Sea salt was cast about the floor around Kincade's feet. It provided no hindrance as Kincade dug in the collector box at the bottom of the furnace. Like much of the work he did for the Ship, he did it absent-mindedly. The tasks were simple, just labor-intensive, as he set about his until he finally finished. The water heated the Ship, and the Ship turned the water into steam, leaving the salt behind. It was work that was needed, and he would do it. In that way, he could contribute.

With that single thought, his body convulsed as if a lightning bolt had hit sqaure between his eyes. Kincade dropped the shovel, and it both clanged and thudded. Standing bolt upright and breathing heavily. When did he start to care about the Ship? He was not a proud seaman in service. He was a slave, and this Ship was his prison. Setting his resolve, this day was to be the last day on this Ship.

Kincade picked up the shovel and pushed the tool's blade into the salt bin under the furnace again, pulling out another shovel full of salt. It ran like water over the shovel blade's sides, contributing to the floor's winter theme. Kincade recognized that his actions were compulsive and Pavlovian in motivation. If Wallace had been present, he would have surely given him a treat like a dog rolling over on command.

Tightening the twenty-four nuts holding the pressure plate on top of the collector chamber continued his humiliation. It fueled a rage not with the situation he had found himself in but with each turn of a nut he felt beneficial to the Ship. He thought he needed to be part of the crew.

Latter puffing at the pipe Boson had given him weeks before the ritual boosted his spirit, and he dropped into contemplation of the world and his plan. Boson had visited a Sydney law firm with the letters. This plan has undoubtedly worked. It won't be long now. And I will get to go home. My dear Amelia, how she must be missing me. And Harry! I will be home soon, he thought.

"Stop looking at that thing, lad. Sweep up this salt. Cook will have a use for it. I am sure if he has anything to say," Boson called down from the top of the ladder.

"Boson! Did you get to my father's Sydney law practice? Did you give them the letters? " Kincade asked.

"Lad, settle down. Can a man not get a drink and have a sit down before the barrage of questions?" Boson trudged across the salt to his workbench and pulled out the jug of beer. He took a swig, and his whole body gave the air and appearance of a small boy who had just been caught in a lie by his mother and was under the threat of "Wait 'till your father gets home. You are going to get such a beating."

"Lad, I delivered the letters. Let's not speak of it again, least of all in the presence of Wallace," Boson talked into his chest. Kincade spun around to see if the ox-sized Wallace had come into engineering without him noticing. He peered into the shadows and corners, looking to see if the devil himself had appeared. But he was nowhere to be seen.

"But he is not here. It is safe to talk," Kincade's hands stretched, palms out, towards Boson. Boson leaped across the room, almost flying to Kincade.

"That man is always here. He is always a day away from cutting off your hand and feeding it to the Pacific Ocean or the sharks of the Tasmin. Or, worst, feeding me to them. Never forget that, lad. Never!" Boson said, grabbing Kincade's wrist and shaking it. Then grabbing hold of his own. Now sporting his own identical bracelet. He turned back to the bench and the jug of beer.

"I got your letters to where they were meant to go. And I got my money for it. And that was enough. Get to sweeping this salt," Boson squinted, looking directly into Kincade's eyes and conveying, "Enough."

Kincade grabbed the broom and got to work sweeping the salt. When he was done, he had a good six pounds or more in a canvas bag. Then, before he could stop for a moment to contemplate just when the constables would burst through the door, ending this travesty, the orders came down the pipe.

"We need a head of steam for the propellers. Shipping out in the morning. Stoke the fire." the voice called out.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Boson, how long have you been back on board ship?" Kincade asked as he administered to the burner.

"About nine hours, lad," Boson replied

"How long were you off the ship after you gave the letters to my solicitors?"

"Lad, I said we would not talk of that again. So, for both our lives worth, do not talk of such things." Boson pleaded.

"Boson. Please, I must know!" Kincade said.

"Why, lad? It makes no, never mind. You are here, and that is where you will stay. Please let that be the last of it," Boson said.

