Page 19 of If I Go Down with This Ship

“I’m rather surprised at the offerings.I suppose I suspected the worst,” I say, cradling my bowl for warmth.Though the sunhas been out since I appeared on this ship, clouds are rolling in, and the warmth has quickly dissipated, a chill settling in and seeping through my thin layers.

Mick makes a joke, but I’m unable to focus, searching the faces of the crew just as Captain Night saunters in.He stops at the edge of the swinging tables and runs a hand through his patchy stubble, head swiveling until he spots me across the mess.He says nothing, expression stony as Pip hands him a large helping of the stew.

“Won’t you eat with us, Cap’ain?”Jack asks.

Captain Night smiles, and it’s truly something to behold.It’s the kind of smile that makes my tongue go dry and the words stick in my throat, that makes my collar suddenly too tight and my hands clammy.

Don’t, Laszlo, don’t even think about it.

“If you’ll have me.”

The crew cheers and makes space for him on the bench across from me.I’m keenly aware of his long legs, of the way his knee brushes mine as he relaxes in his seat.We’re just two tall people, left to fill a narrow space, and he is close, too goddamn close.

Choking on a bite of stew, I lean away on the bench and consider our measly crew.Our.When did I begin to think of us as a group?Half a day trapped aboard this vessel, and already several of them have wormed their way into my heart.Jack with his crooked smile, Pip with his gentle touch and gentler mentoring, Mick with his full belly laugh, and even Eddie, with his terrible jokes.

The crew squeezes onto three rather than six of the tables, leaving the others to sway like ghosts on the waves.They skirt around the empty places where their friends once sat, and theypeer over their shoulders at the swinging tables that must once have been as full of life as these three are now.

When I try to concentrate on my bowl, mindful not to touch Captain Night’s legs under the table, I find him watching me, face carefully blank.Heat creeps up my neck, spilling into my cheeks, and he must be able to read my thoughts, to see what I’m thinking, because his boot presses against mine under the table as if in reassurance.I don’t dare move, or even blink.

“How about a joke, Eddie?”Captain Night asks, still fixated on me.

Eddie perks up, ignoring the mutters and sighs around us.“Oh, I’ve got a good one!”He claps his hands together and leans in.“Why don’t most pirates know how to read or write?”

“Why?”Captain Night asks.

Eddie is already snickering at his own joke when he says, “Because they spend years at ‘c’!”

I press a fist to my mouth to keep from laughing, and cough as Jack nudges me with his elbow.It shouldn’t be funny, but it is, and for someone who can’t read, it’s a clever play on words.It riles the crew up, some laughing, others groaning in response.But Eddie sits there in his seat with a wide smile as he grabs his ale and takes a long, celebratory drink of it.

Captain Night’s foot doesn’t move.If anything, it pushes harder on mine, insistent, as if he doesn’t want me to leave the spot across from him.I couldn’t if I wanted to.I’m frozen.Is he flirting with me?I wonder.He couldn’t be.Considering where we are, who we are, when we are, it’s impossible.

“Tarly!”Mick calls over the noise of the crew, and I flinch.The crew is laughing and talking, a chorus of voices filling the damp space as they move on from Eddie’s joke.Mick motionsto a young man at the end of our table, raising his voice over the others.“Won’t you play us a song, Tarly?”

I set down the stew, swiveling in my seat to get a good look at the man.Tarly stands at the end of the table, reaching for an instrument, a lyre of sorts.He is a large tan man with a soft glow to his cheeks and a smile that lights up his face.His hair is shaggy and pulled into a makeshift ponytail by a leather cord.Over his shirt he wears a red vest that has since faded in color with matching red pantaloons and well-shined black boots.Other than Captain Night, he seems the most put-together of the crew.

In a thick, Scottish accent he asks, “Do ye ’ave any requests?”

Captain Night smiles and steeples his hands on the table before him.“The one about the captain’s cabin,” he says, winking at me.“That’s my favorite.”

I turn away quickly, face heating.That wink sent a full-body shiver straight to my toes, making me a gelatinous mess.The pit in my stomach bottoms out, both fear and excitement melting together in an odd, intoxicating mix that makes me question everything I know.

Tarly salutes Captain Night.“You’ve got it, Cap’ain.”

I don’t know what to do with this, I don’t know how I’m meant to feel or react as Captain Night’s boot remains pressed up against mine, and the thought finds me again:Is the captain flirting withme?No, no, he couldn’t be.

Either way, whatever he intends, all I know is I don’t ever want him to stop.

7In Sea Major

Idon’t know what to do with my hands, if I should get up or stay seated, remove my foot or press it closer.In truth, I don’t want to move; I want him to do something, anything else so I know what this is, what his intentions are.And oh, do I want there to be intent, much as I know I shouldn’t.He’s the captain.He’s a stranger.Hell, he held a blade to my throat.And if it’s difficult enough being a bi man in my time, it can’t be any easier now, right?

And yet.

Captain Night raises a brow at me as the first string of music is played, as if the plucked notes drew up his brow and released it.I yearn to smooth my thumb over it, to press my hand to his cheek and force him to look me in the eye as I ask him what game he’s playing at.

Tarly adjusts the strings, sucking on his cheek as he picks them expertly before nodding to himself.And, in a surprisinglymelodic voice, Tarly begins to sing, starting out slow and haunting before picking up.

There is one place ’board every ship