Edmund lunges herself at Jeffrey. They both crash to the floor.

"A little louder, please. I don't think the entire ship has heard you," she bites in his ear with breath suppressed. She covers his mouth with her hand.

"Are you all right back there?" someone shouts.

"Yeah, sure," Edmund calls back, eyes of fire focused on Jeffrey. He's afraid to move. Rarely has he seen this much anger and hate and fear balled into one. He tries to shake his head to indicate that he won't repeat what he just said.

"Not a word to anyone." Edmund's voice carries enough threat to make Jeffrey consider giving up speech all together. He nods. Then Edmund let's go of him. She sits up on her haunches to do up her shirt and tuck it in. "What are you down here for anyway?"

"Why?" Jeffrey sits up.

"You came to ask why?"

"No, I didn't know. I came to ask about something else. Now I'm confused."

"About what?"

"You."

"Don't be. I'm Edmund, sailor, night owl."

"But you're ..." Jeffrey doesn't have to see Edmund's look. Feeling it is enough to make him shut up. "I need some fresh air." He scrambles up and starts making his way out.

"Me too." Edmund follows him.

On the forecastledeck they find a quiet place by the railing. In silence they stand next to each other. Edmund staring at a musical band, Jeffrey staring into the distance.

"Why?" he asks again after a while.

"For the adventure? The money? The stories? Because I wanted a better life for myself and thought I could find it in the East."

"Couldn't you have traveled as a passenger?"

"If I could have afforded to travel as a passenger I could have afforded a better life back home in the Republic."

"So you just left everything behind, your home, your family? Won't you miss your family?"

"About as much as they will miss me." Edmund turns around and snorts.

"What?"

"The song that Foo Foo band is singing."

Jeffrey looks over his shoulder at the band. He doesn't understand the words they are singing.

Daar was laatst een meisje loos
die wou gaan varen, die wou gaan varen

"It's about a girl who wants to become a sailor," Edmund explains.

"Like you."

"I hope not." After a short pause Edmund explains further. "She wanted to work in the mast, tying up the sails, but in a storm her knots break and the sail comes crashing down. She begs the captain not to beat her, and offers him her services."

"What kind of services?"

Edmund turns to look at him with one eyebrow raised. "The kind of services women shouldn't have to offer to escape a beating. It's why I left anyway."

In silence they stare into the ocean for a while.

"I guess it had to be found out some time. I'm surprised it took this long. Back home I heard about a girl who signed on dressed as a man. She was discovered after ten days. She was taken of the ship."

"Set overboard? Thrown in the ocean?" Jeffrey asks in shock.

Edmund gives him another frown.

"At the Cape, when the ship was in the harbor. Despite everything you might have heard of the men that sail with the Company, they aren't that barbaric."

Jeffrey wonders if he could have seen before. But Edmund doesn't look particularly feminine, and it's not something you'd expect, a woman aboard a 17th century ship.

"What did you come to wake me up for?"

"Er, do you remember that thing the quartermaster took from my friend? I would like to get it back."

"Well, you could ask him, but I think it's less trouble if you just wait till we get to Batavia."

"I don't think I can wait that long."

"Sorry, can't help you."

"What are you gonna do now? Are you gonna continue to pretend to be a man?"

"Of course. What else can I do? Are you gonna report me? Do you think they will give you back the thing if you tell them about me?"

"Oh, I wouldn't. Never." Jeffrey firmly shakes his head. "You helped us when Bogg and I were walking on deck at night. Now, I'll help you."

"Good. Let's just hope no one heard you over all that noise we have here."

-oOo-

It's not until the next morning that Jeffrey finally runs into Bogg again. He thugs at his sleeve.

"Can we go somewhere private to talk?"

"Jeff, this is a ship, this is about as private as it gets."

"I need to tell you something about Edmund." He whispers his discovery in his ear.

"Are you sure?" Bogg asks with an incredulous look.

"Bogg, I'm not blind. I know what I saw."

"Well, you know how fat men sometimes get breast-like flap."

"What I saw wasn't fat flap. Besides, she got quite violent when she told me not to repeat what I said."

"You're telling me now."

"I'm not repeating exactly what I said."

