Page 13 of A Sea Captain and A Stowaway (Gentleman Scholars #7)
“The captain ain’t got no close family, don’t you know?” the first mate told Docila before Sidney’s repressive gesture got through to him. “But he don’t like to talk about it,” James added, looking sheepish.
The flush on her cheeks deepened, spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her borrowed shirt. It was a remarkably becoming effect, Sidney noted absently, before firmly redirecting his thoughts to the matter at hand.
“My family situation is not relevant to our discussion,” he said, the coolness of his tone a warning that Fletcher immediately heeded. “What concerns me is the safety of my ship and crew, which could be compromised if you’re not being truthful about your circumstances.”
“What possible reason would I have to lie?” Docila asked, genuine frustration edging her voice. “Do you think I’m some sort of spy? A pirate’s accomplice, perhaps, planning to signal from the crow’s nest when we’re in position to be attacked?”
The absurdity of the suggestion made Sidney’s lips twitch despite himself. The image of Miss Archer as a pirate’s confederate was ludicrous, especially given her evident distaste for Jenks, the closest thing to a pirate among his crew.
“If you were,” he replied dryly, “you’d be a remarkably ineffective one, given how thoroughly you’ve ingratiated yourself with the very men who would need to defend the ship.”
Something shifted in her expression at that — a flash of hurt, quickly masked by renewed determination. “I haven’t ‘ingratiated’ myself with anyone,” she said stiffly. “I’ve simply tried to earn my keep, as you instructed me to do.”
Sidney rolled his eyes. He didn’t have to worry about subterfuge from his first mate; he was a reliable, dependable partner at sea but not bright enough to hide any ulterior motives.
Sidney didn’t mind; the more intelligent people were, the more often they were led to deception.
Just look at the young woman before him, he told himself.
Clearly, she was of higher-than-average intelligence, but he wouldn’t trust her further than he could throw her.
And yet, there was something in her earnestness that gave him pause.
If she were indeed running from the fate she described — an unwanted marriage to an unpleasant man — could he truly blame her for taking desperate measures?
Hadn’t he done the same, in his own way, when he chose the sea over the life his parents had planned for him?
The comparison was uncomfortable, highlighting parallels he’d rather not acknowledge. But it didn’t change the fact that her presence complicated his mission, adding an unpredictable element to an already risky venture.
“Captain,” Fletcher interrupted his thoughts, pointing to a section of the map they had been discussing. “Shall I adjust our course to account for these currents? The navigator mentioned they’ve been stronger than usual this season.”
Sidney welcomed the distraction, focusing on the practical matter at hand. “Yes, make the adjustment. And have Turner check our supplies again — if we’re forced to take the longer route, we’ll need to ensure we’re provisioned accordingly.”
Fletcher nodded, making a note in the log. “I’ll see to it first thing tomorrow. Will that be all, sir?”
Sidney considered dismissing his first mate, continuing this conversation with Miss Archer in private. But something held him back, perhaps the awareness that being alone with her would remove the buffer Fletcher provided, forcing a confrontation he wasn’t yet prepared to have.
“That will be all for now,” he said instead. “We’ll review the updated course in the morning.”
Fletcher rose, tucking the log under his arm. “Very good, sir. Miss Archer, would you care for an escort back to your quarters? It’s growing late.”
Before Docila could respond, Sidney cut in, changing his mind suddenly. “Miss Archer will remain for a moment longer. I have a few more questions for her.”
Fletcher glanced between them, clearly sensing the tension, but nodded. “As you wish, Captain. Goodnight, Miss Archer.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Fletcher,” she replied, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Thank you for your consideration.”
As the door closed behind his first mate, Sidney leaned back in his chair, regarding Docila with a mixture of frustration and reluctant curiosity. The cabin seemed smaller suddenly, the space between them charged with unspoken accusations and defences.
His friends’ wives would likely adore her, he thought casting his eyes toward the low ceiling, which she caught with her attentive gaze.
Her own eyebrows rose expressively, telling him she did not appreciate his dismissive attitude toward her.
But what was he supposed to do? She had stolen her passage, and she kept far too many secrets.
Sidney didn’t trust her, but he also couldn’t abandon her.
“My first mate seems to have taken quite a shine to you,” Sidney observed, watching her reaction closely. “As have most of my crew, it seems.”
Docila shrugged, a gesture too casual for the formal young lady she pretended to be. “Mr. Fletcher has been kind, as have many of the others. I’m grateful for that kindness, given the circumstances.”
“And what circumstances might those be, exactly?” Sidney pressed.
“A young woman of good family, supposedly fleeing a forced marriage, yet possessed of skills that would make an experienced sailor proud. You speak like a lady but work like a deck hand. You claim to be running from your past, yet you seem remarkably comfortable on a ship bound for unknown destinations.”
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a more intense register. “Who are you really, Docila Archer? And what are you running from, or toward?”
The directness of his question seemed to catch her off guard. For a moment, the polished exterior cracked, revealing a glimpse of something vulnerable beneath — fear, perhaps, or simply exhaustion from maintaining her facade.
“I’ve told you the truth,” she said quietly.
