Jaded Tides (The Razor's Adventures Pirate Tales) by P.S. Bartlett Page B

white shirt, and black breeches tucked neatly into his boots. On his head was that fine black cavalier with the white feather. He was so striking I could barely stand still. I cupped my hands together tightly behind me to keep them from touching him.
      “I’ll need to organize a bit, Captain, but she’s a tidy and well put together space. I’m certain I’ll make myself at home here.” I glanced away and down at the floor when I heard him take a deep breath, and I looked up from under my hat.
    “I’m sure you will, Razor. I suppose Master Green has also informed you of your other duties?” he asked, lowering his right brow as the other rose.
    “Yes, sir, he did. I’ll report to the chef as soon as I’m finished here…if that is agreeable to you?” I unclenched my hands and brought them around to my sides as the discussion settled on business, and then I straightened my back and shoulders.
    Rasmus turned to look into the passageway and then back to me and said, “I’m proud of ye, little Razor. Just keep to your orders, and hopefully we’ll get through this without ye losing your head.”
    I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Inside, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him, or punch him square in the jaw. Thank goodness, I was finally learning that giving in to every urge or inclination that came to me was not the best course of action. I loved Rasmus even when he made me so mad I could scream, and oh, how I wanted to in that moment. However, I’d promised us both that, once I set foot on this ship, I would fulfill my duties without so much as a sigh. I’d nearly crossed the line the moment I arrived, but thankfully, I was kindly reminded of that promise, and I prayed hard that I could keep it.
    “Well then, ye have your orders, so I’ll be getting myself back to my own duties. We leave at first light, Razor.” He nodded to me, and I to him, and away he went. I watched him go, and with every step he took until he was out of sight, I pushed not only my anger at him but my desire for him to return as far down and away as I could, until my stomach ached.
    I immediately went to work, organizing my doctoring tools and apothecary bottles into the small drawers of the wooden chest Doctor McGraw had so generously provided me. I rolled bandages into neat bundles and stowed them tightly away to keep them clean. Doctor McGraw had told me that disease was born of filth and to keep my hands as clean as possible at all times when working with a patient. I figured it couldn’t hurt to protect and clean my instruments as well. Before I knew it, the twilight was upon us, and I was heading off to introduce myself to the cook.
     
    “’Bout time ye showed yer mug,” he groaned at me and handed me an apron. “Can ye cook?”
    “No sir, Mister Hock,” I said as I tied that blasted thing on.
    “Ha! These bloody sea rats have ye callin’ me that, too, aye? I s’pose it’s alright. Me real name is Hawk, Fred Hawk. Half a’ these blokes started callin’ me that cause a’ me ham hock stew and the rest; well they’s just can’t say it right, I think. Well, I seen ye ‘round at meals when ye was workin’ on gettin’ her seaworthy. Can’t ye sail, lad?”
    “Oh, I can sail, but I’ll be doctoring mostly, I think.  But since ain’t anyone sick or hurt, Captain thought I could give ye a hand.” I was working hard on my voice as well as my slang, but I wasn’t completely convinced of my own acting skills, even if Hawk didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.
    “Well, we all has ta start some place, I reckon. Unfortunately fer ye, you’ll start with peelin’ them potatoes,” he said as he waved a huge carving knife towards a fifty-pound sack overflowing with dirty, oblong spuds. He turned and handed me a small knife, and I stared at it for a moment. I must have been wearing a horrible grimace, because he burst into laughter and snatched one from the sack. “Like this!” he