Page 39 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“Where can I dump this?” I asked.

He gestured to the bow. “By the head is the best place. Over the rail.”

“Really? Not on the foredeck?” I asked, sarcastically.

He frowned. “You always this annoying?”

“So they say.”

“Christ,” Boone said, rolling his eyes. “The captain’s got his hands full with you, then.”

Oh, I’d say that the captain would have his handsveryfull with me. Every bloody day and night, if I had my way.

Chapter Five

Houseboy

It took me the larger part of three hours to tidy and dust the captain’s quarters. Why so long, you ask? Well, Captain Martin had decided that his rooms needed a thorough going-over if I were to receive my own later in the day. He’d given me very specific instructions as to how he wanted the rooms attended to, including the implements that I was to use to achieve my ends. Boone knew where all the supplies were, and I wondered if he’d had this duty before I’d taken over. He gave me some clean linen rags for dusting broad surfaces, a painter’s brush for dealing with cracks and crevices, and a push broom for sweeping, although I eyed the bristles with more lascivious thoughts for a moment.

The task of cleaning the captain’s quarters turned out to be a less onerous job than I’d expected and a good way to acquaint myself with the contents of the room, which were varied and fascinating. The furniture—a mahogany desk and dresser, straight chair, and the carved bed frame, were high-quality pieces, especially for the sorts of men on theArrow. Not that I was an expert on privateering vessels, but I had heard them to be sparse and utilitarian. However, if theArrowhad originally been a navy frigate, the captain’s quarters would have been well fitted up, and it didn’t look like they’d changed that.

There was a large spyglass on a stand by the window, and I took a moment to peer through the eyepiece. What wonderful luck if I’d spotted a ship or an island in the distance. But there was only a huge span of water, which should have given me comfort.

We’d yet to come into battle, and although an exciting prospect, I was terrified of having to expose myself to cannon fire and swordplay, not to mention small arms fire. I wasn’t particularly practiced in the art of hand-to-hand combat, although I was good one-to-one with my fists and my dagger.

Truth be told, my best weapon was my tongue, and I didn’t mean in the bedroom. I’d flattened many opponents with one or two barbed insults in my time. Confidence, mostly, and giving them a look down the nose so they felt inferior, even if only a ruse. I could indeed be a hellcat when I chose to be, but I didn’t know if that would be helpful in a massive skirmish. Likely be too chaotic all around to get any good insults in, and the men we’d be fighting might not even speak English.

Basically, unless I came under protection of the captain or some of the crew, or hid away during the battle, I would almost certainly end up killed. Which was why my outlook on my life lately had more of a carpé diem theme. See? I did know a bit of Latin. I was better educated than most folks expected, thanks to my mother.

I tried not to worry about future skirmishes as I dusted the captain’s desk, as best I could manage without moving the gigantic map and all of his things about. Next time, I’d tell him if he wanted me to do a good job of my cleaning, he should tidy up first. I wondered how that might go over. Probably a bit like this:

Me: “Oy, mate, you got to clean your stuff up if you want me to dust properly.”

Captain Martin: “That’s some cheek, you mongrel. Off the plank with you. But first, let me shove a bar of soap up your saucy arse.”

Perhaps that was a better death than being skewered by a cutlass.

I finished the dusting, and I had to admit the place looked better. If I was going to be staying here, it was in my own interests to keep the place in good standing. I hadn’t had such fine accommodations in my life so found the captain’s quarters quite luxurious and exciting, above and beyond the thrill of Captain Martin’s sexual interest in me and our exploits between the sheets.

I straightened the pillows and pulled the coverlet over the sheets that we’d stained with our lust, picturing everything that had happened between us as I looked forward to another evening of debauchery.

I headed to a door on the back wall of the cabin just past the bed, which I’d supposed led to a massive closet holding all of the captain’s fine clothing. Instead, it opened on a large dining cabin with a table, around which a number of people could sit. Made sense for a navy vessel to have a room for secret conferences and battle plans and surely proved as useful for a privateer captain. Besides Donatello, there were several senior crew members involved in the daily running of theArrow, and I imagined the captain held meetings here when needed. Perhaps on special occasions, such as after a fortuitous raid, the captain hosted fancy dinners here.

Mr Guthrie was proud to provide even the lowest crew members with tasty and nutritious meals. Presumably the officers dined on fare even more fine than I’d sampled so far. His breakfast had consisted of bread, jam, cheese, and a ripe mango, with a tankard of ale to wash the meal down.

The crew didn’t get a proper breakfast, but most tended to save a bit of bread and cheese from supper. There was always one large meal in the middle of the day that was usually some kind of stew or fish to keep our blood strong. Mr Guthrie was a generous fellow, so if someone were truly suffering and went to the trouble to ask, they could usually get a tear of bread and a bit of cheese at any time of the day. Most of the crew were too busy to bother, and the amount that was regularly provided was enough.

The intrigue of discovering a whole other room was barely enough to console me on the realization that I now had more to clean. Likely used less often, there weren’t as many knickknacks and objects to dust around so it didn’t take quite so long. I finished quickly and was about to lay down on the captain’s fancy bed and take myself in hand for a wee faf, when the front door opened, and Boone came in with a mopstick and bucket.

I was thrilled at first.

“Oy, wonderful! I’ve done the dusting and tidying but the floors could use a going-over,” I said, thinking that he’d come to help.

He handed the mopstick to me and put the bucket down.

“Make sure to do a good job,” he said and left.

I frowned.Goddamn it.

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