Chapter 39, Manee

  A moored ship, uncrewed, is the most peaceful place in the world. Her planks groan softer, like sighs of relief, as the bay gently rocks her, holding her in a warm embrace. It makes me feel held too. That’s why I don’t mind being on watch. I could sun bathe on the deck alone for hours, just listening to the sounds of the bustling harbor.

  Except that this time I’m not alone. I crack one eye open to look at Sarah. She’s sitting on the rail, one foot dangling over the bulwark.

  I’m no mind reader but I can tell she’s restless. She’s been in that exact spot for almost an hour, biting her nails, her gaze far away.

  “Why do your eyes glow?” I ask. “Is it the dragon speaking to you?”

  A moment passes, then finally she answers. “No. I mean— sort of. Why?”

  “Never mind.” I stand up and walk over to her. “Let’s go for a swim,” I say, stripping down to my drawers and tossing my trousers aside.

  “Now?” she asks. “Aren’t we supposed to be on watch?”

  “Eh, it’s more of a formality when we’re at home.” I climb up on the rail and look down at her. “Roberts practically owns this place.” Then I dive.

  A satisfying splash, and I’m submerged. Blowing air out my nose I sink deeper, letting the weight of the water close in on me as I watch light fractals dance on the surface.

  When I come up for air Sarah is peering down at me, brow furrowed.

  “Come on, live a little,” I tease.

  Sarah says nothing, just looks around the empty ship then back down at me. I’m about to swim for the boarding steps when she climbs onto the rail.

  I smile, treading back a few feet from where she might land.

  She stands there a moment, holding onto the lanyard, wearing nothing but her linen shirt and drawers. Her knees bend, then straighten, like she’s changed her mind.

  But then she turns around, lets go of the lanyard and perches on the lip of the rail, her heels hovering over the edge. My eyes widen. She bounces on her toes, testing her footing. Then she pumps her arms and leaps backward.

  Her knees sail over her head and my breath catches. With half a second to spare she completes the flip, plunging into the water feet first.

  Sarah emerges from the foam, wet curls clinging to her cheeks. She tilts her head back and gasps through a smile, sunlight catching the beads of water on her lips.

  “What the hell was that?” I ask.

  “The flip?” Sarah licks her lips, panting as she treads water. “You told me to live a little.” She smirks.

  “I was expecting a double,” I say, keeping a straight face.

  Sarah’s smirk fades.

  I laugh. “I’m kidding!”

  She exhales, flustered. Then her brows narrow and she swims for the boarding steps.

  “You aren’t seriously going to do it, are you?” I call out, but she’s already half way up. “Alright then. Let’s see it!”

  Sarah climbs onto the rail and gets into position with her toes on the edge. She pauses then turns around. “Boat! Someone’s coming!” she shouts, hopping down onto the deck. She crouches, disappearing behind the bulwark.

  Sure enough, a long boat is headed straight for me, a dozen oars cutting the water in perfect rhythm.

  I could recognize that head of thick white hair, groomed beard and barrel size biceps from a mile away. It’s Jed, the shipyard foreman and his crew. “Ho—ly” he exclaims, staring at the tarred canvas hanging from the hull like a shroud.

  I quickly climb on deck and lean over the rail, ready to catch the bow line.

  “Way enough!” Jed signals the crew to stop rowing and the longboat glides into position beside the boarding steps.

  Jed spots me. “Manee!” he tosses me the line and I catch it, winding it tightly around the pin rail.

  Shane climbs aboard first, all sharp angles and long, awkward limbs. A quick nod is all I get before she’s through the hatch and gone into the hold.

  One by one, the shipyard crew come aboard and get to work inspecting splintered rails and torn canvas, surveying the extent of the damage.

  Jed climbs up and takes a long look around. “Roberts wasn’t kidding. She looks like actual hell,” he says, pulling me into a rough embrace. “Come here, you crazy son of a bitch.”

  My breath catches and my lungs struggle for a breath as Jed picks me up, crushing me in his arms made of pure muscle. My head spins when he puts me back down. I laugh, gripping one of his biceps. “Seriously Jed, what do you need these for?”

