Hadrian nodded with a grimace at the thought.
“You and Royce gave me a break once because of my daughter. Why was that?”
“That was Royce’s call. You need to take that up with him. Although I wouldn’t do it for a while. He’s sicker than I am. I’ve never seen him so miserable, and this sea business is making him irritable. Well, more irritable than usual.”
Wyatt nodded. “My daughter’s the same way on water. Pitiful little thing, she’s like a cat on a piece of driftwood. It takes her forever to get accustomed to the rocking.” He paused a moment, looking at the candle.
“I’m sure you’ll find her, don’t worry.” Hadrian glanced at the mass of men around him and lowered his voice to a whisper. “The job we’re on is important, and we can’t afford to be distracted, but if the situation presents itself, we’ll help any way we can. Something tells me I won’t have much trouble convincing Royce.”
Hadrian felt the nausea rising in his stomach once more. His face must have betrayed his misery.
“Don’t worry. Seasickness usually only lasts three days,” Wyatt assured him as he put the cards in his breast pocket. “After that, both of you will be fine.”
“If we can stay on board that long. I don’t know anything about being a ship’s cook.”
Wyatt smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered. Poe will do most of the work. I know he looks young, but he’ll surprise you.”
“So how is it that I get an assistant?”
“As ship’s cook, you rank as a petty officer. Don’t get all excited, though. You’re still under the boatswains and their mates, but it does grant you the services of Ordinary Seaman Poe. It also exempts you from the watches. That means so long as the ship’s meals are on schedule, the rest of your time is your own. What you need to know is that breakfast is served promptly at the first bell of the forewatch.” Wyatt paused. “That’s the first time you’ll hear a single bell toll after eight bells is rung just after the sun breaks above the horizon.
“So have Poe light the galley fires shortly after middle watch. He’ll know when that is. Tell him to make skillygalee—that’s oatmeal gruel. Don’t forget biscuits. Biscuits get served at every meal. At eight bells, the men are piped to breakfast. Each mess will send someone to you with a messkid, sorta like a wooden bucket. Your job will be to dish out the food. Have Poe make some tea as well. The men will drink beer and rum at dinner and supper, but not at breakfast, and no one on board will risk drinking straight water.”
“Risk?”
“Water sits in barrels for months, or years if a ship is on a long voyage. It gets rancid. Tea and coffee are okay ’cause they’re boiled and have a little flavor. Coffee is expensive, though, and reserved for the officers. The crew and the midshipmen eat first. After that, Basil, the officers’ cook, will arrive to make meals for the lieutenants and captain. Just stay out of his way.
“For dinner make boiled pork. Have Poe start boiling it right after Basil leaves. The salted meat will throw off a thick layer of fat. Half of that goes to the top captains to grease the rigging. The other half you can keep. You can sell it to tallow merchants at the next port for a bit of coin, but don’t give it to the men. It will make you popular if you do, but it can also give them scurvy, and the captain won’t like it. Have Poe boil some vegetables and serve them together as a stew, and don’t forget the biscuits.”
“So I tell Poe what to make and dish it out, but I don’t actually do any cooking?”
Wyatt smiled. “That’s the benefit of being a petty officer. Sadly, however, you only get a seaman’s rate of pay. For supper, just serve what’s left over from dinner, grog, and, of course, biscuits. After that, have Poe clean up, and like I said, the rest of the day is open to you. Sound easy?”
“Maybe, if I could stand straight and keep my stomach from doing backflips.”
“Listen to Poe. He’ll take good care of you. Now you’d best get back in your hammock. Trust me, it helps. Oh, and just so you know, you would have been wrong.”
“About what?” Hadrian asked.
“About thinking sailing was a safer line of work.”
It was still dark when the captain called, “All hands!”
A cold wind had risen, and in the dark hours before dawn, a light rain sprayed the deck, adding a wet chill to the seasick misery that had already deprived Hadrian of most of his sleep. During the night, the Emerald Storm had passed by the Isle of Niel and now approached the Point of Man. The point was a treacherous headland shoal that marked the end of Avryn Bay and the start of the Sharon Sea. In the dark, it was difficult to see the shoal, but the sound was unmistakable. From somewhere ahead there came the rhythmic, thundering boom of waves crashing against the point.