Secrets of the Realm (2 page)

"I cannot help what I lack in size, sir, but I can assure you that I am a hard worker. You will not be disappointed."

"Good answer." His eyes narrowed as he leaned down and whispered, "You are not fooling me. I am no stranger to deception."

Annie sucked in her breath.

Captain Hawke stared into her ice blue eyes. "You're no Spaniard. You're a well-educated Englishman."

Air and relief rushed from Annie's lungs.

He ran his knuckle roughly across her cheekbone where the remains of a black eye lingered. "How many fights you been in, boy?"

Annie flinched at his touch. "Not a one, sir. A shopkeeper, the old sot, backhanded me across my face." She reached up and lightly touched below her eye. "London is not kind to her beggars."

The captain laughed before he resumed going down the line of eleven boys. He returned, hesitating in front of Annie.

Confident, she pulled her shoulders back, and prepared for the announcement, but Captain Hawke walked away and approached the tall lad, Lawrence.

"Congratulations," he said.

Annie heard little enthusiasm in Captain Hawke's voice. When she saw the captain about to shake Lawrence's hand, her disappointment boiled over. "Why him and not me?" Annie shrieked. "Look at him. He's too big to be a cabin boy."

Not waiting for the explanation she knew would never come, Annie rushed behind Lawrence. With her head bent low, she ran full force butting him in the curve of his back. The lad's knees buckled. The captain jumped back just in time.

With Lawrence lying face down at the captain's feet, Annie pounced on his back and struck him with her fists. Dazed, Lawrence didn't react until Captain Hawke pried Annie off him.

His nose bloodied and his lip torn, Lawrence leapt to his feet. While Annie struggled in the captain's vice-like grip, the youth threw a punch to the left side of her face. The blow jerked her head sideways. Blood warmed the captain's palm, not from the blood dripping from Annie's mouth, but from the blood seeping through the back of her shirt.

Drawing a square-handled knife from its sheath, Lawrence lunged at Annie. His eyes raged. "I'll gut you like a fish!" he shouted.

The captain propelled Annie out of the way and pulled out his ivory-handled knife. "You don't want to do that, lad," Captain Hawke said, his voice calm, as he danced out of the way of the youth slashing at him through empty air.

"Me money's on the captain," said the boy wearing Annie's coat.

Another youth hollered above the growing crowd, "A shilling says Lawrence draws first blood!"

Annie sprang to her feet. Dazzled by the captain's footwork, she joined in the debate. "Lawrence is outmatched. He won't hit his mark. Besides, the captain has no intention of harming him."

"Are you daft? If the captain gets a chance, he will have Lawrence's gizzards for supper, he will."

 Annie couldn't read minds, but she did have a keen sense of observation. She noted the subtle movements of the captain and his first mate—the rise of a chin, a quick glance of an eye, a gesture of the hand. Annie understood it all. Captain Hawke wanted Mr. Montgomery to intervene, but his first mate carried no weapon. More importantly, he did not wish to dirty his clothes.

The captain gave him no choice. "Take him!"

In a blur of motion, Mr. Montgomery tackled Lawrence, wrestling him to the ground. He slammed the youth's face into the wharf not once, but twice. Grasping Lawrence's wrist, Mr. Montgomery pounded his hand onto the wharf's uneven planks.

"Give it up, boy!" The first mate demanded.

When Lawrence's fingers opened, Mr. Montgomery seized the knife and hurled it off the wharf. It arced in the air before plunging through the water leaving not a ripple.

Lawrence's crumpled body lay in the captain's shadow.

"On your feet!" Captain Hawke ordered.

Lawrence rose amid jeers and laughter from the boys and sailors who witnessed the raucous affair. Twisting Lawrence's arm behind his back, Mr. Montgomery quickly hustled him off the wharf.

Lawrence's humiliation was far worse than his injuries. As bloody spittle ran down his chin, he shouted back at Annie, "I swear to you, Andrés de la Cruz, you will regret this day! When you least expect it, I will slit your throat." He paused. "That is a promise."

The boys moved out of the way as the captain marched toward Annie.

"Are you satisfied?"

"Beggin' your pardon, sir?"

While Annie wiped blood from the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, she stumbled backward, her legs splayed out in front of her.

