7. In Sea Major
In Sea Major
I don’t know what to do with my hands, if I should get up or stay seated, remove my foot or press it closer.
In truth, I don’t want to move; I want him to do something, anything else so I know what this is, what his intentions are.
And oh, do I want there to be intent, much as I know I shouldn’t.
He’s the captain. He’s a stranger. Hell, he held a blade to my throat.
And if it’s difficult enough being a bi man in my time, it can’t be any easier now, right?
And yet.
Captain Night raises a brow at me as the first string of music is played, as if the plucked notes drew up his brow and released it. I yearn to smooth my thumb over it, to press my hand to his cheek and force him to look me in the eye as I ask him what game he’s playing at.
Tarly adjusts the strings, sucking on his cheek as he picks them expertly before nodding to himself. And, in a surprisingly melodic voice, Tarly begins to sing, starting out slow and haunting before picking up.
There is one place ’board every ship
Where no living man should go
He’ll face the cap’ain’s sword and tip
If he slips in below
Stay out the cap’ain’s cabin
If you wish to live
Stay out the cap’ain’s cabin
For he’ll not forgive
Captain Night nods to me solemnly, and other than a jovial smile that tugs at the edges of his lips, he gives nothing away.
The crew claps and bangs on the tables along with the music, obviously enjoying themselves, but all I feel is a strange sense of dread that in the choosing of this song there is some underlying meaning hidden—okay, not hidden.
They repeat the chorus, their voices ringing out, extra emphasis placed on “captain’s cabin.” The lyrics are clearly saying that you don’t go into the captain’s cabin “if you wish to live,” and I don’t think Captain Night could be more direct.
Right. So he is not flirting. He was never playing footsie but giving me a silent warning. I’m embarrassed I thought it might have been anything else.
Tarly does not seem to mind the crew and their not-so-musically-attuned voices.
They raise their bowls in the air as they yell the lyrics at the top of their lungs, lost in the moment.
Sir hops up onto the table and yawns as if he’s used to the noise.
He paces in a circle before curling into a ball and closing his eyes, completely unperturbed.
Across from me, Captain Night’s head bobs to the song, a genuine smile breaking out across his features, foot tapping mine under the table along to the beat. He loves this crew, loves every single one of them as they are. They’re not perfect, but from his expression, they’re perfect to him.
My stomach gurgles dangerously, and my vision swims, the song becoming a muddled mess as I grip the table, but it’s no use. Pressing a hand to my gut and the other over my mouth, I pull my foot away from Captain Night’s and stand.
Someone says my name, but I can’t place who it is, suddenly too sick to focus, the floor under me swimming, the song distorted as I crash into a wall.
Jesus, do pirates kill for anything? I can’t rightly explain to Captain Night why I was in his cabin, or why I was wearing his jacket when I stumbled up on deck, but I have no intention of ever going in there again.
I know now what will happen if he finds me in there.
Worse still, what happens when Captain Night opens the small closet door to the left of his desk only to find his jacket hanging up there, the one he took from me an exact replica of it?
I’ve made a mess of things.
Most of the crew is unaware of me or the spinning thoughts in my head and the acid working its way up my throat as Tarly continues to sing, the words a startling contrast to his honey-sweet vibrato.
The cap’ain’s cabin is no place
For crew or cabin boy
And if in there he spots your face
You’ll have no employ
Stay out the cap’ain’s cabin
If you wish to live
Stay out the cap’ain’s cabin
For he’ll not forgive
Tarly slows down the melody, his eyes closing as he falls into the music, plucking the notes, dangling them like treats on a string.
I take the moment to scan the group as I back away, bumping into a beam with a hiss, my stomach churning as the ship sways.
Captain Night’s head snaps sharply to me, his expression unreadable in the dim lighting.
I’m unable to look away, caught in those dark brown depths like a fly in a spider’s web.
But if the cap’ain invites you in
You simply must say yes
Tea and biscuits by the tin
For you are his guest
Stay out the cap’ain’s cabin
If you wish to live
Stay out the cap’ain’s cabin
For he’ll not forgive
“One more time!” Tarly calls out, his voice booming over the sounds of stomping feet and clanking cups. The crew joins him in for the last chorus, their voices filling the ship with the tune.
