“Captain wants to see you.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied and jumped up to go.

“Wait. A moment.”

She hated the way he glanced about to see if anyone was near, or even watching them. Didn't he realize that to anyone else that was an obvious signal of something clandestine between them? Worse still, he stepped close to her, to be able to speak more softly.

“Dinner ashore tonight?” He tapped his pouch, so the coins inside gave a jingle. A newly stamped ship's tag hung from his belt beside it.

She shrugged. “If I get liberty, perhaps I will.” She chose deliberately to miss the invitation in his question.

His eyes traveled over her face lingeringly. “That serpent burn is nearly gone. For a time, I feared you'd carry a scar.”

Althea shrugged, refusing to meet the tenderness in his eyes. “What's one more scar on a sailor? I doubt anyone else aboard has noticed it or will.”

“Then you've decided to stay on with the ship?”

“I'll work it as long as we're in port. But I think I've a better chance of getting a ship back to Bingtown from here than from the other little ports the Reaper will visit after this.” She knew she should let it lie at that, but sudden curiosity made her ask, “And you?”

“I don't know yet.” He grinned suddenly at her and confided, “They've offered me second. Almost twice the pay I started out at and it looks much better on a ticket than a third. I might stay aboard her, just for that. I've told them yes, but I haven't signed ship's articles yet.” He was watching her face very carefully as he said, “On the other hand, if we found a sound ship heading back to Bingtown, it might be good to see home again, too.”

Her heart dropped into her belly. No. This mustn't continue. She forced a casual smile to her lips and a laugh. “Now, what are the chances that we'd both end up on the same ship again? Pretty slim, I'd say.”

Still, he watched her so closely. “Depends on how hard we tried,” he offered. He took a breath. “I did put in a word for you here. Said I thought you did more the work of a real sailor than a ship's boy. The first agreed with me. Like as not, that's what the captain wants to see you about, to make you a better offer if you stay on.”

“Thank you,” she said awkwardly. Not because she felt grateful, but because she felt the first sparks of anger kindling. Did he think she needed his “good word” to be seen as an able-bodied seaman? She was well worth the wages they paid a regular hand, especially as she could skin, too. She felt as if he'd cheated her of her dignity and her own worth, by putting in his good word. She should have stopped at that, but heard herself add, “I think they've seen that about me already.”

He knew her too damn well. “I didn't mean it that way,” he hastily apologized. “Anyone can see you're worth your pay. You were always a good sailor, Althea. And your time on the Reaper has made you an even better one. If I had to work rigging in a storm, I'd choose you to be up there with me. A man can count on you, aloft or on deck.”

“Thank you,” she said again, and this time it came out even more awkwardly, for she meant it. Brashen did not give out compliments casually. “I'd best report to the captain if I want to keep his good opinion of me,” she added, as a way to be quickly away from him.

She turned away from him, but he called after her, “I've got liberty. I'm off to the Red Eaves. Good food, and better ale and cheap. See you ashore.”

She hurried away from him, and hoped that by ignoring the odd look Reller sent her way she could dismiss it. Damn him. She'd hoped to live aboard and work the off-loading and resupplying of this ship until she had a berth on another one. But if Brashen made it too awkward, she'd have to go ashore and pay for a room. Her lips were folded tight as she knocked at Captain Sichel's door. She tried to smooth her face into a more presentable expression when she heard his terse, “Come ahead.”

She had only glimpsed the officer's mess once or twice on the trip. Now as she entered it, she found it even less impressive than she had before. True, this was a hard-working ship and oil and meat were messy cargoes, but her father would never have tolerated the clutter she saw here. Captain Sichel sat at the table, while the first stood at his shoulder. There was a strongbox on the table, and a ledger as well as a stack of leather tickets and the ship's seal. She knew that a number of the men had been paid off earlier that day. Those who had come aboard as debtors or prisoners had walked off as free men. True, they'd received no pay to show for the long year aboard the ship, only the stamped leather tag to show they'd put in their time, and a receipt to show their debt worked off. She caught herself wondering what sort of homes most of the men were returning to, or if their homes still existed. Then she felt the captain's expectant stare and called her mind back to herself.

“Reporting, sir,” she told him smartly.

He glanced down at the open ledger before him. “Athel. Ship's boy. And I've a note here that you earned a bonus skinning for us as well. That right, boy?”

“Yessir.” He knew it, she knew it. She waited for whatever else he wanted to say.

He flipped back through another book on the table, and ran his finger down the entries. “I've a note here in the ship's log that it was your quick action that kept our third from being crimped, and yourself as well. Not to mention several men from other ships. And,” he flipped the pages forward to another marker in the logbook, “the mate has noted that on the day we hooked the serpent, your quick action kept another man from going overboard. That so, boy?”

She struggled to keep the grin off her face but could do nothing about the pleased flush that rose to her cheeks. “Yessir,” she managed, and added, “I didn't think anyone had made note of those things.”

The captain's chair creaked as he leaned back in it. “We take more notice of most things than the men aboard suspect. With this large of a crew, and half of them jail scrapings, I depend on my ship's officers to watch closely, to see who is worth his salt and who isn't.” He cocked his head at her. “You came on at Bingtown as a ship's boy. We'd like to keep you on, Athel.”

“Thank you, sir.” And no offer of a raise in either pay or status? So much for Brashen's good word.

“That suits you, then?”

She took a breath. Her father had always preferred honesty in his men. She'd try it here. “I'm not sure, sir. The Reaper's a fine ship, and I've no complaint against her. But I've been thinking I'd like to make my way back to Bingtown, and get there sooner than the Reaper would take me. What I'd like to do, sir, is take my pay and my ticket now, but stay aboard her and work as long as she's in port. And if I didn't find another berth before the Reaper sailed, perhaps I could stay aboard her after all.”

So much for honesty. The captain's look had darkened. Plainly he believed he'd made her a fair bid in offering to keep her on. He wasn't pleased that she'd consider looking about for a better one. “Well. You've a right to your pay and your ticket, of course. But as to your maybe, perhaps attitude, well, we set a great store on loyalty to the ship. Plainly you think you could do better elsewhere.”

“Not better, no sir. The Reaper's a fine vessel, sir, a fine vessel. I was just hoping to find one that would take me home a bit sooner.”

“A sailor's home is his vessel,” Captain Sichel observed heavily.

“Home port is what I meant, sir,” Althea amended weakly. Plainly she was not handling this well.

“Well. Let's tally you out and pay you off. And I'll give you your ticket as well, for I've no quarrel with the job you did. But I won't have you idling about my deck and hoping for a better position. The Reaper is scheduled to sail within the month. If you come back before we up anchor and want your position back, well, we'll see. It may be filled easily, you know.”