Page 44 of A Sea Captain and A Stowaway (Gentleman Scholars #7)
“My uncle took control of all my father’s belongings after his death.
I never mentioned the medallion because I didn’t understand its importance until now, seeing the symbol here on your charts — I thought it was just a keepsake.
” She looked away, her voice growing quieter.
“Even knowing what it represents, I’m not certain it would be possible to recover it. ”
“Convenient,” Sidney remarked, the single word loaded with implication. “Just as it’s convenient that you happened to find my cabin door open, my private papers accessible, at a moment when most of the crew — including myself — were occupied elsewhere.”
The accusation in his tone was unmistakable, and Docila felt a flush of indignation rise to her cheeks. “You cannot possibly think I arranged this — that I deliberately sought an opportunity to invade your privacy? To what end, Sidney? What possible motive could I have for such deception?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice tight with restrained emotion.
“That’s precisely what troubles me. Since the moment you appeared aboard my ship, there have been questions I cannot answer, coincidences that strain credulity.
Your father’s mark on documents related to El Dorado.
Your seamanship skills, far beyond what most merchant captains’ daughters would possess.
And now, a mysterious medallion that conveniently provides the key we’ve been missing, though it’s no longer available for examination. ”
Each word struck Docila like a physical blow, the unfairness of his suspicion all the more painful because she had come to care so deeply about his good opinion.
“You still don’t trust me,” she said quietly, the realization bringing a hollow ache to her chest. “After everything we’ve endured together — the storm, the mutiny, the pursuit — you still believe I might be playing some elaborate game at your expense.”
Sidney’s expression softened slightly at the hurt evident in her voice, but his stance remained unyielding. “Trust is not easily given at sea, Docila. Lives depend on the reliability of those around you, on the certainty that they are exactly who and what they claim to be.”
“And what do you imagine I am?” Docila asked, her own anger beginning to rise in response to his continued suspicion.
“A spy for Blackwell, perhaps? An agent of my uncle, sent to infiltrate your ship and learn your secrets? Or simply an opportunistic thief, hoping to claim the treasure for myself once you’ve done the hard work of finding it? ”
The absurdity of these suggestions might have been comical in other circumstances, but there was nothing amusing about the distance that had suddenly opened between them — a gulf of mistrust that threatened to undo all the progress they had made toward understanding one another.
“I don’t know what to think,” Sidney admitted, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration she had come to recognize. “I only know that I find you in my cabin, examining my private papers, after specifically being directed to remain elsewhere while repairs were underway.”
“I was not ‘directed’ to go anywhere,” Docila countered, her voice rising despite her efforts to maintain composure.
“Fletcher merely suggested that I might not be able to assist with the specific repairs being undertaken. I took that as permission to find another way to make myself useful — which I believed I was doing by ensuring your cabin had not been damaged during our escape.”
“And that required examining my charts? Deciphering my personal notations? Formulating theories about symbols and medallions?” Sidney’s scepticism was palpable, his patience clearly wearing thin.
“No,” Docila conceded, forcing herself to acknowledge the justice of his anger. “That was wrong of me. I should have closed the door and left when I saw the papers were spread out. But Sidney —”
She leaned forward, urgent now in her desire to make him understand. “What I’ve discovered could be crucial to finding the treasure. The medallion my father possessed —”
“Which is conveniently lost,” Sidney interrupted, his voice hard again.
“Yes, lost,” Docila agreed, frustration colouring her tone.
“Along with nearly everything else of value my father owned, thanks to my uncle’s greed and carelessness.
But I remember it clearly. The symbol, the markings around its edge — I could recreate them, given time.
And if I’m right about their significance, they could provide exactly what you’ve been missing — the precise location from which to observe the celestial alignment indicated by Alvarado’s clues. ”
For a moment, Sidney seemed to waver, the potential importance of her discovery warring with his lingering suspicion of how she had come by it. But then his expression hardened once more, the captain’s mask falling firmly into place.
“Enough,” he said, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of command. “This discussion is at an end. You will leave my cabin now, and in future, you will not enter without my express invitation.”
Docila stood her ground, unwilling to be dismissed while the matter remained unresolved.
“You’re making a mistake,” she said quietly. “Not in asking me to leave — that’s your right, and I was wrong to examine your papers without permission. But in refusing to consider what I’ve discovered, you may be overlooking the very key to success in your quest.”
“My quest,” Sidney emphasized, moving to gather the scattered papers from his desk. “Not yours, Docila. Whatever your father’s involvement might have been, whatever connection you believe exists between his medallion and my maps, this remains my responsibility, my burden to bear.”
