Page 22 of Saved By the Selkie

“But someone should tell him,” I protest.

“Not you,” she says. She glances at the door again. “C’mon—if you disappear, they might forget what they were fighting about.”

I doubt that, but she clicks her heels and takes off toward the armory. I glance over my shoulder, then decide to follow her advice and duck into the shadows.

thirteen

Aramis

have never been so glad to see Newfoundland in my life. It’s not exactly my favorite place, but after the brawl last night, I’m grateful to put into port—any port.

Nobody will tell me exactly what happened last night. Porthos is nursing a nasty black eye, and Anna is tight-lipped. Johan has a cut on his forehead that’s likely going to scar. A few of the other crew members are battered and bruised, but they’re all sullen and refusing to talk.

My best guess is they were fighting about food, which is why I’m glad we’re putting in. I’m not sure what would happen if we tried to sail on to Boston or even just to Halifax. Nothing good, I suppose, if last night is anything to go by.

All I know for sure is a brawl broke out in the mess, and I was only alerted to it by Anna firing a couple of warning shots. That got everybody calmed down enough—Anna’s a deadly shot—but no one is happy.

I’m a little concerned about leaving the boat, but it has to be done. I’m the one with the money, and I’m not trusting anyone else to handle it. I’ll go buy salt pork and pickled herring, and everyone should be happy enough. Maybe, if we’re lucky, I can get some preserves. Fresh loaves of bread tonight, and real ale at an alehouse. That should put everyone to rights.

I bring Johan with me, since he seems to have been an instigator last night, if Anna’s vague account is anything to go on. Better to have him with me, I figure; if I leave him alone with the crew, who knows what he might do?

The first stop is the general store. The proprietor has a heavy mustache, and he seems distinctly displeased to see us. He can’t sell us much—a barrel of fish or two, but that’s about it. Seems like we’re not the only ones putting into port with a need for supplies.

I’m a bit surprised; it’s October, which is late in the season. There’s frost in the air, and I saw ice creeping at the edges of a pond as we came into town. Sea ice takes longer to form, but we’ll have to get back underway shortly, or we might be spending the winter in this harbor.

I feel my coin purse bouncing at my hip; it’s light, and it will be even lighter once we’ve paid in full for the supplies. I can’t imagine there will be much left, not after I pay for the boys and their drinking habits at the alehouse tonight, nor after I pay the doctor to come look after those with wounds.

“You could get rid of him,” Johan says; his voice is rough, and when I turn to him, his dark gaze is pinned on me, almost angry.

“Who?” I ask.

“Who do you think?” he almost sneers. “Your pet piggy—he’s eating all our supplies.” His lip curls in distaste. “If it weren’t for him, we could’ve made it back to Boston.”

“If it weren’t for him,” I say sharply, “we wouldn’t be heading back at all.”

Johan watches me for a minute. Then he leans in close and says, “He ain’t natural, that one.”

I barely spare him a glance. “Ain’t nothing wrong with it,” I tell him flatly. Plenty of sailors have relationships with one another—sometimes closer than man and wife. Crews sometimes spend years together.

“No,” Johan insists, “he ain’t natural.” He pauses to ensure he has my attention. “He’s not human.”

I frown. “Did Porthos hit you so hard he knocked some screws loose?”

Johan hisses at me, touching a hand to the wound on his forehead. “You know it,” he accuses. “You know what he is—that he ain’t like you and me. You’ve seen it—those teeth?”

He scowls at me and pushes a finger against my chest. “He’s got you under some kinda spell, cap’n, and it’s causing all kinds of strife for the crew. He’s gonna tear us all apart, and it’s gonna be your fault.”

I push him away with apshaw. “I’ll have the doctor look at you first. You’ve clearly been at sea too long.”

“He ain’t right, and I’ll prove it to ya!” he shouts.

My heart beats a little faster, thinking of Lir’s pelt, hidden away in a locked trunk in my chambers. Did Johan snoop around and find it? Or did he catch me with it, maybe spotted it when I’d accidentally left a corner of it hanging out of the chest?

“I don’t know what you’re going to prove,” I huff, “seeing as how he seems perfectly normal to me.”

Johan sighs heavily, shaking his head. He glowers at me, and I almost feel bad about keeping secrets from my crew.