The Voyage of the Sea Wolf Read Free Page A

at me. “How far ahead would the
Reprisal
be?”
    â€œTen days at the least,” I answered. “But she had two of her timbers smashed below the waterline. I heard Hercsay they would be pulling her out for repairs on Mutiny Island. Herc is captain now in my father’s place.”
    The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Repairs will take up some of her time. Did the cap’n speak of the
Isabella
?”
    â€œNo,” William said.
    The captain nodded. “She’s not on that course then. She’ll take her time.” She squinted at the sparkling ocean. “Does she carry a goodly booty? The
Reprisal
?”
    â€œAye. She raided two ships since we left Port Teresa.” I had no feeling of disloyalty to my father’s old ship and its new captain. Bad cess to them.
    â€œHow many guns does she sport?”
    â€œFour,” William said.
    Her smile was wolfish. “We carry ten, and eighty crew, all o’ them sons o’ the
Sea Wolf
, all willin’ to shed their blood for a treasure. ’Twill be worth making a small stop on our way to our prize. My crew has need of a diversion.”
    Her appraising gaze rested on William and again I felt that nervous twitch inside me. What were her thoughts? I wondered. What was her obvious interest in him?
    I watched him, too: so tall and strong, the cuts on his back healed to white stripes, his skin dark and smooth from sea and sun, his face with its trace of a scar, his eyes, blue as the sea, that shock of yellow hair. In that instant I remembered how we had held each other as we lay on thebeach of Pox Island. A shiver coursed through me.
    The captain was still staring at him. Her eyes, I now saw, were not red. They were a dark brown that seemed to hold a redness in their depths, like the brandy my father used to drink with Mr. Trimble. Sometimes they would hold their glasses up to the light in a toast to the
Reprisal
or to the new voyage and the brandy inside was the color of leaves in autumn. Perhaps it was the reflection of the captain’s mass of red hair that I had seen mirrored in her eyes before.
    â€œHave you used a cutlass? A knife?” she asked William. “Are you adept with the cannon?”
    â€œAye, Captain,” he replied.
    â€œI can wield such weapons, too,” I said. “I can fight if there’s something to fight for.”
    The captain nodded. “What work did you do on the
Reprisal
?”
    â€œI played flute with the ship’s musicians,” I said. “It was my flute shining that drew you to Pox Island.” I lifted the hem of the grimy shirt that covered me to show it to her.
    â€œFlute?” she asked. “Ship’s musicians? Snake’s tooth! What kind of a ship was it with nothing to do but listen to music?”
    â€œWe played to frighten the enemy. Wavering, they called it. Do not be misled, Captain Moriarity. It wasnot all music when the
Reprisal
did battle. I was part of the combat.”
    She nodded. “I’ve heard of this wavering.” She laughed then, a rollicking belly laugh. Behind her Mr. Forthinggale tittered. “Me, I’m content to slaughter my enemies.” Her arm sliced back and forth in front of her, brandishing an imaginary cutlass.
    She moved toward me and stared, as though evaluating me. “Catherine? Did you and William...” She paused. “Did you become affectionate with each other? There on that island?”
    I pulled the foul-smelling shirt tightly around me and stood straight, not allowing myself to tremble at the sudden sharpness of her voice.
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œAsk yer questions of me,” William said. “Let her be.”
    â€œI address whom I please,” she said coldly. “There’ll be none o’ that affection on my ship. None! I don’t hold with it. And there’ll be no chance meetings between the two of yez either.”
    She leaned toward me. “There’re