"The solicitors paid more than a fair price for your day's work." Kincade said, projecting the voice and air of a gentleman, ordering an insolent staff member to do a menial task.

"Another eight, maybe nine hours," Boson replied.

"Why have they not come for me? My instructions were clear and plain," Kincade said out loud.

"I knew it! I knew those notes would get me hung or worse. I got my money, alright. But when I handed it to Wallace, he was all suspicious, asking me where I got such a king's ransom, and I had to do all sorts of barrel keg dancing to keep him happy and off my back. I told Wallace I was first to get to the body of some toffs that got run down by a horse that was startled by one of the steam carriages before he would let me go," Boson replied, lifting his arm. And saying, "But I had to pay the price."

"Why would you give the money to Wallace?" Kincade asked.

"I owe the ship money if I pay my debt. I can leave. But now Wallace thinks I may have other plans have'in so much coin he thinks I am planning to run. And so he wanted a little insurance, he called it." Boson finished holding up his arm to reveal the braslet.

"Yes. Yes. But I have no time for this." Kincade said.

"Yes. Yes. But you have no time for this? What is that to say to an old man. Lad, you got nothin but time and that no, never mind." Boson snapped back.

"The Ship is leaving in the morning, but I will not be on it," Kincade said. The matter-of-fact nature of the comment startled Boson.

"I know what you're thinking, lad. But, you will be. No one can run from Wallace. This is your home, Kincade. This is your life. This is where you will be staying and dying if'n you don't learn your lesson," Boson insisted.

"I will be staying, will I? I think not, my good man. You see, I will be leaving this Ship, and you shall help me to do it. I will brook no argument," instructed Kincade as he found the four metal strips and inserted them between his wrist and that damnable bracelet. With luck, the bits would hold the mechanism from its terrible task for some time.

"I will, will I, lad? And, just why would I be doing that? Would seem to me that if you were to be elsewhere, there be all sorts of work I need be doing, and that doesn't sound like a deal to me," Boson said.

"Not a deal, Boson, a debt. Your life. I saved you. Now it's time for you to save me," Kincade coldly replied.

"That's true enough. You pulled me up from the swing over the deep. But, I can't help you escape, lad. That madman Wallace, he will kill us both if'n we were caught," Boson explained.

"Enough, Boson. You have talked about the great oppressor, Wallace, enough. He is a man. Like any other, once the circumstances of our interaction change, the actions will change with them. He is a bully. And, like all bullies, inherently weak of character. I will leave the Ship. By noon the next day, I shall have my name cleared and my status returned. Wallace, and his actions, shall be reported to the authorities, who shall take him into custody," Kincade stated.

"Now, as you are free to travel the ship decking and rigging, I need you to lead me to the docks and ensure that no one is aware of my passing," Kincade instructed.

"Oh, we are all high and mighty, aren't we? You just remember this isn't my life. Ain't mine to give, nor repay, to the likes of you. Wallace holds my contract and my life 'til it's repaid. And that is the end of that conversation. But, that said, I can't let you leave, lad. You are needed here," Boson shook his head slightly.

"What would happen to you if I was to tell Wallace where you really got the money and for what?" Kincade's tone changed. The anger of the past weeks washed into the conversation.

"Lad, after all, I've done to keep you alive. You wouldn't do this to me? I would have to leave this Ship, and I would have to go on the run. And I don't have some fancy family money to support me. Either way, I am dead, lad," Kincade looked at Boson, and both men didn't move. Then, Kincade spoke.

"I am leaving, with or without you. I will ensure I buy your contract from Steamspire Royal. You will be able to leave this Ship and service without having to fear anymore," Kincade placed his hand on Boson's shoulder.

"Look, lad, I cannot let you leave. I cannot let you climb the stairs, travel to the port side, and wait for the watch to change at 10 bells. Where James will be standing or dozing on watch. But he will have too much to drink with his evening meal. I just cannot tell you that, lad," Boson tapped Kincade on the shoulder and made his way to the top of the stairs.

"Fair wind and calm seas, lad," Boson said as he left the engine room.