that chicken cooked and a small feast of smoked meat prepared in my new quarters, enough for a few bellies.” She side-eyed Mr Smith before they reached the lower deck stairs leading up to the surface. “Then meet me in the navigation room.”
She had to go through the information and maps on this ship, then add them to the collection she brought over. What’s more, she needed to map their course, then their future plans.
“Aye, Rosetta.” He nodded, breaking away to find their chef hands. They were just general men who knew how to cook basic fare, but it was better than nothing.
She palmed the hilt of her sword as she, alone, walked across the worn timber. The sun shone bright in her eyes, so she lowered her head to let the front point of her hat shield them from the glare.
Paranoid, she kept her ears open in case someone suddenly decided to attack. Her eyes may have been searching, but she kept a calm and unbothered expression.
“What are you all gawking at?!” she yelled at the crew standing on deck.
There were only a few that weren’t busy with their duties – those who weren’t her usual crew.
“I want this deck shipshape by the end of the day and this boat sailing at full wind strength in the next thirty minutes, or I’ll flay your skin and use it to patch the holes in these sails! ”
There were still plenty of blood puddles from bodies they had already tossed into the water. They were sticky under her boots and left a pungent smell in the air she couldn’t stand.
Immediately, men sprang into action, scrubbing the planks with seawater and soap, their wide, two-handed brushes scraping against the reddish timber. Others began climbing the shrouds to check on the sails and secure any loose rope.
“Captain!” A voice sounded from above in the crow’s nest. It didn’t escape her attention that she wasn’t the only one who responded to that particular call, even though the other was currently bound. “Sail, ho!”
Another ship?
“Naeem!” She waved her hand forward. “Keep an eye out. If they direct to us, avoid. We aren’t prepared for another battle yet.”
She barely even knew the damn ship!
“Aye, Captain!” He gave her a lazy salute with one hand.
I don’t even know the cannonball stocks yet. She may need the supplies on that ship, but she wouldn’t take a perilous risk.
Not yet at least.
After passing Naeem at the helm, she entered the navigation room for the first time. She placed her hands on her hips as she looked at the spacious bed in the corner with a hammock swinging above it.
There was a large desk made of cedar wood, covered in maps, and a chair behind it. Typical navigation devices were messily scattered across it, with vials of ink and other writing apparatuses mixing into the organised chaos.
What surprised her the most, though, were the extensive maps of constellations, stars, and changing day length cycles with their occurring seasons.
The octant resting atop the papers drew her attention.
She picked up the tool and fiddled with it before setting it back down when she realised she didn’t know how to use it.
The only other items of furniture were a chest of clothes and a small table with three chairs, most likely used as seating for food and drink. Cupboards were mounted into the walls as permanent fixtures.
He made room so that more of his men could sleep comfortably. There was no other explanation for this space. It was something she never thought to do, but a good idea nonetheless.
Like the rest of the ship, it had a funny smell to it, like wet timber and mould, but it wasn’t as terrible as below deck.
The sunlight was murky, battling through the dirty gridded windows at the back. Deciding to use whatever sunshine she had, she made her way to the fitted cabinets, sifting through the drawers and opening the doors.
Rosetta wanted to know all about her new sleeping quarters, where she would be staying for god knew how long.
Mr Smith eventually joined her, and together they mapped their course for the next two months.
They might have to make some alterations depending on the weather, but they should be where they wanted to be by then. Hopefully.
Rosetta had big hopes and even bigger goals. It was why she had decided to take this ship when she first saw it on the horizon. A warship like this frigate was just the weapon she needed.
As they made plans, their food arrived, placed onto the spare table. She’d gone out of her way to make it known she would be staying in this room since it was already prepared. She’d change the sheets, if they were available, since she didn’t know how long ago a man would have changed the bedding.
Then again, she’d probably sleep in the hammock, since it was more comfortable to go with the swings and sways of the ocean waves rather than fight them in a rigid framed bed.