Sweet Seas

TWO

TWO

The sweet-smelling, petite wench hadn’t been happy when he’d shown her to her single berth cabin, which was on the same deck as the mess. She should be f*****g glad the cook got a private cabin. Sure, it was f*****g small, but this wasn’t the Hilton.

Eros was a working ship, everyone had a role, and she was here to do a job. Swain might have neglected to tell her that she’d be the only female on board, thinking that if she knew, she might have second thoughts about joining the crew.

To his chagrin, she’d been right when she pointed out that he didn’t have a lot of options. They had to get underway, he couldn’t waste time at port looking for another cook. But he wasn’t a complete jerk, he planned to talk to Jockey, his first-mate, to make sure all the boys kept their hands to themselves.

Sassi Robins.

On the phone, the temp agency chick had told him the name of his new cook. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask for her measurements because he hadn’t cared about who she was as long as she could cook.

Except, after seeing the slightness of her delicate facial features, he was thinking it might have been smart to be explicit about needing someone hardy. This lass seemed too dainty. He didn’t have time to pander to someone who might expect special treatment.

It was his own fault that he hadn’t probed further. After being assured by the temp agency woman that this Sassi could cook and she’d have no problems following orders, Swain had accepted her as a done deal. His to-do list was long and he hadn’t had the time to think twice. There were too many other things to arrange before they shoved off; he hadn’t cared much about who cooked his bacon in the mornings.

For him and his crew, this job was a real coup. He’d made a bid for it and missed out to the Swag Wagon. But they’d pulled out at the last minute. Swain was happy to step in and save the day, even if it meant scrambling to get everything organized.

His cause hadn’t been helped when he learned that Eros’ usual cook, Raise, had been arrested for drunk and disorderly just as Swain was signing on the dotted line to accept the job. There was an outstanding warrant meaning that Raise wouldn’t be joining them on this trip and possibly the next one.

The rest of the crew was easier to corral. Swain and his first-mate, Jockey, lived on Eros full-time, so they were always around. Foist, his engineer, had no wife or commitments to keep him in one place. He’d been happy to sign on last minute, just like Swain’s deckhand, Swing, and their apprentice Fidget.

Pulling together a couple of divers wasn’t too hard, Swain had enough ships in his fleet and contacts in the industry that he could do what needed to be done. The two divers would double as night-watch relief after Eros picked them up in Miami.

A cook was always more difficult to come by. Anyone could throw eggs in a pan, but decent cooks were like gold dust, so they were snapped up quickly and often signed their articles far ahead of time.

Raise had really dropped him in it this time. The bastard.

Being out on the water for weeks at a time, working hard and long, the only thing his crew had to look forward to on a daily basis was chow. If he didn’t secure someone with skills enough to satisfy his crew’s appetite, he could face a mutiny.

But now they had a woman aboard.

And not just any woman; a woman who smelled like candy and smiled like she was thinking of tempting men to sin. Swain was glad she’d been trussed up like a cart horse when they met. If he’d been able to look too close at her figure, he might have refused to take her on board. As it was, he could imagine her as a school matron and forget that he’d noticed her slender arms and delicate wrist.

Good thing he had no time for women like her.

Swain liked his women willing and his affairs simple. But if the new cook tried any of that flirtatious crap with his crew, God help her. A man could only be pushed so far before he’d lose his patience.

There had been no alternative, he’d had no choice except to accept the woman. In addition to asking Jockey to keep the men in line, Swain would have to watch her to ensure she didn’t cause trouble. If he caught her playing with his men, he’d put her in her place.

But she was onboard now. An official member of his crew.

Her cabin was in the same passageway as the mess. He’d pointed it out up ahead on the other side of the deck, so she could make her way there after she was settled in. The last thing he wanted to do was waste time with handholding. He had preparations to make; there was no time to give her a guided f*****g tour. His crew was on their way, and he wanted to get underway as soon as possible.

Swain had dumped her cases in her room and then decided to forget about her.

Though he was still a little distracted. He’d never known anyone to come onboard with so much luggage. But as long as she kept it in her room and passed inspection later, he’d let her keep it.

