Chapter 12 #2
I grimaced. Rats were an inevitable part of living on a ship.
We were meant to keep our feet covered at night in case they decided to nibble on the soles.
Men had been subject to it many times before.
And while that possibility was dreadful, disposing of dead ones—or killing them—sounded loathsome, too.
The thought of death brought a fresh wave of despair: Tallow, wrapped in a shroud, prepared to be thrown into a watery grave. It was only a few hours until we would say farewell to him forever.
After those hours passed, the crew gathered around Tallow’s body, everyone mute and reverent.
Mr. Ewis, who apparently doubled as the ship’s chaplain, stood before us and read from the Bible.
I could barely hear the words as I cried for this man who’d brought me such joy, who had been through so much in his life and remained humble and kind.
When Mr. Ewis finished, five men took Tallow’s body and slid it into the ocean waves.
Silence fell over us all for a few minutes, then the crew went back to their duties.
It happened too quickly, and yet, what else could be done? We could only pause for a moment before the waves caught up with us and pushed us in the wrong direction. Mourning could not last forever, regardless of how special the deceased was.
That evening, I decided to mend one of my dresses to allow for easier climbing.
They may not expect it of me, but I could see the necessity for trousers rather than a dress.
I smiled as I sewed. Patrice had long been asleep as I worked on my strange invention.
It was half-dress, half-trousers, and it would probably look very silly.
What could I do when there was no precedent I was aware of?
With my design, no one would be able to see up my skirts, and they would be safely out of the way as I climbed.
When it was finished, I ended up trimming off more than I wished, so it was slightly higher above my ankles than I’d planned.
Still, it would allow for modesty and functionality.
I couldn’t wait to see the look on everyone’s faces when they saw it.
I laughed quietly to myself when I imagined what Melody would have thought of it.
I decided she would approve and probably would have done something similar herself.
Laughter filled the mess deck when I walked in with Patrice the next morning.
My inventive clothing did not disappoint.
I grinned at the crew and sat with complete confidence.
Patrice had not said much when she awoke and saw me already dressed in my strange trousers.
Instead, she’d sighed and readied herself for breakfast.
Mr. Ashby joined us after his morning navigation check. He had yet to see my dress-trousers, and since I was tucked under the table, he was confused about everyone’s eyes on me.
“What has happened?” he asked, a slight worry in his voice.
“Miss mended her dress in order to accomplish her new duties,” Patrice told him dryly.
Mr. Ashby’s brows pulled together and he looked at me questioningly. So I stood to show him. He laughed immediately, a sound I hadn’t heard in days. A sound I realized I had missed.
I spread my arms out. “You see? I can do anything now. I will be just as agile as any man.”
“While still maintaining your femininity.” He placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers. “Just when I think you are finished surprising me, you find something wholly new to set yourself apart from all other women.”
I mulled that comment over in my mind, finally deciding to take it as a compliment. “Thank you, I think. So, what shall we have for breakfast? Gruel? Or perhaps gruel with jam and sea biscuits?”
Patrice laughed grimly. “The breakfast options on a ship certainly are grand.”
“Gruel isn’t so bad,” I said before standing to scoop some for the both of us.
After breakfast, Patrice went to the main deck to find Simon Ridley while Mr. Ashby and I began our first daily check for rats.
It was only now that I had a chance to meet the cats aboard the Katarina, though Ridley had told me their names along with their coloring.
There were three in total and mostly kept to themselves, but for a few favored sailors.
I sat on a barrel as one rubbed against my leg.
“Seamen do love their ship’s cats,” Mr. Ashby told me, keeping his distance from the one I bent to pick up and place on my lap. It let out a small meow and purred as I petted its head. It was a large, long-haired black one by the name of Flinders.
I looked up at him. “Don’t you like cats?”
He sniffed. “In truth, I’m wary of them.
Once, the cat who de-moused our stables attacked my youngest brother.
He was covered with scratches from his feet to his face.
” He shivered. “I nearly killed the blasted thing.” He leaned against a post, watching the cat on my knees.
“And my sister did not take well to them. She often broke out in a rash, making her sneeze and itch violently. My father said her reaction to cats was passed down in our family. Needless to say, I’ve stayed away from the beasts. ”
Hearing him speak of his sister reminded me of his story about the duel. It struck me that he must miss his family. I didn’t bring it up, however. “Have you ever had a poor reaction to them?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, but that doesn’t mean I like them.”
I laughed, then reached out to take his hand and pulled him to me. I placed his hand on the feline, who was purring with happiness. Mr. Ashby tensed, but then Flinders nudged his hand and I saw a slow smile.
“See?” I said. “They’re lovely creatures. You’ve been missing out.”
“It seems I have,” he said in a whisper.
I looked up and realized how close our faces were.
At this range, I could see gold flecks in his blue eyes.
But perhaps that was a trick of the lighting.
The sun through the porthole didn’t brighten the deck nearly enough.
We both pulled away at the same time. Clearly he had felt the awkwardness of our proximity, too.
After a minute more of petting Flinders, the cat jumped down and I stood.
“Well, we’ve checked the traps on the mess deck and placed the dead rodents in the bag.” I held it up and it swung from the movement. “I can go down to the hold if you’d like to take the gun deck,” I told Mr. Ashby.
He responded quickly. “I will go down with you. It can be unnerving in the pitch-blackness of the cargo hold.”
I shrugged, admittedly grateful for his company. “Very well. You grab the lantern.”