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His scent doesn’t linger on the decks any more, not after several rains and the captain's insistence on regular sluicings when the weather’s dry. Even at the place by the prow where he loved to sit and watch the horizon, his mood a strange mixture of sadness and joy, there’s no suggestion of him now. How often did I keep him company there, enjoying the touch of his long delicate hands as we rested together, contented? He always knew just where to scratch and stroke; I'm certain he drew some comfort from it.
If I want to savour a last trace of him, I have to find my way into the royal quarters when nobody’s looking. The captain takes his meals there these days, so it’s not too difficult. Like the decks, the cabin has been scrubbed clean, but there’s a place at the back of the great closet where he used to leave his clothes that still smells unmistakably of him. When I can, I like to curl up there and doze, although sleeping isn’t always as easy as it might be. Since the young one came aboard, the noise from the captain's cabin below is considerable. Yowling and grunting, laughter and thuds - whatever they’re doing, it's making the captain happy. Often he stoops to fuss when once he would have ignored me; recently he's even been known to offer me meat from his hand at the table. He would never have done that before.
It was more of a challenge to sneak into the royal quarters when the shining one was here. His jealous friend was quick to shut the door behind him, often turning the heavy lock, though none of the other men would have dared to disturb them. He wasn't always smart enough to outwit me.
The first time I was foolish, and I let myself get carried away. I’d hidden under the bed when they came in. The shining one sensed my presence, I’m sure of it, but I’m equally sure that he didn’t mention it to his friend. They were far too busy pawing and mouthing each other to be talking about me, or anything else. At first I thought they were engaged in some peculiar kind of fight, until the shining one laughed - a sound that always made my tail twitch. A moment later I was flattening myself to the floor as the boards above me sagged under their combined weight.
I waited a little while before crawling out from under the bed and jumping onto the chest to look at them. They were so wrapped up in each other, there was no chance of either of them noticing me. By this time they’d stripped down to their skin, and were lying on their sides, facing each other.
A human without its clothes is usually a ridiculous sight. All those folds of naked flesh, and pathetic clumps of fur just dotted about, useless for warmth or protection! In the case of these two, it was a different matter altogether. Of course, I’d always known that the shining one was no mere human. I had to admit that his friend was almost as impressive as him, although the sun had given him a darker colour that contrasted pleasingly with the shining one’s pale glow. There wasn’t a scrap of fur on either of them, and somehow on them it seemed right.
I watched as they shifted and murmured, moving even closer. Their scents were strong - the shining one’s sweetish and fresh, his friend’s deeper and spicier, and around them both the tang of their excitement, impossible to ignore. I could feel my own fur standing on end all along my spine, and my muscles tensing. When a golden leg draped itself over a silver thigh, and the shining one started to run his hand up and down over his friend’s hip, my instincts took over. That hand should have been stroking me. I didn’t stop to think about it, but leapt off the chest, ran across to the bed, sprang up there and tried to get between them.
The friend was not happy. I don’t understand many words of their speech beyond ‘food’, ‘rat’, ‘water’ and the like, but I knew what he was saying well enough. He had me by the scruff in an instant and would have flung me out of the cabin - and quite probably over the side as well - if the shining one hadn’t intervened. He laughed again and took his friend’s arm, speaking to him gently until the friend put me down on the floor with a final angry grunt.
The shining one crouched in front of me, looking into my eyes as he fondled my head and I twisted and pushed up into his touch. With him, words weren’t needed; I always understood what he meant. This isn’t the moment, he was telling me. Tomorrow, you and I will spend some time together. He didn’t lift me up; that was never his way. He simply walked to the door, looking over his shoulder to make sure I was following. Of course I was. It was quite clear that I couldn’t stay after that. Besides, I’d suddenly realised that there was something else I ought to be doing.
I took my time. Only the best would do for the shining one, and I had all night to find it. Though I say it myself, I know what I’m doing when it comes to hunting. I know where to look, how to wait and when to pounce; and as a rule by the end of a voyage I’ve cleared the hold completely. But this was only the second day out of port, and I knew there’d be rich pickings if I was patient enough.
By the time the bell sounded for the morning watch I had it, a big, sleek specimen. You can’t play with a rat the way you can with a mouse - you have to go straight in for the kill or likely as not it will attack you before it gets away - so it probably wasn’t particularly tender. Nonetheless, I’d made a quick job of it and carried it up on deck carefully, so when I laid it in front of his door, it was still in beautiful condition.
Just my luck, then, that the friend should come out first.
He might not have noticed my offering, had his foot not caught on it as he stepped onto the deck, surveying the scene around him. I had to risk his wrath by dashing forward to retrieve my prize before he could pick it up and hurl it away. His shout had brought the shining one running to his side, and thus he found me: back arched, hackles raised, ready to defend my position. I waited until the shining one calmed things down a little, then held my tail high as I strutted past his friend, doing my best to ignore him, and placed the rat at the shining one’s feet. I felt a bit foolish, like a dog bringing a stick back to its master, but what else was I to do?
No matter that the friend was still complaining as he stomped back into the cabin, shaking his head. I knew at once that the shining one understood. He knelt before me, the rat between us, and stroked slowly along the length of my back, then scratched behind my ears and underneath my chin. I couldn’t have controlled my voice if I’d tried. He smiled at my purring, then spoke to me in strange soft words - quite unlike the way the humans talk - and what he was saying was, Thank you. You are a fine hunter, and I truly appreciate your gift.
I knew then that I would do anything for him.
The sailors on this ship are not a bad lot. When times are hard and the rodent population dwindles they never let me go hungry. Even when the hold is squeaking with rats they still offer me choice titbits from time to time, just to let me know that I’m a valued part of the crew. Quite a few of them like to talk, and when I’m in the mood I let them stroke and pet me, although in general they’re a rough-handed bunch and none too clean. Time ashore has its own pleasures, but I’m always happy to set sail when the moment comes. It’s a pretty good life, and I’d never wanted anything more, not until the shining one came aboard.
On the morning of the last day, as we approached the harbour of home, I found him sitting in his favourite place, contemplating the horizon. I climbed onto his lap and curled up there, something I would never dream of doing with a human. He caressed the back of my neck and my ears; I purred as I rubbed my head against his palm. He must have known what I was thinking. After a while he bent down to touch his nose briefly against mine. But the ship needs you, Hunter, he told me. It is where you belong. I knew he was right, of course, but that didn’t stop me feeling sad.
He was sorry to be leaving. I could sense it as his eyes scanned the decks, looked up at the sails, and settled once again on the wide sea. He didn’t make any promises, but I know that he dreams of coming back. Perhaps one day he will return, with his sweet scent, his shining hair, and his wonderful soothing hands.
It may be a foolish hope, but it’s one I’ll hold on to, all the same.