men.”
They were so close Jeannette could nearly reach out and touch the top of the greenish copper plating that covered the lower portion of the Tempest ’s hull.
“Why is the bottom covered with metal?” she asked.
“To keep worms from burrowing holes into the wood.”
Above the copper, a wide black band separated the gun deck from the others. Above the gun deck sat the main deck, cradled between the raised forecastle at the bow and the quarterdeck at the stern.
Jeannette shaded her eyes. Though she could see only their tips, three slender masts rose into the sky, looking like giant needles threaded with rope.
“The one in the bow is called the foremast,” Treynor explained, following her gaze. “The one in the middle is the mainmast, and the one in the stern is the mizzenmast. The large, horizontal poles that cross them are called yards and bear the sails, but because we’re in port, the sails are lashed down.”
“You will see them unfurled soon enough when we set sail,” one of the officers she’d seen at the Stag volunteered.
The skiff bumped another small boat, and Lieutenant Treynor and the others turned their attention to jostling for position at one of several ropes that dangled into the water. While they worked, choppy waves buffeted their small vessel and the wind whipped at Jeannette’s clothing. She was going to freeze without a better coat.
“Frenchie?” Treynor was waiting for her.
Jeannette hesitated as she watched sailors use the ropes to walk nimbly up the sides of the ship. How would she manage with a dog? She wasn't strong enough to haul herself up, even without a squirming bundle under one arm.
His mouth quirked with impatience, the lieutenant laughed. “Put your dog down. I’ll bring it.”
She exchanged the dog for the rope he handed her and began lifting her own weight, only to feel his hands on her bottom as he shoved her halfway up the ship’s side.
Once Jeannette gained her footing, she copied the others and struggled the rest of the way on her own, eventually heaving herself over the gunwale.
To her embarrassment, Lieutenant Treynor easily carried her dog, pinned between his arm and body, up behind her. When they were both on board, he handed the animal back to her. “What’s your dog’s name?” he asked, scratching behind its furry ears.
Jeannette’s mind froze. “Name?”
“Yes, surely it has one. You seem so devoted to it.” The lieutenant smiled at her, waiting.
“B-b-bull.” She couldn’t think of anything better.
Eager to be set down, the dog twisted and turned in her arms, revealing her belly.
Treynor glanced at it, then gave Jeannette a quizzical look. “Bull? Did you know she’s female?”
“ Oui ...ah...” Jeannette tried to force her sluggish brain to provide some good reason her dog would be named Bull, female or no, but her wits had completely deserted her.
Fortunately, a heavyset man in an officer’s uniform called for Treynor, and he turned, saving her from whatever inanity hovered on her lips.
The other man drew the lieutenant away, and Jeannette promptly lost herself in the crush of bodies that surrounded her.
“Bull?” she repeated, rolling her eyes. Something about the lieutenant turned her into a fool, and Jeannette felt fairly certain she could guess what it was. The memory of those few minutes in his bed came to mind every time she looked at him, and sometimes for less reason than that. Knowing how he behaved in such intimate circumstances, how his body felt against hers, how he smelled like soap and wool and man made her weak in the knees. Having held him almost naked in her arms made it too easy to undress him again in her mind.
The heat of a blush crept up Jeannette’s neck, and she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could shut off her thoughts as easily as her sight.
Forcing herself to forget the lieutenant, she lowered the dog to the deck and searched for something to keep the animal from running off.
When
They were so close Jeannette could nearly reach out and touch the top of the greenish copper plating that covered the lower portion of the Tempest ’s hull.
“Why is the bottom covered with metal?” she asked.
“To keep worms from burrowing holes into the wood.”
Above the copper, a wide black band separated the gun deck from the others. Above the gun deck sat the main deck, cradled between the raised forecastle at the bow and the quarterdeck at the stern.
Jeannette shaded her eyes. Though she could see only their tips, three slender masts rose into the sky, looking like giant needles threaded with rope.
“The one in the bow is called the foremast,” Treynor explained, following her gaze. “The one in the middle is the mainmast, and the one in the stern is the mizzenmast. The large, horizontal poles that cross them are called yards and bear the sails, but because we’re in port, the sails are lashed down.”
“You will see them unfurled soon enough when we set sail,” one of the officers she’d seen at the Stag volunteered.
The skiff bumped another small boat, and Lieutenant Treynor and the others turned their attention to jostling for position at one of several ropes that dangled into the water. While they worked, choppy waves buffeted their small vessel and the wind whipped at Jeannette’s clothing. She was going to freeze without a better coat.
“Frenchie?” Treynor was waiting for her.
Jeannette hesitated as she watched sailors use the ropes to walk nimbly up the sides of the ship. How would she manage with a dog? She wasn't strong enough to haul herself up, even without a squirming bundle under one arm.
His mouth quirked with impatience, the lieutenant laughed. “Put your dog down. I’ll bring it.”
She exchanged the dog for the rope he handed her and began lifting her own weight, only to feel his hands on her bottom as he shoved her halfway up the ship’s side.
Once Jeannette gained her footing, she copied the others and struggled the rest of the way on her own, eventually heaving herself over the gunwale.
To her embarrassment, Lieutenant Treynor easily carried her dog, pinned between his arm and body, up behind her. When they were both on board, he handed the animal back to her. “What’s your dog’s name?” he asked, scratching behind its furry ears.
Jeannette’s mind froze. “Name?”
“Yes, surely it has one. You seem so devoted to it.” The lieutenant smiled at her, waiting.
“B-b-bull.” She couldn’t think of anything better.
Eager to be set down, the dog twisted and turned in her arms, revealing her belly.
Treynor glanced at it, then gave Jeannette a quizzical look. “Bull? Did you know she’s female?”
“ Oui ...ah...” Jeannette tried to force her sluggish brain to provide some good reason her dog would be named Bull, female or no, but her wits had completely deserted her.
Fortunately, a heavyset man in an officer’s uniform called for Treynor, and he turned, saving her from whatever inanity hovered on her lips.
The other man drew the lieutenant away, and Jeannette promptly lost herself in the crush of bodies that surrounded her.
“Bull?” she repeated, rolling her eyes. Something about the lieutenant turned her into a fool, and Jeannette felt fairly certain she could guess what it was. The memory of those few minutes in his bed came to mind every time she looked at him, and sometimes for less reason than that. Knowing how he behaved in such intimate circumstances, how his body felt against hers, how he smelled like soap and wool and man made her weak in the knees. Having held him almost naked in her arms made it too easy to undress him again in her mind.
The heat of a blush crept up Jeannette’s neck, and she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could shut off her thoughts as easily as her sight.
Forcing herself to forget the lieutenant, she lowered the dog to the deck and searched for something to keep the animal from running off.
When
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