Now, at this early morning hour, aside from the occasional snore or whimper from the wounded sailors swinging in hammocks or curled up on thin blankets on the hospital floor, all was quiet beyond her canvas curtain. There was one lantern still burning. Its dim light revealed Leander writing at his reclaimed desk, the surgical instruments having been rolled up and stowed away. Making notes in his medical journal again, Emily guessed. He looked up and pulled off his spectacles when she emerged from her corner.
“Doctor,” she said in whispers, picking her way towards his desk, “it’s five in the morning. Have you had no sleep at all?”
“A brief nap.” He suppressed a yawn. “How is Magpie?”
“Sleeping soundly, poor fellow.” Emily glanced down at Leander’s journal to find that he was not writing medical notes at all, but a letter. Gently she reached out to take the pen from Leander’s right hand. “There is a blanket on the floor by his hammock. It is yours. Go and get some sleep. Your … letter can wait.”
Willingly, he folded it up, tucked it into the pocket of his breeches, and smiled up at her. “Strangely, I am not tired. Later it will hit me.” He leaned back in his chair. “I could use some fresh air, though.”
“I’m guessing we’re in the midst of a storm.”
“This is nothing. I have known far worse,” he said, rising to stretch his back. “No, Emily, that blanket is yours. You of all people deserve more sleep. I won’t be gone long.” Leander detected an expression he could not discern in her dark eyes. “Perhaps I should not leave you here alone with so many wounded?”
“No, Doctor, that doesn’t concern me.” She took a step closer to him, looking up at his handsome face. “I should like to come with you.”
“It might be too dangerous.”
Emily’s face brightened at the innuendo. “Would Captain Moreland disapprove of you as my escort?”
His face reddened in the half-light. “You are quite safe with me, madam,” he said, looking everywhere but at her.
“Am I?”
Leander dropped his arms at his side and his eyes widened.
“Right, then,” Emily whispered with a jaunty smile. “I will take my chances.” She limped past his desk and headed towards the ladder up.
“What about your walking stick?” Leander asked when he had recovered.
“Perhaps you will lend me your arm instead,” she said, disappearing through the hatch.
A slow grin took hold of his features as he hurried to his clothing cupboard, next to the sleeping Magpie, to retrieve his two reliable raincoats. As he headed towards the ladder with the coats draped over his arm, Mr. Crump lifted his head from his pillow.
“No mischief now, Doc.”
5:30 a.m.
(Morning Watch, Three Bells)
BISCUIT HANDED OCTAVIUS LINDSAY and Gus Walby each a steaming mug of coffee as they stood shivering by the bowsprit on morning watch. “Drink up, Mr. Lindsay. Drink up, Mr. Walby,” he said cheerfully, trying to shield the remaining mugs on his tray from the driving rain.“Here’s thee only warm sustenance ya’ll be gettin’ fer a while. Can’t fire up me galley stove in this storm. And thee Doc says he ain’t got no time nor hospital room for anyone comin’ down with thee fever.”
“Well, he would if he rid himself of that woman,” said Octavius, wrapping his lips around his coffee cup.
Biscuit sneered, his bad eye rotating in his orange head. “And he ain’t about to do that now, is he, Mr. Lindsay?” He continued on his way, struggling against the ship’s pitching to keep his tray and himself aloft as he sought out other waterlogged seamen in need of some warmth.
Octavius grunted out a garbled reply and rounded on Gus who was still clad in Captain Moreland’s coat. “Mr. Walby, your watch ended long ago. Why is it you are still above deck?”
Gus squinted up at the first lieutenant through the rain. “You don’t mind, do you, sir? I can’t sleep.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Might I ask, sir … why you don’t like Em?”
Octavius gave a throaty laugh. “Em? You’re on a first-name basis with her?”
Gus nodded. “I read to her.”
“Can she not read herself?”
“Of course! Mr. Austen gave me the volumes of his sister’s book, Sense and Sensibility, to read to her to pass the time while she lay recovering in her cot.”
“Such rubbish! Your time and hers would be better spent, Mr. Walby, reading books on navigation and signalling, and teaching her how to use a sextant.”
Gus said no more, turning his eyes away to peer into the fierce blackness before him. He shivered in his coat, thankful he wasn’t one of those phantom figures who worked the sails, some of them at more than one hundred feet above sea level, standing in their bare toes on nothing more than an inch of rope. Yet another large wave leapt onto the fo’c’sle deck, soaking Mr. Lindsay, who scowled beside him.
“Damn and hell,” Octavius cursed, his coffee mug overflowing with saltwater. He tossed the mug and its contents over the side of the ship, and in a voice suddenly stripped of its earlier sarcasm said, “Two battles and I haven’t received a scratch. If I am so lucky to survive this war, Mr. Walby, I shall leave the navy. I detest being ruled by the Articles of War. Surely I deserve far better than cold, diluted coffee and weather such as this.”
Gus, shocked to hear such words from a senior officer, set down his mug to seize hold of a lifeline. “What would you do, sir?”
Octavius studied the young boy for a moment. “Beg my father to pay my way through law school.”
“With respect, sir, why didn’t you choose law in the first place?”
