Pride of Duty (Men of the Squadron Book 2)

by Andrea K. Stein

  Cullen bent low over the man’s face and listened for breathing before placing his hand on the man’s chest. His hand rested still as death. No motion was visible from the lungs filling.

  “Mr. Parker, and you two men, help me lay him face-down over the surgery table. When they complied, Cullen thwacked the man hard between his shoulder blades and a large quantity of seawater exited the man’s mouth. But when they turned him back over, there was still no sign of breathing. Cullen even had his surgeon’s mate retrieve a small mirror used for shaving in the sick bay to place over the man’s mouth. But no signs of clouding from even faint breath appeared.

  “A man that’s been dunked in these frigid waters isn’t dead till he’s warm and dead,” Cullen said, and ordered the man to be taken to the galley and warmed with water from the stove. He and Willa accompanied them to help keep the man warm.

  Once they laid him next to the stove and applied flannel-wrapped bottles of hot water to the surfaces of his body, they wrapped him again in warm blankets. But still no pulse. Willa leaned back on her heels at the man’s head and gave Cullen a questioning look.

  “What are you thinking?”

  She hesitated for a long moment, but then decided to share what she knew. “My father, Dr. Morton, wrote to me about a similar incident on the Cerberus. He did something you’ll think really odd, but it worked…”

  “Tell me what he did. The man’s dead. We can’t kill him again.” Cullen and all the other men stared at her as if she’d grown a second head.

  “Papa blew tobacco smoke through the tube of a pipe down into the man’s throat. It took almost an hour, but eventually, he had a pulse again.”

  Cullen’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe something that strange worked. It’s like bringing back the dead.”

  “I think it might have had something to do with the cold water he fell into, like this man did today.”

  At a look from Cullen, the captain of the watch was already moving toward his quarters to retrieve some tobacco. Mr. Parker ran back to the sick bay to find his pipe to use as a tube.

  As soon as he had all the pieces he needed to try to save the man’s life, Mr. Parker used his flint to light the tobacco in the bowl of the pipe and directed the smoke down the man’s throat. Cullen tented a blanket at the man’s head to keep the smoke from blowing away.

  Willa walked back to the surgery to complete re-stocking the medicine chest. There was nothing more she could do. It was up to the gunner’s heart to respond to the tobacco, if it could.

  An hour later, Cullen led the way back to the sick bay through the surgery with the patient being carried on a cot by Mr. Parker and the bo’sun’s mate who had remained below to help.

  She looked up, a question in her eyes.

  “He’s alive and awake for now, but his lungs are in bad shape. We’ll see how he fares the next few days.” He leaned down, squeezed her hand, and mouthed “Thank you” while the others moved ahead to take the patient to the warmest corner of the sick bay.

  Cullen leaned low over his revived patient and listened to the man’s raspy breathing. His face was flushed and he’d been awake in sick bay for several hours. However, the sounds coming from his chest did not bode well for his chances of survival.

  Cullen turned to Mr. Parker at his side. “Maybe we should try a bit of bleeding and get him to drink some cinchona bark tea for the fever.” If he’s hungry later, have young Charles bring him some light broth from the galley. I’m going to join the officer’s mess for supper. Send someone for me if he takes a turn for the worse.”

  “Yes, Dr. MacCloud

  On his way back through the surgery, he noticed Willa was not at her usual post on the stool where she compounded medicines. She’d probably gone to the galley to help young Charles prepare a meal from Cullen’s rations and their own stock stored with Poppy. He shook his head at his wife’s incessant watching over the boy who’d asked to be assigned as their servant. Anyone else would have let him figure out the mysteries of the galley on his own. But not Willa. Just thinking about her made him harden, in his own surgery. He shook his head. Tonight, maybe he’d throw away the damned cane, shelve his pride and crawl into their bunk any way he could.

