I know I have posted a lot recently and I will try not to overwhelm the forum with so many posts at once. Let me know:
1. Is it still interesting?
2. Am I info dumping?
3. Am I telling or showing?
THanks for your input!
After a substantial meal and two rounds of drinks, Jo retired to her room, but not before ordering a bath be sent up. Jo had just kicked off her black leather boots when a knock was sounded on her door. Unlocking it, she opened it just a crack. A curvy bar wench was holding a tin tub and a small bar of soap. Jo opened the door all the way so she could enter, hiding the dagger she had held in her hand. “Mary will be bringing up yer water,” the girl said busily as she placed the tub at the foot of the bed.
Jo examined the girl wondering how she could get much of anything done with her breasts spilling out of her dress like that. No doubt she was wearing one of those corset contraptions. Jo praised God she wasn’t foolish enough to follow the ways of women’s fashion. It changed so often and none of it was ever practical. Boots, britches, a shirt, and a belt was all Josette ever needed. From the row of buttons that ran down the girl’s back Jo figured it took her forever to get dressed in the morning.
“Ye be needing a towel or a brush?” The girl stared pointedly at Jo’s hair that fell about her shoulders in a riotous storm.
Jo fished out two pieces of eight. “Could you have Mary hurry with that water? I’d rather not fall asleep in the middle of my bath.”
The girl gave her a strange look, then curtsied and scurried out of the room. Five minutes later Mary was carrying in two buckets full of steaming hot water. Closely behind her came the previous bar wench carrying a third bucket and a towel. Jo took notice of the brush placed on the armoire, just below a cracked mirror. As soon as the water had been dumped into the tub, both woman curtsied and hurried out of the room.
Jo stripped to her skin, shaking her head. Why did women curtsy? It seemed like a waste of time. Just like bathing. Jo rarely bathed, partly because it wasn’t practical on a ship full of men and partly because everyone else around her stunk just as bad as she did. But slipping into the hot water was a welcome luxury to Jo’s aching muscles. And though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, it felt good to scrub away the dirt.
Long after the water had gotten cold and her fingertips had shriveled up, Jo climbed out of the tub. She grabbed the brush, sitting down in front of the looking glass. As she worked the horsehair brush through her matted ringlets Jo found her mind wandering aimlessly. Never had the weight of responsibility weighed so heavily on Jo’s shoulders. Would she be a competent Captain?
Well, she had managed to get her crew and ship back to port without any incidences. That had to count for something. But how would she fare with a much smaller crew? Josette would not have agreed to William’s poster plan if she did not think that it would work. Still, she would not disillusion herself into thinking that many men would serve under a woman. Once the prospective sailors realized she was the Captain Jo expected to hear raucous laughter.
Jo looked up at her reflection and was startled at what she saw. With a good bath, her skin looked soft and glowed with youthfulness. Her hair cascaded down her back in a mass of damp ringlets, the candlelight making her hair look almost blue-black. She enjoyed a moment’s vanity, appreciating her appearance. But staring into her mesmerizing blue-green eyes, Jo saw her emotions so candidly displayed in their depths that it frightened her. Fear and determination arrowed her eyebrows down into a frown. Her overwhelming self-doubt was blatantly obvious.
She wondered if she was truly capable of running a ship. Was her personality strong enough to keep thirty men in check? Would she be able to hide her shortcomings from the crew? No doubt she had the knowledge and physical strength, but could she remain mentally stable? Perhaps the stress of it all was what had caused her Father to go crazy. Jo reasoned that no sane person would bury a treasure in the middle of the ocean.
Exhausted, Jo shuffled over to the four-poster bed and climbed between the linens. The soft mattress sank with Jo’s weight, enveloping her naked body in soft bliss. Jo turned on her side, curling her knees towards her chest. Would she sleep soundly tonight with a locked door? Nightmares and the fear of mutiny had kept Josette in a fitful sleep since her Father had died. But Jo didn’t have to worry; within seconds of closing her eyes she was sound asleep.