“Because, Mr. Walby, I am my father’s eighth son. He chose my career for me. I did not have a say in it.”
“Did your mother have no sympathy for you, sir?”
Octavius’s eyes grew distant. “My mother is a senseless, self-absorbed woman who cares nothing for me. She certainly did not come to my defence when I pleaded for a career in law. Why, she did not even bother to come out of the house to see me off when I left for sea. I was told she was having her hair dressed at the time.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Such foolish talk, Mr. Walby. Pay me no heed. I must do my rounds.”
As Octavius fought his way through the gusty winds, he brushed the saltwater from his face. Looking after him, Gus whispered, “At least you have a mother.”
* * *
“THIS IS NOT AT ALL SAFE,” cried Leander into the wind, gripping Emily’s arm as they made their way to a sheltered spot near the small boats and cutters that had once again been secured to the Isabelle’s waist.
“It’s exhilarating,” she shouted back happily, clutching the collar of her borrowed coat.
“Most of the men become seasick in this weather. You, on the other hand, seem to delight in it.”
“I loved being on a ship when I was a young girl. I was never seasick a day, Doctor.”
“Hmm! Yes, you have already mentioned something about being on ships when you were a girl, and wandering freely about on weather decks.”
Emily gave him a mysterious smile and hobbled ahead of him to sit upon a low wooden bench that was nailed to the deck beneath the protective shelter of the smaller boats. Leander sat down beside her and quietly watched her as she looked out upon the frothy waves. The wind had loosened strands of her pale hair, which she’d tied back with her red scarf. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes shone in the duskiness of early morning. She had thrust her hands into the large pockets of his borrowed coat, her small frame all but disappearing in the folds of the sturdy material, save for her blue silk shoes. Again he wondered who she was.
“Why, Doctor, if the winds would stop blowing so wildly, I’d race you up to the main topgallant.”
Leander stared at her. “Are you
trifling with me? Could you … I mean … have you actually ever climbed to the main topgallant?”
Emily relaxed her shoulders, and gave him an admissive nod.
Leander could only gaze upon her in wonder. He wanted to tell her that Captain Moreland would be most interested in this bit of information, but, fearing she would cease speaking so freely, he merely said, “That’s incredible!”
“The truth is, Doctor, I was a climber almost from the time I left the womb.”
“A climber? How so?”
“As a child, I would climb anything that stood before me: a fence, a tree, a balustrade, a barn roof, even though – in doing so – I caused my poor nurses such alarm.”
“I am certain you must have,” said Leander. “But I suppose … there is something in you that does not leave me in complete surprise by this knowledge.”
“If anything, my father encouraged this kind of behaviour,” Emily went on, a wistful smile on her lips. “He was proud of my climbing feats … most likely because I was his only child, and he had wished – as all men do – for a son.”
“A son that would enter the Royal Navy rather than … than taking up farming?”
Emily avoided Leander’s inquisitive glance. “Do not worry yourself, Doctor, I shall not encourage a competition to the topgallant.”
“If you did, I would have to decline. I’m afraid I am a physician, not a sailor.”
“Perhaps not a sailor, but there must be some of the adventurer in you?”
Leander paused to consider that one. “I believe there is more of the adventurer in you than in me.”
She smiled, and a faraway look crept into her eyes.
“Now if you were to run up the main topgallant this minute,” he continued, “you might shock the sensibilities out of a few men. I understand many of them hate being up there themselves.”
“But wouldn’t it be great fun, Doctor? Captain Moreland and Mr. Lindsay would be quick to consult their Articles of War to decide just how they could punish me. Should they withhold my grog rations? Give me a cobbing or a flogging? Seize me up to the shrouds for a night or have me court-martialled?”
“Perhaps they could give you all five punishments!”
They both laughed, then fell silent, listening to the men on their watch, shouting at intervals to one another above the howling tempest.
“Heave the lead, if you please.”
“Winds from the northeast.”
“Compass reading.”
“No sounding yet, sir.”
“What is our speed?”
“We’re scudding at a rate of seven knots.”
Leander was the first to speak again. “There is a hood to the coat. It might help to keep you dry. I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.”
“Thank you, Doctor, but I welcome the rain. It is so hot and smelly below deck. I wonder that you can work in such conditions.”
“I have done it such a long time now, I hardly notice. Then again, the quality of the air is not a priority when a man is dying on the table before you.”
Emily turned to look at him and smoothed back her hair. “Why are you a ship’s physician? You are not like other navy surgeons and physicians that I have known or heard about.”
Leander frowned at her question. “How is that?”
“You’re clever and well-educated and don’t seem to have a problem with drunkenness.”
“I thank you for the compliment, but I must confess to enjoying spirits upon occasion.”
“When you are lopping off limbs?”
“No, never upon those occasions.”
“That’s what sets you apart.” She continued to look at him, making him uncomfortable. “So … why are you on a ship, Doctor?”
For the longest time he did not reply and Emily wondered if he would prefer to follow her example and evade her question. She was about to apologize for her impertinent curiosity when he opened his lips in answer.
