Legacy
Kitten's New Life pt. 3
I lay in the comforting embrace of my hammock. The ropes a sort of swaddle, the sea my gentle mother rocking me to and fro. I watch Fisher as he checks and double checks the numbers. His head drops suddenly and he snaps it up. He looks around to see if anyone saw. I did. He smiles. I reach towards him. He sets his quill down and stands abruptly. He marches over snaps to attention with a salute.
“You’re captain is in need of your service, Mate Fisher.” I reach over and take a handful of his shirt and pull him towards me.
“Oh Captain, my captain.” I leans forward for a kiss… I burst out laughing.
“Oh Captain, my captain?” I laugh again. He begins to pull back. He was always to honest a man, to good a man. He couldn’t play a role if his life depended on it. I ball his shirt in my fist and pull him back to me. “God, I love you.” I kiss him. His smile fades as he moves from play to passion.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Captain?” Shooly’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “Storm’s brew’n.”
I take a deep breath and heave a sigh of frustration. Fisher stands and runs his hands through his hair, turning and squeezing his hands into fists and releasing them. I give him a minute while I button my coat and set my hat in place. Storms are where Captains are made. This is important work. I wait for Fisher. He leans against the desk.
“Do you ever miss the easy life?”
“No.”
“I know.” He stands and turns, sitting back on the desk. “I just wish something could be easy for just once.”
“Yeah, but this is honest work, not easy work.” He visibly chews on the words. He swallows hard. “I need to be up there. Secure everything you don’t want ruined.” I point out all of the different chests and cabinets in the room.
“Kat, I…” I stop him with a hand on his chest. I kiss him again, slowly. I step back, eyes closed, and hold the feelings tight to my heart. If I go to down tonight, I’m taking this memory with me.
“After?”
“After.” I turn and leave the Captain’s quarters, turning and climbing the stairs to the quarter deck. Shooly lifts his chin to the East. Clouds are building like the tower of Babel, and it would be hell when it came down. I look to the sails then stepd to the railing and watched the sea. There is a churning stillness, the siren’s call. Calm waters, good winds, peaceful conditions luring sailors to the deep water. Deep water? We needed to find shelter. I step in front of the rudder wheel and look back at Shooly.
“ATTENTION,” Shooly’s voice rolls across the deck like thunder.
“Listen up, that storm is building into something nasty. I haven’t sailed these seas in quite some time. We need an island.” I wait a few minutes. The crew is frozen, staring deer eyed up at me. Since we have been able to run deep water contracts, we have been able to pick up more crew. A crew we can trust.
“Answer your Captain.” They jump at Shooly’s command. God bless that man. He is as good as the come.
“Aye, sir, I know a place.” A young man steps forward. “It’s trading one problem for another though.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“There is a pirate cove South-SouthEast of our port. It’s not far out of our way, but we won’t be the only ship seeking the protection of the cove.”
"Can you show me on the map?”
“Aye.”
“Ask Fisher for the map and then to the quarter deck. Double time.”
“Aye,” the young man dropped his mop and ran to the Captain’s quarters.
“I don’t like the idea of sailing anywhere near a pirate cove.” I look to Shooly.
“If it comes to a fight, we loose the ship, but save our lives.”
“I can’t loose this ship, Shooly. The old man entrusted it to me.” His chest rose a bit and nodded his understanding. A test. A good Captain never forfeits his ship.
The young man sprints to the quarter deck and pulls open the map, handing me one side. He points to a small island not far from our port, but in the direction of the storm.
“Good work, sailor. What was your name?”
“Miller, sir.”
“I’ll remember. Now back at it. We’ll have our hands full shortly.”
The boy, filled with pride, could have floated down the stairs. We have a good crew. I need to keep them safe.
I show the island to Shooly. He checks the compass, the wind, the sea.
“Any better ideas?”
“No, Captain.”
“Me either. Make for the cove. Let’s get cover from the storm and then run the moment you think the ship can handle the sea. When it starts to get rough, I’ll send two men to help.”
“Aye, Captain.”
I make my way down the stairs and join the men in preparing the ship. They all slow to a stop and watch as I begin securing the deck. I ignore their stares and keep working. A pair of hands helps me with barrel. Fisher has finished and begins helping. The crew, seeing the Captain and her Mate working on the deck lights the wick. They begin moving faster and working harder. Instead of managing their own tasks, they pull together and the Morning Star is storm ready just in time. The seas begin to rise and fall. I find two young, strong men and send them to the quarter deck with direct orders to give Shooly regular relief at the wheel. I know he won’t listen, but at least he’ll have help.