If things went their way on this job, Eros would have to get used to being laden with plenty of cargo. She could hold up to the extra weight.

Sassi had still been scanning the small bedroom the captain had led her to when he came back and dropped her cases behind her without saying a word.

The narrow space was depressing. The metal walls were painted grey; the floor and ceiling were a darker shade of the same dull color. Her basic shower room was just big enough to stand up in. It didn’t even have a window.

There was a window in the bedroom, but it was tiny. A little glazed circle on the far wall, just above the skinny metal bunk with its thin mattress and woolly blanket. But the bleak décor and the limp pillow weren’t enough to discourage her. She had everything she needed, a roof, a bed, and two spaces to stow her things: a dresser that was bolted to the wall and a box beneath the bed.

For now, at least, she was safe.

Karen had said that Sassi would have uniforms provided. So she guessed that’s what the black polo-shirts in the bottom drawer were meant to be. They were way too big and cut for a male stature, but they were embroidered with the words “Swain Salvage” in small letters on the breast.

Fine by her.

Sassi worked fast to unpack her things because she wanted to get to the kitchen. Most of what she’d brought were supplies for the kitchen. Until she knew what they had in storage and what equipment she had to work with, she couldn’t begin to build a menu.

She had no idea how to begin planning for entrees; Sassi was used to working up dessert menus. But she had a feeling that her specialty, comfort food, was going to be well-received around here.

Thank goodness for that.

Sassi had made a good dent in getting the kitchen cleaned up. A sudden grumbling roar almost knocked her off her feet. For a good minute, she stood there braced with a hand on the counters wondering if the ground was about to give-way beneath her feet.

“We got a stowaway?”

Spinning around, her wide eyes landed on the scruffy older man just inside the doorway. “I, uh… I’m the new cook,” she said, and the rumble increased. “What is that noise? Why is the whole kitchen vibrating?”

“Galley,” he said, tossing a pile of newspapers onto the table that was just to the left of the door.

It was a long skinny table with seating around three sides, shoulder-high backrests along the wall and at the head of the table, with an open back bench on the other long side.

Beyond the top of the table were three metal stairs that descended to a large open space. It seemed to be some kind of recreation room. Fixed couches lined the back wall and there were bolted-down tables in each corner. All the furniture she’d come across so far was bolted down. A wall separated the kitchen from the rec room. On the recreation side of it was a TV cabinet, and even the TV was screwed down.

Sassi hadn’t had a lot of time to explore, but she was impressed that there was a TV at all, though she doubted it would work when they got out to sea.

“Ga… galley?” she asked when he started toward her.

The corner of his wry mouth twitched and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened like he was amused. “It’s not a kitchen, it’s a galley. You’ve gotta learn a whole new language out here. I’m guessing you ain’t spent a lot of time at sea?” She shook her head as he offered his hand. “Jockey, I’m the first-mate.”

At least he was polite enough to be introducing himself up front. “Sassi,” she said, shaking his spindly fingers that were stronger than they looked. Jockey had bulk about him too, not like the captain did, but she wouldn’t bet against this guy either. “Sassi Robins… Are all of the crew so… raw?”

Jockey outright grinned at her and when his head went back in a laugh, his dark grey hair fell from his temple to reveal a scar that ran all the way down to his ear. Gulping, her stomach flipped, and she started to fear what she’d gotten herself involved in.

“Hey, now, I think that’s a mighty nice compliment,” he said. “I’m guessing you met the cap’n… he ain’t as bad as he seems. This job landed on us last minute. He likes to be prepared, and this one caught us off-guard. We were meant to be holed up in port for six months for maintenance… Not that none of us are complaining about being at sea.”

They might not be, but the reality of what she’d signed on for was becoming all too apparent. She was going to be offshore, far offshore, without escape, surrounded by these… raw men.

But her ability to protect her virtue became secondary when the implication of what Jockey had just implied filtered through. “Maintenance?” she asked, wondering how scared she should be. “Is this boat safe?”

“Oh, Eros is sea worthy all right,” he said, peeking past her. “What you cooking up?”