“I left England eight years ago, when my old friend Fly encouraged me to join the Isabelle’s crew – they being in need of a doctor as their last one had died of typhus. With Nelson and his Trafalgar victory, everyone at that time seemed caught up with navy fever, myself included. I found I quite enjoyed life at sea, despite the fact the food is often revolting and I’ve banged my head a few too many times on the deck beams.”
Emily searched his face. “Do you have no family left in England?”
“My mother and father still live in Steventon, near Winchester.”
“And you have no other family?”
Leander looked down at her young face, damp with sea spray, and the dancing tendrils of her wheat-coloured hair. “I was married once. My wife died delivering me of a son. Two months after burying her, my little boy died. I was their attending doctor, but I could not save their lives.” He watched her dark eyes grow sad and quickly added, “It was a long time ago, Emily.”
She shifted her gaze away towards the swollen waves that rose up like shapeless beasts to challenge the Isabelle. For several minutes, as if mesmerized by the harsh scene, she said nothing, but when she turned again towards Leander there was a sympathetic smile on her face.
“The woman you write to – who is she?”
“How do you know I write to a woman?”
“I – I am only guessing.”
He leaned back to stare at her in surprise. “You are an intriguing woman – one who is content to ask questions of others, but avoids answering them about herself.”
She angled her head. “Are you interested in learning something of me?”
“Every man on this ship is interested in learning something of you.”
“Good answer, Doctor! But now we are talking about you. And you were about to tell me the woman’s name.”
He raised one auburn eyebrow and met her questioning eyes straight on. “Jane. Her name is Jane.”
“Jane?”
Leander was certain there was a hint of disappointment in her voice. He could see the next question forming on her lips when Fly Austen blew past their sheltered corner.
“Leander!” he cried upon discovering his friend. “I would have thought you were snoring soundly in your hammock at this hour.” Then realizing it was Emily sitting with him, he added, “Oh! Good morning, ma’am.”
“I might have said the same about you, Mr. Austen,” Leander said.
His dark, wavy hair blowing wildly about, Fly laughed into the wind and reached out to steady himself on the nearest cutter. “I should like nothing better; however, at six bells, James wants to begin questioning the men who were brought on board. I’m on my way below to see how well our guests fared the night.” He looked from one to the other with a wide grin. “And you two are – ?”
“Out for a breath of fresh air, Mr. Austen,” Emily said quickly. “The hospital, as you can well imagine, is oppressively hot and crowded.”
Fly still grinned. “And your many patients, Doctor? Who’s attending them?”
“The ever-capable Mr. Brockley, of course.”
“Well, then, they’re in very good hands.”
A furore of voices suddenly pierced the howling wind. Those on watch, having stood silent and hidden at their posts, hastened to the larboard rail to investigate the hubbub at the front of the ship near the bowsprit.
“Man overboard!”
“Nay, men overboard!”
“Heave-to, lads; slow her down.”
“Throw ’em a barrel, a spar – anything that’ll float.”
“Can we lower a cutter fer ’em?”
“Nay, too dangerous in this weather. Heave-to.”
“It’s Morgan … one of ’em’s Morgan Evans.”
Emily’s right hand flew to her mouth and her stomach began c
hurning in horror.
“They must have fallen from the yards,” hollered Fly. “Leander, your services may be needed. You will excuse us, Emily?”
“Certainly,” she said faintly.
Fly hurried off, pulling his way into the gale by grasping onto the larboard rail. Leander stood up slowly, as if he loathed the thought of leaving her. “I’ll first take you back to the hospital.”
“No. Please. I’m coming with you.”
6:30 a.m.
(Morning Watch, Five Bells)
IN THE DREARY MORNING LIGHT, Emily could see the two men bobbing on the raging sea – so small and helpless, like young birds fallen far from their mother’s nest. She stood well back and out of the way of the sailors as they hurled buckets, benches, broken spars, and barrels into the slate-grey waves, in the hopes that the men might reach one of them.
“Who else, besides Morgan, fell in?” she asked Gus, who stood next to her alongside the larboard rail, squinting through his spyglass.
“Mr. Alexander. They were both trying to fix a broken yardarm on the foremast.”
“Can they swim?”
Gus shook his head. “Most of us cannot.”
Emily’s gaze fell upon Gus’s little blond head; a mixture of excitement and worry animated his young face as he watched the carpenters through his spyglass. She thought of poor Magpie asleep in her hammock.
“I’m glad you’re safe, Gus,” she said.
He beamed up at her. “I’m glad you are safe as well, Em.”
“The men – they will need blankets when they are pulled in. Dr. Braden has a few in the hospital. Would you mind fetching them?”
Gus handed her his spyglass. “Right away!”
When he was gone, Emily shrank back from the rail and pulled up the hood on Leander’s coat, knowing the sight of her above deck was liable to cause Captain Moreland or Mr. Lindsay to have a stroke, in the event they should happen by. She said a silent prayer for Morgan and Mr. Alexander, and turned her back to the east wind to fix her eyes upon Leander, who had joined the chorus of sailors leaning over the rail shouting encouragement to the carpenters as they laboured to reach one of the floating objects.
Come Looking For Me Page 11
