Dorrin opened the box and looked; the furry gray leaves smelled strongly, though they did not look attractive. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you both for all your help.”
One of the servants carried her baggage down to the harbor for her. More people crowded the dock, both bringing cargo to the ship and unloading another that had just arrived. Dorrin edged through the crowd, avoiding piles of cargo waiting to go aboard—bales of wool, bundles of cloth, boxes. At the gangway, the captain waited, a clerk beside him with a tally board.
“Ready to board, then?” he said. “Is that all you’re bringing? Good … Gith … come take the passenger’s box to the cabin. Come on, now, over you come.” Once she was aboard with her bundle and the sailor had picked up the box, he said, “To your cabin now, if you please, and stay out of the way until we’ve got this lot stowed. Things will quiet down later. We will eat together this evening.”
Dorrin followed Gith to her cabin, where a thin mattress and folded blanket now lay on her bunk and boxes of her provisions took up half the meager floor space. He pushed her box under the bunk and slid the plank through slots to secure it there. Then he pointed to the roll of netting along the side of the bunk.
“You know how to put that up?”
She had no idea what the netting was for and said so.
“Storms,” Gith said. “Hooks here.” He showed her. “And here, on bulkhead.” He gave her a gap-toothed grin.
“Thank you,” Dorrin said. Surely she wouldn’t need a net.
“Your meat’s in the galley already,” Gith said. “And when Cap’n says it’s clear, Cook wants to talk to you about your meals. Maybe move some of these boxes later.”
Dorrin thanked him, slid the cabin door closed, then looked out the window above her bunk. Her cabin was on the water side of the ship; she looked across the harbor, then down at the green water below. Down there, someone rowed a small boat, about the size she’d seen on rivers, back and forth along the side of the ship. The cabin felt stuffy; she left the window open and opened the door again. A short narrow passage led to the deck outside, from which came the noise of men at work. She took off her doublet—far too warm—folded her cloak for a pillow, and lay down on the bunk to wait out the time until the captain came.
“We’ve another passenger,” the captain said at dinner. The captain’s cabin, much bigger than her own, took up the entire width of the ship at the rear, with room for a dining table that would seat six. He leaned back in his chair and smiled at Dorrin.
“He ate ashore?” Dorrin asked.
“Oh, no. Not in your class. He’s working his passage back south. Missed his ship, he says, being ashore with a toothache, but he’s a sailor right enough. Hands like shoe leather; feet, too. I made him run up the rigging and throw a few knots to be sure he could. I don’t expect you’ll notice him, and as he’s crew, he’s not supposed to speak to you.” He set his hands flat on the table. “Now, about that—ship has rules, and even paying passengers must follow them.”
“Certainly,” Dorrin said.
“You’re welcome on deck, but there’s a dark line—blackwood—you must not cross unless I give permission aft of the mainmast. Between that line and the cabins back here, you can walk back and forth for exercise or sit on the deck or a coil of rope if there is one. But if I tell you to go below, that means into your cabin, and it will be for a reason. You’ve never sailed, you said, and it’s all too easy for a landlegs to fall or get in the way.”
“I understand,” Dorrin said. “Stay on this side of the black line.”
“I may invite you to the upper deck, but you must not come up without my invitation. You may come into the passage between the cabins, but you may not come into my cabin without invitation.” Dorrin nodded, and he went on. “Even if a hatch is opened, you’re not to go down in the hold without permission. It’s not for trash or the spill of your pot. Gith will empty that, but otherwise you’re to keep your compartment tidy so that when the ship rolls, everything stays in place. And don’t leave things about, outside your cabin. Gith will tap on your door at mealtimes if you’re in your cabin; you can ignore the bells and other signals the crew needs.”
Dorrin discovered that everything on the ship had a different name than it would have had on land. Doors were hatches, walls were bulkheads, floors were decks—all of them, not just the top one, as she’d thought. Windows were ports, confusing because instead of heart-hand and sword-hand, the ship’s sides were port and starboard. What she called ropes were lines or cables or halyards or—in a few cases—ropes, and most of them had another specific name as well. Every sail had its own name. Every mast had its own name, and so did other parts of the ship. Days after they left Bannerlíth, she was still struggling to remember which was which.