The island comes into sight off port and it’s a race. Shooly ride the water and wind as fast as the hull can handle. Waves crashing over the railing and knocking us off our feet. Fisher and I held our rail ropes with both hands to keep from being washed overboard. Fisher recommends using his new extra sails, but the wind will just rip them off the ship. There was nothing more we can do but hold on. The ship sails into the shadow of the island just as the storm hits.
“Pull sail,” I command. The men hustle to pull the sails in. The Morning Star sits like a bath toy to an angry sea god. The cove breaks the wind. Torrents of rain sting as it hits the skin of my hands and face. The waves lift us high then disappeared beneath us. The Morning Star’s beams creak as she is tossed about.
A bell begins to ring.
No, please God, no.
“Pirate ship,” Shooly calls from above.
I look to Fisher. There is nothing to say. We all know what this means. We are not fighters. We are runners, hamstrung by the storm. The crew gathers on the starboard side, watching the ship. It is making for the cove just as they had. The deck is silent. The sea the only sound. The pirate ship stays low in the waves. A dangerous move. They will sail straighter, but it is risky. A crack of lighting. The rolling of thunder. Waves rising ever higher in the heart of the storm. The pirate ship rises up with a wave and capsizes. No one cheers. Lost at sea is not what any sailor wishes upon another. Davey Jones is a terrible fate. I can not deny the relief I feel though. If a little prayer like that worked, I might have to see more about that.
I check the clouds and the sea. The Morning Star is no longer groaning under the burden of holding us above the water.
“Shooly,” I call up to him. “Let’s ride that tail all the way to port.”
Men let go of their rail ropes and begin pulling the sails as Shooly navigats us out of the cove and on to the back side of the storm. It is a rough ride, but I don’t want to be in the line of pirates.
With the help of the storm, we make port in good time. I bonus the crew for their good work. I bonus Shooly too. He argues until I order him to take it. I’m tired. I just want to find Fisher and go to bed.
I step into the Captain’s quarters, but he isn’t there. I search the deck and find him sitting at an empty dock, feet dangling off the side. I make my way down and sit next to him. The gentle lapping of the waves against the docks is pleasant respite from the pounding we’d just received. Fisher stares out over the sea. I press in close to him, curling my arm around his and resting my head on his shoulder. My hat pokes him in the cheek and we both chuckle. I set my hat aside and rest with him.
“I want something more,” he finally says.
“The easy life?”
“No.” He furrows his brow and kicks his feet, letting them swing until they stopp. “No, that’s not it. I thought so, but it’s not.”
“What it is it then?”
“Making it through the storm was scary. Watching the pirate ship was worse. It could have all been over right then. I just keep thinking about the letter Kellen sent you. At the end, he had nothing. I don’t want nothing. I want something. I want something that will carry on after us. Not just a ship.” He takes a deep breath. “Kat, I want to have kids.”
“Last I checked, that was a ladies job.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Do I have to give up the sea?”
“No…well, maybe, for a little while. I don’t know. I’ve never had kids before.”
“Me either.”
“I don’t think you have to give up the sea, I think you get to share it with someone.”
“Share it…” I haven’t considered that. I had watched quite a few women get pregnant and they seemed to resent it more than anything. Most of those women were working the port though, so they probably weren’t a good reference. “Did you’re mother share anything with you?”
“You think I can make coffee that good because I learned it on my own? No, no, no. I was an early riser and I would make my mother coffee while she prepared breakfast. Then make it for the rest of the family. She would smell it and sip it and tell me how delicious it was. Then the next day she’d have me do it just a little different until even my father would comment on how good it was. I still remember the wink my mother gave me the first time he said that.”
“I hope I get to thank her one day. She raised an amazing man and I do love you….re coffee.” He laughs and kisses me on the head. “Kellen wasn’t quite like that, but I can see he shared with me in his own way.”
“You can share it too, but you’re way. The honest way.”
“I like that,” I say. I sit in silence watching the water. The sea was always my first love. Sharing her with Fisher is greater than I imagined. How much greater would it be to share the sea with a daughter or son of my own?
If you would like to catch up on Kat’s story, here are parts 1 and 2:
This was a Flash Fiction Friday prompt by
on the Substack.