  He was nearly out the door when he noticed a book on the surgery shelves that he hadn’t noticed before. The lighter cover stood out from the other, solid dark medical books and journals. On impulse, he pulled it out and read the title: “Gulliver’s Travels.” He turned to the page where the story began and read a few lines. He stopped mid-sentence - but when I was almost gone, and able to struggle no longer, I found myself within my depth…

  Something in his memory clicked and fell into place. He remembered the sound of Willa’s voice and trying to reach her from somewhere deep inside, as if he were at the bottom of a dark body of water swimming up toward the light. There was a momentary glimmer of what had been writhing in the darkness of the deep. But then the glimmer sputtered and died as soon as he thought he’d grasped the memory.

  Willa bent over Kathleen Baker’s bed and looked up into the worried eyes of young Mary.

  “Is she going to be all right?” The girl seemed on the verge of panic, while the newest small Baker was bellowing in the other room.

  Kathleen stared up at Willa with red-rimmed eyes. “I’ve never been so tired in my life. Thank you for coming.” She gave a deep sigh and rolled over, closing her eyes.

  Willa’s best guess was that the woman was exhausted. Apparently, their servant, Polly, had been ill and unable to help out the previous few days.

  Willa felt Mrs. Baker’s forehead and fortunately, there was no sign of fever. “Your mother is going to be fine. She just needs a little time to rest.”

  Mary seemed close to tears herself, and the girls had explained their father, Mr. Baker, the ship’s purser, was dining with Captain Still that evening, discussing ship finances.

  “How are we going to feed the baby? He needs Mama.”

  Willa patted Mrs. Baker on the hand before leaving the couple’s sleeping cabin and went to the other room where Mary’s younger sister was bouncing the baby on her knee and trying to get him to suck on her finger. He was having none of it.

  “Is he going to die?” Young Anna stared down into her brother’s reddened face and sniffled at his next enraged bellow.

  Willa leaned down and scooped the angry infant from his sister’s arms. He hiccupped, as if surprised he had a new keeper, and then launched into another screeching bellow. “I’m going to tell you girls a secret about babies.”

  They both gave her a wide-eyed look. “What?” they both demanded in unison.

  “A noisy baby is a healthy baby.” She smiled at the surprise on their faces. “If he gets really quiet and won’t take his milk, then he’s sick.”

  “You’re sure he’ll be all right?” Little Anna seemed dubious.

  “Yes, I am, but there’s somebody on the ship he needs to meet.”

  “Who?” Mary’s mouth dropped open.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Can we come along?”

  “Of course, but, Mary, go tell your mother we’re taking your brother for a walk, and we’ll be back soon, so she doesn’t worry.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cullen made his way to their cabin and stored his cane by the door. He still couldn’t shake the vague uneasiness about Willa that had been triggered by reading the words she’d been reading to him when he’d struggled to come back to consciousness.

  He wanted to hold her, make love to her, let her know that she was all that mattered to him. He knew with a verity that something horrible stalked her, but he could not for the life of him dredge up what the hell it was. He hadn’t imagined the danger. That much he knew. But somehow, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling something evil still lurked out there, somewhere. He could feel the dark terror pulsing from the top of his battered head to the ends of his fingers. Whatever it was, it was waiting for him to make a misstep, to ig
nore his wife in an unguarded minute, or leave her on her own.

  Even his cock seemed on high alert. He wanted her with an urgency he couldn’t quite explain. Speaking of his unpredictable wife, where the hell was she?

  The first bellowing of an enraged baby on the lower deck he tried to ignore. There were no babies on the lower deck. Was he imagining things now? Had his broken mind finally spun out of control?

  In that moment, the door to their cabin burst open, pushed wide by two small, determined girls, followed close behind by Willa holding a very angry infant.

  Willa braced the red-faced baby over her shoulder and continued bouncing him. She turned her unrelenting gray gaze on Cullen. “Thank heaven you’re better and managing without your cane. You have to help me. Come along.” With that, she turned and headed back out the door, beckoning him to follow in their wake. “I’m going to find Nanny. Mary, you go back to the surgery with Dr. MacCloud and bring a pan and a clean flannel before you join me.”

