The Stowaway

XX

"What is a Wanderess? Bound by no boundaries, contained by no countries, tamed by no time, she is the force of nature's course." Roman Payne, The Wanderess

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XX.

Eliza would have tripped over every obstacle along the foreshore were it not for Captain Buckley's attentive assistance. She could not stop staring at their beautiful surroundings. How anyone could get any work done with such a view she had no idea.

There were houses, shops, stalls, and hawkers all along the shore. The ships were all moored on a long wharf a ways out, which Eliza was glad for as they did not spoil the tranquillity of such a place.

The smells were intoxicating, and Eliza had nothing to compare them to. She had never smelled anything like the food that was inviting her in. Captain Buckley seemed to know where he was going.

After all, he had shared that little titbit of information with her. It had not escaped Eliza's notice that he had shared that he had been travelling to and from Jamaica for twenty years. It might not have been the story of how his heart was ripped from his chest by a selfish lover, but it was something about himself.

Captain Buckley turned down a narrow street and then led her directly into a tavern. One smell that she did recognise was ale, and it was plentiful here. She immediately recognised the other crewmembers and realised that this must have been their usual place of recreation. Much like they had been in the British Virgin Islands, their tables were filled with food, their mugs with ale, and their laps with women.

The bar was small, with a dozen or so little tables filling the floor space. Scantily clad women were roaming about them, weaving in a sultry fashion as drunken sailors fell over themselves to solicit their services.

Eliza looked away. Captain Buckley brought her to a table that was tucked in the corner, half hidden by the wooden bar. He then caught the attention of one of the ladies and asked for something in their language. Eliza really had no idea what she was in for, but her stomach was growling. After over a month of Cookie's mutton and cabbage, she was ready for anything.

"Have you ever tried ackee and saltfish?" he asked her.

Eliza stared at him deadpan. "My mother's idea of adventurous dining is pepper on her boiled egg at breakfast."

Captain Buckley smiled. She was not mistaken at all. He smiled! She had made him smile. It did not disappear quickly enough to fool her. What an odd sense of accomplishment she felt.

"Ackee and saltfish is actually a breakfast dish in Jamaica. But I enjoy it at any time of the day," he informed her.

Another personal detail. Eliza forced herself not to probe. Not that she had any willpower. "How old were you when you first came to Jamaica?" she asked curiously.

He did not seem so very offender. His face was as serious as ever. "Nine, nearly ten," he replied.

"So young," she remarked in surprise. He had mentioned a few times about his length of time at sea, but to imagine a boy, a little boy, making the voyage that she had just journeyed seemed impossible. Where were his parents? But then she supposed not everyone was as fortunate as her to have two parents living.

"It was a living," he murmured in reply, looking away.

Just at that moment, the same woman he had ordered from returned with only one dish and a spoon. She placed it down in front of Eliza. It was a colourful dish, and Eliza could immediately spot the white flesh of fish. It was surrounded by a yellow coloured accompaniment and dressed in red and green flakes of ... something. While she could not tell what a single addition was, she could not deny that it did not smell amazing.