it was the combination of little food, no sleep, the swaying motion of the post chaise, the roaring in his ears, his throbbing head and the ill humors lodged in his throat. Before he could even warn anyone, he turned away and was sick in a pot of pansies that had got through a long summer and had probably wanted to survive—hardy things—beyond late fall. Too bad for them.
“Pete cleaned him up. He’s tucked in bed now, and all he wants is water,” Gran said, as Nana came up the narrow stairs with her tray.
Eyes closed, Captain Worthy lay propped up in bed, the picture of misery, with red spots burning in his cheeks. He opened his eyes, and almost smiled at what she carried. He indicated the table by the bed. “Set it there and pour me a glass.”
She did as he said, and handed it to him. He drained the glass and held it out for more. Only a little water remained in the pitcher when he closed his eyes.
“Can… can I get you anything else, sir?” she asked. “Is there someone we can write who can be here to nurse you?”
“There isn’t anyone.”
“Oh, dear. There should be.”
“No, Miss Massie,” he said. “The blockade is the devil’s own business and I’d never share it with another living soul. That old salt…”
“Pete Carter? He works for Gran.”
“…tells me there is no board here.”
“With the blockade and general shortages, Captain, we don’t have the clientele or the resources to provide food anymore. I’m truly sorry.” She hesitated. His eyes never left her face. “Perhaps you will want to reconsider and return to the Drake tomorrow.”
“No. I am here to stay until my ship is out of dry dock.”
“You really want to stay at the Mulberry?” she asked in frank surprise.
She could tell he felt miserable, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. “Well, yes,” he replied, even smiling a little. “Am I, er… allowed?”
He sounded so much like a small schoolboy in that moment that she had to laugh. “Of course you are! We’re delighted to have you. It’s just that meals…”
He pointed to the bureau. “Pete said he stowed my purse in the top drawer. Get it out, please, Miss Massie, and take what you need to provide me with three meals a day. Right now I favor porridge with lots of cream and sugar, mainly because I do not think anything else will stay down.”
She had never rustled about in someone else’s possessions before, but the captain appeared to expect it, so she did, pulling out his purse. She closed the drawer quickly and brought the purse to his bed. He opened it and she tried not to stare at the coins.
He counted out a generous handful. “When this is gone, just ask for more. Miss Massie, I like to eat well when I am in port.” He looked at her with that frank gaze that should have embarrassed her, but didn’t. “I expect the people who run the inn to eat well, too.”
“Certainly, sir. Can I get you anything now?”
“What are you having for dinner?”
“A little tea and toast,” she replied, then wished she had said nothing, or lied, because it was starvation food. “I mean, I ate a large meal at noon and wasn’t…”
He took her by the wrist. “Miss Massie, I intend to stay at the Mulberry for a month, but if you tell me another lie, I’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“Yes, Captain,” she replied, her voice no more than a whisper. “T-toast.”
“And breakfast?”
She shook her head, too embarrassed to look at him. He was still holding her wrist, but his grip was easy.
He let go of her then, and relaxed against the pillows again. “All I need tonight is another pitcher of water. Would you do me a favor?”
“Anything, Captain,” she said and meant it.
“Ask Pete if he knows a good remedy for sailor’s throat.”
“He has a thousand cures, almost as many as Scheherazade had tales.”
Her answer made him smile. “I’ll wager he has. And might your… your grandmama know of a poultice for my throat?”
That is odd, she thought. How does he know about Gran? “Have you stayed here before?” she asked. “I don’t believe I mentioned Gran.”
It was his turn to look confused. “Pete must have said something,” he replied.
“That’s a whopper,” she said candidly, looking him in the eyes.
He looked at her in exasperation. “I do believe an older woman was in here when Pete relieved me of my uniform and bared me to the skin, but I didn’t want to be so indelicate!”
She left the room, smiling to herself.
Gran put the money in the strongbox she kept in the drawer under the bread box. Only a few coins remained from Nana’s haircut, and the sound of Captain Worthy’s money made Nana sigh with relief.
“I wonder why he’s doing this?” she asked her grandmother.
“Who knows?” Gran said. She turned to the nearly bare shelves and put her hands on her hips. “Nana, get on the stool and hand me that sack on the left. I can make the captain a poultice for his neck. I’ll send Pete to the apothecary’s for some oil and cotton wadding.”
“And food, too, Gran, food,” Nana said. “He wants porridge and cream for breakfast.”
Gran rested her hand on Nana’s shoulder. “You’ve been hungry.” It was a simple statement. “Maybe our luck is turning.”
And hour later, Nana carried the poultice upstairs. It was made of wheat, simply heated and packed into a clean stocking someone had left behind, back when the Mulberry had lodgers. Gran had wrapped it in a dish towel so she could carry it. “We may leave it wrapped in that, too,” she said as Nana knocked on the door. “It wouldn’t do to cause him bodily harm, not after he’s paid so much for our help.”
Gran carried the oil Pete had brought from the apothecary before he left again to convince a grocer to open his shop. She warmed the vial in her hands.
The captain was asleep, but he rolled over as soon as she tiptoed into the room. He was half out of bed before he realized who it was.
“Lie down, Captain. You’re not on the blockade now,” Gran ordered. “Turn over. I’ll put some oil in your ears.”
He did as she demanded. Gran dropped oil in each ear and plugged it with cotton. She motioned Nana forward.
“Just drape it around his neck. That’s the way,” she said, as Nana lifted the poultice over the captain’s head. “Settle it around his ears, too.”
The captain was silent as she followed
