The Silver Pearl left port early the following morning as planned, and, for several days after its departure, Adelard was able to feign being an experienced sailor adequately enough to arouse minimal suspicion. He was fortunate enough to have been given simple tasks related to cleaning the ship and scanning the sea for the first day or so of the trip, and he was a quick learner when it came to the minutiae of the everyday jobs performed aboard the vessel; he was able to surreptitiously watch his more experienced compatriots mend equipment and tie lines, and his observations, along with the knowledge he had obtained prior to the journey, allowed him to quickly pick up the tasks. His willingness to do any “grunt work” given him, as well as his quiet but kind nature, made him well-liked among his shipmates, so, although they thought him a bit odd for wanting to wash whenever given an opportunity (he had always been a fastidious person) and for always having a book in hand during his down time, they paid his eccentricities little heed.

Adelard’s luck unfortunately ran out on the fourth day of the journey, for on that day it was decided that “James Beckett” should undertake one of the duties he was known to have experience performing: climbing aloft to scan for land.

He was in his bunk when Henry approached him and asked if he was ready to work more, for he had earlier spent an hour mopping the deck and was taking what he felt was a well-deserved break; though his regular walks kept him relatively fit, the labor aboard the ship was more exertion than he was used to, and he frequently grew weary. Since he had rested a while, he was willing to assist the boatswain, and he followed the man on deck, where he discovered that a thick fog had surrounded the boat. “I cannot see anythin’ through this blasted fog,” moaned Henry, “nor can the others on watch, and I fear we may end up hittin’ somethin’. Since yer not presently on duty an’ yer young an’ able an’ I hear ye’ve good eyes, I figured ye might climb to scan for us.”

“Ye’d like me ta climb ta scan?” Adelard repeated the boatswain’s words in James Beckett’s patois, for he was not yet certain what the man meant and was hoping to divine further information.

“Aye, as ye have many times afore, whilst workin’ on other ships,” replied Henry. “So, get ye to climbin’ the main mast right away. Once ye make it atop, if ye see anythin’, climb down and let me know.”

Adelard felt his heart leap to his throat, for he realized that the boatswain wanted him to climb to the top of the ship so that he might see over the fog and ensure their course was clear. He remembered how James Beckett had informed him that he was often “put up on top to scan” due to his keen eyesight, and he cursed himself for not having considered what this might mean in terms of his duties on-ship. The duke had never been much of a climber, and had certainly never attempted to scale the massive mast of a ship, but, as he knew he might give himself away were he to refuse the task, he gritted his teeth and weakly said, “O’ course, Bosun.”

He strode over to the main mast, which was almost as wide around as he was, and was relieved to find a rope ladder hanging from it―he had worried he might have to try to shimmy up it on his own, something which would have been nigh-impossible―but was dismayed that it appeared to be in poor condition. He gulped, placed his right hand and right foot upon the rope, and started to climb it, trying his best not to look down at the deck below him so that he might not lose his nerve.

Adelard did relatively well for the first twenty or so feet of his ascent, and started to believe he might actually make it aloft and back unscathed, when his left foot slipped off the rung he had been stepping onto. He abruptly found himself hanging by his arms from the ladder, and, without thinking, he shrieked, “Help!” in a voice that was, disappointingly, more like his own than like the sailor’s he was trying to emulate. He felt himself losing his grip, and glanced down to see Henry and several others rushing over with a net in case he fell. He was fortunate that they managed to reach him before he lost his hold and plunged to the deck, but that is where his fortune ended, for, during his tumble downward, he was so filled with terror at the idea of potentially breaking his foolish neck that he had fallen into a dead faint by the time he had reached the ground.

As he lay in the net, insensible, he was placed upon the deck by his rescuers, who stood over him, eyeing him curiously; there were many murmurings regarding James Beckett’s purported experience going aloft, as well as a handful of snide comments about his “not bein’ skilled as ’e’d claimed ta be.” Suddenly, one of the murmurers spoke up. “I think...’e may be wearin’ a false beard.” The sailor pointed at Adelard’s facial hair, and the others saw that he was speaking the truth―a piece of the appliance had been pulled from his skin during the fall and hung from his face. “It looks like ’e put it on with gum.”

