Page 7 of Shiver Me Satyr

“That’s three strikes,” I say with a sigh. “I killed us three ways in one sentence. I’m the worst.”

“Aww, lassie,” he says, placing the pawns in my hands again. “I’d never give the crew reason to give you the blackspot. What happens on this board is a child’s game between us. By the time comes, you will know how to be a fine captain—or at least enough to play one in their eyes.”

“Thanks, Chub, what would this boat do without you?”

“That depends on you. Remember your promise? After you push that satyr off the plank, we’re sailing to Mexico, where Catalina and I are retiring to a homestead. I’m tired, Betts, so eventually, I need you to stand on your own.”

4

Hybris

“Not hardtack again,” I moan, eying Catalina kneading dough in the galley.

“I’m sorry, did you just complain?” She stops her work to plant her fists on her wide hips. The curvy cook has more power in her little finger than I have because she’s married to the quartermaster and controls the food rations. If I don’t watch my tongue, I’ll starve.

“I didn’t mean to let that slip out. I’m having a rotten day,” I grouse as I flop onto a stool at the counter.

“I can tell. You stink of oregano. I’ll always associate that smell with Teeth,” she says with a giggle and a headshake that sends her brown curls flying around her. “I bet some society lady gave you a parting gift.”

I sulk lower into my seat, not joining in her laughter.

“Knead while we talk,” she says, passing a bowl of flour to me. Do I coat my hands like hers? Is there flour between her fingers on purpose—like a protective coating? I’ve never stepped foot in a kitchen. Now, I’m kneading dough! Oh, please, don’t let her ask me to do anything else.

“Hardtack isn’t bad when it’s flavored,” she says, grabbing a stone mortar and pestle. I’ve watched the ladies in the apothecary use those to grind herbs. What is it doing on apirate ship? Is Catalina a witch? I hope so. Betts smashed the oregano oil I could have used to treat my itch, and my crotch is on fire.

“What’s the best flavor?” If I get her talking, maybe she’ll take mercy on me.

“It depends on who you are,” she says with a wink. “I’m grinding rosemary with lemon peels for Chub and the men who admire him. I call them his miniatures. They may be taller than Chub, but for now, they have half the presence. They will grow into their gangly limbs and become responsible pirates—thanks to my husband. It’s what I love best about him.”

“Yeah, he’s the greatest,” I say in a mocking tone. As I wait for my punishment, he influences Betts on my fate. After watching him for a few days, I bet I’ll swab the poopdeck...or worse, be stuck in this hot, stuffy kitchen with disgustingly loyal Catalina.

“Teeth preferred chocolate shavings. He had a sweet tooth.”

“Yes, chocolate shavings are for me,” I say absently, just to agree. Wait, what’s chocolate? I hope it isn’t gross. She said it was sweet, right? But is it made of teeth? What’s a sweet tooth? Pretty funny, a guy nicknamed Teeth would prefer to eat his hardtack studded with teeth, but his legend says he knew the finer things in life. His preferences seem to mirror mine, so chocolate shavings for me! Wait, shavings? Please don’t let it be hair. “I just love chocolate.”

“Oh, I’m not sure—It’s just that you are—I didn’t ask the mortar and pestle for you because—well, you are…” My chatty host is suddenly tongue-tied. Her eyes water as she mashes the rosemary by leaning over the counter. Her hair swings forward, so I can’t see her face.

“I’m what? What aren’t you telling me? My father paid for my apprenticeship on this boat, but nobody told me what my role is supposed to be. I’m the heir to a large shipping company, so am I here to learn the dangers of dealing with pirates? Does this boat smuggle goods for my family? What do you know, Catalina?”

“I know we voted on whether or not to carry out one task for your father. We’ve never worked for him before and probably won’t work for him again.” She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

The hairs raise on the back of my neck as she uses a wicked knife to separate a hunk of dough from the blob I knead. As she folds the pulverized lemon-rosemary mixture into the dough, I wait for her to explain more. All I get is a nod to keep moving. I punch the dough in frustration and lean on it. Maybe if it seeps between the wood grains, there won’t be enough to eat.

“Are you telling me Chub knows my reason for being aboard? Why didn’t he tell you? Maybe Captain Betts didn’t consult him.”

“No,” she says with a sigh to the ceiling. She stops kneading and grabs the knife again. She’s not going to stab me, right? She has the accent of a civilized lady—unlike Captain Betts, who would definitely stab me—but she’s still a pirate. “Nobody keeps secrets on this boat. All business decisions are put to a vote. No voice is left unheard—”

“So, everyone knows but me,” I fume. “That wasn’t a question. I can see your affirmation in your guilty smile. On a boat with no secrets, I doubt you’ll tell me.”

“Hybris—”

“Don’t placate me, either,” I snap before I reconsider my tactic of lashing out at Chub’s wife. “I mean, I’ve been in hostile situations before, so I can handle this.”

“You have?” She stops arranging the herbed hardtack on a metal pan to stare at me.

“When I sailed the Far East for spices, they weren’t happy to have a satyr aboard,” I lie through my teeth. “That’s why the hardtack is so distasteful to me. My palate was trained on the finest spices on Earth. My job was to taste them for quality for our company. I also lead the expedition because I have a nose for finding the…spice…rocks.”

“Spice rocks?” I follow her glance to the row of potted plants in the window.

---