Read Online Other Oceans: Book Two of the Hook & Jill Saga by Andrea Jones - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Andrea Jones
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bared its chest. “Dammit, Tom, you beat me to her!”
Tom sent a sly grin up to his brother. “I know. Next time we celebrate a prize, you’ll let me finish the bottle!” But these boys had grown up together, at the very same moment. “You’re welcome to her, Nibs, if you can get her. But after talking to her once, I think we’ll both have to wait for port call.”
“Aye, but Mr. Starkey warned me he’ll keep a sharp eye on us, first time ashore.”
“That’s just because he’s eager to get ashore, too. I’m not sure I’m ready for another of his lessons this afternoon.”
“Knife-fighting this time. Fancy the poor boys he used to teach at that school! No wonder he’s so scarred about the face.” Nibs nursed his swollen knuckles. “ ‘Gentleman’ Starkey sure packs a wallop with that ruler.”
“Better Mr. Starkey’s ruler than the captain’s cat-o’-nine-tails. What he teaches us is for our own good. I don’t want to fail my duty and find my back in shreds, like Mr. Cecco’s.”
“And all because of a woman! You realize, Tom, we’ve started down a slippery slope. It goes to show that better men than us have met their dooms over females like Jill.”
Tom looked up at his brother. They both smiled broadly. “Aye!”
Nibs rearranged his nether regions, and lay down again. Tom wondered idly, “Do you suppose she’s seen a knife-fight before?”
“She doesn’t look like she’s even seen a sailor before.”
“I get the feeling she’s seen plenty. She’s just not talking.” Tom sat up then, pulled the oiled rag from his pocket, and picked up his knife and whetstone. “Pass yours down, Nibs. I’ve got to get this energy worked off.”
The men of the Roger would often remark after this day that the newest crewmen had the sharpest and the brightest weapons aboard. Even if they didn’t use them very much yet.
§ § §
Liza’s tongue slipped between her lips as she tugged the lacing tighter. She wasn’t accustomed to waiting on a lady. She was used to being waited upon, if only by her nurse. She was too old for a nurse now, but her father had insisted the woman remain so that Liza should be properly chaperoned, the sailors on the Julianne being, in his estimation, exactly like sailors aboard any other vessel. Liza wasn’t very pretty yet, but what her sharp ears had overheard those sailors say was complimentary, if not polite. And her own lacings were feeling tighter every day.
Still, Liza didn’t fool herself. She owned too much of her father’s distaste for the ordinary to appeal to average men. It showed in her face as it did in his, something about the mouth that turned down instead of up, in spite of the generous lips. That same something about Jill’s mouth turned up, always, Liza noticed as she stole glances at Jill’s reflection in the glass. Even when the lady was displeased, as she was now, that something was alluring.
It made Liza want to please her, and she fought it.
“Don’t be distracted, Liza. It’s nearly time.” Liza’s fingers weren’t as nimble as Mr. Smee’s, but Jill observed that even so, the girl finished the lacing more quickly than he. Jill smiled to
herself, but continued in a strict tone. “Next time don’t discard my gown. It will wrinkle. You are to hang it in the wardrobe. Now fetch me the brush, please, and look after the dress.”
Liza followed her orders, fingering the rich red taffeta as she worked, and wondering how to ask about her father. His situation puzzled her. Was he to be courted, or forced? Earlier, the mistress had directed Liza to the sideboard, and they set the dinner table together. Amid cheery clinks and pings, they laid out silver, creamy china, and crystal. Liza thought she heard the table service laughing in anticipation of the evening to come. As she crumbled lavender into the fingerbowls, the aroma reminded her of a starched, formal dining room left behind in England, with stiff brocade curtains, and doors
Tom sent a sly grin up to his brother. “I know. Next time we celebrate a prize, you’ll let me finish the bottle!” But these boys had grown up together, at the very same moment. “You’re welcome to her, Nibs, if you can get her. But after talking to her once, I think we’ll both have to wait for port call.”
“Aye, but Mr. Starkey warned me he’ll keep a sharp eye on us, first time ashore.”
“That’s just because he’s eager to get ashore, too. I’m not sure I’m ready for another of his lessons this afternoon.”
“Knife-fighting this time. Fancy the poor boys he used to teach at that school! No wonder he’s so scarred about the face.” Nibs nursed his swollen knuckles. “ ‘Gentleman’ Starkey sure packs a wallop with that ruler.”
“Better Mr. Starkey’s ruler than the captain’s cat-o’-nine-tails. What he teaches us is for our own good. I don’t want to fail my duty and find my back in shreds, like Mr. Cecco’s.”
“And all because of a woman! You realize, Tom, we’ve started down a slippery slope. It goes to show that better men than us have met their dooms over females like Jill.”
Tom looked up at his brother. They both smiled broadly. “Aye!”
Nibs rearranged his nether regions, and lay down again. Tom wondered idly, “Do you suppose she’s seen a knife-fight before?”
“She doesn’t look like she’s even seen a sailor before.”
“I get the feeling she’s seen plenty. She’s just not talking.” Tom sat up then, pulled the oiled rag from his pocket, and picked up his knife and whetstone. “Pass yours down, Nibs. I’ve got to get this energy worked off.”
The men of the Roger would often remark after this day that the newest crewmen had the sharpest and the brightest weapons aboard. Even if they didn’t use them very much yet.
§ § §
Liza’s tongue slipped between her lips as she tugged the lacing tighter. She wasn’t accustomed to waiting on a lady. She was used to being waited upon, if only by her nurse. She was too old for a nurse now, but her father had insisted the woman remain so that Liza should be properly chaperoned, the sailors on the Julianne being, in his estimation, exactly like sailors aboard any other vessel. Liza wasn’t very pretty yet, but what her sharp ears had overheard those sailors say was complimentary, if not polite. And her own lacings were feeling tighter every day.
Still, Liza didn’t fool herself. She owned too much of her father’s distaste for the ordinary to appeal to average men. It showed in her face as it did in his, something about the mouth that turned down instead of up, in spite of the generous lips. That same something about Jill’s mouth turned up, always, Liza noticed as she stole glances at Jill’s reflection in the glass. Even when the lady was displeased, as she was now, that something was alluring.
It made Liza want to please her, and she fought it.
“Don’t be distracted, Liza. It’s nearly time.” Liza’s fingers weren’t as nimble as Mr. Smee’s, but Jill observed that even so, the girl finished the lacing more quickly than he. Jill smiled to
herself, but continued in a strict tone. “Next time don’t discard my gown. It will wrinkle. You are to hang it in the wardrobe. Now fetch me the brush, please, and look after the dress.”
Liza followed her orders, fingering the rich red taffeta as she worked, and wondering how to ask about her father. His situation puzzled her. Was he to be courted, or forced? Earlier, the mistress had directed Liza to the sideboard, and they set the dinner table together. Amid cheery clinks and pings, they laid out silver, creamy china, and crystal. Liza thought she heard the table service laughing in anticipation of the evening to come. As she crumbled lavender into the fingerbowls, the aroma reminded her of a starched, formal dining room left behind in England, with stiff brocade curtains, and doors
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