The Voyage of the Sea Wolf by Eve Bunting Page A

Should I tell Sebastian? No, he’d likely report to the captain and who knew what she might do.
    Now and then I’d stretch my legs to ease them. Once Sebastian said, “Stand up, Mistress. Take a step or two. There’s no need for ye to cripple yerself.”
    I stood gratefully.
    Mr. Forthinggale came upon me as I stood, bending my back, stamping my feet to flow blood into them. “Get back to work,” he said. “You’re not on board for yer pleasure.” Before I could answer Sebastian said, “I tole her to stand, Quarter. She be’s no good to me if she’s squirmin’ around like an eel on a hot rock.”
    The quartermaster humphed, then strode away.
    William, where are you? If only I could talk to you, tell you my fears, ask you. Ask you what the captain says to you when I am not there.
    I saw no sign of him, not all the morning long nor when we stopped for maggoty hardtack and dried beef in the middle of the day. There were limes and we each took one.
    â€œSuck on it,” Sebastian said. “ ’Twill keep away the scurvy. ’Tis a new and remarkable discovery. Have ye seen scurvy, girl? If’n ye did ye’d chew that lime, skin an’ all. ’Tis worth a bit o’ sourness in yer mouth.”
    I took a bite and felt my eyes water and my throat curl up. Sebastian began to tell me about scurvy, how it makes your gums go black and your teeth fall out. How it rashesyou all over your body and how you go out of your mind at the end and see mermaids in the rigging and Davy Jones inviting you down to the depths to sup with him.
    I could not keep my mind steady, nor my heart that longed for William.
    Sebastian stopped talking and looked closely at me with those green knowing eyes. “He be’s in the wheel-house with the cap’n; Finnegan says she’s learnin’ him how to measure the distance sailed from day to day and how to chart the ship’s position.”
    I nodded. My throat stung and I didn’t know if it was with tears or with the bitter juice of the lime. Captains did not teach ordinary seamen, or cabin boys, unless it was for a reason. Unless they had future hopes for them. Unless they were keeping them.
    The ship moved sluggishly, the sails empty.
    â€œThe fog eats the wind,” Sebastian said. “No wind, no speed.”
    We sewed all day. My fingers were raw. I sucked them and did not complain.
    The rip I was working on was almost closed.
    â€œAm I useful to you?” I asked Sebastian.
    â€œAye,” he said. “You be’s as useful as Blunt was. He was a grand worker afore a shell from the Barbary Blue blew out his belly. He lay on the deck here wi’ his guts squeezin’through his fingers. ’Twas good for me that I got a replacement.” He looked slyly at me, then said, “Aye ye’re useful. I’ll be tellin’ the cap’n.”
    I did not see William. He was not at the table when we went for food at sunset. I did not see the captain either.
    There was soup with potatoes in it and a scrap or two of yesterday’s fish. There was ale and water.
    I ate little.
    There was no reading to the captain that night. When she came in the cabin she took the key from the pocket of her trousers and locked the door. I feigned sleep as she took care of her needs, laid her hand on the Celtic cross, got into bed. She was humming a tune that was unknown to me. I wondered what she was thinking and of whom, and what it was that had put her in such high spirits. I thought I knew, but the thought hurt too much and I let go of it. At least she wasn’t with him now and I could be thankful for that. Soon her humming changed to her small fat snores and I knew she slept.
    I ached all over. The unguent did not help.
    But I, too, slept at last. And if someone tried to get into our locked cabin I did not hear it.
    Morning came. I worked all that day and the day after that. Nights I read aloud