  Jed winks at Caleb, his red headed long time lover, who just rolls his eyes and chuckles.

  “Never mind, don’t answer that,” I say.

  Caleb pats me on the shoulder with a warm and calloused hand. “Good to see you, kid,”

  I smile. “Always a pleasure. Wish it was under different circumstances, of course.”

  “You always say that, and then you show up with more holes in your hull.”

  And that’s what he always says. We do this every time and I still haven’t come up with a witty riposte.

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  “I— yeah, well…” I flounder. “You should—”

  Caleb chuckles, wrinkling his freckled nose.

  “We gotta move fast,” Jed interrupts, his tone more serious. “Roberts wants this tub in the cradle before the tide turns.”

  “Alright, you know the drill,” Caleb says to me. “Sit back, relax, and don’t touch anything.” Then he turns to the rest of the crew and whistles. “Raise the anchor!” he shouts.

  Shane comes out of the hatch. She sticks out her lower lip, blowing her black bangs out of her face before fixing me with a moody stare. “Fuckin’ how is this thing still floating?”

  “What can I say? I’m that good.” I wink and Shane huffs a barely amused breath.

  My focus shifts as my gaze sweeps the deck looking for Sarah. She must have snuck away when she saw Jed coming.

  “Heave!” The crew call out in unison as they wind the capstan.

  The ship groans under the weight of the anchor as I make my way to Sarah’s cabin.

  “Sarah.” I say, knocking on her door. “It’s me.”

  The door creaks open, and Sarah stands there. She’s wearing dry clothes but her hair is still wet, dripping on her shoulders.

  My eyes linger where the linen clings to her collar bones, then I catch myself and turn my gaze away. “I just came to check on you, everything alright?”

  “Fine,” she says, leaning warily out the door. She looks down the companionway, then back at me. “Who are they?”

  “Oh, that’s Jed, shipyard foreman. He and his crew are sort-of an extension of ours, but more like family.”

  Sarah takes a handful of her hair, scrunching the ends to form tight curls. “So I don’t need to—” She doesn’t finish her sentence, instead she just looks at me for an answer.

  “It’s safe to come out if you want.” I pause, holding her gaze. It’s then I notice the redness in her eyes, the swelling in her cheeks. “Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask, softening my tone.

  Sarah sniffles, her spine stiffening. “Yes, fine.” She smiles but there’s a wince beneath it.

  “Jed’s crew are preparing to tug The Hellcat into a dry dock for repairs. It’s sort of fascinating to watch if you’re into— ship repair,” I say, cringing.

  Sarah’s smile softens. “Alright.”

  “Yeah? You’d be into that?”

  Her eyes brighten. “Show me.”

  “Follow me,” I say, turning to lead the way, and also, to hide the stupid grin that’s plastered to my face.

  I remember the first time she said those words to me. Her hands were blistered and raw from hours of sweating and tailing the halyards.

  I told her to take a break but she wanted more so I’d said “The topgallant needs furling but… you’ll have to climb and your hands are—”

  “Show me.” She said it like a challenge, not to me, but to herself.

  Sarah’s a godsdamned force to be reckoned with and she knows it, yet… she doesn’t know the half of it. She doesn’t know the way my heart thumps against my ribs when she turns that look on me, that wide-eyed reckless wonder.

  Pressing my lips tight, I force a straight face, and keep walking until we reach the bow. Jed’s crew have secured a line from The Hellcat’s hull to the longboat, and they’re poised to row.

  I crawl out onto the bowsprit and sit down, my legs dangling over the side. Then I turn and hold out a hand to Sarah.

  Sarah hesitates for a moment then takes my hand and climbs onto the beam. She sits beside me and looks down at the crystal clear shallows. She turns to look at me, smiling.

  “Oars out!” Jed calls from below, then “Give way!” He signals the crew to start rowing. Oars break the water in unison, finding a rhythm.

  “They’re going to tow a whole ship with that?” Sarah asks.