“Breakfast,” she said and folded her arms. “The captain called this the mess. Why are you calling it a galley?”

“The mess is where we eat,” he said, nodding backwards. “The kitchen is the galley.”

To her it was all one big room, even though it was split level and had a dividing wall between the galley and recreation space. All she could see from the galley was the dining table and door.

“And here I thought we spoke English in America.”

“We’re still in dock, so we’re still in America, sure,” he said. “But you’re on sovereign Swain land now. His are the only rules that matter.” Opening the fridge at his side, he sought out a soda, and she wondered how he could down the syrupy liquid this early in the day. “Cap’n banned smoking in here, you smoke?” Sassi shook her head, she never had. “You follow orders. You take ‘em like gospel, hear? Discipline’s my responsibility and you don’t want me letting the cat out the bag.” She had no idea what secret he was referring to, but she’d already appeared to be i***t enough that she didn’t want to ask. “You make coffee?”

He had to be able to smell it, but she guessed the question was better than a command. “Uh, yeah,” she said and opened an overhead cabinet to be faced with a bunch of insulated mugs.

As soon as she closed the cabinet, he reached over her and opened it again. “You must’ve noticed everything around here is bolted to the floor. That’s ‘cause on a ship, s**t tends to move around. Spillage can cause all kinds of problems, so we use these.”

Made sense. Jockey unscrewed the lid and took the coffee carafe from the machine to fill his mug. “What happened to your last cook?” she asked.

Finding out why she’d been needed in such a hurry just made sense. Whoever had been in her position before her had left the kitchen—oops, galley—all higgledy-piggledy. She’d have to reorganize it when she got a spare minute.

“Cap’n made him walk the plank.”

Although she was startled, it didn’t take long for her to squint with suspicion. “He did not.”

“Sure,” Jockey said. Nodding, he tossed an arm around her shoulders to lower his face near to hers. “Didn’t you know? Our captain is a real, life pirate.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, easing his arm away. “You think ‘cause I have breasts that I’m going to be fooled by your sea yarns? I’m green, I’m not gullible.”

But he crossed his heart. “Swear to Poseidon, let him strike me down.”

Sassi didn’t want to get a reputation for being easy to con, but he did look dead serious. If she asked him any questions, and the claim was false, he’d laugh in her face. If it was true, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know the details.

An impulse to flee struck her. But she swallowed her anxiety about working for a pirate and changed the subject. “Would you like a cookie?”

Scurrying deeper into the galley, Sassi pulled her cookie tub from another cabinet and went back to offer him a treat.

Now it was his turn to look surprised. “You make cookies?” He selected one and bit into the sweetness. His expression loosened to amazed delight; relief made her grin. “Raise never made nothing like this.”

“Raise?”

“Our last cook,” he said. “His food was all about clogging our arteries.” Jockey was actually happy about that, nostalgic almost, while she had to dampen the roiling in her stomach. “If it don’t drip with grease, we don’t want it.”

Her stomach revolted again. “I don’t know about that but I’ll do my best.”

She’d been sure that the captain was all muscle. If his diet was that bad, maybe there was no fitness behind the facade.

Shouting outside the door made her peer around Jockey who must have heard it too because he turned around. Two men stumbled in. The larger of the two had the scrawnier one in a headlock, he dragged him into the room, guffawing as the little guy complained.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed and started to move forward intending to help the victim.

Jockey put an arm out to block her. “Don’t pay them no mind, they’re our resident gofers.”

“Jockey!” the large guy said, letting the smaller one loose at the same time he noticed her. “f**k me, the cap’n finally got a wench to take the edge off these long trips… Come o’er here, honeypie. Come sit on Swing’s lap.”

Her mouth opened. If the captain thought she was going to w***e herself to any bastard on his order, she’d smack him down hard.

“Hey, now you know the cap’n’s rules about f*********n on board,” Jockey said. Sassi became aware of how the first-mate still had his body angled in front of hers. Was he hiding her body from these guys or protecting it? “This here’s our new cook, Sassi.”

Grabbing the cookies from her, Jockey tossed the box to the guy in front.