  “Nanny?” Cullen gave Willa a vacant look.

  “The livestock pens - the goats.” Willa stabbed a finger in the air in the general direction of where the ship’s livestock was kept and kept moving with the younger girl trotting close behind her.

  Cullen was pleased to note even the angry baby had stilled at the tone of command in his wife’s voice. He chuckled and motioned for the older girl to follow him. His earlier visions vanished of a romantic evening spent with Willa in his arms.

  When he and Mary, who had introduced herself, joined Willa and young Anna, the nanny goat had been tied conveniently by one of the crew near the livestock holding pen. Once he arrived with the pan and flannel, Willa set to rhythmically milking the nanny’s teats into the pan. After several frustrating attempts, the Baker baby, who seemed fascinated by the goat, finally gave in and sucked some of the liquid from the twisted flannel Willa kept dipping into the milk.

  Cullen marveled at his wife cajoling the angry infant, while at the same time calming the boy’s anxious sisters. This was not the same woman who kept careful journals of her courses, wanted to get her marital duties “over with,” and was terrified of bringing a child into the world. He could imagine her bouncing their own bairns on her lap and easing them into doing her bidding.

  Cullen stared into the darkness above his lonely, swinging cot and listened to his wife’s soft snores across the cabin. They’d apparently switched habits for the night. He was usually the one who fell asleep mid-argument. After filling the pan with goat’s milk, Willa had taken the baby back to the Baker cabin.

  He’d brought up the rear with Mary and Anna. Mary had carried the pan of milk since his steadiness without the cane seemed to come and go.

  Getting the angry baby settled and back to sleep took all of their mutual resources. He suspected the healthy boy was a ravenous eater who had become accustomed to his mother’s bounty and resented mightily having to work harder for Nanny’s milk. He’d checked on Mrs. Baker and felt confident some extra hours of uninterrupted sleep would allow her to return to her feeding duties by morning.

  0º Latitude

  The Arethusa Crosses the Equator

  * * *

  Willa awoke with trepidation. Even with carefully engineered ventilation below decks, the air was thick with heat. Today was the day they’d cross the equator at zero degrees latitude. A rowdy contingent of sailors calling themselves “bears” and members of Neptune’s Court had caroused throughout the decks the night before.

  She knew Cullen had crossed the equator several times during his tours of duty with the African Squadron, but this would be her first crossing. She also knew the ship’s officers played the part of the Shellbacks who would haze the Pollywog first-timers. She had no doubt Mr. Dalton would use the hazing as an excuse to impose himself on her again, if he could find her on one of the decks. Mr. Parker had been helping Cullen with sick call at the main mast each morning, so she’d be on her own, alone and vulnerable.

  They’d been in the doldrums for the last week with hardly a breath of a breeze, accompanied by oppressive heat and humidity. All of the Arethusa’s sailors were ready for something to relieve the tedium. In fact, she suspected that down through the centuries, the navies of the world had adopted the elaborate “crossing” ceremony for that very reason. The area of the sea north and south of the equator was usually bereft of wind, and without the wind, a Royal Navy ship could be a boring place indeed. Sailors this long out of port needed to be kept busy.

  She had a vague feeling of unease, knowing First Lieutenant Dalton would be in the thick of the hazing tricks. She determined to make herself scarce until the sailors’ hijinks rose to a crescendo before fading into the aftermath of the drunken celebrations that evening. For a moment, she considered asking Captain Still to intervene, but decided against bringing up all that unpleasantness again. Other than stealing looks at her when both of them happened to be on deck at the same time, First Lieutenant Dalton had left her alone ever since Cullen had recovered most of his strength and moved back into their cabin from the sick bay.

  At a tap at the cabin door, Willa nearly jumped out of her skin. “One minute, please,” she called out and quickly pulled on her plain gray muslin work dress before cracking the door to see who the early morning visitor might be.

