I hope you can finish the last bit.”
He walked over to the open gunport, his back to her as she struggled with the trousers. Pulling them over her hips and up to her waist, Emily had to stifle the urge to laugh when she noticed the flap front. Then, kicking off her blankets, she hooked her legs over the side of her hammock. “Ready for step two, Doctor.”
Leander spun around, knowing his face was still flushed, and observed her figure in the sailor’s clothing as discreetly as possible.
“Ah, you’ll be needing shoes!” He dashed to a cupboard in the wall and opened its door to reveal three shelves on which he had neatly arranged his own hats, shirts, and cravats. He pulled out a straw hat and her blue silk slippers. “Before you went for your swim the other day,” he said, holding up the slippers, “you smartly tucked these into your jacket.” Kneeling down, he placed them onto her feet.
“I don’t know how well they’ll wear climbing the ship’s rigging and spars,” said Emily, “but they do match my new jacket.”
Leander looked at her thoughtfully. “I have never known a farmer’s daughter who was able to climb the rigging and spars of a ship.”
“In another lifetime, Doctor, I – ” She forced a smile rather than finishing her sentence.
Leander held out his straw hat to her. “Maybe we could save spar climbing for another day.”
Emily gathered up the long waves of her hair with the stronger of her two arms. When she was done, Leander popped the hat on her head.
“Right, now, lean forward a bit,” he whispered.
As she did so, he moved in so close to her face that she could smell the pleasant muskiness of his shirt. He placed one of his slender arms around her back and eased her out of the hammock and onto the floor.
“Mr. Walby,” he called out, “we’re ready for you now.”
Gus burst through the curtains as if on cue, waving a walking cane. Reaching across the hammock, Leander took the cane, handed it to Emily, and stood back to watch as she hobbled like a happy child towards the curtain. Gus held it open for her. In the hospital room, the men looked on from their hammocks with a curiosity to rival a group of elderly women observing couples at a ball.
“Emily,” said Leander, avoiding his patients’ stares, “the winds are strong on deck. Mind the hat.”
11:00 a.m.
(Forenoon Watch, Six Bells)
“SIR, THE DOCTOR has allowed that woman to wander freely above deck.”
Octavius, whose pimply face was red and puffy from the hot Bermudian sun, interrupted James as he conferred next to the capstan with Mr. Harding, who, following Emily’s example, had obtained from Dr. Braden a crutch and an admonition against over-exerting himself, and left his hospital cot to resume his duties. There was much to discuss, as the Isabelle would be leaving Bermuda later that day.
Jerking his head up, James squinted into the sun to search the decks within his sight. “I cannot see her anywhere, Mr. Lindsay.”
“She’s standing with Gus Walby and Magpie – of all people – by the fore ladders.”
James looked again. “I see Mr. Walby and young Magpie, but by the stars, I see no woman dressed in a corselet and chemise.”
Octavius compressed his lips in annoyance. “Sir, the Admiralty clearly states that no woman, be she an officer’s wife or a cook, appear above deck while at sea.”
“I’m well versed in navy rules, thank you. Need I remind you we are anchored in port?”
The first lieutenant pointed towards the mainmast’s yardarm. “See how the men pause in their chores to watch her.”
James and Mr. Harding both looked up, shading their eyes from the bright sun.
“They are doing a fine job keeping their eyes in their heads and on their tasks,” Mr. Harding said, shifting his weight about.
“Which is more than I can say for you, Mr. Lindsay.” James stared at him long and hard until Octavius looked away.
“Sir! The men don’t have to look at Meg Kettle in the darkness of their cots. We are not all true gentlemen here.”
Aware of the men toiling nearby, James dropped his voice. “We may have beggars and thieves from Newgate prison on board, but as far as I know there are only honourable men among us.”
“Captain Moreland, I fear … I fear you are growing soft.” No sooner had he uttered the words than Octavius regretted them, as he watched James’s face change colour.
“Mr. Lindsay,” James hissed through his teeth, “I will not make a scene here. Meet me in the wardroom at two bells.”
Octavius opened his mouth, but said no more. He saluted and swiftly strode off.
Mr. Harding waited until James’s complexion had regained its normal pallor. “Forgive me, sir … that young man … I know you’re well acquainted with his father, but that bold tongue of his deserves a flogging.”
“Like his father, Mr. Lindsay is hotheaded and impulsive.” James’s glance locked on the young sailor who limped alongside Magpie and Gus Walby. “But he is right.”
“How so, sir?”
“I am growing soft.”
* * *
ONCE GUS HAD HELPED Emily negotiate the ladder to the fo’c’sle deck, he apologized to her. “My lesson with Mr. Austen begins shortly. I must leave you here. But you’ll be quite safe with Magpie.” His eyes brightened. “Today we’re studying the signal flags and communications at sea. It’s my most favourite subject of all.”
“Then you must go. I’m not concerned for my safety, although I had my doubts trying to get out of the doctor’s hammock.” She gave a satisfied glance around the ship. “Just tell me, is there a quiet place where I may sit with Magpie and enjoy this fresh air?”
“Aye, on the poop deck. You’ll find it quiet there this time of day. Unfortunately, it’s at the very back of the ship and it will mean more ladders to climb. The quarterdeck is closer, but if you’re caught loitering there, you’ll most likely be ordered to ‘shove off,’ as only officers and midshipmen may stroll there during their leisure hours. Shall I escort you to the poop deck before I go to class?”
“Thank you, I’ll manage with Mr. Magpie.”
Hobbling along the fo’c’sle deck with her walking cane, Emily drew no stares. The doctor’s straw hat hid her long, fair hair, and the baggy trousers and waist-length jacket Magpie had fashioned for her disguised her female form. She had supposed her blue silk shoes would be a dead giveaway, but no one seemed interested in her feet. Moreover, Gus had assured her that several of the men were new to the Isabelle, and thus many faces were still foreign to one another.
As if reading her thoughts, Magpie piped up, “Ya’ll get away with it today, ma’am, but tonight at