Looming over Annie, Captain Hawke clenched his fists. "Since you started this nonsense, are you satisfied?"

Annie wished she could coil a strand of hair around her finger, but she had to be content with pulling on the hem of her shirt. "Uh, yes, sir. No one got killed."

Captain Hawke scanned the boys replaying the aborted knife attack. They cheered as one boy spun in a circle before landing flat on his back. With an imaginary dagger clutched to his heart, the boy's body twitched once more.

"They wanted blood—anyone's," Captain Hawke muttered.

Annie scrambled to her feet. "Between you and me, Captain, they are an immature lot. As for that Lawrence fellow, it's those quiet ones you gotta look out for. One moment they are not saying a word and the next, they are a raving lunatic."

"And here I thought
you
were the quiet one," Captain Hawke said. "But instead, you are both amusing and daring."

Annie beamed at the compliment. "Thank you, sir." She almost curtsied before remembering she was now Andrés de la Cruz.

When the captain jabbed her sharply in the shoulder with his fingers, her grin vanished.

"Let me give you some advice, boy. You are too daring for your own good, and the element of surprise will not always be in your favor." His left eyebrow shot up. "You must earn the respect of your fellow shipmates. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, perfectly, sir." Annie swallowed hard, saliva and blood. "Does this mean I'm your new cabin boy?"

He glared at her. "Aye, and you shall be the best cabin boy I have ever had or I will feed you to the sharks. Savvy?" He turned and stomped back to the ship.

Still assessing the damage done to his breeches and silk stockings, Mr. Montgomery strolled up to Annie. He motioned her to follow Captain Hawke. Annie's pulse raced as she walked up the gangway to join the Realm's motley crew of outcasts and gentlemen.

CHAPTER THREE

It did not take Annie long to find Captain Hawke on the main deck. He glanced at her and then called to a young sailor. "Christopher, this is my new cabin boy. Take Andrés below and have Doc look him over."

"Aye, Aye, Captain." Christopher, a two-year veteran of the Realm, turned to Annie. "Follow me," he said.

Despite a pronounced limp, the sailor moved quickly. Annie followed close behind to the hatch. Not hampered by a dress or petticoat, she could not resist jumping down the last three steps of the ladder.

Annie adjusted her eyes to the dimly lit passageway. "It's like a cave down here."

"You'll get used to it."

Christopher gave her a quick tour. He pointed out the fo'c'sle where the sailors slept, the mess deck where they ate, and Captain Hawke's cabin.

Annie jumped when something black dashed by her. "What was that?"

"He's one of the Realm's cats. Great ratter, that one is."

Relieved, Annie wanted to learn more about the ship. "I thought only King George's Navy had surgeons."

Christopher puffed out his chest. "Only the most profitable merchant ships can afford surgeons. But I doubt they pay Doc much. They don't have to."

"Why not?"

"He never leaves the ship." Christopher bent down and crooked his finger urging Annie to come closer. "After midnight, he walks the main deck from bow to stern and back again, but never when there's a full moon."

Christopher watched Annie's eyes widen before he let out a hardy laugh. "I'm teasing. Doc seldom leaves his quarters except to play chess with the captain. Don't look so worried. He's a cranky one, but harmless."

Christopher knocked on Doc's door. It opened to a man of short stocky build, whose silver hair, mustache and ashen complexion made him look older than his forty-three years. Thick eyebrows hovered over melancholy eyes. He stared at Annie through spectacles of thick glass.

Doc studied Annie's swollen cheek and the droplets of blood dotting the front of her shirt. "Hop up on the examining table. I want to get a better look."

Annie did as she was told, all the while biting her lower lip.

"Open wide, boy."

She dutifully obeyed.

"No loose teeth. Your mouth is bleeding. That is easily fixed." After retrieving a bottle from his cabinet, he dabbed a small amount of dry powder to the inside of Annie's cheek.

Doc took a closer look at her bruised face before looking over his shoulder at Christopher. "How did this happen?"

"He was in a fight."

"Do I have the winner or loser of that altercation?" Doc's eyes trained on Annie while he walked around the table.

"Since he is the captain's new cabin boy, I guess you could say he won," Christopher said.

