Free Lightkeeper's Wife by Sarah Anne Johnson

was respected among the crew. His opinion carried weight. He often sat on the bulwark dressing the men down for lazy seamanship, or rallying them to change sails in rough seas.
    â€œIt’s wrong for a woman to be working on a ship,” O’Malley said, meeting her eye. “It ain’t done, and the men don’t like it.”
    Annie listened without interrupting.
    â€œWith you roaming around we have to watch our language and worry you’re going to see something or report back to the captain. If you were one of the crew, that’s one thing, but you’re not. You’re the captain’s wife.”
    â€œI’ll not report anyone, if you’ll agree not to report me. In fact, I’ll pay each of you to persuade the men that I’m one of you, not against you, but with you.”
    The sailors looked back and forth between each other. “With us how?”
    â€œI intend to sail this ship.”
    â€œHow do we know we can trust you?”
    â€œI care more about learning to sail this ship than I do about whatever trouble you and your mates manage to get yourselves into. You’ve seen me take the helm. You know I’m serious.”
    O’Malley had an odd habit of pinching his cheek when he was thinking or bothered by something, and he went at it good and hard now. Annie wasn’t sure how to assuage him. “I’ll bring the coins after your dinner this evening.”
    O’Malley smiled and nodded, as if she’d solved a puzzle he’d been trying to figure.
    â€œHow do I know I can trust you?” Annie said.
    â€œWe’ll get the men to come around, ma’am. We can help them see things different. Will that prove it to you?”
    She looked at the men, their eager eyes and serious faces. “All right, then we have a deal?”
    The men nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
    ***
    On a bright, nearly windless afternoon Annie announced to Donovan, “I want to go up into the rigging.”
    â€œThat’s taking it too far. You have to talk to the captain about that, ma’am. I couldn’t allow it. It’s dangerous up there, even for a man, with the waves tossing the spars back and forth and the swing of the mast. You have to be strong to hold on. The captain wouldn’t allow it. I’m sorry.”
    â€œI’ll talk to him.” Annie disappeared belowdecks and reappeared sometime later with Daniel’s old breeches pulled on beneath her calico dress. Her loose skirts swelled in the air around her and she let them fly. With the ocean in her lungs, she grabbed the ship’s rigging and swung her weight around to climb the rope ladder. There was no reason she couldn’t make it to the crow’s nest. At first, she gripped the ropes so hard that her knuckles went white, but then she got her footing and kept her weight on her feet, using her hands for balance. Her legs did the work of climbing up, up, over the decks and the sea and the men. The air was silent except for the sound of the wind against the sails. No voices, no boots scuffing the decks, no hammers pounding or hatch covers slamming. Just air and sky. As she climbed, she felt herself entering another world entirely, as if she could become part of the sky to look across at flying birds and see their wings and fine heads cutting the wind instead of looking up to see their bellies and feet pressed flat against their white breasts. She ducked under the rim of the crow’s nest and sat against the mast, her arms draped over the rim.
    A crowd of sailors gathered below to watch. Daniel had been called topside. He was a speck down there, indistinguishable from the other men. Had she ever loved him, or had she loved the idea of sailing around the world and living at sea? Whatever it was in her that had cared for Daniel had died when the baby died. She couldn’t stand the sight of him as he stood below staring at the bottoms of her boots. His arms beat the air,