Stick with Sasha.

Sasha and Tyler climbed down the rear hatch into the cargo deck. The empty space was roomier than it had been on her last ship. This schooner's hold was empty except for a half-dozen water casks on the aft end, neither was the hull crowded with sailors and their sea chests and weapons. The cargo deck was high enough for her to stand upright except for where a heavy beam ran the length of the space supporting the deck above it. The empty hold was clean and dry and the light and fresh air streaming in from the open hatches above made it seem even more inviting.

"T-the C-C-Captain?s c-cabin is b-back there" Tyler said pointing to a simple wooden door towards the stern as she looked around. "Here is t-the g-g-galley." He added needlessly as Sasha was already looking over the small galley stove that stood on a slab of fieldstone, and the pots and pans that hung from the ceiling above the counter that separated the cook's domain from the rest of the crew. Across from the cooking area was another room with a heavy wooden door, if the set-up was what she was used to, the cook's supplies would be locked in there. Tyler didn't offer any information about the small room and Sasha hated to ask him questions because of his obvious discomfort with his speech impediment.

The schooner's two masts passed through the open hold like two great tree trunks whose roots reached down to the bilge below and that had grown straight and true up through the decking and into the sky above them. The decking overhead was made of thick planks of seasoned wood. The deck had to be strong to hold the great guns on the main deck. The heavy cannon resting on the squat wheeled carriages above had been fastened securely with thick hemp ropes, she had seen guns like these fired often enough during her past ten or so years sailing with Captain Randor and knew just how necessary the rope anchors were.

"Kyle and m-me, we set up our h-hammocks here." Pointing to the space between the portside gun and the galley. "I g-guess the new b-boys will sleep there." They walked around the steep narrow steps that climbed to the fore hatch and there was another open area leading to the fore cabin.

"That's the officer's c-c-cabin. The g-g-gunnery of-ficer and t-the f-first officer will share it." Tyler's face suddenly turned red with embarrassment and his stutter became much more pronounced. "P-p-probably, I-I d-d-d-don't know b-because she's a w-woman."

"Well, I guess they'll figure it out, and we don't have to worry about it." If Sasha found Tyler's stutter either annoying, or embarrassing she gave no indication of it, and Tyler started to relax again. Two smaller rooms flanked the fore cabin, and Tyler turned his attention to the last doors.

"That's the p-powder r-room, and that's t-the h-head." Tyler explained pointing first to the port side room and then to the door on the starboard. Sasha took Tyler's hands in hers and gave them a small squeeze that warmed him faster than a shot of rum.

"Thanks for the tour, Tyler. Would you like a cup of tea before you go back deck side?" The Lantian smiled happily at her and nodded shyly.

"Do you like sailing for your captain?" She asked as she lit the pre-burner in the galley stove and placed a couple of lumps of coal on the flames. "What's his name anyway, he never told me." Sasha explained letting just a little of her irritation show.

"B-Brenan K-Kilgore Miss, and, uh, I d-don't know y-yet miss. We only signed on y-yesterday." The two of them talked for the next twenty minutes, Sasha asked him about his childhood and going to sea with his brother, and Tyler soon was chatting with her easily, telling her stories about how he and Kyle talked Wild Oscar into letting them ship out with him on the Dorian. His stutter definitely got worse when he was nervous or embarrassed, as he kept Sasha company in the galley he spoke with only slight hesitation.

Tyler left Sasha to look around the galley and supply room. Taking note of the supplies she started thinking about what she could prepare for tonight?s dinner. She'd much rather ship out as ship's cook than work as a deck hand or any other position. If she prepared a dinner that everyone liked, especially the grim faced captain, then she might have a pretty good chance at the landing the job. As far as she could tell the ship was too small to hire a ship's whore, and there was no dedicated bed for a whore to work from. All the same - after last night's disastrous attempt to pass herself off as a suitable candidate, it would be best to concentrate on something she knew she was qualified to do.

As she worked on scrubbing stains from some of the hanging pots with a cloth that she dipped in a bowl of fine sand she heard Captain Kilgore's voice from the deck above.