Owned by the Ocean (19 page)

“
What are you doing up here? I’ve been looking
everywhere.”

“
I wanted to see the city as we sailed into the harbor and
what better vantage point than the crow’s nest?”

Brant shook
his and head laughed. “Would you like to actually go into the city
now?”

“
Oh yes! Just let me get changed into something more
proper.”

Brant shook
his head. “Either you come right this minute or you have to wait
till tomorrow.” He wasn’t willing to wait for her to get laced and
buttoned in to a dress just so that she could look the part of a
lady.

Catherine
frowned. “But I can’t be seen dressed like this.”

“
I’m seeing you right now.”

“
And if I wait till tomorrow?”

Brant
shrugged.

“
Fine then, but I’ll have you know that I think this is highly
inappropriate.”

“
You’re sailing on a privateer ship. There has been nothing
appropriate about your life for the last month.”

Catherine
smiled slightly and climbed down the ladder, more confident now
than she had been last week when Brant had brought her up.

Walking
through the streets of Casablanca, they were bombarded with many
colors and loud noises. There were street vendors everywhere.
Everyone wanted them to buy their goods or food. There were skinny
children that held out their bowls to beg, but some guards chased
them away.

“
Did you want to buy anything?” Brant asked as he caught
Catherine looking at a table full of fabric.

“
All my money was stolen during the raid.”

Brant walked
over to join her at the table and turned some of the fabric over in
his hand. “Which one do you like?”

Catherine
pointed at a bright blue bolt of fabric inlaid with silver designs.
Brant picked it up, turned it over a couple of times and ran some
fabric through his fingers. Nodding slightly he turned to the woman
watching the table. “How much?”

“
Fifty Durham.”

Brant whistled
but nodded. “I have here,” he counted out thirty pieces of eight,
“thirty Spanish Reals. Good?”

Catherine
shook her head, grabbing Brant’s arm. “It’s too much, Brant. What
will I do with it?”

“
And I will need some needles and thread.”

The shopkeeper
nodded her head fervently and held out her hands greedily. The
Spanish Real was worth nearly double the Moroccan Durham. Brant
shook his head. “No, you wrap up that fabric first with needles and
thread. Then I pay you.”

The woman
shrugged and pulled out some brown paper which she wrapped the bolt
of fabric in then she pulled out some spools of blue thread and two
needles which she added to the package. Holding out her hand again
Brant dumped the money in her hand and took the package. Handing it
over to Catherine, he smiled. “There you are. Something to keep you
occupied for a few days.”

“
Really, it is too much.”

“
Nonsense! You deserve the best.”

“
I will pay you back once we reach England.”

“
You will do no such thing,” he said firmly. “This is a
gift.”

Catherine gave
up and nodded. “Thank you, Brant.”

“
See, that’s all I wanted to hear. You’re most welcome,
Catherine. Now come along, there is still much to see.”

* * *

They stayed in Casablanca for a week, allowing the crew of
the
BlackFox
a
short leave while Brant looked after supplying the ship. On the
morning they were to leave the crew was busy loading supplies that
had been delivered the night before. Catherine climbed up to the
crow’s nest again where she was out of the way and could watch the
departure. She had become comfortable with climbing up there and
found herself enjoying the view more than she had the first time.
She could see the expanse of the entire city; there were houses
everywhere and people milling about the streets. It was a truly
amazing city that Catherine was sure she never would have been able
to experience under normal circumstances. She was almost sad to
leave but casting off meant that they were bringing her home and
she desperately missed it. By now some kind of report had probably
made it back to her parents that her ship had been attacked. Would
they think she was dead or would they be holding on to hope that
she had found rescue?

As the
BlackFox
cast off around mid-morning, Catherine stood up, holding the
mast tightly for support she watched the city slowly disappear on
the horizon. Her journey was nearly done now, only the last leg
left. She stayed up there until Casablanca was out of sight and
then climbed down to look in on Matthew, whom she hadn’t seen much
of in the last week. As her feet touched the deck she heard her
name being called. Looking in the direction of the hold she saw
Matthew standing there, smiling broadly. “Catherine, look! The doc
said I could get up now.”

Catherine
walked over and hugged him. “That’s wonderful! But you still have
to be gentle. No running around or hard work, your wound is still
tender.”

“
I’m just happy to be out of that stuffy room. The doc said we
were in Casablanca but he wouldn’t let me get out of bed and see.
Was it amazing?”

Catherine
laughed. “It was. Come, walk with me. A little exercise will do you
good.”

Matthew walked
with Catherine and she told him all about the sights she had seen
in the colorful city. He listened, wide eyed and excited,
exclaiming over some of the stories. After an hour of walking
Catherine made Matthew sit down and rest. He insisted he was still
feeling well but he had grown pale and Catherine could tell he was
fatigued. He wasn’t ready to exert himself so much, not after being
so close to death. Sending him off to his bed for a rest, she
shushed all his attempts at protest and closed the door behind her.
Walking back on deck she was greeted by Brant standing there with
his hands crossed.

“
Well, aren’t you the mother hen.”

Catherine
laughed. “The boy needs looking after. You men just never know when
to stop.”

Brant nodded
his assent and offered her his arm. “Come, have lunch with me.”

“
Lunch?” Catherine had learned quickly that there was no
formal lunch and after a week of starving she had made her way to
the galley to beg food from the cook.

“
Yes, lunch. We have a boatload of fresh fruit, vegetables,
and meat, the unsalted kind, which need eating before it all goes
bad.”

“
Real meat?”

Brant laughed.
“Yes ma’am. But not much, so we had best go eat some for lunch now
before it’s all gone.”

