Page 12 of A Sea Captain and A Stowaway (Gentleman Scholars #7)
T he evening sun cast long shadows across the maps spread out on Sidney’s desk, the amber light making the parchment glow like burnished gold.
Outside the windows of his cabin, the sea stretched endlessly, waves catching the last rays of daylight.
It should have been a peaceful scene, the perfect setting for plotting their course to St. Augustine.
Instead, Sidney found himself distracted, his thoughts circling like gulls around the woman seated across from him.
Docila was sitting in Captain Peter’s quarters along with the captain and his first mate.
They were studying some maps, determining their destination.
Sidney was doing everything he could to avoid looking at the young woman.
As the days had passed and she made herself at home on his ship, his suspicions of her grew.
She had told him some story about running away from an evil guardian, but from what he could tell, she had far more knowledge of ship life than she ought to have.
Despite her obvious struggle with adjusting to life at sea, it was evident she was a natural.
His admiration for her was in direct contrast to his mistrust of her motivations.
A week had passed since her discovery in the hold, and in that time, Sidney had observed her transformation from bedraggled stowaway to an increasingly confident member of his crew.
Too confident, perhaps. The ease with which she had adapted to shipboard life was unsettling, raising questions he couldn’t answer to his satisfaction.
He traced a finger along the coastline of Florida, pretending to study the shallow waters and hidden reefs marked in careful detail.
In truth, he was watching her from beneath lowered brows, noting the way she leaned forward to study the map, her dark hair falling in a loose curl over her shoulder.
She had taken to wearing it in a simple braid, practical for work aboard ship, though a few wayward strands always seemed to escape, framing her face in a way that was. .. distracting.
“We’ll need to approach from the southeast,” he said, addressing his first mate but aware of Docila’s attentive gaze. “The channels shift with the seasons, and the Spanish have been known to patrol these waters.”
James Fletcher nodded, his weathered face serious as he made a notation in the ship’s log. “Aye, Captain. And what of the shoals here?” He indicated a section of the map marked with cross-hatching. “The last report mentioned a wreck there, just off the coast.”
“We’ll give it a wide berth,” Sidney replied, deliberately vague.
He hadn’t shared the true purpose of their voyage with Fletcher, only that they sought a specific location near St. Augustine for “trading purposes.” The less his first mate knew, the better, especially with Miss Archer’s uncanny ability to extract information from people.
Watching her gain mastery over her seasickness was appealing to someone who had spent most of his life on board various ships, but the superstitious soul inside of him couldn’t bear to think of what having a thief on board was going to bring to all members of his crew.
Everyone had been keeping an eye on her ever since she’d been discovered.
Of course, some of the men were keeping their eye on her from a far different perspective, but from what Sidney could tell, no one had made her uncomfortable, aside from her discomfort with being constantly supervised.
He had to admit, if only to himself, that she had earned a measure of respect from the crew.
Even Simms, the irascible cook who had initially grumbled about having “a slip of a girl” in his galley, now allowed her to assist with meal preparations without complaint.
Turner had commented just yesterday on her skill with knots, and young Harrison had been seen eagerly showing her how to splice rope, as if she were the student rather than the teacher.
It was all too convenient, too perfect. People didn’t simply appear out of nowhere with such specific skills unless they had an agenda.
“You know I’m not a child, right?” Docila said, sounding petulant.
She must have been able to hear her own tone, since she immediately laughed — a bright tinkle of sound that never failed to bring a smile to the face of anyone within earshot.
Sidney was well aware that most of his crew had fallen under her spell and would give their lives for her, so his hopes of throwing her overboard were fully dashed.
Not that he ever would do such a thing, of course; he was a gentleman, after all, but he still hated having her aboard.
That laugh — it was another weapon in her arsenal, another way she disarmed those around her.
Sidney had seen hardened sailors like Jenks soften when she smiled, had watched Fletcher offer her his own jacket when the evening grew cool.
Even he wasn’t immune to its effect, though he fought it with all the discipline he had cultivated in his years at sea.
“Children don’t typically stow away on merchant vessels bound for foreign ports,” Sidney replied dryly. “But they also don’t typically possess your... unusual array of skills.”
