The Captain’s First Love

The trio lulled into a comfortable silence, as the story settled on each of them. 

“You act as a jealous lover.” Gennie’s laughter broke the still like cannon fire. “When you talk of the assassin.”

“Aye, but of whom is our Marrick envious?” Maggie leaned in to bat her lashes at the first mate. 

“Oy!” Marrick shot to his full height of near seven feet. The sudden change in elevation unsteadying him for a breath. “Again with such nonsense.” 

Laughter washed over the deck in tidal bursts. Such was the case on so many occasions, the three would draw or elude the rest of the crew within their own bubble of amusement. 

“The sea is my only real love, though the warmth of a bosom is always a welcome harbor.” Marrick snapped the bottle from Maggie and dropped to his seat again.

“Aye say the same.” Maggie drew her palms to her breast. “Though the chest I find solace in, is one of shine and gold.” 

Gennie’s smile fell to a winsome crease as she listened to the banter of her allies. She slipped the bottle from Marrick’s grasp with a nod. 

“And what says our captain then? Will she not confirm her adoration for our blessed mother of salt and glass?” Maggie clapped Gennie on the knee.

The gesture startled the captain into focus. “Non.”

Both navigator and first mate gave fresh pause at the utterance. Gennie allowed her word to hang there in their midst as she claimed another draw from the bottle. 

“The sea is more an honorable opponent to me. She is a master I am ever trying to best. A beast to tame and train.” Gennie stood and stretched. 

She made a pace for the rails again as the two looked on. A wan smile caressed her lips. “My first love is one who guides me in these matters against all odds.”

Maggie and Marrick exchanged eyerolls and side glances at the romantic words of their captain. 

“Your French is showing, pretty.” Maggie waggled her brow. “But do go on. I long to know who among your crew has won your heart so.”

Marrick released a laugh so sharp it would shame a mule. “The wench thinks it’s her!”

The fire in Maggie’s gaze stole the gasp from the first mate’s next bawdy mewling. 

“I mean no ill. All in jest. All in jest.” Marrick raised his hands in mock defense.

Gennie had turned her attention full to her own hand as it ran the length of the ironwood ship rail. Water, wear, war had polished the beam silken smooth. Her eyes traveled the length of the teaky decks to the first of the five towering masts. With the sun at their aft Gennie raised a palm against the blazing green aura of the battened sails. She sensed before she saw the subtle shift of the long arms as the deck crew wheeled the green silks to better catch the winds. 

“I say, pretty, where is your mind then?” Maggie had appeared at Gennie’s side while the captain’s mind traversed the curves and angles of Ecstasy.

“On my love of course.” Gennie nodded a smile in the navigator’s direction.

A boisterous sigh blasted from Marrick’s lungs. “She’s talking about the damned ship, Miss Pye.”

“And if I am?” Gennie’s diminutive arms crossed her chest daring Marrick to continue.

Again the first mate’s hands lofted. “As well and good as any love. And still a suitor with whom I cannot compete.” His laugh was friendly now. Not an ounce of sarcasm even at the edges. 

“Is it the ship, or the man who helped you tame this great beast?” It was Maggie’s turn again to waggle her brows in amicable mockery.

At this a full and true laugh escaped the captain. “Oh, mon dieu. Take care your words do not carry on the wind or he is sure to fill the sails of his ego with them.”

For all of Gennie’s laughter her mind did indeed meander to the man whom Maggie spoke. It could not be denied that some part of Gennie lingered yet on Despair, even as the rest of her sail Ecstasy with command and commitment.

“Are you on about how you acquired this floating junk?” It was the cook’s voice that joined the chorus here. 

The trio turned their attention full on the towering blonde. Blood and powder trailed the starlight blue of the galley cook’s tattered apron. 

“If so, I best stay to be certain you tell it right.” A knife glinted at the cook’s belt as she cradled a slop and chum sloshed bucket in her lean arms. “I was there afterall.

The trio backed a wide berth for the cook as the the ripe odor of fish heads, gore, grease, and vegetable matter oozed from the confines of the metal container. In a practiced arc the cook launched the syrupy lumps from the bucket to the open mouth of the sea. 

“Does that mean you are leaving your galley unattended?” Maggie waved the last vestiges of odor from her nose. “And joining the rest of us mortals for a drink?”

“My galley is never unattended.” The cook dropped the bucket to emphasize some hidden point. “And yes, now and again I like to know what this lot is plotting.”

“Well, the part I’ve to tell is not one to which you were privy. As I recall I rescued you along with the rest of the crew.” Gennie lifted a brow to the cook.

“Then I will stay to see what fantastical tale you weave to explain how you even found this doomed ship in the first place.”