why would ya be turnin’ away all those sailors and allowin’ the likes of Mr. Walby a chance ta see her?”
“For the simple reason that Mr. Walby has only good intentions and I fear the other men do not.”
Leander, who was now moving from cot to cot, re-dressing wounds and checking for signs of infection, listened with great interest to the conversation behind the canvas.
“Good morning,” Gus chirped, setting Emily’s breakfast down on a shelf near the gunport.
“Good morning, Gus.” Emily tried raising herself in her cot, an action that sent a shot of pain down her arm. She gritted her teeth. “Better stay where I am,” she admitted finally. She lay back on her pillows and looked up at Gus. The sight of his youthful, innocent face warmed her heart.
“Did you have a good rest, Em?”
“I did, but only once the doctor gave me some laudanum. I recall hearing your mates above deck singing tunes about reckless sailors and cans of grog. And I suspect the doctor gave me some of that as well.” Emily noticed she was wearing a nightshirt and quietly wondered when and how she had been placed in it.
“The men dance and sing on deck every night they can unless the weather is poor.”
“Even when they’ve lost friends in battle?”
“That’s when they need it most, Em. Takes their minds off sad things.”
“I see.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I’ll take breakfast later, thanks.” She did not want to tell him that the hospital smells had quite put her off eating.
Gus stepped closer to her cot. “May I ask how you broke your ankle?”
“I was fleeing a monster who stank like a manure patch.”
Gus’s eyes widened. “Was it the captain of the Serendipity?”
“No. It was his toady, Lind.”
“And did you jump overboard?”
“I did.”
“You were very brave to do so,” said Gus, looking quite impressed.
Emily lowered her voice. “Thanks to your gunners’ accuracy, an explosion of grapeshot tore through the stern windows, striking Lind down just as he was about to tie me up in the captain’s privy. I jumped out the broken windows and landed on something … a fallen mast, I believe.”
“Why was that man, Lind, going to tie you up in the privy?”
From within the dark hospital came the doctor’s insistent voice. “Mr. Walby, I understood you came by to read to Miss Emily.”
Gus’s face registered a look of guilt. “Oh! Would you like me to begin reading now?”
“Please.” Emily relaxed in the cot, a small smile on her lips, and listened to Gus’s sweet voice as he read Jane Austen’s book. She turned her head towards the opened gunport. The ocean waves of green, blue, and turquoise were strangely calming this morning. She watched them rise and fall, thankful for the light and a view to the outside world.
When she turned back to Gus, she found Dr. Braden’s sea-blue eyes gazing upon her through the crack in the canvas.
7:00 p.m.
(Second Dog Watch, Two Bells)
BEFORE NIGHTFALL, as those members of the Isabelle’s crew not on watch began making their way to the weather decks with their flutes and fiddles for a bit of entertainment, James Moreland and Fly Austen entered the hospital with the purpose of speaking to Emily. With the help of Osmund Brockley, Leander had moved his remaining patients so that their hammocks hung as far from the canvas curtain as possible, affording the captain and his commander some privacy during their interview. Fly came bearing a can of grog and handed it to Emily, saying, “Compliments of our cook, who, I might add, was crestfallen he couldn’t deliver it to you personally.”
Sitting up in her cot with several extra pillows at her back, Emily quipped, “Is this to loosen my tongue before the interrogation?”
“Aye, we had thought it might help,” Fly confessed.
James stepped towards her cot, his arm extended. “James Moreland, ma’am. We did meet last night, but it was … well, you were …”
“A bit disoriented?” said Emily, shaking his hand. “I am sorry for that. How do you do, sir?”
Leander slipped through the curtain and stood quietly next to Fly just as James asked, “And how are your injuries tonight?”
“Much as they were last night, sir.”
“Leander assures me you will make a full recovery.”
“I am very thankful to Dr. Braden,” she said, keeping her eyes on the captain, who pulled up a nearby stool and dropped down heavily upon it.
“You were on the American frigate, the Serendipity.”
“I was.”
“How long were you their … guest?”
Emily gave a wry smile. “I was their prisoner, sir.”
James cleared his throat. “Their prisoner, then.”
“I cannot say for certain … three weeks, maybe four.”
“Were you mistreated?”
Emily’s voice went icy. “Yes. Every day.”
Avoiding her eyes, James pressed on. “How was it you managed to escape?”
“I jumped out the stern windows, which you conveniently blew out with your cannon fire.”
Emily saw a flicker of amusement cross Fly’s face. Her eyes drifted to Leander, who stood watching her, one fist held to his lips. For a moment his blue eyes locked with hers.
“Were you shot before or after you jumped?”
“After, sir.”
“Any idea who was it that pulled the trigger?”
“I believe his name was Mr. Clive.”
James shifted on his stool. “You are a British subject?”
“I am.”
“And your home?”
“Dorset, sir.”
“Your father’s name?”
“My father died three years ago.”
“His name?”
Emily was slow in answering.
