Page 42 of The Noble's Merman

Kent turned to face him, throwing an arm around Mo’s waist. “That was amazing, Mo.”

The merman smirked, and turned in the water as well, pulling Kent in for a snug embrace. “It was. I feel… oh, I feel wonderful.”

Kent nuzzled closer, burying his nose into the crook of Mo’s neck. “I, as well.” Then, he laughed at an absurd thought. “When I return home, I’ll walk back with Kathy and Biscuit. She can ride her. I don’t think my rear could deal with it.”

That got Mo to laugh as well. “No, I suppose not.” He gently caressed Kent’s shoulder as he dug his nose into Kent’s hair. “I know you must go home, but… I don’t want to let you go. I wish we could just stay here together.”

More than anything, the idea of falling asleep, nestled in Mo’s arms as they drifted into pleasant dreams sounded like an amazing prospect. But as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t abandon Katherine, he had business to attend to the next day, and he didn’t know how safe it would be for either of them to sleep exposed on the beach like this. “I wish we could, too. But we have a lot to look forward to in the coming days.”

Kent felt Mo nod against his head. “Yes, you’re right.”

“I’m to meet with the crew tomorrow, then the day after I shall meet with you again to inform you of what they say. And—like you said before, it should be all right. In five day’s time, I’ll set sail, and then… we’ll be together.”

Mo held him tighter. “Yes, we will.”

FIFTEEN

It was an understatement to say Kent was sore.

Laying in his bed wasn’t so bad, but sitting down caused him to ache if he didn’t position himself carefully. Hopefully none of the other lads he were to meet tonight would notice anything off. Nerves piled in his gut as the time came, riding into Portsmouth on Biscuit. As much as he didn’t want to sit on her, it was either that, arrange for a post-chaise, or walk. Walking to and from Portsmouth was well out of the question with how terribly long the trek would be, and he wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible, and a post-chaise was anything but. Biscuit it was.

He arrived at the tavern he last saw Charles Davies at, passport in his pocket, hoping he wasn’t too late for their meeting. Thankfully he wasn’t, as Davies himself caught sight of Kent and ushered him to a side room. Kent figured the captain must’ve rented this room out specifically for this gathering, as a means to have privacy. It held a large wooden table in the middle with a dozen men sitting all around it, chattering away, clinking the drinks in their hands. Surely there must’ve been more men not present who’d also join them on the ship, but Kent supposed it was more a meeting for the main crew than everyone else. A handsome man with long blond hair and a large, feathered, black tricorn hat stood instead of sitting at the far end, talking to the other men with an air of authority. He seemed about the same age as Davies, possibly mid-thirties. Is he the captain? It was hard to make out any words since everyone seemed to be speaking at once. Sunlight from small circular windows not unlike a ship’s cast its way in, showcasing nautical decorations littered on the walls and shelving. A prelude for what was to come.

Davies shut the door to the room, walking up behind Kent and giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Saved a spot near the captain for you, Fareham.”

“Ah, thank you.” Kent nodded, noticing two empty chairs: one for himself, and likely the second for Davies. He walked toward it around the table, along the windowed wall, Davies right behind him.

The blond man perked up, catching sight of them approaching. “Oh, now who could this be? Davies, is this the new surgeon?”

“Yes, indeed, Captain,” Davies cheered.

“Brilliant. All right lads, all right!”

The captain waved his hands to calm down the ruckus, catching everyone’s attention. Voices turned to whispers, then to almost nothing as Kent stood behind his chair, shifting from foot to foot. Davies, like he’d guessed, stood by the one in-between him and the captain. The men nodded their heads not quite in unison as Kent did the same back, tipping his tricorn hat to them.

“As you all may know by now, our surgeon, Walter Harris, has mysteriously vanished. For almost three days, no one has seen or heard from him since,” the captain said. That got some people to whisper betwixt each other. “But fear not! Whether Harris comes or goes does not matter, as we have found a volunteer to travel with us in his absence. A stroke of luck, such incredible timing that we encountered this man here, willing to step away from his life on land and help us to deliver this necessary shipment to Fall River.”

The men let out a small cheer, some even clapping. Kent thought he even heard a comment from one of them amongst the noise—good riddance, I never liked Harris anyway. It was the same sort of sentiment he remembered Davies held when he’d first spoken to him, and it also was reflected in the strategic words the captain used. Curiosity buzzed in his mind—they must’ve only dealt with Harris because they had no one better. A persona non grata. To which, Kent thought his own mind was being rather rude, and he held back a snicker. Regardless, he was grateful to be here, however it happened to line up.

“And so, welcome,” the captain continued, addressing Kent directly. “I am Nathaniel Brooks, Captain of The Sterling Mer. I am glad to have you here. What is your name?”

Kent gulped, brushing the sweat from his hands on the front of his frock coat. “Kent Wilson, Viscount Fareham, sir.”

“Kent? As in Kent County?” he heard one of the men further back mutter.

“Yes, Kent,” he replied. He was used to people finding his Christian name strange, at this point in his life. “My mother had me whilst traveling in Kent, and gave me the name because of it.”

“Besides,” Davies interjected, “he is of nobility! Lord Fareham, as you may refer to him.”

“Just Fareham is fine,” said Kent. “If we are to be on this ship together as brethren, I don’t wish for you all to consider me more important just because of my status.”

Captain Brooks smiled at him then. “I like that sentiment.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please—Captain Brooks, or even just Brooks is fine,” he said warmly.

Kent flushed, then nodded. “All right.”

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