Bogg frowns, interesting ethics. First the kid becomes a cynic and then a bit too pragmatic about his value system. Twelve is too young an age to start voyaging. If only he had tried a little harder to find a good home for the kid. A good home, as if he were some kind of redundant pet. He shakes his head. "A woman on the ship. That is bad luck."

"For the ship?"

"For the woman."

Jeffrey replies with a blank look.

"One woman, two hundred men, at sea for months."

Jeffrey still looks blank.

"C'mon, Jeff, you're not usually this slow."

"It's not something I want to think about."

"You're right. Neither do I." He gives his friend an encouraging smile. "Let's hope we'll stay the only ones who know."

-oOo-

It's near the midday hour when Edmund comes storming out of the forecastle chased by two men. They manage to catch up with her and grab her. She tries to pull away by kicking and hitting them. They hit her too. Bogg steps in, dosing out a few punches, and receiving some in return. Then the fight is broken up by some soldiers. The four of them are held by soldiers while the provost steps up in front of them. Bogg tries to shake off the hands that hold him. They don't let go. The provost is not amused.

"Did none of you listen last evening when I explained the rules aboard this ship? Obviously not, 'cause you still had to fight. Now I have to assemble a ship's court. They won't like it that I disturb them when they are sitting down to eat. So I won't do that. I'll wait until they are done. In the mean time, no meal for the four of you. Set them by the mast." The last remark is directed at the soldiers.

The provost walks away. The soldiers take their captives to the main mast and there they sit them down.

"Thank you," Bogg says as the hands finally let go of him.

Edmund sits next to him. Her face set to bad weather, very bad weather.

"Are you all right?" he asks her. She shrugs in reply. "What were they after you for anyway?"

"Territory issues."

"Well, it doesn't look so bad," Bogg tries to remark with a smile. "Just a meal missed."

Edmund looks at him incredulously. "First time on a ship I take it."

Bogg gives a wry smile. He knows just how bad it looks. On a pirate's ship it would have been simple: whoever had a dispute got to fight it out. But from what he has heard he knows on others ships order and discipline is enforced. Not without reason, too many people kept in too little space tend to go for each other's throat. He's just glad no one pulled a knife. The common punishment for that is that the owner of the knife is stapled to the mast with his own knife through his hand. The wound that leaves would probably get infected, considering the hygiene on the average ship. The hand might have to be amputated or the offender could even die of his wounds. Medical care is usually performed by the ships barber. As if shaving men takes the same skills as taking care of their wounds. Theirs was a small offense, a small fight, probably taken care of with a flogging.

Instinctively he moves a little closer to Edmund.

"Jeffrey told me," he says. Edmund looks at him.

"Little boy blabbermouth," she replies.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"I would have taken you for fifteen when we first met."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

On the one hand Bogg would like to put an arm around his, her, shoulders, as he would do with Jeffrey in a situation like this. At the same time, he's aware of the protective barrier Edmund has pulled up around herself. He's afraid he would break that down.

Jeffrey watches the whole scene from a distance. Just as he was about to jump into the fight as well soldiers came in to break it up. Probably just aswell he didn't get caught up in the fight, otherwise he would now too be sitting by the mast missing the midday meal. His stomach rumbles as if it wants to make sure Jeffrey hasn't forgotten about him. He folds his hands around the fork in his pocket. I'm sorry, Bogg, he thinks, but I'm not going to miss this meal for you. I'm still a kid, I'm still growing. I need my vitamins. Besides, Bogg seems to be signaling him to not get involved. After this meal, he determines, he will find a good spot on the forecastledeck from which he can watch the rest of the proceedings.

-oOo-

A few hours go by in which Edmund has not taken her eyes of a knot in the wood of the deck; the two men have been playing a variety of rock, paper, scissors, until a soldier put a stop to that; and Bogg hopes he has been able to indicate to Jeffrey to not get involved, they're in enough trouble as it is. The provost returns and takes their names. Some soldiers set up five chairs on the deck. The provost has assembled the ship's court, made up of the five highest ranking officers, among them the skipper and the commander. A large crowd is gathering on the main deck. The four involved in the fight are pulled to their feet. The provost reads out the charges.

"Jacob Janszoon, Dirk Gilliszoon, Edmund Coenszoon and Phineas Bogg, you are charged with fighting on board the ship Gerechtigheid on the 15th of December of the year 1666. How do you plead?"

