Page 11 (1/2)

"Cannonballs? Prisoners? Was the Aphrodite a warship, then?"

"No, miss" He smiled and went back to his pot of potatoes on the stove

"This crew, falling in with the British Navy? No, the Aphrodite was a privateer vessel Brought in three-and-sixty prizes--French ships, Aht Gray more money in five years at sea than the old Mr Grayson lost in thirty years of fararcane"

Sophia’s hand plunked down on the table "But privateers … aren’t they nearly the same as pirates?"

"No, miss There’s a world of difference between the life of a privateer and a pirate"

"Less violent?"

Gabriel shook his head "About the same, there"

"More honorable"

"Not necessarily That would depend on the particular privateer and the particular pirate"

"Then how is it different?"

"Why, privateering’s legal, of course Sanctioned by the Crown Can’t be hanged for a privateer"

"I see"

" ’Course, the war’s over now" Gabriel sprinkled the dish with pepper before re to be had So we’ve got to turn respectable, Gray says It was either that, or turn pirate" Gabriel winked at her "And I’m rather attached to my neck"

Sophia sipped her tea, aer, really--aboard a ship crewed entirely by ht as well be pirates, except that they couldn’t be hanged And Mr Grayson, with his arrogant swagger and

Mercy

She drained the rest of her tea in one long draught, capped with an audible s "Thank you for the refresh to her feet Blood rushed fro her dizzy The steao take some fresh air"

As she hurried on deck, her mind hirl All that ti her … she’d been consorting with a pirate If he had the slightest inkling that she carried hundreds of pounds beneath her stays, he’d surely stop at nothing to get it And yet, she could not bid caution to overtake the gothic thrill For Heaven’s sake, a pirate She could be in danger, she admonished herself

She could be plundered

The possibility really ought to have frightened her more than it did Perhaps she could not escape the man, but she had to tamp down this response he incited in her There was only one thing for it She would go to her cabin and sketch So si but hi fell to the deck with a loud thud, startling Sophia to a halt It was a knotted length of rope, only a few feet long, and it had landed almost at her feet A rather small object to have h above

Shading her eyes with her hand, Sophia craned her neck and looked upward Davy Linnet descended the rigging hand over hand, like a monkey

For all his nervousness earlier, he looked born to the ropes now He landed at her feet in a graceful swoop "Beg yer pardon,a shy sraced hiratified by the manner in which his pale cheeks colored when she did At least someone on this ship kne to treat a lady "Mr Linnet, I wonder if I ht trouble you for a favor"

The youth sed, his expression suddenly earnest "Anything, "

CHAPTER SEVEN

Over the next few days, Gray found himself partnered in an absurd sort of quadrille Miss Turner was always in his sights, but rarely within reach And when their paths collided occasionally, as n, she quickly twirled away froain Just as well

He learned the pattern of her activities She came abovedecks shortly after breakfast, presuain, usually until the dogwatches in late afternoon A sailor’s favorite ti low in the sky and dinner loomed hopefully on the horizon It was the time of day when those who had pipes would play theather ’round, and ht a pipe instead Only natural, then, that Miss Turner would be drawn to the deck at that hour, lured by the air of ca

He couldn’t iine how she passed her time between forenoon and dusk What did ladies do with the? Gray hirew itchy with idleness He found little to do, save charting the latitude religiously and circling the deck, pausing to chat with the sailors now and then Every once in a while, a sail ht of whiht not decide to hail the ship and let the carved goddess adorning the Aphrodite’s prow curtsy to a kindred figurehead Odd, to watch the ships approach willingly now, rather than flee

"Say!"

The shout drew Gray’s attention A knot of sailors surrounded young Davy, who appeared as riled up as a fifteen-year-old green hand could get Davy stood nose-to-chest with O’Shea, jabbing a finger into the Irishly--"