Page 22 of A Prince Among Pirates
Billy grins back at me. “Yes, but you slept till after noon,” he returns.
Touché.
I say nothing to that as I bury my nose in the beer. I’m not much of a beer drinker myself, but this one is well balanced and leaves no bitter aftertaste. It’sgoodbeer. Although I’ll take anything over the grog we’re served morning and night. “Everyone’s in good spirits,” I point out unnecessarily.
“It was a good haul,” Billy says with a nod. “And an easy one.”
I’m not sure what qualifies a haul as easy or difficult, but I don’t much care. I’m enjoying the beer too much to press further. “I saw quite a bit of fruit,” I say instead. “Oranges and grapes. I thought I saw bananas, too, but when I went back to count, I was wrong.”
“The men threw them overboard.”
“What?” I set my beer down and look at Billy. “Why on earth would they—”
“They’re bad luck.”
“That’s absurd.”
Billy looks at me and smiles. “You ever see a shipwreck, Kit?”
I’m not sure what that has to do with bananas. “No,” I admit. “Although I once saw a vessel burned off the port in Falmouth for pox.”
“Seen my fair share of them. The men, too. You can always see bananas floating in the wreckage.”
I laugh, but the look he gives me shuts me up quickly. “You’re having me on,” I insist.
He shakes his head. “Not worth the risk to take ’em on board. Which is a real shame, because I’d do anything for some fresh plantains.”
“What is that? Some kind of Cuban dish made with bananas?”
“No, they’re a different fruit,” Billy explains. “But they look very similar. My mother used to make the most delicious maduros with them.” He’s mentioned his mother before in stories about growing up first in the colonies, then Cuba.
“Are they also bad luck?”
Billy looks like he’s considering this. “You know,” he says, “I don’t know. But I think the men wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. At least… the white men.”
He gives me a pointed look, and I offer a sheepish smile in return. “I won’t disagree with you,” I confess, and take another sip of my beer.
Billy pats me on the shoulder. “Go on and get yourself something to eat, Kit. The men are in good spirits—it’s a good night to make friends. You ought to start spending time with someoneotherthan Renard.”
I see the truth in that, though I don’t correct him by remindinghim that I have also made friends with the twins. I simply nod before he leaves my side to join the captain, Mr. Tydes, and Martel, the sailing master, up on the poop deck. I look down at the ledger in my hand… and then smile as an idea sparks to life. Billy has inspired me. I think I finally know how to make the crew of theDeliverancelike me—or at leasttolerateme.
I really ought to be offended by the dubious stare Captain Sharpe greets me with the next morning as I swan into his office at half past nine. Apparently, that is far earlier than I have ever appeared in his presence, for he pulls out his pocket watchtwiceto make sure he’s got the time right.
“Good morning, Kitten,” he says, his voice laced with suspicion.
“Is it?” I ask as I plop my ledger onto his desk. I took it down to the mess with me the night before. “You soundthrilledto see me.”
“You want something.”
I gasp and set a hand over my heart. “You cut me to the quick, Captain.”
“Cut the shit.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of me. I am in a grand mood today. I hadgoodbeer last night—quite a bit of it—and I wasn’t threatened or pushed around even once. “You’re charming this morning,” I say as I drop into his chair as if it were my own. He stares at me with one brow raised, and I know that if I weren’t as pretty as I am, he would already have dragged me outby the collar and reprimanded me for insubordination.
But Iampretty.
I offer him a wide smile and bat my lashes. “Captain,” I start.