The deliberate exclusion hurt more than Docila would have believed possible mere weeks ago, when she had first found herself aboard the Seraphim as an unwelcome stowaway.
Then, she had expected nothing from Sidney Peters beyond the most basic consideration required by human decency.
Now, after all they had experienced together, after the connection that had grown between them through shared danger and tentative trust, his rejection cut deeply.
“So, we’re back to this,” she said softly, the fight draining out of her to be replaced by a weary sadness. “Me, the interloper to be tolerated but not trusted. You, the captain whose authority must not be questioned, whose privacy is inviolable even when vital information might be at stake.”
Sidney’s expression tightened at her words, a flash of something that might have been regret crossing his features before the mask of command reasserted itself.
“I need to know where I stand with you, Docila,” he said, his voice low and intense.
“When I give an order, it will be obeyed — not because I’m a tyrant, but because lives depend on it.
During the storm, I told you to stay below for your safety and the crew’s focus.
You came on deck anyway. When I asked you to remain elsewhere during repairs, you instead examined my private papers.
During every crisis, you’ve decided that your judgment supersedes mine. ”
He moved closer, his expression grave. “A captain’s authority isn’t arbitrary whim, Docila.
It’s what keeps people alive at sea. When someone questions every order, hesitates to follow commands, or decides in the moment that they know better — people die.
I’ve lost men before because of such hesitation, such divided loyalties. ”
His voice softened slightly but remained firm.
“Your insights are valuable, your courage admirable. But I cannot command a ship where my authority is constantly undermined, where crew members — and yes, that includes you — pick and choose which orders to follow based on their personal assessment of the situation.”
“And I need to know that you see me as more than just a problem to be managed,” Docila countered, meeting his gaze steadily despite the emotions churning within her.
“That you value my insights, my contributions, rather than dismissing them because they don’t align with your preconceptions or plans. ”
They stood facing each other across the cabin, the air between them charged with unspoken feelings and frustrated intentions.
In another context, the tension might have drawn them together, might have broken through the barriers of propriety and rank that still separated them despite all they had shared.
But in this moment, it only seemed to widen the gulf, to reinforce the differences in their positions and perspectives.
“You need to make a choice,” Sidney said finally, his voice weary but firm. “Either trust me enough to accept my decisions, my authority, without questioning or undermining them at every turn — or acknowledge that perhaps your place is not aboard this ship after all.”
The ultimatum hung in the air between them, stark and unyielding.
Trust him without question, or leave. Follow his lead blindly, or find another path entirely.
Neither option seemed tenable to Docila, who had fled one form of control only to find herself facing another, albeit in very different circumstances.
“That’s not a fair choice,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. “Trust isn’t blind obedience, Sidney. It’s not the unquestioning acceptance of authority. It’s a mutual recognition of value, of contribution. It goes both ways — or it isn’t trust at all, merely submission.”
Something flickered in Sidney’s eyes — a recognition, perhaps, of the truth in her words, or simply frustration at her continued defiance. But whatever it was, it did not sway him from the course he had set.
“Then perhaps we’ve reached an impasse,” he said, his voice carefully controlled.
“Because I cannot command a ship where my authority is constantly questioned, where my privacy is invaded at will, where every decision must be justified to those who lack the perspective or experience to truly understand the consequences.”
The finality in his tone struck Docila with the force of physical rejection.
After everything they had endured together, after the connection that had grown between them through shared danger and gradual understanding, Sidney was still holding her at arm’s length, still seeing her as an outsider whose place aboard his ship was tenuous at best.
“Very well, Captain,” she said, deliberately formal as she gathered the tattered remnants of her dignity around her like a cloak.
“I’ll leave you to your precious authority, your carefully guarded secrets.
But remember this — when you face the final challenge, when the last piece of the puzzle eludes you, it might well be the information I tried to share today that could have led you to success. ”
Without waiting for his response, Docila turned and walked to the door, her back straight despite the weight of disappointment pressing down upon her. She paused with her hand on the latch, a final thought compelling her to turn back.
“My father wore that medallion every day of his life at sea,” she said quietly.
“He called it his insurance against the unpredictable nature of wind and wave. I never understood what he meant until now. It wasn’t just a talisman — it was his future security, the key to a treasure that would provide for his family when the sea no longer welcomed him. ”
She met Sidney’s gaze directly. “He trusted me enough to show it to me, to let me hold a piece of his most closely guarded secret. I only wish you could find it in yourself to offer the same trust.”
With that, she slipped through the door, pulling it firmly closed behind her.
The sound seemed to echo in the narrow passageway, a period at the end of a sentence that had once promised to become something more meaningful, more enduring, than either of them had anticipated when fate first brought them together aboard the Seraphim.