Chapter 29

G AbrIELLE'S NEW CABIN WAS MUCH SMALLER than the captain's, but that was to be expected. There was a decent-sized bed, a standing wardrobe for her clothes, a small table with two chairs for dining, and even a writing desk. No nice bank of windows like Drew had, but she didn't expect to spend much time in the cabin, so it didn't matter.

Ohr had seen to moving her carpetbags again without being asked, but he'd forgotten about Miss Carla, or maybe he'd left her behind deliberately because he really hated that bird. Most of Nathan's crew felt the same way. But Gabrielle wasn't going to use the excuse of fetching the parrot to see the captain again.

She poked her head out the door and got lucky, seeing Bixley passing. "Can you fetch Miss Carla for me, please?" At his wince, she added, "Oh, come on, she's caged. Your fingers are safe."

"I was thinking of my ears," he replied with a chuckle, and hurried off to comply.

She made room on the writing desk for Bixley to set the cage when he returned. It only took a moment later for her to learn how the captain had amused himself during the day.

She'd been sure she knew all of Miss Carla's repertoire by now. After three years, she'd taught her quite a few phrases herself. But no sooner was the bird set down on the desk than she squawked and said "Coward" quite precisely.

Bixley raised both brows at Gabrielle when he heard the bird, and he mumbled distinctly, "That's a real bad word to be teaching it, Miss Gabby."

She didn't blush until then. She'd merely figured that Drew had picked that word because he thought the parrot was hers. He'd also probably picked it because he figured it would matter to her, she being a supposed pirate and all, that he was calling her a coward because she had avoided him all day. Throwing down the gauntlet, as it were. If she really were a pirate it might matter to her, but since she wasn't, it didn't.

"I know better," she said. "She didn't learn that word from me."

"Ah," he replied on his way out the door. "The American was ornery, then."

Indeed, and a lot worse, she realized not ten minutes later when Miss Carla said, "Time to get naked, wench."

Good grief ! An entire phrase like that in one day? She was incredulous, and had to allow that perhaps her father had taught the bird that one long ago and she'd just never heard it before, since she'd never started to remove her clothes in front of the bird before. That's what she'd started to do, to get ready for bed.

And yet, the phrases her father had taught Miss Carla were mostly derogatory and indicative of his dislike for his wife. In particular, the phrase the bird most favored was "Carla's a witch."

Gabrielle was surprised when Margery showed up a while later. "Are you sure you're feeling better? I can manage for a few more days if you're not."

"I'm fine now," Margery assured her. "It's more annoying than anything else that it takes me so long to find my ‘sea legs,' as you call them."

Gabrielle grinned. "We can't all be sailors."

Margery snorted, then moved to Gabrielle's bags. "Let's get you unpacked. At least this cabin has a wardrobe to put your clothes in. And here, you'll be needing these. If you're going to be gallivanting about the decks like you usually do and helping out as needed like you also usually do when you're aboard ship, then you'll be wearing these just to give me some peace of mind," Margery said.

"These" were one of the cut-off britches Gabrielle had obtained back when Nathan first started letting her sail with him. They were a snug fit, very comfortable, and she wore them with a long-sleeved shirt that hung nearly to her knees, to keep it from being known just how snugly the pants hugged her backside.

Gabrielle lifted a curious brow. "Peace of mind?"

"Indeed," Margery huffed, but then confessed, "I've already had nightmares about you tripping over your long skirts and falling right over the rail. And don't you even think of denying it could happen, young lady. We both know it has happened before."

Gabrielle laughed. Trust her friend to remember that one single time the wind had caught her skirt just so and tangled it in her legs enough to trip her, and indeed, she'd been too close to the railing when it happened and had stumbled right over it. Being at sea at the time had required her having to be fished out and then having to deal with the crew's laughter when she came up looking like a drowned fish. She'd gotten a pair of britches from Richard that very day and had had more made when she got home.

"You're lucky I thought to pack them," Margery continued as she shoved the britches at Gabrielle.

"But why did you?" Gabrielle asked. "I wasn't sailing with my father."

"I know, and I even hoped you wouldn't need them, but truth be told, I had visions of you telling that captain of the ship we took to England how to run his own ship and showing him just how it's done."

"I wouldn't have!" Gabrielle laughed.

"No, but you might have used that as an excuse just because you like the sailor's life too much. I'm actually surprised you restrained yourself."

"I had too much on my mind that trip to even notice how the ship was being run."

"Now, now, don't you worry none about getting yourself that husband," Margery said, guessing accurately what had been on her mind back then. "We'll get back to the matter of looking for one soon enough once we fetch your father out of that dungeon."

Gabrielle sighed. "It's a shame I had to leave all those pretty new gowns behind."

"I packed a few," Margery said, and took one out to show her.

"But I'm not going to have an opportunity to wear them on this trip."

"Who says you're not? Just because you're going to wear those britches to keep you safe while on deck, doesn't mean you can't dress for dinner at least. There'll be no forgetting you're a lady."

Gabrielle grinned. "Actually, for this voyage I'm a pirate."

"I'll concede—a lady pirate. And here's that shirt you wear with those britches." Then Margery tsked, looking at her hair, which she'd merely tied back with a ribbon today. "I'll help you fix that in the morning."

"Not a chance. It's just a waste of time doing up a fancy coiffure aboard ship. The wind will just rip it down."

"That's only because you won't stay off the deck," Margery huffed.

"Swab those decks!" Miss Carla put in her two cents.

"Oh, hush, you daffy bird," Margery said, and headed toward the door. "I'll see you bright and early, Gabby. Get a good night's sleep."

Afraid to hear any more out of Miss Carla for the night, Gabrielle rummaged through the wardrobe for one of the petticoats Margery had just hung up and draped it over the bird's cage. A cover of any sort usually worked to shut her up. Now, if she could just quiet her thoughts as easily, then she might get some sleep.