  “Mrs. MacCloud, it’s only me.” Her young knight errant, Charles, stood outside the cabin, peering over his shoulder in the dim orlop deck light reflected from a covered lantern near the hatchway steps.

  Willa opened the door wide, looked in both directions, and then snatched the boy inside. Once she closed the door behind him, his eyes widened. “I’m afraid,” he admitted and buried his head against her waist.

  “Lieutenant Dalton is dressed like some awful creature from the deep, and he keeps passing through the sick bay, as if he’s looking for someone. He’s asked me where you are twice.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “What you told me to say…you’re sick and don’t want to be disturbed.”

  Willa sighed and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Is there no end to the torture by this plague of a man?”

  Young Charles grabbed her hand. “I won’t let him hurt you. I swear. I’ll stay right here until Dr. MacCloud and Mr. Parker come back down to the sick bay.”

  She pushed him back and leaned down to his level. “I can’t let you get into trouble on my account. If you’re missing from sick bay for too long, you could be punished for shirking your duty.”

  “Then what should we do?”

  Willa gazed up at the ship rafters for a few moments. “I have an idea.”

  An hour later, Willa had talked Poppy into finding her one of the “bear” costumes some of the men were wearing around the ship to bully “pollywogs.” They pulled the hot, furry costume from a storage chest in a dark corner of the orlop deck. When he handed her the heavy costume in silence, she took the bundle toward her cabin, and he headed back to the galley.

  Aside from the rank smell inside the costume from too many sweaty bodies over the years, she didn’t have any trouble fitting the bulky costume to her body. Thank God, she was tall enough to support the long, furry leg coverings.

  The heat and humidity hit her like the blast from wandering too close to a bonfire in the middle of a jungle. She ventured into the sick bay and young Charles immediately recognized her. “Just keep making up stories about where I am,” she whispered, before leaving again.

  Once she got the hang of an appropriate, rolling gate, she lowered her voice and climbed up to the top deck to have a little fun while avoiding Lieutenant Dalton’s obnoxious regard.

  She stopped to tease Mr. Parker at the mast, but neither he nor Cullen showed any sign of recognition. “Move along there, Mr. Bear. We’re doing important work here, and besides, we’ve both crossed the equator. Isn’t that right, Dr. MacCloud?”

  Cullen ignored her and mumbled something to Mr. Parker while checking a sailor’s throat for inflammation. His glasses
had drifted down the bridge of his nose, and she had to stop herself from pushing them back up with one of her “paws.”

  Willa cavorted about the top deck enough to make sure Dalton, in his sea monster costume, had given up his quest to haze her. She was suddenly struck by how people see only what they expect to see. For years she’d lived aboard warships with her father, and everyone had accepted she was a young man who had every right to work as a physician’s assistant. Now, today, everyone assumed she was one of the ship’s crew having a bit of fun with the crossing ceremony.

  Just when she was congratulating herself on being superior to everyone else on the ship, young Anna Baker walked past and greeted her with “Oh, Hullo, Mrs.—.” Before Willa leaned close, put a finger across her lips and whispered into the child’s ear, begging her to keep their secret.

  Willa smiled inside her furry prison even though she was sure she reeked so much of “bear,” she’d have to drench herself later with a bucket of seawater.

  Sometime late in the afternoon, shortly after they’d celebrated the “Crossing” ceremony, when Cullen had returned topside for a breath of cooler air, there were shouts of “Sail ho” from the topmen.

  Captain Still, in his Neptune costume, grabbed a spyglass from one of the midshipmen and took a long look at the mysterious ship. Few other ships should be on this path, other than merchantmen from the East India Company, which owned St. Helena. The captain snapped shut the spyglass and told Lieutenant Dalton to have the crew beat to quarters. “Look lively. She’s flying the colors of a Chilean warship.”

  Cullen had been trying to look for Willa without seeming obvious. He had no idea where she’d been hiding to avoid the equator-crossing nonsense.