The Sea Wolves by Christopher Golden Read Free Book Online Page B

said.
    Ghost stood in the door, an imposing presence. “Time to get back to work.”
    Louis nodded, but Ghost remained blocking the doorway. He was staring at Jack, his gaze so strange that Jack had to glance away. It was like being examined by a shark. Totally inhuman, and yet with an intelligence that could not be escaped.
    Not even by turning away.
    â€œNobody has any conscience about adding to the improbabilities of a marvelous tale.”
    Jack held his breath, then began scrubbing again.
    â€œYou’ve read Hawthorne, young Jack?”
    â€œSome,” Jack said. He was trying to gauge Ghost’s purpose with him, because he knew it went beyond cooking. And while he was striving to figure out what Ghost sought from this interaction, he was hesitant to commit completely to any reply, even to the most innocuous question. He might deny any knowledge of Hawthorne, and perhaps that would be wrong. Or he could admit to Ghost that he had read some of Hawthorne’s novels and many of his short stories, respected his complexity, questioned the moral purity of his vision … but perhaps that would also be a mistake. He had no idea what might set off the captain’s explosive temper.
    â€œGood,” Ghost said. “I should like to discuss him with you someday.”
    Jack heard the captain move aside and Louis scamper away, and then Ghost’s gentle, confident footfalls also led away from the galley toward his stateroom at the stern. Jack let out his held breath and took in another lungful, surprised at the tension within him. Someday , Ghost had said, promising a future that Jack feared.
    And yet his most pressing concern for the future was not Ghost’s savage volatility but the question of how soon he might see Sabine again, and if there would ever be an opportunity for them to converse. If she was Ghost’s woman, simply gazing too long at her might get Jack killed. But he knew he had to look upon her again. And if she was not Ghost’s woman, that only prompted more questions. Where did she sleep on board this ship of rough men? How did she endure their constant presence?
    He wondered, also, about the claims Louis had made about her strange gifts. Jack would have doubted him, or presumed the tale augmented with fantasies, but he had seen the way Sabine gazed upon those maps, Ghost and Johansen watching her with anticipation. In addition to whatever covetous affection Ghost might have for her—whether she reciprocated or not—she provided a service to them. That alone might be enough to explain why she had been untouched by the captain’s brutality.
    And what of me? Jack thought. What service do I provide? Discussing Hawthorne?
    No, Ghost had to have some other purpose in mind for him. The rest of the passengers abducted from the Umatilla were prisoners somewhere aboard the Larsen , but Jack had been left free, assigned the duties of cook while Finn recovered. The captain had admired his fighting spirit, and perhaps his cleverness.
    And the wildness in you , Jack thought.
    Perhaps that as well.
    But whatever the captain’s purpose, Jack knew that he had to make use of his limited freedom to locate the other hostages from the Umatilla , to do whatever he could to secure their safety and find his way off this ship. And if in the meantime he should discover more about the mysterious Sabine, all the better.
    Jack spent the rest of that day either working in the galley or clearing away plates from the mess and Ghost’s stateroom. Ghost and Johansen ate together, but there was no sign of Sabine. Jack watched for her everywhere he went, and listened for quiet footfalls on the deck above that might belong to a woman. The one time he found a few minutes to spare and went on deck, he took deep breaths as he left the galley, passed through the mess, and mounted the steps rising up into the open, hoping all the while that he would find the perfumed scent of a woman. But there