Catherine’s
stomach grumbled slightly and she laughed. “Lead the way. I think
my stomach is about to eat itself.”

“
We can’t have that, now can we?”

Brant led her
down to the galley where most of the crew had gathered. He seated
her at a table with James, Casper and a few of the younger
sailors.

She turned to
Brant and whispered “What is all this about? We’re eating with the
crew?” Catherine thought that she was doing well, treating the men
with respect and kindness, but this was too much. She wasn’t sure
she could eat with these men, the crude joking and interesting
mixture of smells meeting her nose.

Brant gave her
a disappointed look. “Yes, we’re eating with the crew. It’s
something I do with the men when we leave a port and have fresh
stock. They all get to eat the fresh food and the officers and I
join them.”

Determined not
to disappoint Brant, she smiled graciously and didn’t protest. She
made an effort to speak with the men as best she could, but their
raucous laughter and crude conversations left her mostly appalled
and uncomfortable. However, she spoke no word of complaint and
hoped that she wouldn’t have to endure such a meal again, nor would
she ever admit to having this one. Brant had pushed her too far,
but it would have to wait until later to be dealt with.

* * *

Later that
night Brant climbed up to the crow’s nest. It didn’t take long for
Catherine to appear, climbing onto the platform and sitting next to
him.

“
I need to talk to you.”

Brant nodded,
as if he had been expecting this conversation.

“
This afternoon, at lunch, I found it to be a very
uncomfortable situation. I’m not trying to be pretentious or
snobbish, but the men in the crew can be very crude and a lot of
conversation during lunch was offensive and embarrassing for me. I
have nothing against the crew, I just found it inappropriate that I
would join them for lunch in the galley.”

Brant nodded
slightly and put his arm around her. “I understand. I shouldn’t
have pushed you. You’ve had to overcome a lot and you’ve grown as a
person. I don’t think you’re being pretentious; the galley is no
place for a woman of any standing and I should have realized
that.”

They sat in
silence for a time and Catherine rested her head on Brant’s strong
shoulder. “Can I hear your story now?”

Brant
chuckled, “Is that what you what?”

“
Mmmhmm.”

“
Alright. I was born to Sir Calvin and Suzanne Foxton, you may
recognize the name…”

Brant told her
of how his mother died, how he left home to follow his dreams of
being a captain and stumbled into the situation of joining a
privateering ship. How he had found it immoral and hard to swallow
at first. He told her of the years of training in swordsmanship and
the tests LaFleur had him perform. He told her of the mutiny and
LaFleur’s death, and his ultimate rise to captaincy. Then, the
death of his father, Calvin Foxton and the guardianship of James.
There was a lot to tell and they were sitting up in the crow’s nest
for two hours as Brant narrated his life so far. Catherine listened
in wonder as she tried to fathom him leaving a life where
everything was set for an unsure future.

“
I never knew,” she whispered softly as his story drew to a
close. “You’ve been through so much and made a lot of hard
decisions. I have to admit, I admire you for what you have
done.”

“
You can admire a murderer and criminal?”

“
Not that, but you as a person I can. I could never leave my
life for something like this.”

“
My father still ensured that my future was secure before he
died. I own his sugar plantation in Jamaica.”

“
Yes, but you had no idea you’d be receiving that. You left
thinking that you would be on your own from that point on and
likely never to see your family again. It’s admirable. Foolhardy,
but admirable.”

Brant laughed
and squeezed Catherine closer to his side. It was probably
inappropriate, how close they would sit when they were up here, but
there was no one to witness and neither seemed to care.

“
You are an amazing woman, Catherine. I don’t want you to ever
forget that.”

“
Thank you.”

Brant kissed
the top of her head and stroked her hair gently as her head rested
on his shoulder. A few moments later he felt the steady breathing
of sleep take over her and he smiled. He would be unable to carry
her down and he couldn’t find it in his heart to wake her so he put
both arms around her and settled in for a long night.

Brant was
woken up by a bright, warm light shining down on him. It took a
minute to remember where he was, but as he opened his eyes and the
morning breeze caressed his senses back to life, he remembered the
night before. He was high above the deck of the ship in the crow’s
nest with a very beautiful woman sleeping in his arms. Smiling,
Brant gently shook her awake. Catherine groaned and opened her eyes
a little.

“
Where are we?”

“
I’m afraid we spent the night in the crow’s nest.”

“
What?” Catherine sleepily looked around a sighed. “I fell
asleep didn’t I? Why didn’t you wake me?”

Brant
chuckled. “I didn’t want to disturb you. Don’t worry about it; this
is the best I’ve slept in a while.”

And, as if on
cue, Brant’s stomach rumbled. “But, I need breakfast. Come on,
let’s go down and get some food in you.”

Catherine
stretched a little and climbed down behind Brant. It was still
early, the sun having woken them at the break of dawn, and most of
the crew were still in their bunks. Only a small skeleton crew of
men wandered the deck going about the small daily jobs that were
needed to keep the ship sailing smoothly. Brant said good morning
to most as he walked by and led Catherine to her cabin. “You
freshen up. I will go rustle up some breakfast and bring it
here.”

In the kitchen
Brant found some fresh baked bread and fried up some meat and eggs.
With breakfast ready to go he filled up two plates and took them
back to Catherine’s cabin.

“
Here we are, fresh served off the grill.” He handed her a
plate and she took the chair at his desk while Brant sat on the
floor, leaning against the wall.

Catherine took
a few bites and nodded her approval. “I didn’t know you could
cook.”

“
Not very well. As a cabin boy I was on breakfast duty for a
while with the cook. Most of the time we just made mush he called
porridge but every once in a while we would have fresh
eggs.”

“
I’m very impressed. I couldn’t do this.”