Boatswain Henry prompted the other men to step back, and, once they had, bent over the unconscious sailor to check him closely. After a few moments, he straightened, face pale, and said, “Men, carry him to the captain. I fear we’ve a stowaway aboard.”

Syndalle Scarre was poring over a map in her quarters, for she was still trying to identify the safest course the Pearl might take to reach the rumored location of the “land of the dead,” when she was startled by knocking at her chamber door. Pulling her mask back over her face, she opened it to find the boatswain standing before her, wearing a pained expression, and a cluster of sailors carrying what appeared to be a body in a net. “Oh no,” she moaned. “Don’t tell me we’ve lost a crew member. I haven’t had a death aboard one of my vessels in a long while.”

“Erm, ’tis not quite so dire as that, Captain,” replied Henry, wringing his hands, “but ’tis still very much a troublesome matter. Might I enter your quarters an’ speak with you privately regardin’ the circumstances?”

The captain waved him in, so, after letting the sailors know that they could place their burden on the ground while they waited for his return, he quickly entered the chamber, closing the door behind him. Captain Scarre was staring at him with trepidation, so he cleared his throat and timidly said, “Captain, it appears we made an error whilst lookin’ over the crew, for we seem to have...taken on an unforeseen member. The person we thought was James Beckett isn’t James Beckett after all.”

Captain Scarre was confused. “But, how you do know he isn’t James Beckett? The lad hasn’t worked with you nor I before, so how can you tell that he isn’t who he claims to be?”

“Because his beard came off his face a bit when he had a fall from aloft―’tis why he’s in that net―an’ I recognized him. He ain’t any kind of seaman, an’ ’twas easy to recognize because, well, pretty much everyone in Roseland knows who he is.”

The captain paled at his words. “Henry, there are very few people in Roseland who are known to all its citizenry. Are you telling me that―”

“Aye, Captain, ’tis the duke, Adelard, who’s snuck aboard our ship.”

Syndalle Scarre groaned. “Oh no, the king shall have my hide for this! If we return from this journey safely, it’s likely that I shall never again receive a commission from him.” She sighed. “No wonder his face was familiar. Of all the trips for him to stow away upon... Well, I might as well have him come in here so that I might ask him why he’s chosen to blight this particular ship. Tell the men to bring him in.”

Henry Browne nodded, then rushed to the chamber door to give the order. Adelard had awakened from his stupor, and so his fellow crew members, upon seeing that he seemed unharmed, had left him in the net upon the ground and had returned to their respective duties. The boatswain, upon opening the door, found him rising to his feet, and, seeing that he was conscious, said, “Ah, ye’re awake. Ye best come in here. The Captain would like a word with ye.”

Adelard bowed his head and sheepishly said, “O’ course, Bosun.”

He walked past the man into the captain’s quarters, and discovered that they were comprised of two interconnected rooms; the one he entered was a study-like area featuring a padded bench, a chair, a desk strewn with maps, and a bookcase, while the one beyond it contained a bed, a dressing table, and a cabinet. Captain Scarre was sitting in the chair in front of the desk, and beckoned him to take a seat on the bench. “You may leave us and return to your work, Henry,” she told the boatswain. “I don’t want this to take up too much of your time.”

Henry Browne swiftly left the chamber, closing the door firmly behind him, and Adelard started to tremble, for he was not completely sure as to why the captain wished to speak with him. Steeling himself, he began, “I’m sorry for causin’ a fright, Cap’n, I slipped when climbin’ the mast and took a tumble, and I―”

“Still your prattle,” she interrupted. “There’s no need for you to explain what’s occurred, for it’s not the reason I’ve called you in here. I had you brought to me because I know who you truly are and hence wish to speak with you.”

Adelard’s heart sank. “Ye know who I...truly am?”

“Yes, so you needn’t speak in that strange voice any longer. Your beard is coming unglued, by the way, which is why Henry recognized you. I suggest you take it, and the mustache, off, for you no longer need to obscure your appearance.”

