Minerva's Voyage Read Free Page B

thing?”
    â€œNot much, Master Thatcher, I’m sorry to say. I am new to the shipping business, although I’m most willing to learn if you will teach me.” I bowed again, this time without falling.
    â€œBoors is in charge of the voyage,” Scratcher said slowly and clearly, as if talking to an idiot. “He is in charge of the Valentine , and all the other ships in our fleet, although Sir George Winters is our admiral and better versed in sea matters. Sir Thomas Boors is blue blood, nobility, the servant of the King. He will be governor of Virginia — that’s if we don’t end up elsewhere. And don’t blow your nose into your fingers in front of him, for the love of Heaven.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    He hit me around the head hard. It was a wonder I had any brains left at all.
    â€œI mean no, sir.”
    But he was already gone. So I followed. And up above hatches we went.

C HAPTER 4

E MBLEM E NIGMA
    Sir Thomas Boors was sitting in his cramped quarters at a desk strewn with papers and scrolls of various shapes and sizes. I could see maps and writing, more maps and more writing. He seemed oblivious to them. His small head, which protruded from his large ruff, seemed detached from the rest of his body as it bobbed up and down with every roll of the waves. His pointed beard made his face look as long and lean as a yardstick.
    â€œIs there a fly in the room?” he asked, squinting at us through bloodshot eyes.
    â€œThat’s just my boy Starveling, Sir Thomas.” Scratcher shoved me into a corner.
    â€œNo, man. A fly. Of the insect variety. I thought I heard one buzzing.”
    Scratcher gazed around while scratching his threepenny bits, as I now called his private parts. “I don’t see one, Sir Thomas.”
    â€œAh, good. The little blighters are very dangerous to one’s wellbeing, God knows.” He blinked several times.
    â€œYes, sir.” Scratcher fidgeted with the Plumsell emblem he was carrying. Although Boors didn’t invite him to sit down, he eventually edged himself, crab-like, into a chair. I stayed where I was and tried to keep my balance.
    â€œEspecially if one swallows them. They tickle as they go down. And ’tis said they cause the plague.” Boors’ beard waggled when he talked. It was stained with old food and saliva, and he had a wild-eyed stare. Perchance he was mad.
    I was beginning to feel rather queasy again, mostly at the thought that this man, blue-blooded and servant of the King though he might be, was likely also a total lunatic who was in charge of our well-being in the dangerous Virginia venture. Scratcher was a villain, but I’d choose evil over insanity any day. For one thing, I understood it better.
    â€œYes, sir,” replied Scratcher. “It’s very likely that they do, in my opinion.” He bowed and scraped as well as he was able to while sitting.
    â€œWhat? Did you want something, Thatcher … Scratcher … whatever your name is?” asked Boors, who had perchance forgotten that we were there.
    â€œThatcher, sir. It’s very confidential, Sir Thomas. For your ears only.” Scratcher leaned towards him.
    â€œAha.” Boors looked interested at last. “Shouldn’t you send your boy out then?”
    â€œDon’t worry. He’s deaf as a post to important business. A real bumble brain to boot. Yet he certainly knows which side his bread is buttered on. Even though he’s an illiterate lout. Isn’t that so, Starveling?”
    â€œYes, Master Thatcher.” I nodded vigorously though it made me feel more seasick. “I definitely know which side my bread is buttered on. It’s buttered on your side.”
    Scratcher snorted. “Look at this, sir.” He threw the emblem down on the desk.
    I bent as far forward as I could, but Scratcher sat between me and the object of my attention. Meanwhile Boors mumbled over it as if casting a spell.