The Stowaway

III

"The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun." Christopher McCandless

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III.

"What are you talking about?" Katy asked, confused.

But Eliza did not answer her. She was too curious. She placed Rachel's hand in Katy's and ran towards the harbourmaster, and the gruff looking man.

But she stopped, she hesitated. She stood far enough that she was not obviously listening, and near enough that she could overhear their conversation.

"It's a favourable tide," murmured the man to the harbourmaster, "and my men cannot depart on a Friday. I need a path by no later than eight o'clock tonight."

"That would require a lot of negotiation," replied the harbourmaster. "The Navy ships have priority, I am sure you understand, Captain. My records indicate your ship is bound to Jamaica. What is a day? You may need to wait until tomorrow."

Eliza could see the anger in his eyes as he refused to accept the harbourmaster's instructions.

"My men cannot depart on a Friday," he snapped. "It's bad luck." Subtly, she watched as he placed what looked to be at least ten shillings in the harbourmaster's hand. "You will see to it that we have a clear path tonight, won't you?" His voice was deep, persuasive, and firm, like he was used to being obeyed.

Oh, he was a pirate. He looked exactly like what she imagined the wayward heroes in her books looked like. Rugged, tortured, lethal.

"As you wish, Captain," the harbourmaster closed his fist over the coin and turned away, only to come face to face with Eliza. The pirate then also noticed Eliza standing there observing them.

He glared at her, before turning his back on them both and making his way onto his ship.

"Best be off, young lady," the harbourmaster ushered.

Eliza found her tongue. "How much would I have to pay to get on one of these ships?" she asked.

His eyes narrowed. "No women," he said strictly. "No sailor here would take a woman. You're bad luck. Off with you."

No sooner had the harbourmaster dismissed her, Katy was beside Eliza. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Why do you think it's bad luck to set sail on a Friday?" Eliza pondered, in a tone that only irked Katy more. And why were women bad luck?

"Eliza," Katy said firmly. "You cannot leave me standing alone with two small children in and amongst all sorts of strange men."

Eliza's head snapped around and she immediately felt a pang of guilt. Katy was still carrying Lizzie on her hip and was gripping Rachel's hand tightly. Eliza knew that Katy's back had to be hurting for holding Lizzie all this time, so she immediately took the one year old from her.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I was curious," she added.

"Yes, that much I deduced. I do not know what you imagine you saw in that man, Eliza, but he was rude, and he clearly has a job to do." She huffed, but her voice became tender. "He is not a character in one of your books."

Eliza turned her head and looked up onto the deck of the ship. She could not see much but she could see men moving around, going about their business, preparing for their journey to Jamaica. Jamaica!