What appeared to be miles away, Kennan stood on the quarterdeck, his posture as rigid as a statue, staring at them—at her. Blast him for watching. Did he not think her capable of climbing up to the crow’s nest? And how was it not preferential treatment to tell Runner not to let her go up there except in calm seas? She steeled her nerves and pulled herself upward.

“Baltazar,” she said, trying to make her voice deeper and more confident. “What is it you like about keeping watch up here?”

“You’d best not keep calling me by my Christian name, else someone will guess you’re not a lad.”

“Well, we cannot abide that.” She cleared her throat, trying for an even deeper tone. “Runner, tell me what you like about the blessed crow’s nest.” There—she practically sounded like a gruff old tar.

He continued his assent. “No one bothers me when I’m keeping watch.”

That wasn’t exactly the answer she was expecting. “Do the men heckle you?”

“Aye, on account of being the youngest.” He hopped over the side of the barrel and offered his hand. “’Tis why they call me Runner. ‘Hey, lad, fetch me a scrap of bread…clean the bilges…empty the pails of p—.’ Ye ken, they saved all the foul jobs for me whilst the crew laughed.”

After a backward glance to the captain, Divana ignored the offered hand and pulled herself into the nest, queasy stomach and all. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

“Life aboard ship isn’t always fair.”

As she looked out, the wits she’d used to pull herself up collapsed into a heap. Saint Columba, she was higher up than she’d ever been in her life—mayhap the wall-walk at Achnacarry was higher, but it wasn’t swaying. She grasped the dangling rope and stared at the round wooden floor beneath her toes. It didn’t seem sturdy in the slightest.

“W-why did you put up with it?” she managed to croak, trying to continue the conversation.

“There wasn’t much I could do—the lowest ranked man is given the most unsavory tasks.” He thumped his chest. “But I aim to fix that.”

Aside from quavering and jolting with every gust of wind, the space was cramped with two people in the nest, not allowing much room for limbs. Divana wrapped her arms around her knees, letting her shoulder press into the lad. “On account of being promoted?”

“That, and the captain rewards his men for service. If we recapture our fortune, every man will receive his share.”

“Coin, aye?”

“Enough to purchase a parcel of land—mayhap a pony or two and a suit of clothes.”

“’Tis generous of Sir Kennan.”

“Och, he’s the captain when aboard, ye ken.”

She dared to peek over the rim. The aforementioned captain was engaged in conversation with Mr. MacNeil, who was pointing to the sails billowing aft.