Page 18 of If I Go Down with This Ship

“Ah, but it is, and you’re a stranger, that’s why the crew doesn’t trust you.”He claps me on the shoulder.“It’ll take time, but they’ll come to trust you.We all ’ave to start somewhere, and you ’ave a bit more to learn than most.”

But Captain Night had known.He’d let me live, sure, but if they don’t even trust me, what’s the point?

I don’t know how Captain Night feels about me, not truly, but right now, down in this cargo hold, I feel so alone.But I’m not here to make friends; I’m here to survive and find a way off this ship and back to my time.

And perhaps gather a bit of research in the meantime.

When Jack and I finish counting the supplies and storage,jotted down in my sloppy script, Jack sequesters the logbook.He pauses in the mess as he checks over my work.Though he can’t read, I can tell that he sees the dots of ink splattering the page, the way my letters stop and stutter.

“Your ’andwriting is terrible,” he says as he abandons me to Pip.

Presumably having overheard us, Pip cackles.He slaps me on the shoulder almost affectionately as I move to join him.With a mop of curling salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a matted bun, Pip reminds me a bit of my uncle Ralph.He wears a leather apron over his loose, stained shirt, his brown boots the worse for wear.And as I sidle up next to him and begin peeling the last of the potatoes, I come to realize that Pip smells far better than anyone else aboard.

I didn’t notice it before.It’s so faint that at first, I think I’m imagining it, but when I lean past him to grab a potato from the pile, I take a big whiff, and Ismellit.

“How is that possible?”I ask, setting down my knife.“You smell… well, no offense,” I say as Pip snorts, “but you smell nearlyclean.”

“It’s the tea leaves,” Pip says with a proud nod, dropping a small dash of spices into the pot.“When I take off me clothes at night, I rub tea leaves into them and me shoes.”He breathes deeply before grinning from ear to ear.I try not to think about the fact that he sleeps naked, that several others probably do as well, and that I still knownothingabout pirate hygiene.How do they shower or bathe?Where do they go to the bathroom?

“It works wonders, it does.You should have smelled the crew after that storm we hit last year.No fresh water ferdays, and by the time we made landfall, this ship smelled like a thirteen-year-old boy who’d sprouted his first chest hair.”

“That’s quite the image.Going back to the tea leaves, do you brew them yourself, or—”

“Oh, no, I use leftover leaves from Cap’ain’s tea.Let it all sort of… clump together, you know.”

I’m not certain tea leaves, particularly those used in someone else’s tea, are hygienic, but I suppose if Pip has used them for some time, it’s not harmful enough to cause any worrying… yet.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, taking a mental note to jot that down later.Not for me, but for the book.

We work in silence for a long beat, the rocking ship almost peaceful, until Pip’s voice slices through it.“Yer lucky our captain didn’t kill you.”

I can’t put my finger on why, but this crew has the uncanny ability to think everything is one way or the other, seeing the world in black and white.To them, there are no compromises to be made.

Grunting, I toss my potato into the pile and reach for another, my hands slowing as I fall into a rhythm with the knife.“Is that right?”I ask, deciding it best not to talk about my near miss with death.

Pip nods solemnly, lips dripping down.

“Cap’ain’s been in a right foul mood since that raid.Would’ve been a large score, too, but damn that man, we were betrayed.Lost half our crew, we did.”

Sir hops up onto the counter.He drops a dead, half-eaten mouse next to Pip and stares expectantly at the older man as he settles his butt down, all four paws neatly together and chest puffed out.Pip laughs as he pinches the mouse’s tail, holds it in front of his mouth, mimics nibbling on it, and tosses it intothe empty bucket on the counter between us before offering a small strip of meat to the cat.Sir takes the offering and hops down, disappearing with his prize.

Even the cat works for his place aboard this ship.

I set down my knife, trying not to stare at the little mouse carcass in the bucket between us.“How were you betrayed?”

Pip sighs, returning to stirring the pot, his expression distant.“Wish I knew, but we were.Not much we can do now, but we need this next score ’fore we have to make land.”

He and I return to work, standing close to each other, chopping, slicing, and peeling in companionable silence for the rest of the meal prep.It’s quieter down here in the mess than up on deck.Though the ship creaks and I can hear the soft sounds of the water lapping against the side of the ship, it’s almost calming.Peaceful.

Certainly less terrifying than being trapped in the hold.

Pip has me ring the bell, and the loud trilling sound makes me laugh as the crew shuffles quickly down the stairs, filling the mess.They form a somewhat orderly line, which is a bit of a surprise, but I’ve noticed Captain Night runs a tight crew with an even tighter schedule.

“Not bad for your first meal, eh?”Jack asks as he slurps from the edge of his bowl.

According to Pip, the crew sold half their silverware last time they made land, so we’re all left to slurp or use our fingers for tonight’s stew.So yes, apparently having spoonsisconsidered fancy around these parts.

But this is not sanitary, not sanitary at all.