She would not steal Luc's dignity, hovering over the boy like some fretting hen over her chick. Well, she supposed that [i]figuratively[/i] she would not hover over him, since quite literally she was hovering over most all the [i]Skate’s[/i] crew anyway. But no, despite Luc’s age, the last thing he would ever need among this crew, was the perception that he was coddled because of who he was to Antonia, and the officers he had become acquainted with, including the Captain. There was no sense in breeding resentment, or sowing the seeds she knew in such close quarters and proximity, could bear bitter fruit one day.

But that did not make it any easier, to watch him below, and wait. Everyone looked small from her vantage point, but Luc [i]especially[/i] so as he sat there upon that barrel, neither in the way of ship’s business nor out of sight. Antonia showed Luc where he might stow his own knapsack of belongings, and the hammock where he would bed down, and then returned the boy to the deck to await orders. If he was to be the cabin boy, his duties should first come from the ship’s captain at whose pleasure he served, or even the first mate - not from the lookout and rigger. 

“May I try that too, Tante ‘Tonia?” Those beautiful dark, amber-flecked eyes traveled up the dual masts, to the webbing of rigging and sailing. It was all she could do to keep from laughing aloud and daring him to see how far he might yet race her up the thick ropes and sail. Oh yes, she could see it in him, this preternatural grace, those long-fingered, clever hands and cat-silent steps – but those steps were not hers to order, no matter what she wished. 

And so she watched that dear, patient boy instead. But that did not mean she did not plan. Antonia had not expected Henshaw to be the first among the crew to speak with Luc – and sent by the first mate it seemed? The rogue frowned deeply, wondering at the woman’s choice to send a man near as retched as Cooper had been, to Luc? Had the rogue perhaps done something so deeply objectionable, she had earned such dismissiveness from Mademoiselle Beauchamp? [i]Particularly[/i] concerning a young boy for whom Antonia so obviously cared? Because most certainly, a sweet, well-meaning child like Luc could have given no such offense… [i]Could[/i] he?

No. No, [i]surely[/i] whatever troubled Mademoiselle Beauchamp was the product of all that caused her flight from Commander Murray’s ball the night before. Was Antonia entirely sure of all that passed through Nicolette Beauchamp’s mind at that moment, when all that should have lain before her was a night of laughter, music, dancing and perhaps a bit of subterfuge if she had even the least aptitude? Of course not – First Mate Beauchamp would likely cut the tongue from her own head before making a confidante of a woman like Antonia. But that did not mean the rogue had not already fitted a few pieces together all on her own, always hearing far more than she ever spoke, and knowing enough of human nature to divine one or two clues to the puzzle of Nicolette.

So no, of [i]course[/i] Luc could have no hand in the evil done to her by that French Navy commander, and no one but the most soulless creature would inflict hurt on a child, or deliberately put him in harm’s way. The first mate did not strike her as such a beast. 

Still, Antonia’s grey eyes narrowed dangerously as she merely bit her lip, silent as she hung upside down from the forward mast, praying it was merely expedience that sent Henshaw to Luc and promising herself that lessons concerning the handling of a blade would begin[i] this very night[/i]. 

Not until Luc stood before Thomas did she breathe anything like a sigh of relief. From the far side of the main mast, pretending to do something of some importance, Antonia watched them, unable to hear but observing the gist as always, and she was content. It was Captain Lightfoot who spoke with the boy now, not the generous, open-handed man with the easy smiles and easier laughter from the night before, with a penchant for piss-water grog and pound cake. 

And when he directed Luc below deck, Antonia rather suspected he was headed toward Morneau, and she was glad. Jacques was a good man – for a pirate, of course – and though he’d certainly put the young man to hard work, that was no less than to be expected. Luc was not unused to hard work, and frankly? [i]Anything[/i] the boy could bring to Morneau’s cooking by way of his [i]Maman[/i]’s undoubted skill would only be unutterably welcome! 

Antonia laughed softly to herself, pulling herself back upright as she waved to Luc far below before he disappeared to whatever new duty Thomas had assigned him. She had promised him after all, that she would remain his Spider in the rafters above, his beloved Aunt Anansi keeping an eye on him always, and she smiled warm encouragement to the boy with a nod of her head.

When he disappeared below deck, the rogue lightly traversed the thick cable ropes to the aft mast with a rather impressive display of both balance and strength, until she could climb the scant few yards into the crow’s nest. This small space was, in the main, left entirely to her uses and she outfitted as she would, as comfortably as she might. She did, after all, have the unspoken promise of a visit from her lovely man when time and duty allowed – the stars above, after all, had been their boon companions and twinkling witness for more than a year now. And so comfortable blankets were wrapped beneath tarps and lashed to the mast against stormy weather, and the familiar outline of her similarly protected lap desk lay beside them as well. 

But now, alongside these few valuables she kept for her own, were two small, leather bound packages: gifts for the two people she most owed her happiness. Small gifts, true enough, considering the inestimable boon they had given her only the day before – but in truth, what could she possibly ever offer, to compare to what they had restored to her, her lovely man very nearly stolen away by a traitor’s pistol?

Antonia carefully the leather strings to the belt about her pants, cinched about her waist beneath the linen shirt, and smiled. She would wait ‘til open waters to find them, when matters aboard the [i]Skate[/i] were settled – or at least as settled as they ever did get, she thought with a wry chuckle to herself.