Adelard wanted to do whatever he could to stay in the captain’s good graces now that she had determined who he really was, so he hastily peeled the appliances off; they were stuck firm in a few places, which caused him to yelp with pain as he yanked on them―and, admittedly, caused Syndalle Scarre to smirk beneath her mask. “Good,” said Captain Scarre once he had finished. “Now that you’re no longer attempting to deceive me, I feel it’s imperative to ask: Adelard, duke of Roseland, why is it that you’ve chosen to stow away upon my ship? Were you hoping to ensure that I might never again obtain any sort of compensation from your uncle?”

“I’m sorry, Captain Scarre,” Adelard said contritely in his normal voice. “I hadn’t thought of the potential consequences of my boarding your ship surreptitiously, and so hadn’t considered that my behavior might negatively impact you. Please don’t think that I meant to harm you in any way, I merely decided to join your crew in secret because I needed to get away from my uncle for a while; he is looking to groom me to be future king, and I don’t feel I’m fit to be, so I ran away in the hope that he might pick someone else to train whilst I was gone.” He hung his head, slightly embarrassed. “I’d heard that you would be undertaking a lengthy journey, that you were seeking ’the land of the dead,’ and so I decided that I must join your expedition so that I...might see my mother again. She’s said to have disappeared when I was a child, but I fear she is really deceased, and I thought that I might be able to spend some time with her should we reach our intended journey’s end.”

He lifted his face to find Captain Scarre gazing intently at him, and he was heartened to see what seemed to be pity in her eyes. “Although I’m undoubtedly cross that you chose to sneak aboard my ship, for you have endangered my standing with the king in doing so,” she said softly, “I find that I cannot be too angry with you, for I must admit that I share your desire to see a long-departed parent. In fact, this desire is what spurred me to embark upon my current quest.”

Adelard stared at her, bemused, as she continued, “You likely know that my father, Rohan Annora, disappeared whilst sailing twenty years ago, and that I took over his fleet as a result. During the score of years that have passed since his going missing none who’ve traveled the ocean have found any trace of him―myself included―so I’m uncertain whether he has passed on or is still among the living in some remote place. What caused me to take the king’s commission was the hope of either seeing him again if we do reach ’the land of the dead,’ if he is in fact deceased, or finding him on some far-flung island along the way.” She smiled weakly. “I cannot be very mad at you for simply wanting the same thing that I do, even if you used dishonest means to try and obtain it. I was considering putting you on a ship back to Roseland upon our landing at the next port, but I think I’ll show you mercy and let you stay with us until journey’s end.”

Adelard allowed himself to exhale the great breath he had been holding in since she had started speaking, for he had been worried that she might send him home forthwith due to his calculating behavior. “Thank you so much, Captain Scarre. I shall make sure you do not regret allowing me to remain aboard.”

“I’m certain you shall,” she replied. “And feel free to just call me Syndalle, as I’m sure Farramond the Rose wouldn’t be terribly thrilled with me were he to find out I was making the future ruler of Roseland address me by my title. Besides, you and I are going to be bunkmates henceforth, so it’s best we drop all formalities.”

“Bunkmates―you mean, I’ll be sleeping in here from now on?” asked Adelard, eyes widening.

“Indeed. Now that I know who you are, I’m obligated to ensure you come to no harm, not the least because I’d rather not be thrown into the dungeon by your uncle for not taking appropriate care of you. The men in my crew are generally a kind lot, but I’m unsure how they’ll respond to the duke being onboard, and I don’t want to find out the hard way that some of them might be willing to cause you suffering in order to advance their own lots post-journey. I’ll have Henry fetch the blanket and pillow from your bunk, and we shall string you up a fine hammock within my study so that you might obtain sufficient rest despite the room’s lack of the comforts you’re likely used to. I’m sorry that I cannot offer you a chamber of your own, but the only other private one on the ship is Henry’s, and he shares that with his wife.”

“You needn’t worry about me,” Adelard said cheerfully. “I’ve been sleeping in a bunk the past few nights, so I’m sure the hammock will suit me fine. I’d like to think that I’m not too stuffy despite my being a duke.”

Syndalle Scarre let out a chuckle. “I am glad to hear that! If you plan on traveling with us for many weeks, perhaps even many months, you must get used to the tumultuous life one leads upon a ship.”

