I tried not to combust into an explosion of frustrated desire.

The captain gave me one of his shirts to wear and put on his embroidered robe. Then he had a few words with Boone—probably trying to convince him that anything he might have heard from this room had been a delusion of his own imagination. Then again, I had the feeling Captain Martin didn’t give a damn who knew what he got up to in his quarters.

The men came and removed the tub, then Mr Guthrie brought in some dinner for both of us—a tray with steaming plates of beef and chicken in a thick and savoury broth, which he put on the small table by the window and left.

I was halfway through mine when I realized…

“Hold on. This is chicken,” I said, as the revelation hit me.

“Very good. I thought you only had one talent.”

“Is this…one ofmine?”

The captain looked at me strangely. “What do you mean?”

I put my fork down and stared at the meat on my plate. “Oh my God,” I whispered in horror. “He killed one of my chickens!”

Captain Martin looked astonished for a moment. Then his expression turned to amusement. He laughed as if I’d told an amusing joke.

I scowled.

“Rooster,” he said, smiling at the nickname that fit even more now. “That’s what they’re for.”

“I thought you wanted fresh eggs!” I said, blinking back tears. “If I’d known they were to eat, I wouldn’t have given them all fucking names!”

He sobered, but with some difficulty. “You don’t mean to say that you named the chickens?”

I shrugged, a little embarrassed, but more horrified, at the situation. “I thought it a good way to make friends with them. I named the goats too, but that didn’t work out as well.” I gaped at him. “Will they kill the goats too?”

“Eventually,” Captain Martin said.

“But…but…”

I thought about Lilith and Monty and Gordon.

“Finish your stew, Rooster. You’ve had a long day.”

I crossed my arms. “No thank you. And, anyway, where did the beef come from? Is there a herd of fucking cattle somewhere?”

Captain Martin shook his head. “Just how large do you think this vessel is?”

“The beef. Where did it come from?”

“We looted it, like the goats and chickens. But the beef was already dead and butchered.”

“Oh.”

Captain Martin gazed at me with a tender expression. “Did you really name the chickens?” he asked.

I sniffed, overcome with emotion at the thought of the pretty hens. “Yes.”

“What were their names?” he asked.

“Gladys. And Annie. Stefanie.” My voice got rougher as I spoke because I didn’t know who I’d eaten. “Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth!” he snorted.

I glared at him. “Frances. Mildred. And…Guinevere.”