Zypheria's Call (A Tanyth Fairport Adventure) (24 page)

“Oh, certainly, mum. There’s a chandler just off the head of the pier. He’d sell you a nice solid watch coat. You could even get some wool lined canvas trousers for no more than a dozen silvers.”

“And you’d recommend I get some of these trousers and pants?”

“’Fraid so, mum. Otherwise you’re going to be a tad chilly before we get there and I don’t know that we’d be able to thaw you out on arrival.”

She huffed a laugh and rummaged deeper in her pack, pulling out her pullovers and knits. “What d’ya think of these, then, Mr. Groves? I don’t much like bein’ cold. The All-Mother knows I’ve spent enough of my life chilled to the bone without addin’ any more days to the tally.”

He considered each garment, sometimes weighing the fabric in his hand. After a few minutes they’d sorted her clothing into “probably warm enough” and “you’ll want warmer” piles.

“Those lighter ones will be good for wearing under stuff, mum,” Groves suggested, “but you’ll want some good dense wool for bulk.” He took a moment to look at Rebecca’s much smaller pile of clothing and shook his head. “You’ll need to find something warmer, miss. You’ll need to be on deck and working. Sometimes you’ll be active enough to keep warm, but you’ll want some jerseys. Perhaps some rain gear.”

“Anything else you’d recommend, Mr. Groves,” Tanyth asked, reclaiming Groves’ attention from his consideration of Rebecca’s assets.

He rubbed his fingers across his mouth, frowning at the piles as he thought. “Only other thing for you, mum, might be some oil-cloth for heavy weather, but when we run into squalls, you’re not going to want to be out on deck at all.” He glanced at her. “In fact, we’d ask you both to stay in here if the weather gets bad. It’s just a lot safer.”

“Even as crew?” Rebecca asked.

Groves nodded. “There’ll be plenty enough to do before it gets ugly, but we don’t want anybody on deck that doesn’t need to be there when it gets bad.”

“And is there anything else we should get while we’re ashore that would make this passage more enjoyable?”

He rolled a shoulder in a shrug. “Any special treats you might want on the voyage, mum. Some like to travel with their own ale, a bit of something stronger maybe. Food aboard is good, but it’s plain and simple fare. Lots of stews, breads...”

“Oatmeal?”

“Yes, mum. Oatmeal with apples and dried fruits most days. Salted fish and pork. Lots of beans.”

“Beans, you say? Baked beans?”

“Yes, mum. At least few times a week. Cook makes a mean pot of beans and the biscuits to go with ’em.”

She beamed. “I’m likin’ the sound of this voyage already, Mr. Groves. Now, where did you say this clothing merchant—”

“Chandlery, mum.”

“Yes, this chandlery? Is it near?”

He jerked his head toward the deck. “I can point it out from the deck, mum. Easy to find. You walked by it twice already.”

She left her hat on its peg but took staff in hand and let Rebecca lead the way out of the stateroom, following the lithe young woman back up onto the deck. She paused at the opening, her hand resting lightly on the coaming to steady herself, looking out at the wood and rope. Odd doors and strange metal fittings made her smile at the novelty. She looked up at the tall masts with their heavy booms and the deep blue sky beyond. She nodded to herself before following Rebecca and Groves across the gangway and back onto the dock. She didn’t even think about the narrow plank until she’d already crossed it in his wake.

He grinned at her. “We’ll make a sailor of you yet, mum.”

She snickered and looked down the pier. “Where’s this place?”

He pointed to the harbormaster’s office and then counted three buildings to the left. “That’s it, mum. Harris will fit you up right. Just tell him you’re going to North Haven and Ben Groves says you need some warmer clothes.”

“Seems simple enough.”

“It’s nothing complicated, mum. Warm is warm and dry is dry. There’s precious little that’s warm or dry about sailing these waters. Harris knows.”

“For me?” Rebecca asked.

“Same. Some jerseys and maybe a slicker.”

“I thought you said she wouldn’t be out in rough weather,” Tanyth said.

Groves grinned. “Well, there’s rough weather and then there’s rain, mum. They don’t always go together.”

Rebecca grinned and Tanyth had the uneasy feeling that the younger woman was actually looking forward to rough weather at sea. With a quiet chuckle to herself, she set off down the pier, Rebecca trailing along in her wake.