“My father was William Archer, a merchant captain who traded along the American coast. He taught me everything I know about ships and sailing. When he died, my uncle Hugo became my guardian and decided to marry me off to a man I... a man who frightened me, in exchange for access to my inheritance.”
She met his gaze directly, a challenge in her eyes. “That’s who I am, Captain Peters. A woman unwilling to be sold to the highest bidder, even if it meant risking everything to escape.”
Sidney studied her, looking for signs of deception. There were none that he could detect — no shifty gaze, no nervous fidgeting, no inconsistencies in her story. And yet, nagging suspicion remained, a sense that she wasn’t telling him everything.
“And the Seraphim?” he asked. “Why this ship, specifically? There were others in port that day, bound for destinations that might have suited your purposes better.”
Docila hesitated, just long enough for Sidney to know she was considering her answer carefully. “As I said before, it wasn’t by design. Your ship was preparing to sail, and my situation was unavoidably urgent. I made a split-second decision.”
“A fortunate one,” Sidney observed. “For you, at least.”
“I don’t know that I’d call it fortunate to be locked in a closet, interrogated repeatedly, and treated with constant suspicion,” she replied with a touch of spirit. “But it was preferable to the alternative.”
The candle on Sidney’s desk flickered, casting her face in alternating light and shadow.
In that moment, with her defences lowered and her frustration evident, she looked achingly young and vulnerable, a stark reminder of the precarious position she occupied as a lone woman among strangers, far from anything familiar.
A twinge of something uncomfortably like guilt stirred in Sidney’s chest. Whatever her reasons for being aboard, whatever secrets she might be keeping, she was still under his protection. And he had not been as... considerate as he might have been.
“You are my responsibility now,” Sidney told her. “Whether you like it or not, you answer to me. And whether I like it or not, I will defend you if I must. I only wish you would tell me what I might be facing in the future when it comes to you and your story.”
His words hung in the air between them, an acknowledgment of the strange bond that had formed — not friendship, certainly, but a kind of reluctant alliance born of necessity.
He would keep her safe, not because he trusted her, but because it was his duty as captain.
And she would obey his authority, not out of respect, but because she had no other choice.
It was an uneasy truce at best, and one that Sidney suspected would be tested in the days to come. But for now, it was all they had.
Docila’s expression softened slightly, the wariness in her eyes giving way to something more difficult to define. “Thank you, Captain,” she said quietly. “For your protection, however reluctantly given. I hope someday you’ll believe that I mean no harm to you or your crew.”
“Hope springs eternal,” Sidney replied, unable to resist the dry comment. But there was less bite to it than before, a tacit acknowledgment of the small shift in their dynamic.
Standing, he moved to the window, gazing out at the darkening sea.
Stars were beginning to appear, diamond-bright against the velvet sky.
Somewhere ahead lay St. Augustine, and the treasure that would secure his future, a future complicated now by the presence of the young woman seated quietly behind him.
“We’ll reach St. Augustine in approximately three weeks, weather permitting,” he said without turning. “Until then, you’ll continue your duties as assigned. You’ve shown yourself to be... capable... in that regard.”
It was as close to a compliment as he could bring himself to offer, a grudging acknowledgment of her contributions thus far. Whether she deserved his suspicion or not, he couldn’t deny that she had earned her place aboard the Seraphim through honest work.
“Thank you, Captain,” Docila replied, her voice betraying surprise at his concession. “I’ll continue to do my best.”
Sidney turned back to face her, his expression carefully neutral.
“See that you do. And Miss Archer? If there is anything, anything at all, that I should know about your situation, anything that might affect the safety of this ship or its crew, I expect you to tell me immediately. Is that understood?”
She met his gaze steadily, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. “Yes, Captain. I understand perfectly.”
As she rose to leave, Sidney found himself studying her more closely than he intended — noting the grace with which she moved despite the constant motion of the ship, the stubborn lift of her chin as she faced his scrutiny without flinching.
There was strength in her, he realized, a core of resilience that belied her delicate appearance.
It was... admirable. Inconvenient, certainly, and potentially dangerous to his carefully laid plans. But admirable nonetheless.
“Goodnight, Captain Peters,” she said, pausing at the door. “Thank you for the... conversation.”
“Goodnight, Miss Archer,” he replied, inclining his head slightly. “Until tomorrow.”
As the door closed behind her, Sidney returned to his desk, staring down at the maps that had been the ostensible purpose of their meeting.
The route to St. Augustine was marked in careful detail, every hazard noted, every landmark identified.
It should have been straightforward — a clear path to the treasure that awaited them.
But nothing was straightforward anymore. Not with Docila Archer aboard, bringing her secrets and her contradictions, her unexpected skills and her disarming laugh. She was a complication he hadn’t anticipated, an X factor in an equation he had thought fully solved.
He ought to have walked the girl to her room as Fletcher had offered. But if she was to be a member of his crew, he would treat her just like one of his men. He would have to trust the men were as trustworthy as he expected them to be.
As Sidney traced the route once more, he couldn’t shake the feeling that their journey had just become infinitely more complex, and potentially more perilous, than he had ever imagined.