Capsize | h.s

Four

Dining with the captain for the second night in a row was not as bad as the first. Celia sat opposite of Harry as he shoveled food into his mouth and washed it down with a cool glass of water. Celia was overcome with silence, perfectly content with listening to the scrapes of silverware against plates and the occasional holler from one of the crew outside of the cabin.

"You're barely eating," Harry said suddenly, causing Celia's eyes to dart up to meet his.

"I miss my family," she said simply.

"You're not used to these conditions, you'll need to eat to keep your strength up," he said. Celia poked at the food on her plate and sighed. "Listen, I know you're not too keen on the situation—the life of a pirate is very different from the life of a maid of honor—but tomorrow is the final day until we arrive at court."

"Sir Harry, it's not that I'm not grateful for all you've done for me," Celia began. "Rather, the grief of losing my family. I'd appreciate it if you could leave it alone. I'll be fine."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and taking a swig of water. "I'm scheduled for an audience with the Queen upon our arrival." Celia's eyes brightened with curiosity. "Is there anything I should know about her majesty?"

"You've never met her?"

"No. I was right hand man to Sir Walter Raleigh and he recommended I take charge of my own ship. He wrote to the Queen and explained who I was, and she accepted my employment without a meeting."

"I see," Celia replied. "Well, she is a very intimidating woman; she has to be, I suppose. She will try to scare you into submission, but it's only so you will prove yourself to her. Everything is a test to prove yourself. Once you gain her trust, she will open up to you. Elizabeth is a kind woman with a warm heart, remember that."

Harry smiled, dimples carving out in his tanned cheeks. "You're fond of her."

"She's almost been like a mother to me. A better one than mine could have ever been."

"Why's that?"

"My mother was..." Celia trailed off, searching for the perfect adjective. "Complicated. It was almost as if she was there one second and then she was gone the next. She's off in Bedlam now. I haven't seen her since I was a girl."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "In truth, my family life was never really happy either." Celia raised her brows, silently asking him to continue. "My father was a drunk and my mother was a harlot. Lord knows how many half-siblings I have. Anyway, my father did not claim me as his own, as I was conceived out of wedlock, and my mother cast me aside as well. I was raised in a brothel until I was old enough to be sent away for work. I worked as a stable boy for most of my youth until Sir Walter Raleigh took me under his wing and taught me everything there is to know about running a ship. And here I am today."

"At least there's a happy outcome to it all."

"Happier now," he said, almost entranced as he stared into Celia's ocean eyes.

"What?" she questioned, her brows furrowed.

Harry cleared his throat and stood from his chair. "Nothing," he said as he walked over to a cabinet and shuffled through its contents. He eventually rose to his full height and spun around to face Celia. In his large hands was a bottle and two glasses. "Wine?"

Celia shrugged. After a few sips of the alcohol, she gained the courage to consume the food before her. She forced a few slices of plum into her mouth, along with some bread, but she decided against the questionable meat.

"You correspond in code," Celia said out of nowhere, catching Harry off guard. He straightened his posture and Celia furrowed her brows. "Why?"

"To prevent enemies from gaining knowledge of England's plans," Harry answered simply. "Do you not correspond in code when writing letters to a secret lover? It's the same concept."

"I do not have a lover, nor do I have the time to come up with a code," she smiled, preventing a giggle from escaping by biting her bottom lip.

"No lover?"

"That's the portion of my sentence you choose to acknowledge," Celia's eyes were wide as her smiled widened. "Of course. I should expect nothing less from a pirate."

"A crown-employed pirate, no less," Harry corrected proudly. Celia tossed her eyes and shook her head. "Does the Queen tolerate that attitude of yours? Or do you simply insist on taking advantage of your absence from court to put it to use?"

"I think you quite like my attitude," she replied. "Someone is finally able to challenge you."

"What are you suggesting?"

"You run this ship as if you are a king. All crew members must bow at your feet and answer your beckon call. Most captains have a rule of being equal to their crew, do they not? Some sort of pirate code?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, running his tongue against his teeth. Celia watched as he did so, the lump where his tongue hid beneath his scruffy upper-lip traveling from left to right. "For a maid of honor, you have ample knowledge on pirate affairs."

"Pirates aren't all that I have knowledge on," Celia said as she stood up from her seat. She swiftly moved across the wooden floor, her hair swaying with each movement, until she came to a stop at her bedroom door. Harry eyed her, standing up from his chair. Her lips curled into a smile. "Goodnight, captain."

"Wait!" Harry called as the door began to close and Celia began to disappear in the darkness of her room. Celia left the door open just wide enough so that her body was between the door and the frame. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked up at Harry through her eyelashes. Suddenly stricken with lust, yearning to remain a second longer in Celia's presence to learn more about the valiant young woman, Harry seemed unable to form a proper sentence. Relinquishing to his own fault, he managed a strained, "Goodnight, Mistress Celia."

The simple pleasantry meant more to Celia than Harry could imagine. She closed the door softly and spun around, pressing her back against the cool wood of the door. Her lips, cracked and chapped from the salty wind, dared to split open at the size of her smile.

The captain was contentious, no doubt, and always ready at the drop of a hat to spout off his opinions, no matter the circumstances. Yet, there was more to him than his argumentative spirit. Celia could see in his sparkling emeralds that deep down, Harry had a kind soul. After all, he did rescue her from the depths of the freezing ocean.

Still, despite their common ground on an unfortunate family life and his undoubting good looks, Celia was hesitant to put her trust in a pirate.