All For Love

Chapter 12: Deploy

Inside the calamity, there was a French merchant's ship nestled in the peaks of the tempermental English waters. Using trade winds and Arabic originated devices to constellate the stars and their seasonal positions, the crew doused the lights when the first beams of rays lit the water. Men sloshed out of their carbuncle to attend the deck, secure the lines, and cover the mast' holes from pesky birds.

A luxurious captain turned in for a short nap in his cabin, timing in his second in command for control of the steer. He draped the longcoat he wore for these colder times over a carved chair untucked from the desk. The stiffness from his back and eyebrows loosened at last. Leg by leg his boots scattered at his bedside. The natural curl of his back unwound onto the floppy mattress.

Finding comfort, he drew the tricorn master hat over his eyes just as the glass windows shone the light into the cabin.

Light poured half of the estate. But he neither cared nor bothered to buy curtains. No worries when his hat did the job well and with half of the price. Instead of the salty air blowing through his nostrils, the waft of extinquished flame from the desk wavered over.

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Similiarly, a porthole opened up half of the light. Sprays of ocean foam played with the air lock seal, teasing the occupants whether it was dawn or dusk. No matter.

Aramis' internal clock told him the correct time without a fleeting glance at the tricky waters. The first sight he saw were the floorboards above him. Not the cement holdings framed with wooden posts adorned in their cozy room. His sharp eyes reminded him through natural signatures of sight and smell, he was aboard the merchant's ship they procured on salt waters that belonged to England.

Then he glanced at a bodily shape he had pulled near him. It was as comfortable as a down pillow but firm with backbone. He wasn't disappointed to see Antoinette curling up near him with hair pieces astray. Sweat on her brow accumulated. Her skin had paled drastically, indictating the long night of emptying the contents of her stomach due to the unpleasant rocking of the ship.

Nevertheless, the few hours at peace her body allowed her could not escape the morning glory on the English shoals. Slowly she adjusted her crusty eyes at the swinging of the cabin. The natural movement of the ship hugged her backside, easing the difficulties of finding a comfortable position.

Antoinette rose her upper half only to slip on her unsteady elbows and fall back on the bed. The groans of her muscles ached. Cracks on her vertebraes indicated her stiff back and connecting shoulders. Aramis braced her forearms and pulled her up against the wallside boards that melted to the bedposts.

She surveyed a hand through her scalp, already cringing at the bedhead she wore. "Oh, my head," She wet her lips at the soreness in the back of her throat. "I must be still on the drink. You've never risen before me," Her eyes meandered to Aramis, who had risen as gracefully as an alleycat, and not the wobbly fish-out-of-water Antoinette.

Aramis' mustache twitched in amusement. He kissed her forehead. "First time for everything. We docked hours ago. Thought the extra rest would do you some good," He put on his boots. "Breakfast?" he hesitated. He treated Antoinette on ship very delicately. As if she were a rare blooming orchid in winter. One wrong breeze and surely the petals would wilt. The same analogy applied to her stomach too.

Antoinette nodded grimly as she caressed her legs to her chest. Her toes curled into the sheets for some stable platform. "Least my appetite is returning... Say, I don't recall coming to bed?" Her eyes widened in wonder as she looked for clues of bottle or mysterious board that magically transported her from to and fro.