Stay out the cap’ain’s cabin
If you wish to live
Stay out the cap’ain’s cabin
For he’ll not forgive
The crew hollers as Tarly plays out the last notes with finesse, finally bringing this wretched song to a close.
They clap and cheer, unaware of me, of Captain Night watching me like a predator hunting prey of what’s passed between us.
In a single tune, Captain Night has conveyed his message loud and clear. I am a fool.
Gagging, I clamp my lips together and turn, running through the galley and up on deck, breathing deeply up top as the cool wind whips my hair into my face. I lean over the railing with white-knuckled hands, glaring down into the dark water.
Why me? Why, of all the godforsaken people in the universe, have I been sent here?
To a pirate ship, of all places. Is this what I get for ditching the waiter in North Carolina?
Is this how the universe repays me for ignoring Louise’s texts?
For running away when the going got tough? Is this somehow what I deserve?
All I ever wanted was to find love, to fall for someone so hard that I couldn’t breathe, that I couldn’t eat.
And if that couldn’t happen, then I just wanted to write my book.
And I wanted to write the next one and the one after that, until I could pretend like I’d done my due diligence and the reason no one could love me was because I’ve never been able to put myself out there.
But I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to travel back in time or be targeted by a pirate captain.
I didn’t want any of this.
My stomach is in knots, and I’m not certain if it’s the fear or the rocking of the ship, but I feel like I’m going to be sick. Cold sweat beads my brow, and I lean my forehead against the railing, groaning.
Louise didn’t mean any harm when she took me to the replica.
She just wanted to see me smile, to show me that my life isn’t all doom and gloom, to show me that I could get over my fear, and she did.
I enjoyed every second aboard this ship …
when it wasn’t covered in pirates. I loved exploring the replica, imagining what the real ship might have been like, but I never intended it to go this far.
It had been too perfect, though, so of course, fate is playing me for a fool for having ever dreamed of an adventure of my own.
For having ever dreamed at all.
Trying to tamp down the nausea, I turn and look out over the deck, clenching my jaw.
That’s why this is happening to me, right?
That’s why I’ve been sent back in time? I’ve been so scared and lonely these last few years that I actually hoped for a fucking adventure to take me away from the life I’ve built on running away.
I’ve been too afraid to make a home of my own, to set down roots in any one place, to go out with that waiter or say yes to someone, anyone, opting instead to say no to everything, and now that I’m on a ship in the middle of the ocean, any chance of finding a home, of putting down roots, or of falling in love has been swept away.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to calm down.
I can’t believe I did this to myself. I mean, I can believe it, but I wish I hadn’t.
If I’d found happiness, if I’d just tried to make a home, none of this would have happened.
Louise was right, damn it, she was so fucking right. Running away did this to me.
Tightness grips my chest, and now I’m gasping for breath, on the verge of a panic attack.
Come on, Laszlo. You’re on a ship. You can find a way home.
It’s going to be okay. I want no part in this pirate life.
I want steadiness and solidity, my empty little flat in present-day London.
I want to hug Louise and apologize for ignoring her phone calls, to heal from a life I’ve been unwilling to lead, to find another waiter in a shitty pirate costume in a little tourist trap and actually go out with him. And I want to work on my next novel.
To finish writing this story that’s been years in the making.
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, and already I’m scrambling for a way off this ship, away from this crew and its incredibly attractive and confusing deadly captain.
I was a fool to think I could ever fit in, to think that I could turn this into an advantage and get some more research done while I search for a way out.
To look at him like that.
As I stretch out my legs, I see the indent of my keys and phone in my pants, feel the journal digging into my back pocket.
I reach numbly for my keys, the metal warm to the touch as I set them in my palm.
I haven’t gotten rid of them yet; I can’t bear to toss them overboard.
They’re one of the last things I have left of home, a tiny keepsake to remind me of the life I’ve left behind, of a life that might not be there for me when I return.
If I return.