Page 52 of Scourge of the Shores
“It ain’t up to me,” he said, sliding beside her.
“Get out," she said, her voice sharper than the rain on the roof.
"Ye heard the port master," Robert said, tilting his head, watching her closely. "Captain sleeps topside."
"I’m the Captain," she gritted again.
He leaned back against the wall, stretching his legs out. "On yer ship,” he emphasized. “But we ain't on yer ship, are we?"
She glared, her eyes flicking toward the ladder.
He knew that look. She was considering leaving to spite him, to get away. But this wasn’t just about space—it was about rank and reputation, a few of the only things that kept pirates in line.
He softened. Just a bit. “Ye walk down that ladder, and ye know what happens. My men’ll think ye ran. They’ll wonder if ye’re fit to lead at all.”
Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to argue, but she didn't.
Reluctant tension eased from his shoulders like a ship settling in quiet waters. “Ye ain’t got to like me, Danna, but don’t let ‘em think ye ain't their Captain.”
She paused. “Another threat?”
“This is where captains sleep per the port master. They heard it, you heard it. Don’t make yourself less in their eyes. You already are because you’re a woman.” He crossed his boots at the ankle, waiting for her to decide.
A long silence.
Then, without a word, she sank back onto the wooden planks opposite him. Crossing her arms, she lowered her chin, her eyes narrowed.
He pitched his voice higher. “Thank ye, Robert,” he said, mimicking her voice.
Her silent stare was all he received in response, so he chuckled. “I know you ain’t happy about it, but it’s going to be a long night if you just sit and stare at me.”
The raindrops pelted the roof and soon pounded like war drums.
She pulled her arms across her chest tighter.
He grabbed the blanket and pulled it over his legs.
She didn’t flinch.
“And it’ll be a long, cold night without a blanket,” he said.
Still, she didn’t move.
“I’d give it to you outright, but I know you’d rather freeze than take a favor from me. So let’s call it a trade. You talk, you stay warm,” he said.
“Why do ye wanna talk?”
"Maybe I just wanna hear your voice." The words left him before he could catch them.
She blinked with suspicion in her eyes.
“I’ll take me chances,” she said.
“Suit yourself,” he said, lying on the wooden planks, clutching the blanket atop his belly with the other arm behind his head. The rain pelted overhead with a distant roll of thunder while a peal of lightning illuminated the small space. “I always loved listening to the rain while the ship rocked in the waves.”
His focus lingered on the ceiling. “There’s somethin’ about bein’ surrounded by water. It’s like the DeepMother herself is hummin’ through the waves. Soothing, if ye listen.”
He shifted his gaze to her, catching the way her arms slowly loosened. “You were born for the sea, you know. Maybe even carved from her breath, same as it.”
