Page 32 of Rose
William eased his neck from side to side. “I admit these old bones of mine are tired. Now, if I remember correctly, the captain’s room is the one on the right and the surgeon’s room is the second on the left.”
“Your memory serves you well, old friend,” Tristan said. “Let me know if there is naught else you require.”
“I will. Now, I insist you indulge an old man, and allow me to say once more, congratulations on your marriage.”
Tristan dipped his head. “Thank you, William.”
After the surgeon disappeared below deck, Philip gave his report. “Everything is well in hand for the night. Davy has first watch. Why don’t you also retire, Captain.”
“I intend to,” Tristan said. “I just want to give William time to settle in. I don’t want to risk him seeing me go into your room instead of mine.”
“Let us have another ale then,” Philip suggested while he reached for the pitcher. After pouring two cups, he handed one to Tristan, who had become pensive.
“Do you really believe we are on the right course?”
Philip gave him a quizzical look. “We have sailed from Cardiff to France more times than I can remember.”
“You know that is not what I meant.”
Philip took a long sip. Then he pointed out to the surrounding water. “The sea is vast,” he said, his voice quiet. “Vaster than either of us could ever know.”
Tristan nodded thoughtfully.
“Of all the ships and islands, of all the waves and tides, the sea chose to bring Rose to you.”
“What are you saying, Philip? That Rose was destined to find us?”
Philip shook his head. “No, not at all. Rose was not destined to find us.” He stood up and downed the last of his drink. Then he set his cup on the table and headed for the stairs. “She was destined to find you,” he said.
Tristan sat for a while, Philip’s words echoing in his mind. He stared up at the moon. He had always felt an affinity with the soft orb. At the moment, the crescent’s glow reflected on the rippling waves. “Did you send her to me?” he whispered.
The next instant the wind picked up, turning the gentle ripples into waves that moved the ship in an undulating rhythm. “I believe it’s time I turned in, too,” he said out loud. He started to down the last of his ale, but given he was already talking to himself and the moon, he decided against it.
He waved up to Davy, who sat alert in the crow’s nest, before descending the stairs. Standing in the narrow hallway, he laid his hand on the door, behind which Rose slept. He imagined her red hair spread out across his pillow. Her thick dark lashes resting on her porcelain cheeks. He turned away quickly before his imagination could wander farther across Rose’s sleeping form. He grabbed the handle to Philip’s room.
“It looks like you’re even more tired than me,” a voice said.
Tristan jerked his head to the right. William stood in his doorway.
“Good evening, William. Is there something you require?”
William shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep.” He lifted his shoulders. “It is a part of growing old. You can actually be too tired to sleep. I was just going to take a turn on deck.” Then, he took Tristan by the arm. “You’ve had too much ale, my boy. That is your quarter master’s room. Here,” he said, turning Tristan to face the door to the captain’s quarters. “Now off you go,” William urged.
Tristan cleared his throat. “I…er…I.”
“To bed with you, man. You can’t even string your words together.”
Tristan gripped the door handle to his own room. “Goodnight then, William.”
