Three

"She's awake and up and about, just like Charlie said. I thought the boy was exaggerating, yet here she is. Good to see you survived your ordeal, miss," the older man with a peaked cap said as he stepped into the tiny cabin. He held his hand out to me. "Captain Foster of the Trevessa, miss."

I took his hand, as I knew was the custom, and swallowed. "Maria, Captain Foster."

"Can you tell us what happened, Maria? How did you come to be floating on that raft in the middle of the ocean? There are no ships reported missing, though with the storms we've seen since we left Fremantle, it's surprising. Were you on a smaller vessel – a yacht, perhaps?" Captain Foster asked.

I looked from one man to the other, wishing I could answer, but I didn't understand a word. Both men seemed to be waiting for me to say something, yet I had no idea what.

Captain Foster coughed. "Half the crew are saying that you're some kind of sea monster, that you murdered everyone aboard your last ship before you sank it and that you'll do the same here. Are you here to kill us all, Maria?"

"Captain!" William roared so loudly that I jumped. "The girl's been through quite an ordeal. I hardly think you should be accusing her of things only a superstitious native would believe."

The captain's voice remained calm. "Yet you're the one shocked, not her. Either she did sink her last ship or the girl doesn't understand a word I just said. You don't speak English, do you, Maria?" His eyes appeared to bore into mine, as if he might extract his answers this way. I stared back calmly. I needed to learn their language so that I could communicate – if only to tell this man that I didn't understand. He cleared his throat. "German, maybe. Fräulein, Sie sind hier, um uns zu töten? Or Dutch - mevrouw, bent u hier om ons te doden?" (Miss, are you here to kill us?)

I understood a little of this and tried to reply. "Niet doden. Levend." (Not dead. Alive.)

Captain Foster burst out laughing. "By God, her Dutch is worse than mine. We pick up a shipwrecked girl and she can't understand a word we say, nor tell us what happened. What do you suggest, McGregor? You fished her up."

"I'll go up against any man who wants to throw her back," William said fiercely.

The captain seemed uncomfortable as he shifted position. "It may come to that. They're a suspicious lot and the fog when we left Fremantle made many of us uneasy. I have a ship to run and no time to protect the girl. This ship is no place for a woman, but while we have one on board..."

"I'll take care of her, captain. After all, I'm just a passenger aboard your ship – what else do I have to do during the voyage? At least she's easy on the eyes and she doesn't say much." William extended his elbow toward me and I stared at it, uncertain of what he wanted. After a moment, he took my hand and laid it on his forearm. "I'll show her the mess, so she knows where to find what passes for food on this tub." Towing me behind him, he led the way along a metal tunnel and up the ladder to where I could hear the clamour of many voices. William smiled at me, tightening his grip on my hand. "Time to introduce you to the rest of the crew, lass. Just flash that pretty smile and you'll enchant them all, same as you have me."

I swallowed and passed through the doorway with him. A few heads turned to stare and silence fell.

"This is Maria, lads. Now, she doesn't say much and we don't think she speaks English, but that's no excuse not to treat her like the lady she is." Benches scraped across the deck as every man in the room rose – more than thirty of them, I guessed. I smiled and inclined my head in response to what I recognised as a gesture of respect. "That's right. She's been through a lot before we found her on that bit of flotsam she used for a raft, so remember your manners and help the lady if she needs it."

One man said something in a low voice, his hands describing enormous breasts in front of his own flat chest. The man beside him guffawed loudly, which drew the attention of many other men.

"Anyone who doesn't show her proper respect will answer to me," William continued, fixing his gaze on the two men who'd made noise.

Silence lasted for a few seconds more before William pulled me toward the back of the room. The scents of what the men were eating intensified with each step toward the source – a counter that held metal pans of unfamiliar food. No, not all. One held..."Beras!" I exclaimed, recognising the rice.

The white-hatted man behind the counter stared at me. "If she eats that, she'll get beri-beri. She needs to eat more of my marmite..." He reached down and produced a large jar filled with the unpleasant paste I'd eaten earlier.

I stared the man in the eye and shook my head. I pointed at the rice.

William laughed and passed me a metal plate. "Allchin, if the lady wants rice, that's what she gets. She might want a taste of your stew, too. I'll take my serving of stew with bread, thank you."

Allchin ladled a thick, lumpy, brown liquid onto William's plate and handed him two slices of bread. I received a mound of rice, which was quickly swamped by a sea of brown liquid. "Looks like the demon's tit, where you're going, McGregor," Allchin said, nodding at my plate. "Christmas Island, paradise for bird crap and crabs."

William laughed again. "I've heard those crabs are good eating. It'll be a damn sight better than your cooking, man." He grabbed some clinking metal things and guided me to the empty end of one table.

With a quick glance at the other men, I climbed onto the bench seat as William sat across from me. His handful of metal implements clattered to the table in front of me and I reached for them, directing a questioning look at William. He nodded and seized one with pointed tines at one end. He stabbed a brown lump on his plate and lifted it to his mouth.

That was fine for him with his plate full of large chunks of food but spearing the rice seemed like an exercise in futility. I looked down the table and was relieved to see a dark-haired man using a tool with a shallow depression on its end to shovel rice and liquid into his mouth. I picked up a spoon and cautiously scraped a little of the food onto it. My hand shook as I lifted it to my mouth.

The texture was mushy and the taste was bland, to say the least. I chewed and swallowed, spooning a slightly larger serving for my next mouthful. This was nothing like the food from home, which I might never taste again. Warm tears spilled down my cheeks and I wiped them away, not wanting to show weakness in front of so many strangers.

"Not as good as home cooking, is it, lass?" William asked, grinning over a large mouthful of food. His eyes held sympathy, as if he could read my thoughts.

I managed to smile, before laboriously continuing with my meal.

"I should get you some tea," William said, rising. I moved to follow him, but he gestured for me to sit down.

He returned with two cups of steaming, red-brown liquid. "Just the way I like it – brewed thick, like it is in the mining office back home. The tea lady used to say that the bottom of the teapot was still tarred by the first leaves when the mine opened, a century ago."

I accepted the cup and lifted it to my lips.

"No, wait! You'll burn yourself if you –" He tried to snatch the cup from my fingers.

Too late. My mouthful of hot liquid burned both my tongue and the roof of my mouth, but I couldn't emit my wail of pain without spitting the tea in William's face. Whimpering, I swallowed, feeling the heat slide down my throat. Betrayed, I stared at William. Had he intended to hurt me?

His stricken expression told me the answer, followed by his anguished tone as he said, "Did you hurt yourself? I'm so sorry. I didn't realise you wouldn't know what to do with tea. Here, you sip it slowly, like this." He lifted his own cup and slurped a small amount of liquid. I scanned his face for signs of distress or pain, but there was none. "You try it." He took another tiny sip.

I cautiously grasped my cup again and brought it to my mouth with both shaking hands. Slowly, I tipped it so that a tiny trickle hit my tongue. Now it didn't burn me – but I could taste the foul brew. It was like drinking diluted mangrove mud. I think I preferred the burn to the taste. Yet, in the face of William's desperate expression, I drank it anyway and was rewarded by his nervous smile.

"My mum always said a cup of tea could soothe all the troubles in the world. No matter how far from home we are, at least there's tea," he said.

"Tea?" I enquired, pointing at our cups.

William grinned. "An important word to remember, lass. Where there's tea, there's civilisation."

Trying not to grimace, I drank the stuff, wondering what kind of backward people willingly drank river mud.