Docila’s smile dimmed slightly, wariness creeping into her expression. “I’ve explained about my father. Is it so hard to believe that a merchant captain’s daughter might know her way around a ship?”
“It’s not just that,” Sidney said, leaning back in his chair.
The wood creaked beneath him, a familiar sound that usually brought comfort.
Now it seemed to underscore the tension in the room.
“It’s the timing of your appearance. It’s the fact that you chose my ship, specifically, when there were dozens of others in port that day. ”
“I didn’t choose the Seraphim specifically,” she protested. “I needed to escape, and yours was the ship preparing to sail. It was opportunity, not design.”
“Was it?” Sidney’s voice hardened. “A remarkably fortunate opportunity, then, to find a vessel bound for the exact waters where...”
He caught himself, aware of Fletcher’s curious gaze. This wasn’t a conversation to have with an audience, no matter how trusted his first mate might be.
“Tell us again why you snuck on board our ship,” Sidney prompted.
That only resulted in a withering eye roll from the girl. “I’ve told you more than once,” she said with a sigh, indicating how put-upon she felt by the question.
“Well, I still don’t find your tale to be believable,” Sidney replied, “so you might as well tell it again.”
“Now, Captain, sir,” James began, protesting Sidney’s treatment of the young woman. “If she’s told you more than once, surely you need to hold on to the tale in your head.”
“I know what she told me, James,” Sidney drawled. “I just don’t believe her,” he added.
Fletcher shifted uncomfortably, clearly torn between loyalty to his captain and a growing fondness for their unexpected passenger. Sidney couldn’t blame him; Miss Archer had a way of inspiring protective instincts, even in men who should know better.
“Why wouldn’t you believe me?” Docila demanded. “What makes you think I would lie about something like that?”
“Well, you did sneak onto our ship,” Sidney countered. “This does not lead me to suspect you of being reliable or trustworthy.”
Her eyes flashed at that, a spark of genuine anger that Sidney found oddly reassuring. It was the most honest emotion he’d seen from her since their first confrontation.
“What option did I have?” she asked, her voice low but intense. “Should I have remained in Portsmouth to be sold like chattel to a man three times my age? Should I have trusted the authorities when my uncle had already begun spreading rumours about my mental state?”
The passion in her words gave Sidney pause. Either she was telling the truth, or she was a remarkably accomplished actress. Neither possibility settled well with him.
Docila rolled her eyes again, crossed her arms, and slumped back in her seat for a brief moment before suddenly returning to her usual stiff and proper demeanour. She did sigh but quickly schooled her features back into a pleasant expression.
“I’m sorry you find it difficult to trust me. I’ve been doing my very best to be of assistance to your crew,” she explained in a small voice.
The rapid shift from defiance to contrition was jarring, raising Sidney’s suspicions anew. Was this calculated? A performance designed to manipulate his sympathies? Or was it the natural response of a young woman caught between pride and the reality of her precarious situation?
Sidney studied her face, looking for clues to her true intentions.
In the golden evening light, she looked both older and younger than her years — weariness in the shadows beneath her eyes, but a stubborn youthfulness in the set of her jaw.
Her hands, resting on the edge of the table, bore calluses and small cuts from her work aboard ship, tangible evidence of her willingness to earn her keep.
“It’s the very extent of your helpfulness that leads me to be further suspicious,” Sidney explained. “No young lady of noble background is familiar with ship life like you seem to be.”
“Isn’t it possible I’m just a really fast learner?
” Docila countered. “Not all gently bred women are fools,” she added.
“I’m sorry if it’s been your experience thus far,” she thought to say at the end, her expression revealing genuine sympathy.
“Was it a close family member?” she asked, prompting loud laughter from the others in the room.
The unexpected question caught Sidney off guard, and for a moment, he saw not the suspicious stowaway but a perceptive young woman attempting to understand him. It was an uncomfortable realization, one that he quickly pushed aside.
Sidney watched with interest as her cheeks flushed bright pink, evidently with embarrassment over having caused them to laugh so loudly.