The pimple faced boy beside him peeked inside when the big guy took the lid off. “Cookies!” the young one exclaimed and grabbed two.

“Just like momma used to make,” Jockey said. As the guys dug into the cookies, the first-mate stepped back to put an arm around her. “That big one there, he’s Swing. He’s a gorilla, slow, but he’s got a good heart, doesn’t always think before he talks. Don’t you worry, cap’n let’s his crew fix problems the traditional way. And you being a female, you can pick any guy on crew to fight for you. Word to the wise, pick the cap’n, he never loses a fight and won’t see a woman disrespected.”

Her jaw loosened. “Fight for me?”

“Sure! You don’t want to take Swing on; he ain’t smart enough to know when to stop swinging.” Maybe that was where he got the nickname. “We call the little ‘un Fidget ‘cause he doesn’t know how to sit still. Boy’s eyes are working if his hands ain’t. Cap’n’s got his work cut out keeping that boy busy. Only time he doesn’t look like he’s about to piss his pants is when he’s eating, and without Swing, forget it; the boy’s a danger to himself out there. Captain knows his momma, she about begged him to keep Fidget outta trouble.”

So the captain had taken the youngster on as a favor to the mother? Was there a relationship there? Fidget looked young, but not that young. He was still a man, maybe around twenty. But maybe the captain had a thing for older women… or the woman wasn’t older. It could be that she’d been a young teenager when she had Fidget.

“How old is the captain?” she heard herself ask.

Jockey looked down at her, curiosity or astonishment on his face. “Fidget ain’t his, Captain ain’t like that. If he’d got Margo in trouble, he’d have married her. Don’t you forget our captain’s an old-fashioned guy.”

Old-fashioned. She didn’t really know what she was supposed to take from that. But Jockey was looking deep into her like she should get it. “I don’t—”

“Yo! You pricks!”

Jockey turned at the same time she noticed a guy with floppy dirty-blonde hair hanging in the door, wearing a frown and looking unhappy. “Foist, where you been?” Swing called out.

“That’s Foist, our engineer,” Jockey said to her in an aside.

“Me and Swain are out here doing all the work. Get your f*****g asses on deck now, we’re casting off.” His severe eyes popped to her. “That means we want chow soon.”

Though there had been no proper introduction, Foist clearly knew who she was. She had to be easily identifiable. That made Sassi curious about how many women were onboard, she hadn’t seen another one yet.

“I’m on it,” she said.

“All hands on deck!” Foist shouted.

Jockey smiled. Swing and Fidget jumped to it and ran out after Foist. “Uh, can I ask about supplies?” she asked before the first-mate could go after the others. “I’ll be fine with what’s here for a few days, but there has to be more in—”

“Cargo holds are below decks,” he said. “I’ll show you when we’re underway. Do inventory fast, we used Raise’s old chits to stock the ship. But if there’s anything else you need, the captain can email an order to our guy in Miami.”

“Miami?” she asked. It wouldn’t take four weeks to get to Miami and back. “That’s where we’re going?”

“We’ll land there by nightfall, spend the night, and get underway tomorrow.” Underway where? But she didn’t have time to ask because Jockey was already on his way to the door. “Guys will be hungry in an hour; Captain and me will be down in two. Anyone’s hands go wandering, hit the intercom on the wall.”

So that was what the little box with the speakers and the buttons was. “Don’t worry about me,” she said as he stepped out. “Hands I can handle.”

Alone in the galley, Sassi took a deep breath. This was a kitchen, just like any other, even if it did have a different name. Breakfast. The crew wanted breakfast. She could do breakfast, it wasn’t hard. Especially when, after meeting the crew, she’d learned that their standards were pretty low.

Noise outside took her to the circle window above the kitchen sink. Out on the pointy front of the boat, she saw Swain on the deck twisting some kind of crank. The thick muscles in his tanned arm worked beneath the bold ink that circled his flesh. She couldn’t see from here what the tattoos were, but it was clear he had a few of them.

The sun would be up soon; the sky was already beginning to grey and color. A new day meant a new beginning. She had to make this work or these first weeks of her new life at sea may also be the last of her life.