Sea Interlude I

Verity woke groggily, her head pounding slightly as she wondered just where she was. She was laying on her back, treated to a view of roughhewn planks made into a roof above her. She heard occasional footsteps above her, and muted voices. She couldn't quite make out what the voices were saying. Behind her, sunlight poured through the windows into what she realized was Captain Colin Black's quarters.

The young woman sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and walked over to the chair by the door. Picking her dressing gown off the back of the chair, she slipped her arms into the sleeves and tied the sash around her waste before pulling the door open. The bedroom opened into the captain's office/common area, where he had a table and several chairs. Maps were strewn over the surface of the table.

After a few moments of leaning against the doorjamb, Verity moved forward and opened the door to the main deck. As she stepped out onto the deck, the first mate, Demaro Colin had called him, said, "Hello, Miss."

"Hello," she replied distractedly. The men were all hard at work pulling and swabbing and sailing. She turned and saw Colin standing at the helm, slowly and carefully adjusting the course.

"Good afternoon, Miss Carlisle," he called genially, his voice carrying over the sudden gust of wind. "Did you sleep well?"

"I suppose I did," Verity replied, turning to climb the stairs and walk up to the quarterdeck. Her slippers thudded strangely on the deck as she approached. "I could hardly tell I was on a boat, actually," she added.

Colin gave her a smile and said, "Yes, well, that's because we didn't hit a reef, and the sea was fairly smooth last night."

Verity nodded, an action meant to hide the fact that she knew nothing about sailing besides that the ship went when the winds blew. She leaned against the railing and asked, "How long until we reach Redmond Island?"

"Few hours, if this wind keeps up," Colin said with a frown.

The frown did not go unnoticed by Verity, who asked, "Is that a bad thing?"

"The winds concern me," the captain answered simply.

Verity, who did not seem to take much comfort in that answer, said, "Concern you how? I thought it was good for you if you were able to get to your destination faster." She gave him a puzzled look.

"Usually, yes, but…" His voice trailed off, and the handsome man stroked at his goateed chin lightly. Finally, he said, "Are you hungry, Miss Carlisle?"

Verity was ravenous. She hadn't eaten since supper the night before. "Yes, I am."

"Let's get something to eat. Demaro," he said, and the first mate took to the helm. "Call me if anything happens."

He led Verity down to the cabin again, where, after rummaging through the chest of food, he set a loaf of bread, some smoked fish, and a jug of ginger water on the table. "Sit, please," he said, and took a seat. Verity sat down opposite him.

Taking a piece of bread offered by the captain, Verity said, "Captain, what is it you're expecting to encounter on this voyage?"

"What do you mean?" Colin asked around a mouthful of bread.

"You seem to be anticipating some sort of trouble. And what about the wind? You never explained what the problem was with having more wind."

"It's not more wind that has me worried, Miss Carlisle, but unnatural wind. Supernatural wind." Colin poured himself a cup of ginger water and took a sip.

Verity was unimpressed. "It would seem, wouldn't it, that those two phrases are mutually exclusive."

The look on Colin's face was completely deadpan as he said, waspishly, "You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually," Verity retorted, chewing a piece of salted fish. "What's got you so spooked?"

Colin rubbed his eyes, and then sat back in his chair, glancing to the side. Verity followed his gaze to where the burlap sack he had carried away from her house sat on a chair. He said, "Nothing. The wind is strange, that's all."

The young woman had the distinct impression that there was something that the good captain was not telling her. But she said, "All right. I trust you, captain."

"I haven't given you reason not to, have I, Miss Carlisle?"

Verity smirked, and then gave a laugh. "Aside from the fact that I met you while you were stealing from my house," she said on a chuckle, "no, I suppose you haven't."

"I wasn't stealing. I was liberating."

"What's the difference?"

"Well," Colin said, sounding as if he was explaining something very elementary to someone very unintelligent, "It would be stealing if they were the possession of someone in the house. It was liberating because they belonged to someone else."

"That's not true," Verity snapped. "That sack and its contents are property of my brother, Commander James Carlisle."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, there, Verity," Captain Black said without missing a beat. "Your brother was and always has been a privateer first and a soldier in the King's army second!"

"You're wrong," Verity countered. She had never seen evidence of her brother's apparent misbehavior, but suddenly there were memories of suspicious things: James telling her that he wouldn't be home that night; James leaving for several days at a time with minimal notice. Was he indeed doing something unseemly? Were these trips, these absences, really indicative of her brother's hidden lifestyle?

"I can tell by your quizzical look and puzzled ponderings that you can recognize that your brother was not all he seemed," Colin said quietly. "But, alas. He was not, as far as I can tell, a bad man or a criminal. Except for possessing stolen property, but who hasn't been guilty of that at one point or another?" He grinned at her.

Verity didn't return the smile. She was staring at Colin without seeing him. Instead, she tried to think of the explanations her brother had given her. She couldn't remember, and it scared her. Was James a pirate?