Page 22 of Maggie and the Pirate’s Son

For a time she stood idle, watching him use his spyglass to examine the water and the clouds as he’d done each day before. “Can you see all the way back to Scotland?” she asked, and he laughed.

“See for yourself,” he said, tossing her the glass.

Maggie caught it awkwardly and examined its length, an appealing blend of mahogany and brass, warm to the touch, smooth and sturdy.

“Hold it here,” he explained, stepping behind her and moving her left hand down the extended shaft. “Gently. And keep both eyes open.”

Hardly breathing, Maggie opened her left eye and relaxed it, peering through the narrow end with her right.

“What do you see?” he asked softly.

“A blur of blue and”—she flinched away from the eye piece—“blinding light.”

Taking her shoulders, Bash turned her more to the west so the sun bouncing off the surf would be less intense.

“To focus, expand the middle section.” He put his hand gently on hers, twisting the shaft with excruciating patience, and suddenly the wave crests clarified before her eyes along with one—no, two—no, three dolphins leaping out of the water so clearly they seemed close enough to touch. He took his hand away then, and she bobbled the scope, almost dropping it over the railing and into the churning wake below.

She glanced quickly at Bash who stared at her, wide-eyed, and puffed air out of his cheeks, but she couldn’t help a giddy laugh as she braced for the yelling and relinquished his precious spyglass.

“Have you never seen dolphins before?” he asked, surprise but no anger lacing his decidedly-not-yelling voice.

“Never so close or so many.” There was a whole family of them out there now that she knew where to look, splashing and twirling with glee. “I suppose it’s commonplace for you.”

He shrugged, smiling softly as he watched the creatures play. “Never gets tiresome though. Even seeing them in Lewis as a boy didn’t compare to the first time an entire pod joined us on the open sea.”

Maggie grinned at him, delighted to find a kindred spirit and relieved he wasn’t going to shout at her for the near miss with his spyglass. She leaned on the railing as far out as she dared, laughing with glee to see the dolphins frolic as if putting on a show just for her.

The sound of flapping canvas brought her attention back to the masts and sails, her sails, for they were hers now she’d mended them. They snapped and billowed in the breeze, her stitches holding tight as Bash had assured her they would. Maggie breathed in the mingled scents of citrus and brine and, realized she felt rather content. Perhaps she was born for piracy all along, with her mannish hands and uselessness at cooking.

“Cap should be at his loblolly by now,” Bash said, interrupting her thoughts. “Down one level, all the way aft. Run, fast as you can. Don’t stop for anyone else, and let him know the wind has shifted again. Then come straight back.”

Excitement surged in her stomach at being given such an errand. “Me?”

“Aye,” he answered gravely. “ ’Tis what cabin boys do, Magnus.”

She nodded at his warning and headed down below.

Already she’d forgotten how dark it was inside the ship, and she stood awkwardly beside the ladder, blinking to make her eyes adjust. Then she tiptoed past rows of hammocks, many of which still held sleeping, farting, snoring, naked sailors, and she realized how much better she’d had it curled up on the floor of Bash’s alcove.

“Well hello, cabin boy,” said Balthasar, the instigator from the canteen her first night. He stepped out of the shadows to block her path. “Lose your way? It can be tricky hereabouts.”

When he put a hand on her arm, it made her bowels loosen, and she took a step back, bumping into another sailor who grinned down at her with fetid breath.

She opened and closed her mouth and then forced out her haughtiest tone. “I’ve an important message for the captain.”

“Oh, beg pardon, beg pardon,” Balthasar said, bowing but not moving out of her way.

She licked her lips. “Bash says I’m to come straight back.”

“Well, we don’t want to make Nav unhappy, now do we?”

The other pirate snickered, so Maggie tried another tack, rubbing her backside absently. “I certainly don’t,” she confided.

“Gave you a good hiding, did he? Must have done, and you still feeling it a week later.”

“No more’n the brat deserved.” The other pirate spit on the floor. “We run out of drink, it’s on your head, younker.”

“Well get on ’afore ye earn another,” Balthasar said with a little too much glee like he’d enjoy watching her be whipped. Finally, he stepped out of her way, and she scurried off to rap on the captain’s door, gulping to try and steady her breathing.