Chapter Nineteen:
At The Chandlery

Tanyth didn’t know quite what to expect from a chandlery. The door opened with the requisite jangly bell on a spring, but after that her shopping experience took a left turn. Inside the door she found, not a shop, but a warehouse. The ceiling disappeared into the shadows above, with only the occasional beam and cross-brace visible in the gloom. Huge spools of rope stood around like spindles in some giant’s sewing box. Folded bolts of canvas, piles of chain, and barrels of all shapes and sizes formed a higglety-pigglety maze that she hesitated to enter. The place smelled of tar and rope, of wood and lamp oil.

A man’s voice boomed from deep in the maze somewhere. “Just a minute!”

She heard footsteps echoing in the rafters and a barrel of a man with shoulders like hams and hands like a fistful of sausages loomed out of the dark. “What’cha need?” He squinted against the light coming in from clouded windows at their backs.

“Are ya Harris?” Tanyth asked and watched his face crinkle in consternation.

“And who else might I be in Harris’s Chandlery?” He turned his head and squinted against the light. He took a few more steps forward until he was close enough to get a good look at her. “Mum? Miss?”

“Excellent. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Harris.” Tanyth held out her hand.

His huge paw engulfed hers and he gave it a firm shake but didn’t pull her arm from the socket as she first feared. “You be in the right place, mum?”

“I believe so, Mr. Harris. Mr. Benjamin Groves recommended you.”

He face lit up at the name. “Ah, lil Benny, sure. I know the lad. He’s first mate now on his da’s vessel.” The way he said it, Tanyth thought he couldn’t have been prouder if the young man in question were his own son.

“Indeed he is, and the
Zypheria’s Call
is heading to North Haven soon.”

“Oh, aye. She and every other dog’s body with two feet of mast and a good bilge pump. It’ll be a race for certain.”

“We’ve taken passage, and Mr. Groves suggested we need some warmer clothes and sent us here to be outfitted.”

Harris blinked several times and worked his mouth open and shut once before actually speaking. “Well, mum, this here’s a ship chandlery. We don’t stock much in the line of ladies’ fittin’s if you know what I mean.” He frowned at each of them in turn and shook his head. “No, mum. Nothin’ fine enough for you ladies here.”

“I’m not lookin’ for frills, Mr. Harris. Benjamin seemed to think I needed a watch coat and some wool lined canvas trousers.”

Harris stood straight, pulling his head back, and eyeing her up and down. “He did, did he?” He scratched his chin in thought and squinted his eyes at them again, stepping a half step away to get their measure. “Well, you seem to be comfortable enough in trousers, mum.”

“I am that, Mr. Harris. I do a lot of walking. Trousers work better for me.”

“Not real lady-like, mum.” He seemed to realize that he’d spoken without thinking and hurried on to say, “No offense, mum.” The look of horror on his face might have been comical in another circumstance.

“None taken, Mr. Harris, and you’re right. Isn’t lady-like, but it’s practical.” She smiled. “I’m kinda known for bein’ a practical old boot.”

Half his mouth curled up in a grin. “I see, mum. I do see, indeed.”

“So can you help us? I hate bein’ cold, and Mr. Groves assures me that the voyage north will be nothin’ if not cold.”

“Oh, aye.” Mr. Harris nodded several times. “Yeah, it’ll be cold and windy and wet, like as not.”

“So I’m led to believe, Mr. Harris.” She let him stew in his own cogitation for a time.

He looked them up and down again, rubbing his chin in what looked like a well-practiced gesture. Finally, he pressed his lips together in a line and scowled fiercely. “Yeah. You really ain’t much smaller than average. I should have a watch coat that’ll fit ya.” He headed into the dimness and raised a hand in summons. “Come on back. Let’s see what I got here to keep a body warm.”

He led her through the maze of crates and barrels. She saw that skylights high in the roof of the building let in a substantial amount of light. Even from the floor she saw the seagull streaks and grime on the outside that blocked a good portion of the sunlight. The place only looked dim because she’d come in from the full light of day. Her eyes adapted rather quickly to the lowered lighting.

