Page 47 of If I Go Down with This Ship

“What are you doing with those?”I ask, frowning.

Using a wire ladle, Pip gently drops the eggs in.“Rather, what arewedoin’ with these.I like to poach my eggs with the broth.Add in a bit of lime for taste and beatin’ off the scurvy.”

I stare down at the pile of limes before me.Does Pip consider this many limes to be “a bit”?Although I know nothing about scurvy, the muscles in my jaw ache from the thought of this much lime juice.

“Won’t the eggs taste a bit… odd with lime?”

“Hasn’t failed me yet.”He pats me on the shoulder.“Been doin’ this for years now.Trust me.”

Those words threaten to pull me down again, but I grip my knife tighter, pushing the memory away.With a sigh, I slice open the limes and begin squeezing them over the pot.Myfingers ache with the movements, the lime juice stinging my open cuts, but I don’t stop until I’ve gone through the “small” pile he’s brought me.

Seriously, how many limes do you need to fight off scurvy?

When the cabbage and carrots are cut, I clean up my station and nod to Pip as I hurry out, dying to escape the heat of the mess and Pip’s scrutiny.Laughing, I step over Sir at the base of the steps, splayed out with his belly up, content with the pressing heat.

I have something of a routine now, which is refreshing after being pulled in every direction.And it helps keep my mind off things—namely kissing Captain Night.When I wake in the early mornings, I help prep breakfast with Pip.We first serve it to the night crew, already working, and slowly stagger it as the day crew wakes and joins us on the deck.

Pip and I wash the dishes, and he packs up the food for later as I head to rigging to help the new master rigger, Huxley, or Hux for short.Hux is a strange little man.Even as I sidle up next to him under the midday sun, he puffs out his chest and narrows his eyes like he is the most important man aboard this ship.And though he puts on a brave, confident face, it would seem he knows little about sailing, and even less about rigging.

“I don’t think that’s how…” I trail off as he fights against the lines.I stop what I’m doing to watch him.My god, even I would make a better master rigger than he.Where I tug, my actions swift and targeted, he puts his all into it until his face is beet red and the veins along his neck and forehead pop.He grinds his teeth, and I swear, even over the sound of the crew and the splash of the waves,I can hear it.

Hux curses under his breath, his wrist caught up in a rope.I’m not even sure what he is trying to do, but whatever it is, it’s not turning out as he planned.I reach out as though to help him, but he waves me away and grumbles to himself.

Turning away, I spot Mick across the deck.He’s speaking low to Jack, their faces wearing matching concern.Jack nods before hopping up the stairs toward the helm and Clancy.Rolling my eyes and tying off my line, I cross to Mick, weaving through the crew before coming to a stop in front of him.

Mick ignores me for a long moment, but when I don’t leave, he sighs, leaning back against the railing.His eyes go to Hux over my shoulder.

“What is it?”Mick asks with a raised brow.

“You know what it is, Mick.Hux doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Mick smiles and crosses his arms over his chest.“And you do?Has our Laszlo moved up in the world?”

“No, not particularly, but it’s not going well.”I motion to Hux by the foremast.“I mean, just look at him!”

Hux is still dangling from the rope, muttering to himself as he tries to undo a series of knots.Really, you’d think anyone else on this ship would be more qualified, but it seems there are even worse pirates aboardShe Deceitfulthan me.

Suddenly Eddie pops up behind Mick, and I jolt back.“Sorry,” he says.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!”I chide.I press a hand to my chest, my pulse beating frantically.

Eddie and Mick frown.“A what?”they say in unison.

Oh.Oh.

Oh, fuck, I’m not a doctor, and I know nothing about the origins of the term.When did they coin the term “heart attack”?Did people know what a heart attack was before theycoined the term?The space-time continuum must be fraying as we speak.

I wave my hand in dismissal.“Don’t worry about it.”

With a frown, Eddie holds up his hands in surrender.“I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re having some difficulties with Hux in rigging?”

“Well, yes.”

“Would you say that—”

“Don’t do it,” Mick says, eyes narrowing.

“—he’s leaving you hanging?”