‘rope’ aboard ship, but ‘rigging’ or ‘cordage’.”
She knew that, did not say so for it was kind of him to explain. Most men either did not bother or assumed because she was female and a child she would not be interested. She closed her eyes and let her held breath subside, a tear of relief meandering down her cheek. She was not responsible for the rope – sheet – snapping but had come so close to being so utterly stupid!
“There, look now, the crisis is almost over.” Mr Dampier indicated the Mermaid with his telescope. “They have the sail tamed; the topmen will soon fully sort the problem.” He smiled down at her and realised she was silently weeping. Immediately concerned he wiped at the wet trail of a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Do not fret yourself, puss, they were never in danger.”
“I caused it!” Tiola cried, her confused emotions bursting from her.
“You? How could you have caused it, Puss? No my dear, a faulty line that was all. Sheets, all cordage wears ragged where it chafes. It is a common problem, we are forever wrapping bandaging of one type or another, or splicing in new hemp if nothing more can be done.”
He did not understand her meaning, nor could she tell him there were laws by which she carried and used her Craft. Laws made outside time, at the dawn of time, which forbade her to do intentional harm. She had to say something, however, or her silence would lengthen into rudeness. His boots, she noticed, were grimed with sand and seawater had soaked his stockings. In his hand, as ever, he carried his notebook and brass telescope.
She forced brightness into her tone. “You are up early Mr Dampier. Have you been watching the birds?”
He chuckled. “I could say the same for you lass? Nay, I was observing Venus. That orb low on the horizon resembling a very bright star.”
Tiola turned her head to look where he pointed.
“Is it not a glorious sight? My hope,” he sighed wistfully, “is that one day man shall construct a telescope fine enough to see the six planets in all their full and wondrous detail. Alas, this poor apology of a specimen is all I possess.”
“Yet Surr, be it not better than your naked eye?” Tiola held her silence on saying more, for she could not be telling him there were not a mere six planets; that there were others beyond the giant of Jupiter.
“Aye lass, it is!” he answered with a laugh, brushing his hand fondly along the brass of his beloved instrument. “Would you care to observe Venus through it? Or perhaps that boat sailing away? See for yourself she is quite unharmed?”
Solemnly he held the telescope out to her. Tiola hesitated, then with a shy smile took it, extended the interlacing tubes to its full length and held the end to her eye.
Jesamiah was at the helm, steering the Mermaid into the waves, steadying her into her course as the rest of her canvas was spread to catch the wind. Not just the rescued topsail and the foresail now, the mainsail was filled and the triangular jib sails at the bow, all set and trimmed with efficient speed.
“She is a fine vessel,” Dampier remarked at Tiola’s shoulder. “You have some special interest in her?”
“Not particularly,” Tiola murmured with a false shrug. How could she explain to a stranger the love she felt for someone she did not know? She was certain, now, her soul had brushed against this pirate at some time in his past. Its reason, its happening, the why and the where not yet ready to reveal itself to her. But a little bit of her had stayed with him, although not enough for him to return these same feelings. Not yet.
Her initial instinct while aboard the Christina Giselle , and then yesterday evening in the streets here in Cape Town, had been right. She was a witch of the White Craft, she ought to trust her own knowing and accept that the serpentine path of their lives had once again crossed, but this was not the occasion for them to become permanently entwined.
She knew that, did not say so for it was kind of him to explain. Most men either did not bother or assumed because she was female and a child she would not be interested. She closed her eyes and let her held breath subside, a tear of relief meandering down her cheek. She was not responsible for the rope – sheet – snapping but had come so close to being so utterly stupid!
“There, look now, the crisis is almost over.” Mr Dampier indicated the Mermaid with his telescope. “They have the sail tamed; the topmen will soon fully sort the problem.” He smiled down at her and realised she was silently weeping. Immediately concerned he wiped at the wet trail of a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Do not fret yourself, puss, they were never in danger.”
“I caused it!” Tiola cried, her confused emotions bursting from her.
“You? How could you have caused it, Puss? No my dear, a faulty line that was all. Sheets, all cordage wears ragged where it chafes. It is a common problem, we are forever wrapping bandaging of one type or another, or splicing in new hemp if nothing more can be done.”
He did not understand her meaning, nor could she tell him there were laws by which she carried and used her Craft. Laws made outside time, at the dawn of time, which forbade her to do intentional harm. She had to say something, however, or her silence would lengthen into rudeness. His boots, she noticed, were grimed with sand and seawater had soaked his stockings. In his hand, as ever, he carried his notebook and brass telescope.
She forced brightness into her tone. “You are up early Mr Dampier. Have you been watching the birds?”
He chuckled. “I could say the same for you lass? Nay, I was observing Venus. That orb low on the horizon resembling a very bright star.”
Tiola turned her head to look where he pointed.
“Is it not a glorious sight? My hope,” he sighed wistfully, “is that one day man shall construct a telescope fine enough to see the six planets in all their full and wondrous detail. Alas, this poor apology of a specimen is all I possess.”
“Yet Surr, be it not better than your naked eye?” Tiola held her silence on saying more, for she could not be telling him there were not a mere six planets; that there were others beyond the giant of Jupiter.
“Aye lass, it is!” he answered with a laugh, brushing his hand fondly along the brass of his beloved instrument. “Would you care to observe Venus through it? Or perhaps that boat sailing away? See for yourself she is quite unharmed?”
Solemnly he held the telescope out to her. Tiola hesitated, then with a shy smile took it, extended the interlacing tubes to its full length and held the end to her eye.
Jesamiah was at the helm, steering the Mermaid into the waves, steadying her into her course as the rest of her canvas was spread to catch the wind. Not just the rescued topsail and the foresail now, the mainsail was filled and the triangular jib sails at the bow, all set and trimmed with efficient speed.
“She is a fine vessel,” Dampier remarked at Tiola’s shoulder. “You have some special interest in her?”
“Not particularly,” Tiola murmured with a false shrug. How could she explain to a stranger the love she felt for someone she did not know? She was certain, now, her soul had brushed against this pirate at some time in his past. Its reason, its happening, the why and the where not yet ready to reveal itself to her. But a little bit of her had stayed with him, although not enough for him to return these same feelings. Not yet.
Her initial instinct while aboard the Christina Giselle , and then yesterday evening in the streets here in Cape Town, had been right. She was a witch of the White Craft, she ought to trust her own knowing and accept that the serpentine path of their lives had once again crossed, but this was not the occasion for them to become permanently entwined.
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