Page 28 of Maggie and the Pirate’s Son

He grinned, the nearly invisible scar on his cheek giving a slight twitch.

“For nighttime and cloudy days,” she answered her own question.

Bash winked. “The magnet’s even more precise than the sun. And knowing where you’re going’s only half the battle. You’ve also got to know where you are.”

Maggie wasn’t sure she’d ever known where she was, let alone where she was going, never more so than right now.

“That’s where the astrolabe comes in,” he said, placing the compass in his pocket and leading her to a heavy brass ring which hung from the rigging.

The astrolabe was much larger than the compass, etched with numbers around the edge. A double-pointed arm spun freely around the disk.

“You line up the sight with the sun or lodestar. Obviously don’t look directly into the sun,” Bash explained, turning his back on the sun so a shadow fell across the vane.

Maggie watched in awe, only half listening as he explained how he used the shadows and mathematics to calculate something or other about distance and what all.

“From there you’ve got a pretty good notion how far north or south you are. We’ve a backstaff as well, of course. It’s best for measuring the noon sun.”

“And then more mathematics?” Maggie asked.

“Aye.” Bash grinned.

She’d never realized how much learning was required in order to be a proper pirate. “I was never much good at mathematics,” she confessed. “I suppose I wasn’t meant to be.”

The astrolabe felt solid and sturdy in her hands as she studied it and spun the vane. “Do you turn it sideways to do east and west?”

“ ’Fraid not. That’s where the reckoning comes in,” he said with another wink. “Come.” He motioned for her to follow. “It’s salmagundi tonight.”

Though Maggie’s head still spun with a million questions, she let him lead the way down the hatch and through to the galley.

“Ho, knave, been swinging the lead?” Roo, asked, tossing Maggie a different sort of wink.

She lifted her chin and said, “I climbed the rigging.”

“And back down again in one piece? My, you are brave,” Roo said, handing her a plate. Then he eyed Bash cautiously. “An ill wind blows, Bashy,” he said.

“Wind’ll change,” Bash replied, stoically taking his own plate.

“And if it don’t?” the cook asked, showing a toothy grin that Maggie suspected was meant to scare her.

“You’ve been sailing long enough to know it always changes, Rooijakkers.”

Roo cackled. Maggie found it quite unnerving.

“And it if doesn’t, I’ve always wanted to raid the colonies,” Bash added, motioning for Maggie to head into the dining room, conversation over.

Slouching onto a bench, Maggie could hear her mother’s chiding voice reminding her to Sit up straight, elbows off the table, Miss, and she did so out of habit. Then she glanced at the posture of the men all around her and slumped back down, resting her elbows where she wanted with delight.

Salmagundi turned out to be a rather nice salad of lettuce and chopped meat, which she supposed must be a delicacy they wouldn’t have for much longer, so she relished every bite.

Maggie watched with interest as the others settled into familiar groups. Duffy, Samson, and Langley played a quiet game with rectangular bone tiles, while O’Riordan, Balthasar, and some others played a rowdy hand of cards.

“Why don’t you ever play with them?” she asked Bash.

“What, Ruff?”

“ ’Acause he doesn’t know how, ain’t that right, Nav?” Balthasar called.

Bash shook his head at the jibe. “Drink your bumbo.”