On the Third Day of Christmas, Captain Hawkyns gave to me…Three Clean Shirts.
Contrary to the Duck’s summer open-air kitchens, they had moved into a few of the abandoned buildings that Bristol merchants had left in search of warmer climate and better markets. The Duck was full to the brim with the inhabitants and visitors of Bristol. The sounds of laughter, singing, and drinking abounded.
Frobisher’s face lit up like the starry sky as he spotted a disgruntled Chastity sauntering towards him. “Chastity!”
“You owe me money!” Chastity brandished her walking cane at the captain.
“Do I?” Frobisher looked to his cabin “boy.” “Andrew, do I owe Chastity money?”
Anne Drew, ever one to ally herself with the right parties (how else did she keep Frobisher blind as a bat to her cross dressing), nodded and smiled at the curly haired floozy, “He does owe you.” She said through chattering teeth. Chastity took one look at the sopping cabin boy (we shall remind the readers of Anne’s dip in Lake Elizabeth in Part 1).
“Thought so, so cough it up!” Chastity held out her hand, waiting.
Frobisher sighed and pulled a coin purse from out of his codpiece. This made Anne dissolve into fits of giggles and Frobisher stared at his cabin boy in alarm. “Andrew! Why are you giggling? That’s not manly at all!”
“Sorry, sir!” Anne Drew coughed, trying to stop giggling and ending her spasms in a fit of sneezing. “Couldn’t help it.”
Just as Frobisher was about to, grudgingly, hand over coinage to Chastity, a booming voice came from the entrance. “Frobisher!”
Now both Anne and Frobisher cringed. The voice was none other than that of Captain John Hawkyns, rival of Captain Frobisher and supposed biological father of Anne Drew. “When I had Anne Drew sign onto your crew I expected you to make better care of her…erm…him.” Hawkyns clapped a firm hand on Anne’s shoulder. Anne cringed, she hadn’t spoken to Hawkyns since she had run away from her short stint of respectable l ife.
“Why does everyone think my cabin boy looks like a bleedin’ girl!” Frobisher whined. “This is exactly why you need hair on your chest Andrew! It’s bad enough that you like shaving your whiskers every day!”
“Is there a fire somewhere that I can get warm by?” Anne piped up, wanting to make as fast an exit from this conversation as possible.
“Bob left some clothes in my trunk upstairs.” Hawkyns gripped Anne’s arm and dragged her towards the stairs. “Get us some beer Frobisher!”
“How about payin’ me first, luv?” Chastity wrapped her arm around her favorite Captain and Anne lost sight of the two as Hawkyns led her upstairs.
Inside Captain Hawkyn’s room Anne shed her cloak and plopped herself in front of the fire to warm her frozen fingers, keeping an eye on her father. Hawkyns strode over to his trunk and threw open the lid, digging through shirts and clothing to find whatever garb Bob had left behind.
“Here, Anne.” Hawkyns handed Anne several shirts and a pair of slops. “You can have them.”
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“I would have appreciated more than a letter.” Hawkyns ruffled Anne’s hair making her wince when he hit the lump forming beneath her hair. “I didn’t really think you’d stick around long.”
“Like father like daughter?” Anne tried a smile and looked over the clothes. “You don’t need’em back?”
“Bob left with the circus!” Hawkyns growled in exasperation. “Never trust a jester Anne.”
“Can you do me a favor?” Anne began to peel off her doublet, boots, and stockings. “I told Frobisher there was free beer.”
Hawkyns laughed and ran his hand through his hair. “Now why on God’s earth would you do that?”
“Estella. Foxglove.” Anne used one of the new shirts as a tent as she switched the cold wet one for the dry linen.
“Is that how you got so wet?” Hawkyns turned around so that Anne could switch her trousers.
“Frobisher got enthusiastic and threw me in Lake Elizabeth.” Anne fumbled with the ties of the slops, but managed to get them on and slung her belt round her waist. “I’m decent.”
“Ah,” Hawkyns sighed as he turned back around to face his fiery haired offspring dressed in his old cabin boy’s garb. “You sure you still want to serve with him?”
“He might be an idiot some days, but he’s a good Captain.” Anne admitted, pulling on one of Bob’s old vests. “I think I need a drink. I’ll manage with bare feet till my boots dry out.”
“Shall we?” Hawkyns held out the door and Anne slipped past him, taking the stairs in twos back to the Christmas Party.
I finished this only about five minutes ago, and with a quick proof read from my BestFriend Bombalurina- here you go! Hopefully tomorrow I will not procrastinate so much. I'm trying to hold myself to deadlines and learn how to write well using deadlines. I'm hoping that this isn't total rubbish.