She strode over to the chamber door, opened it, and struck a bell hanging on the wall nearby. Henry Browne arrived shortly, and she told him, “I shall need for you to fetch a hammock as well as the pillows and blankets our unexpected guest has been using in his bunk, for I shall be setting him up within this room.” The boatswain ran off to fetch the requested items, and in no time had returned with them. He helped Captain Scarre string the hammock up in a corner of her study, then went back to his work. “There,” said the captain, taking a seat at her desk, “that ought to prove a fitting resting place. Feel free to put your bedding there and have a lie-down, for I have plenty to busy myself with.”

“There’s no way I could sleep yet after all the adventure I’ve had today!” Adelard exclaimed. He had been leaning against the wall staring thoughtfully into the distance while the experienced seafarers had made up his bed, and he suddenly turned to Captain Scarre and peered at her curiously. “Since we’re going to be sharing quarters, I must ask: could you show me what’s underneath your mask?”

The captain stiffened. “I’d rather not.”

“Why not? Do you have even more scars under there?”

Syndalle Scarre scowled at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but, no, I do not. I just happen to feel uneasy when I’m not wearing it. Few have seen me without it on.”

Adelard beamed winningly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just tend to have an inquisitive nature. I figured that, since we’ll be sleeping in the same space and it’s highly unlikely that you wear it whilst sleeping, you might want to just take it off now so you can go about the work you need to do in comfort.”

Captain Scarre sighed. “You’re right, I don’t tend to wear the mask whilst alone in my quarters and certainly don’t wear it whilst I sleep, so you’re bound to see me without it if we’re rooming together. I might as well take it off.”

She pulled the mask off and placed it on the desktop, then turned back to Adelard. When he saw her face he could not help but gasp, for her appearance was unlike anything he had anticipated. He had expected her to be much older, perhaps near to the king in years, but she seemed to be closer in age to himself than to his uncle. As she had mentioned, she bore only the one scar that stretched from her left temple to her left cheek, and the chestnut-colored skin she had kept hidden beneath the mask was smooth and unblemished. She had a full mouth, a patrician nose, and large dark eyes that were currently sparkling with amusement. “You seem surprised, Adelard,” she said, grinning at him. “Do I look different from how you’d expected me to?”

“Well, yes―I mean, no―I mean, I just thought you’d be older than you are. Did you start sailing when you were a little girl?”

Syndalle Scarre laughed heartily. “I was pretty young when I took over my father’s fleet twenty years ago, but not quite that young. I had just turned eighteen when he went missing, and so felt I was old enough to work in his stead, though I’m sure my mother disagreed with me at the time.”

“So you’re...thirty-eight now?”

“I’m pleased to see you’re skilled in arithmetic, Adelard,” the captain said wryly. “Yes, I’m thirty-eight years old, although I often feel much older or younger dependent upon the circumstances. For instance, I felt like a very old, haggard woman earlier today when I discovered that the duke had stowed away aboard my ship.”

Adelard reddened, and quickly changed the subject. “I’d always thought you were much older than me. I guess it’s because I was a young child―about six years of age―when you took over your father’s business, so I just assumed you were a fully grown adult at that time.”

“I mean, properly speaking, I was, just a very young one. And, to be honest, I’ve always tried to present myself as older than my age, because I’ve always felt it prudent to do so. It’s why I wear a mask all the time.” She took the item in her hands, glanced at it a moment, then put it down again. “This is only one of several I’ve worn over the years, for they tend to wear out. I started wearing one when I began commanding my father’s fleet, because I was young enough at the time that I figured no one would take me seriously if they could see my face―they would likely just assume that I didn’t know what I was talking about and would try to convince my mother to sell the business to someone who ’knew what they were doing.’ I couldn’t have that happen, couldn’t allow the product of my father’s hard work and care to be passed on to another, so I donned a mask and no one was the wiser regarding my age. I guess it seems to have worked, for here I am now.” She smiled wistfully.

“I understand your reasons for wearing the mask when you were younger,” said Adelard, “but, why do you keep it on now? It must be awfully uncomfortable.”