Jacob and Dirk plead guilty. Edmund has to think about it.

"What's difficult about the question?"

"I didn't start the fight."

"That wasn't the question."

"I was attacked. It was self-defense."

"Were you fighting or were you not?"

"I was."

"Then you should plead guilty."

Edmund pleads guilty. Bogg decides to plead guilty as well.

"Now we have established that you were all fighting, let's find out why." The skipper looks at them each individually. None of them says anything in reply. "Well, the boy just said he didn't start it, so who did? We're not getting anywhere if you all just keep staring at your feet. Boy, do you know why you were attacked?"

"I'm not a boy. I'm a sailor."

"Really? You look like a boy, but continue."

"They asked me a question I didn't like, so I ran away."

"What question did they ask?" Edmund shrugs. "What question did you asks?" The two men look at each other.

"We only asked if he'd like to play a game."

"You don't like playing games? What kind of game?"

"I don't think it's allowed," Edmund says softly.

"Not allowed? Why didn't you tell the provost?"

"I was on my way, but they caught me and beat me."

"And what was this game they asked you to play?"

No one says anything. Bogg can imagine why. Edmund risks exposing herself and getting into more trouble than she is now. The two men risk the death penalty for indecent behavior, either executed at the ship, or spent the rest of the trip to Batavia where they can be trialled, locked in hell. The hell is a small locker in the bow just above the waterline. Called hell because of the extreme movements in that part of the ship and the noise of the water breaking on the bow.

"Hmm. And what is your role in all this?" the skipper directs his question at Bogg.

"I saw the fight and wanted to break it up."

"Not very successful. You got involved in the fight yourself."

"I guess."

The court confers shortly and then the commander gives verdict. As Bogg has expected a flogging for them all.

"Take off your shirts and hands against the wall," the provost orders.

Edmund has so far taken everything that has been going on with great calm. Bogg admires that. He doesn't feel calm at all. She probably would have taken her flogging as a man too, so to speak, but now that someone wants her to take of her shirt she is suddenly panic struck. She looks at Bogg for help.

"C'mon you've got to let him go. He's just a boy," Bogg tries.

"If he's old enough to get into a fight, then he's old enough to take a penalty for it."

"He didn't look for a fight. He got into it by accident. If you need to flog someone, flog me twice, but let him go."

"Take their shirts off for them."

Soldiers step up to help Bogg and Edmund out of their shirts. This causes quite a stir in the crowd. A trial with flogging following is a nice break from the usual on board entertainment. Particularly now that the boy turns out not to be a boy at all.

"A woman!" the provost shouts. "We have a woman on board."

The members of the ship's court who had already been on their way back to the poop, turn around and come back. Edmund crosses her arms in front of her chest and tries to look away.

"What do we do with a woman on board?" the provost shouts to the skipper.

"Well, first you give her back her shirt," the skipper replies. "What's your name girl? And I mean your real name."

"Brecht. Daughter of Coen."

"And why did you dress up like a man?"

"Because I want to go to the Indies. Start a new life there. I didn't see any other way."

"Whore," a man shouts. "Thief."

"I'm not a whore. And I've never been a thief," Brecht snaps back at him.

"Ha! No honest woman has to dress up like a man. You must have done something to run away from. I say we flog her. She must have done something to deserve it."

"Thank you, surgeon, for your two cents," the skipper replies. "But I think if this girl had been a whore or a thief we would have found out about her a lot sooner. Where did you sign on, Brecht?"

"Amsterdam."

"Amsterdam, and all that time you kept your secret."

"I keep to myself."

"Then she should be flogged for dressing as a man," the surgeon continues. "And for lying when she signed on."

The skipper who has kept his eyes on Brecht the whole time now turns to the surgeon. "Bring me ten men of these two hundred that haven't ever told a lie when they signed on, and I will personally flog her. Wanting a better life for yourself is not a crime. Come, Brecht, let's see you to a cabin." The skipper takes Brecht by her arm and escorts her to the stairs. "Give these three men their flogging. And that one," he points to Bogg, "the double dose he asked for."

-oOo-

A/N: Daar was laatst een meisje loos is a traditional.