Page 17 of If I Go Down with This Ship

“Pip is our cook,” Jack says.“Pip, Laszlo will be working with you.’E’s our new… cabin boy.’E can write and read,” Jack says by way of explanation.

Pip grunts in answer.

“I look forward to working with you,” I say with a smile before Jack gently shoves me out of the kitchen.

Pip doesn’t say anything else, and I hurry ahead, shooting a look of annoyance at Jack as he nudges me a second time.We pass several doors along the way, and I clutch the logbook like a buoy, trying to ignore the glowers thrown in my direction.

“Is there something on my face?Or do they just not trust me?”I ask.

“You did appear out of nowhere wearing Cap’ain’s coat.And being able to read and write, well, it’s a bit…’oity-toity, if you asked them.”

“I just know how to read and write.What’s so hoity-toity about that?”

“A lot.Most of this crew can’t even spell their names.You introduced yourself to Pip like this.”He stands on his tiptoes, places his hands on his hips, straightens his back, and in his best impression of me with my American accent, announces, “‘I look forward to working with you.’”

“Is that so wrong?”

“You’re a proper man, hmm?”Jack laughs.“Some lord in a castle with fancy cloth napkins and spoons?”

Do they not have spoons?

“I’m just trying my best not to get killed.”

“Thatwillget you killed.”He grabs my arm and stops me.“Bit of advice, Laszlo.Just try to blend in, hmm?More you stand out, the more dangerous it is for a fella like you.”

I sigh and clamp my lips together, deciding silence is my only assurance.

Jack takes me to the remaining stores in the hold.Like on George’s replica, the hold iscramped.I can’t stand up straight and am forced to hunker down, tiptoeing around loose rope and other items in the dark, a lantern our only light.The ship sways, and I press my hand holding the quill to the wall for support, biting down on my tongue and trying to think of anything but the ocean.

Of all the things to happen to me,Ihad to be sent back in time aboard a pirate ship actively sailing in the middle of the ocean.

Completely unbothered by the rocking of the ship, Jack motions for me to open the logbook.

I rush to do so, fumbling with the quill pen.My hands are shaking, the ink already blotting the page and staining my fingers.Jack’s eyes glitter as he watches me, lips pressed together as though holding laughter at bay.

“Is there something I can do to get them to trust me?”I whisper.

Ignoring me, Jack begins counting.Most of the crew has been snickering nonstop, bending close to whisper to each other, their eyes tracking my every movement.I swear I can hear them from down here.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m even whispering, but it feels as if, even with the activity on the ship and the roar of the ocean beyond, they can hear everything.

When Jack doesn’t respond, keeping his head angled away as his lips move silently, I lean back against a beam, alarmed to feel the weight of my phone pressing into my thigh.Right.Phone.I forgot I have a phone in my pocket aboard a pirate ship three hundred years before cell phones are invented.

With Jack’s back turned, I balance the open logbook in one hand and slip my phone discreetly out of my pocket before holding down the power button through the clear bag Louise gave me and clumsily typing in my passcode.The icon appears on my screen right as Jack pauses his counting to grin at me over his shoulder.I jump in surprise, hiding my phone behind my back, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“I—I thought no one else could count,” I say, trying to distract him.

“I can count up to twenty and no further,” he says, scratching his chin.“You really don’ know what you’re ’ere to do, do you, Laszlo?”

I shake my head, surveying the dark, narrow space as if hedidn’t just catch me, a time-traveling fool, with technology from the future.Scanning the dim hold seems to do the trick.It’s eerie, being down this deep in the ship, uncomfortable knowing that water surrounds us even now, slashing the sides of the ship, sending us teetering this way and that.My legs feel wobbly, my shoes slipping over the damp floor, unable to find purchase.

Jack returns his attention to the stores, and I quickly slip my phone into my pocket.

“Cabin boys,” Jack says as he shifts a barrel, dragging it between his legs, “are essentially assistants, apprentices.You do what the crew needs you to.What Captain Night needs you to.”He wipes an arm across his forehead before returning to the counting.

I frown, setting aside the logbook to stoop and help him lift another barrel.On the way up, I bang my head against the ceiling, and, hissing, I rub the spot.

“Is this even that important of a role?”I ask as he reaches for another barrel.