“I’ve gotten used to it, so it’s not too bad. And, to answer your question, I keep it on because I’m afraid that, were I not to, I might not be treated with the respect and admiration I currently receive.” She frowned. “I know how women are generally treated, especially women others perceive as attractive, and I’m aware that there are those who might perceive me as such. I worry that, if my crew didn’t think I was some sort of wizened crone hiding behind a mask, they might behave inappropriately. It’s safer for things to stay this way.”

She sighed, and Adelard felt very sorry for her, as he reckoned that feeling like she had to hide herself behind a mask to be treated in the way she wanted to be treated was probably not very pleasant to experience, and he tried to steer her away from these musings by asking, “But, how did you take the fleet over without anyone learning of your age? Hadn’t you sailed with your father before, and wouldn’t the sailors know who you were if you had?”

“I had, and they did. I wouldn’t have been able to take over the fleet if I hadn’t already been a skilled mariner. Fortunately for me―though unfortunately for them―most of the seamen who’d regularly sailed with my father and I went missing alongside him when he disappeared. The only one who didn’t was Henry, our current boatswain, for his wife had just borne a child and so he chose not to undertake the journey; he has been my faithful adviser all these years, and is the only crew member who knows what I look like underneath my mask. He helped me choose a group of fellows to replace those who’d been lost at sea, and we preserved the fleet together.”

“I was very lucky to have him―I still am, really―and also lucky that, apart from my father’s crew, my family, and a few close friends, no one else in Roseland really knew who I was or what I looked like. I suppose that’s because I’d always been indoors with my nose in a book whenever I wasn’t sailing or exploring some sort of wilderness. I’ve never been a terribly social person.”

Adelard lit up at her words. “I’ve never been either! I’ve always spent most of my time either reading or walking about the forest surrounding my uncle’s castle.” He blushed. “I even brought a book with me on this journey. I’ve almost finished it, and I’m dreading doing so, as I’m not sure how I’ll keep my mind entertained once I do.”

Syndalle Scarre broke into a broad grin. “I think you may be in luck! If you’d care to peruse the books to your right, I think you’ll find that they’re not all sailing manuals.”

Adelard rose from the bench to check out the bookcase, and, once he had read the titles of some of the tomes there, gasped in delight. “Why, you seem to have every book I’ve ever desired to read! How is it that you have so many?”

“You can thank your uncle for that,” said Captain Scarre. “Once I’ve taken care of my crew’s salary and my expenses and have given my mother a means of livelihood, every commission he pays me goes to further stocking my shelves. You can feel free to read any you’d like during your time aboard this ship.”

“This is amazing.” Adelard turned to her, beaming. “Don’t worry, I shall still help with the duties aboard ship―I know my sneaking on left you a hand short―but, whenever I’m not working, I shall be diving into this pile of books.” He put out his right hand and eagerly grasped hers. “I knew you were a kind person, Syndalle Scarre, but this...I can’t believe my luck. To find a fellow insatiable reader aboard! It seems we have a lot in common. I think we’ll be great friends.” He immediately reddened and withdrew his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume that we’d be friends or that you’d want to be, I’m just impetuous at times. I―”

“It’s all right, Adelard,” Captain Scarre softly interrupted. “To be honest, I haven’t really had a friend―well, besides Henry―in a long time. It’s kind of nice to have someone I can actually show my face around.” She smiled sadly, then shook off her momentary melancholy. “But we have talked enough for today. I have things I must do, and you have books you must devour. I’m going to return to my work now. Enjoy your reading, and we shall speak on the morrow, I’m sure.”

Having said this, she returned to the map she had been examining before the unexpected interruption, while Adelard eagerly chose a novel from the shelved array. He brought it to his hammock and, when he laid himself down, was pleased to find that his new sleeping arrangements were even more comfortable than his bunk had been. The hammock swayed gently as the ship rocked from side to side, which sent the duke into a relaxed state, and he took a moment to consider his luck: he had been found out, but, rather than being forced to return home, would not only be allowed to stay on and adventure, but would also be provided reading material along the way! He glanced over at the captain, who was quite absorbed in her work, and silently mouthed a “thank you” to her for her kindness; he then dived into his book, which was even more engrossing than he had anticipated, and read until the hammock’s swaying finally lulled him to sleep.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3: Unexpected Developments