Page 33 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“Good morning, Captain Martin.”

Donatello chuckled. “That’s a very formal greeting for a cabin boy who’s probably been fucked sideways three times by now.”

The captain gave Donatello a look. “That’s no reason to give up on decorum.”

Donatello laughed. “If you say so.”

I yawned and stretched. “He hasn’t done it to me sideways yet, in actual fact. And he usually calls me Rooster.”

At this, Donatello laughed louder and raised his eyes at Captain Martin.

“Because of the—” I gestured at my hair.

“My goodness. That’s gone quite red, hasn’t it? And are those”—Donatello peered closer—“freckles?”

“Aye, they’re freckles. It weren’t all dirt, you know.”

“You know, Rooster, you can call me Dinesh,” Captain Martin said to me, coming over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

I shrugged and fiddled with the bedclothes. “I like to call you Captain Martin.”

“That’s fine. Whichever you like.”

“Thank you.”

He pointed to a pile of folded garments on the chair by the bed. “There are new clothes for you there. Do you have a pair of shoes that are relatively clean?”

“Aye.”

“Do they fit?”

“Well enough.”

“You’ll be happy for them if you ever have to climb into the rigging. You need to wear shoes if you’re going to be…uh…working…so close with me. Appearances must be kept up. Can’t have you running around barefoot like a heathen.”

I blinked at the captain. Appearances? “You had your bare cock up my arse, didn’t you?”

He had the courtesy to blush as Donatello cleared his throat and tried not to laugh.

“Yes, but there was no risk of blistering or splinters.”

He had a point. And I had a question.

“What you said about climbing the rigging…Do you think… Do you think I might have to do that? Is that a part of this”—I glanced at Donatello—“job?”

“Well, you never know what you might have to do on a vessel such as this. We’re a crew, and everyone does what they have to do, in times of need,” the captain said. “But it’s not a task I’ll expect of you on the regular.”

I nodded.

I had just the slightest issue with heights, so I was hoping I’dneverbe called upon to climb the rigging. I’d watched the others scrabble up the ropes, and that alone terrified me. I half expected someone to come crashing to the deck every fucking day. But the seasoned crew members scampered up and down like spiders, as if they’d been born to the task.

“Rooster, this is my quartermaster, Anthony Donatello. Anthony, this is Simon White.”

Donatello gave me a little bow. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Hello,” I said.

“Mr White,” Donatello said, the corners of his lips twitching. “How are you this lovely morning?”

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