The Stowaway

XV

"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self." Ernest Hemingway

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XV.

Captain Buckley kept to his word and was considerably nicer to Eliza over the next fortnight.

If nice could be classified as receiving a "good morning" at breakfast and a "good night" when it was time to retire. But, considering she had not even received those words from him prior to their conversation, it was an improvement.

Captain Buckley did interject occasionally when Eliza was doing the wrong thing unintentionally. His new favourite word for her was inept before he showed her how to properly do something.

Eliza had graduated from just mopping to other jobs. She had learned, relearned, and learned again how to look after and maintain the ship's rigging. She was learning how to control, put up, and take down sails, and how to know just when to do so.

A sailor, she learned, could tell exactly how fast the wind was blowing by wetting and holding up a finger to the air.

Eliza had now spent four weeks at sea, and by the look of her appearance in the tiny mirror in Captain Buckley's privy, she looked it. Her sunburn had browned, and new freckles were quickly dotting themselves across her cheeks. Her slim, slight frame was stronger, and she could lift things now that she would not have been able to push a month ago. Her hair, which was blonder after being in the sun, she had quite given up on. No matter how she tried to tame it with her comb, it still fell in a mess of curls.

Eliza's experience thus far had certainly not been what she was expecting. What she had initially thought it would be seemed awfully silly now. But what it had become was a lesson on her own strength, tenacity and maturity.

How she could ever return to her life in England she did not know, and yet she knew that it would be coming soon. The crew were well aware that they would be making port soon. They were not yet in Jamaica, but this first port would be where Captain Buckley would find her passage home to England.

When she had been throwing up her guts a month ago from seasickness, she might have welcomed the idea. But now? The thought of leaving ...

"Might I have another bowl, Cookie?" Eliza asked as she was being served her supper of stew. One could not identify a single ingredient in the stew, but after a hard day's work, one did not care.

"You know the rules, Eliza Lee," replied Cookie, clicking his tongue. "One serving is all. We'll be making port soon anyhow. You can fill up there."

"For the captain," Eliza explained.

"Captain eats last."

"I know," replied Eliza. "I am only trying to be kind. To thank him for his hospitality. It seems I will be leaving you all soon." Eliza noticed Eggs' face fall as she finished her sentence.

She would most definitely miss young Eggs. Their hour of reading together was one of her favourite things to do on the ship. He had come so far so quickly. Eliza was quite confident that if he kept practicing, there would be work for him in the city.

Cookie ladled stew into another bowl, and Eggs added a spoon. Eliza carefully balanced both bowls as she walked up the stairs. She had been about to tap on the door of the captain's cabin with her foot before she realised that Captain Buckley was standing at the wheel, looking through a strange sort of telescope.

Eliza had seen the captain looking through that particular instrument before, but she really had no idea what its purpose was. It could not be to look at far off distances as he had an actual telescope for that.