He sat down at the table again, toying with his glass after she'd left. It didn't seem so necessary any more. More footsteps. Furtive ones this time. Who could it be now?
"She must be 'ere. She ain't in any of the other places." Quietly said. Full of sibilant threat.
"Third cabin to the right, upper deck. Cost me a bloody fortune in drinks to find tha' out." A slightly whiny voice replied.
"Never mind. We'll be makin' a bloomin' fortune out of this. I just 'ope 'Enery got them horses ready and waitin'. I wouldn't want ter tangle wiv some of those fellers in the bar, meself. Third right, upper deck, you say?"
"Yep. S'right."
"Then what we' doin' daan 'ere?"
"Keepin' outa sight. Now shut yer gob an' let's get on wiv it."
Keilin found his way to his feet, threat clearing away some of the alcohol fumes. He picked up his assegai, and stumbled over his feet, as he headed towards the door. "Shh! Keilin!"
The whisper had come from the far side of the door. He moved over to it. She was hiding behind the cook's hatch, in the kitchen. He slipped round to its door, and then went inside. Slid the bolt. In the moonlight through the porthole he could see Shael with an eighteen-inch butcher's knife in her hand.
"Why didn't you go after them?" she demanded in a fierce whisper.
He swayed towards the door.
"No! You're drunk. Stay here with me!" she countermanded.
He blinked owlishly at her. "What," he asked, with an attempt at dignity, "are you doing in here?"
"Shhh! They're looking for me," she said in an urgent whisper.
"I may be drunk, but I worked that out. That doesn't answer my question."
"SHHH!"
They were coming back. "Well she ain't there, clever dick. All those bloomin' drinks fer sod all!"
"Try the mess."
Doors opened quietly. "Well, there's a light 'ere. Sign someone's been 'ere. Looks like someone's bin doin' a spot o' private pissin' it up."
"She's probably in bed with 'ooever it is. Come on. We'll check she no' at the tavern after all."
The sounds of the footsteps leaving, and the creak of the gangplank let them both exhale.
"Cay . . . I can't go back to my cabin. They might come back. Can I come to yours?" she asked in a small voice.
He nodded. In silence they went back up to his small cabin. She had to help him up the steep stairway to the next floor, and having watched him fumble with the key for two minutes, she opened his door for him. She locked it behind them. "Have the bunk," he slurred, sitting down against the door, assegai in hand.
She slid into the bunk, bit her lip, and slipped her dress over her head. She lay there for a few moments in the darkness, gathering courage. Finally, she said, quietly, "Cay. I . . . I'm cold."
There was no answer.
Cautiously she leaned over the edge of the bunk. The moonlight from the porthole showed him slumped over sideways, still holding the assegai. He gave a gentle snore.
Shael sighed and lifted her eyes to the uncaring ceiling. "I thought I'd been prepared for everything that could happen on my first night in a man's bed," she muttered. It was a long, long while before she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
The vessel was full of noise and moving folk when she awoke. It was also crisp and cool now. It had been anything but cool in this stuffy little cabin before she'd fallen asleep. She'd been going to dress again . . . but it had been too hot. Now the porthole was open. And somebody had thrown a blanket over her. That somebody was still lying under a blanket on the floor. How was she to know that he'd stood there looking at her in the small hours? The light of the sinking moon had streamed in through the porthole, and bathed the bunk in its brightness. It had taken him a very long time to decide to turn away and open the porthole, before covering her curves gently, ever so gently, with a blanket out of his sea chest.
Hastily she slipped on her undergarments and her spangled dress. She got up, stepping over Keilin, waking him as she unbolted the door. With luck she could be safely back in her own cabin before anyone noticed . . .
She listened. All quiet. She stepped out boldly, to find at least three people coming down the passage. She fled, her ears burning at the sound of Beywulf's Wagnerian laughter. "And I was just going to start looking for her."
* * *
"So you say they were definitely looking for her." Cap eyed them with more disfavor than the rejected pieces of bacon gristle on his plate.
Keilin nodded. "No doubt, sir."
"Any ideas who they were from?"
"No. I didn't recognize the voices at all," said Shael looking down at her feet, just as she had when she'd been asked where she had been, and why.