  “Just wait.”

  We watch as Jed’s crew row twenty strokes, pushing water hard and fast, but going nowhere. Thirty strokes and still nothing. Thirty five strokes and The Hellcat moves. Barely a crawl but she’s moving.

  “Seems like there’s got to be an easier way,” Sarah says, finally.

  “There are pros and cons to every method and Jed’s been doing this a long time. He’s got the man power to do it this way, and it gives him more control. Besides, fewer hands means less division of profits. They make more than we do most…”

  Sarah’s attention shifts. She’s looking down at the water, searching. “Is that? I think a turtle just swam und— There!” She exclaims, pointing. “Did you see it?!” She looks at me with eyes wide and sparkling.

  All I can do is smile at her, trying my best to stop it from turning back into that stupid grin. The one that, every time it happens, makes me so sure she’s going to see right through me, that she’s going to know. Know that I can’t fucking stop myself from getting lost in her.

  Sarah looks back down at the shallows. Her expression turning pensive. Can she sense how hard I’m trying to hold it together?

  I clear my throat. “There are hundreds of turtles in this bay. I’m sure we’ll see more.”

  She doesn’t answer. Neither of us speaks for what feels like an eternity. The only sounds are the sharp bark of Jed calling orders and the rhythmic splash of the longboat’s oars slicing into the clear harbor water. A lone gull screams overhead, answered by the low, mournful moan of a harbor horn in the distance.

  As we’re pulled closer to the dry dock, Sarah’s gaze drifts to the shore. The town has looked the same as long as I can remember. The sloping clay roofs are a sea of rusted orange contrasted by burnt yellow and dusty, pale blue structures, the limewash chipped away in flakes revealing white plaster. All perched high on algae-slicked rocks to keep the sea water at bay.

  The longboat crew finally slips the tow-line, and we’re drifting on the last of high tide now, just a ghost of momentum carrying us into the flooded dock.

  On the dockside, the shipyard crew is already moving. They look like ants swarming a carcass, throwing heavy lines and hauling them taut around stone bollards. I hear the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the shore-side capstans taking over. The ship groans as the giant winches begin to crawl us the last few yards into the tub.

  "Time to go," I say, softly nudging Sarah’s shoulder.

  We scramble onto the deck and Sarah follows me across the gangway. My bare feet hit the wet cobblestones and the earth swells beneath me. That familiar trick your mind plays on you when you’ve been at sea for weeks.

  Sarah steps off the plank and instantly widens her stance. She looks at me, brows raised in disbelief. She staggers toward a brick wall and goes to sit down.

  “Don’t sit down, it’ll make it worse,” I say. “Look at the bell tower. It helps if you focus on something that isn’t moving.”

  Sarah steadies herself on her feet and fixes her gaze on the tower. “That’s helping,” she mutters. “So how are they going to repair the ship?”

  “First they gave to get her centered, and then as the tide drops, the tub empties. She’ll be supported on blocks and braced with those heavy poles,” I say, pointing to the shores. “Then they can replace all the damaged planks, scrape the hull clean. The dock won’t be dry until the morning, so there’s not much to see until then.”

  Sarah’s still looking at the bell tower. Her brow twisting into a pained expression.

  “Walking also helps, you want to get out of here?” I ask.

  “I’m not supposed to—”

  “The Captain just doesn’t want you out on the main street, I know a place we can kill some time.”

  “I left my shoes—”

  “You need new ones anyways,” I say, turning around. "Jed!" I call out over the roar of the winches.

  Jed ignores me, face slick with sweat as he keeps bellowing. "Port-side, heave! Starboard, check her! Easy... easy!"

  I jog up beside him and he glances at me, wiping his brow with a grimy sleeve. "Make it quick, Manee, she’s settling fast!"

  "We’re heading into town. If anyone comes looking for us, we’ll be at Mother’s."

  Jed grunts, waving me away.

  Sarah’s standing right where I left her, staring at the belltower looking green in the face.

  “Come on, let’s get you moving.” I say.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see!”