"Not like the captain to pick one so young. This one actually looks like a cabin boy." He looked down at Annie. "Captain Hawke would rather they be able to fend for themselves. Are you able to do that, lad?" 

She shrugged. "I suppose."

"Well, you better."

Annie winced as Doc's finger traced the back of her shirt where blood oozed through the material.

"Christopher, you are dismissed. And you, boy, take off that shirt."

Listening to the door close, Annie didn't move.

"Are you deaf, child? Take off your shirt." The longer Annie remained motionless, the harsher Doc's tone became. "I cannot help you if you won't let me treat your injuries, now, can I?"

Annie watched the corners of his mouth strain into a smile. A new strategy had emerged.

"Do you have a name, lad?"

"Andrés, sir," Annie said while she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

"That's a fine name—means brave. My son's name was Andrew."

While Doc retrieved another bottle from the cabinet, Annie quickly unbuttoned her shirt. Once it was off, she pulled it around to her chest before drawing the shirt to her neck. She could not see the shock on Doc's face, but she heard it in his voice.

 "You have open wounds and scars running the length of your back. Who did this to you?"

Annie's answer was brief. "Aunt Mary."

"Why would she do such a thing?"

When the question went unanswered, Doc did not press her further.

"This is going to sting," he said while he rubbed an astringent into her wounds.

Gritting her teeth, Annie did not make a sound.

"You are tougher than you look. Now pull your shirt down, all the way. I need to wrap a dressing around your body."

"I'd rather not," Annie said.

"I'm not asking you to take it off, lad. I'm ordering you to take it off."

Annie closed her eyes. As she held the shirt firmly to her breasts, she knew her days as a cabin boy were over before they even got started. Slowly, she slid the shirt down to her waist.

Doc gasped when he saw the chest of a pubescent female and not that of a young boy. "Oh, my, Andrés isn't your real name, now is it?"

She promptly covered herself. "It's Annie—Annie Moore, sir. I have no place to go. Please don't tell the captain."

He did not reply, but instead gestured for her to remove the shirt again. No sooner had Doc finished wrapping the dressing around Annie's torso, the door opened.

Captain Hawke sauntered into the cabin unannounced.

Annie shot a look at Doc. He stared back and sighed. At least for the moment, she knew her secret was safe.

"Are you going to live, boy?" Captain Hawke asked.

"Yes, sir." With her back to him, Annie quickly threw on her shirt and buttoned it.

"It's 'aye, Captain.' You are a sailor now and you bloody well better talk like one."

"Yes—I mean aye, Captain."

"Since you are going to live, how should we celebrate our good fortune?" Not waiting for an answer, he headed for the door. "Doc, send the boy to my cabin when you are done with him."

As the door slammed shut, Doc and Annie stared at each other. Doc broke the silence. "Where are you from?"

"Surrey County," Annie answered.

"How did you get to London?"

"I snuck a ride in the back of a wagon going to market. The farmer never heard me with all that squawking going on from those chickens, and I had no trouble squeezing in between their cages. I jumped out when he got to the outskirts of London."

 "That explains this." Doc plucked a small feather tangled in Annie's hair. "Won't your family miss you?"

"My cousin Erik will, but no one else will."

"There must be someone."

Annie stared down into her lap. "There was Uncle William, but he…he's dead. And I would rather die myself than go back to live with Aunt Mary. She blames me for his death, says I'm cursed." Her voice trailed off.

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Cursed," Doc said.

"Perhaps I am. My beloved uncle is dead and so are my parents and little sister, too. They died during the influenza outbreak in…"

 "In 1733, eight years ago," Doc said as he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. "That was a bad time, a very bad time.

"I apologize for interrupting you. How did your uncle die?"

 "Four days ago, Uncle William was repairing Lord Spencer's stable roof when he fell off. He split his head wide open. Aunt Mary said if it weren't for me, it never would have happened. 'You're cursed', she said. Then she whipped me bad, but I didn't cry. I would never give her the satisfaction.

"Erik said next time, she would kill me. He gave me some of his brother's clothes and then he cut my hair. He said it would be safer if I pretended to be a boy. Couldn't be an unescorted female in London, now could I."

Doc's brow wrinkled. "Well, you can't very well be an unescorted female aboard this ship, either."