“Here we go, mum. Miss.” Harris held a door open and she found herself in a dim side room filled with piles of large boxes. Harris fumbled with a match and got a lantern going, which he hung on a bracket on the wall. “Slip off your coat, mum, and let’s see if I got sommat that’ll suit ya.”

She did as he asked. He took it from her, hanging it carefully on a peg in the wall as if it were some fine cloak rather than a somewhat ratty wind breaker.

He measured her with his eyes again, then pursed his lips and began rummaging in an open crate. He emerged holding a coat so deep blue, it appeared almost black in the lantern light. He held it aloft in one meaty paw, turning it so the light caught black wooden toggles down the front. “Hmm, yeah. Maybe,” he said. He turned to Tanyth, handing her the coat. “Here, mum, try this ’un on.”

Tanyth was surprised by the weight and nearly dropped it before she got a good grip.

Harris huffed out a short laugh. “Quite a lot heavier than that wind breaker you’re wearing, eh, mum?”

“Indeed it is.” She swung the coat around her body and thrust her arms into the sleeves. The heavy coat wrapped itself around her like a warm hug. Her fingertips just showed at the ends of the sleeves, and when she held the front closed, there seemed to be too much fabric.

“Just a second, mum,” Harris said and showed her the trick to crossing the fabric over itself. “See? It wraps around here in the front a bit,” he said. “Keeps the wind from blowing in between the buttons.”

She pushed the sleeves up to free her hands and soon found the knack of using the wooden toggles as buttons.

Harris stepped back and looked at her. “That’s a tad largish on ya, mum.” He shook his head and scowled. “Might fit your...um...helper.” He looked at Rebecca who merely shrugged and helped Tanyth slip out of the heavy coat, wrapping it around her own shoulders and sinking into its folds.

Harris eyed the toggles critically and nodded once. “Yup. Fits there. I think there’s a size smaller here somewhere.” He all but disappeared head first back into the crate of coats, one foot off the floor and waving around in the air.

“Ah, hah!” The woolens muffled his cry but he struggled up out of the box, his prize clutched in his hand. He held it out to her. “Here, mum. Try that one!” His face, reddened from the exertion, beamed in jubilation. “I knew there was an extra small in there somewhere.”

She took the second. It felt almost as heavy as the first, but she was prepared for the heft and slipped it on without difficulty. The sleeves fell below her wrists but above the base of her thumbs. She had no trouble finding the buttons or getting the front of the coat closed. She felt as if she cuddled in a big, blue blanket.

Harris smiled and nodded, tugging the sleeve and straightening the collar. “That looks right smart, mum. Right smart.” He stopped fussing at the coat and looked at her askance. “How’s it feel, mum?”

“Delightful,” she said with feeling. “This will do nicely.”

Harris turned to Rebecca. “And you, Miss? ’At suit ya?” He gave her coat the same tug and critical inspection he’d given Tanyth.

She held her arms out from her sides a bit and looked down at the coat. “It’s quite warm and seems to fit fine.”

Harris looked closely at her face. “You look familiar. What’d you say your name were?”

“Rebecca,” she said, offering a hand.

Harris took the hand and shook it, not looking away from her. “You remind me of somebody. You got a family name?”

“Marong,” Rebecca said, her voice low.

Astonishment swept across Harris’ face and he tugged on the young woman’s hand, using it as a lever to turn her left and right. “I’ll be...” he said. “You’re Richard’s daughter? His youngest?”

She pulled her hand away and brushed it down the front of her coat with a small shrug. “Please don’t say anything to him,” she said.

Harris beamed and nodded. “’Course not,” he said. “Course not.” He cocked his head this way and that. “I’ll be hung for a horse thief,” he said, “but you’re the spittin’ image of your mother. You know that, don’t cha?”

Rebecca blinked, her eyes wide. “You knew my mother?”

Harris grinned and nodded several times, still peering at Rebecca’s face as if it were some precious painting he wanted to memorize. “Oh, aye. Victoria. A wonderful woman. Too good for your father, I always said.” He seemed to come to himself with that comment and gave himself a shake. “Ah, that is...” He looked down and pulled a large blue bandana out of his pocket, wiping his face with it and blowing his nose before continuing. “Yup. Spittin’ image.”