Sharpe didn't like cats. And really, no one should be surprised by that fact.
There's only two kinds of cats you meet growing up on the streets: the rich ladies cats who were either lost or stolen that had ended up on London's streets. The cats that were better fed and taken care of than you were. Or the street cats, ridden with disease that weren't afraid to fight children for scraps of food left out on the streets, and those cats often won.
So yeah, Sharpe could say that he never really had a positive experience with cats, and at twenty eight years of age he didn't think he was inclined to start either.
Which was why this morning, after Grace had left before the sun had risen and Sharpe decided to get at least some sleep tonight, when Sharpe opened his eyes to find the eerie yellow eyes of one of the ship's cats staring up at him, he was a little startled.
Of course Sharpe had heard the cat mentioned here and there, he thought Collier had pointed one out when the boy gave him a tour, but he had yet to interact, yet alone see the bloody animal.
And what was it doing in his room?!
"Get out of here, cat," Sharpe hissed at the animal as he opened the door and tried to push it out.
How did the thing even get in here?
The cat let out a cry as it clawed at Sharpe's arm, finding purchase in the man's skin and now hanging off him. Sharpe shook his arms again, the cat let out a cry but still held on. From a couple yards away, Sharpe could hear the smothered chuckles coming from a few men.
He looked up and Sharpe could see a group of sailors turn their attention away from him as soon as he did so.
Fucking cat. Sharpe cursed.
"Oh, it seems our cat has taken a liking to you, Sharpe," Sharpe heard the familiar voice of Captain Chase call out to him.
Just how many people were going to witness Sharpe's despair to this cat?
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Later that day, Sharpe had finally gotten the cat to stop hanging off of him. He couldn't stop the cat from following him around the ship, however.
"I think the cat likes you, sir," Collier said as Sharpe walked past.
"Well tell the bloody animal that I don't like it," Sharpe grunted as he stared down at the animal.
"That's not how cats work sir," Collier said, following behind Sharpe and the cat.
"What do you mean 'that's not how cats work'?" Sharpe turned his gaze to the young midshipman.
"Cats tend to pick people. Then they follow them around, sir. No matter what you do you can't get rid of them yourself, sir. If you try that it just makes them stick around even more," Collier explained.
"So what am I supposed to do about it?" Sharpe asked.
"You don't have to do anything sir," Collier said. "That cat there is resourceful and has been on this ship for long enough. It knows how to get food and stay out of people's way. You only need to mind its presence."
"So I'm stuck with it forever?" Sharpe asked. He really wasn't liking what Collier was telling him. He could handle the dogs that followed the Army around with them in India. They at least did some work and helped the guys hunt food. These cats supposedly hunted the mice and rats aboard the ship, but with this cat following Sharpe around all day, Sharpe hasn't seen the cat do any of that.
"Not forever," Collier shook his head. "Just until the cat picks a new person to follow around."
"Any way to make the process faster?" Sharpe asked.
"No," Collier said. "The cats can sense that, it will just make it take longer. At least that's what Woolard said when they followed him around."
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"You know Sharpe, I think the cat looks like you a little bit," Chase said one afternoon.
"What are you talking about now?" Sharpe asked.
"Just look at his little face," Chase said as he lifted a finger to scratch the bottom of the cat's chin. The cat purred. "Same hair color, same eye color. He even has a little scar above his eye just like you."
"The cat's a boy?" Sharpe asked.
"Yes Sharpe, all the cats aboard this ship are boys," Chase said. "I told you that it was bad luck having women on this ship, didn't I?" the Captain turned his head to Sharpe. "And the last thing we need is to have a bunch of kittens running around. You think baby mice are bad? Just wait 'til you see kittens?"
Sharpe didn't know what to say or how to respond to that, so he just remained silent and turned to look back at the cat. He still couldn't see any resemblance between him and the animal.
Later that night, as he and Grace were lying next to each other, Sharpe heard her whisper into his ear. "The Captain is right, you know, the cat does have a striking resemblance to you."
Sharpe groaned at hearing that, and not in pleasure.