smiled to herself, realizing she now automatically told time by the watches and bells, just as the sailors did.
Maybe she wasn't quite the "lubber" Captain Fletcher termed her.
At eight bells Charley finished up and washed her hands to go to breakfast, but when she exited the sick bay she stifled an all too girlish shriek.
There were bodies lined up before her door.
"I've been on some ships where we'd dredge those 'millers' up with flour and enjoy a feast!"
She looked up at Captain Fletcher, standing before her, admiring Pirate's trophies.
"Indeed." Charley cleared her throat. "I trust we will not be forced to substitute rats for salt pork on this voyage, Captain."
"Oh, I don't expect that to happen, but we do need to get more water. Later today we'll be dropping anchor and refilling our barrels."
"Really? Is there a town where I can get more supplies?"
"And look for rescue? Do not think you will be escaping any time soon, Dr. Alcott."
"That is not what I meant, Captain Fletcher!"
He was watching her steadily.
"No? My mistake, then, based on your rather persistent demands that we free you. Santa Rosa is a Spanish island whose chief claim to fame is a freshwater spring near the beach. We will spend the night there."
"Then if there's no British garrison within hailing distance may I have your permission to leave the ship?"
"Rank has its privileges, Doctor, and sarcasm is the captain's prerogative. However," he raised a hand, forestalling further arguments, "I don't see any reason why you cannot come ashore. I think it best that you stay near the beach and not go wandering off on your own, Doctor. For your own safety, of course."
"Thank you, Captain," Charley said with appropriate deference, which only made him frown at her. But she wouldn't let that spoil her mood. A day off of the ship sounded wonderful, and she intended to take full advantage of it.
"We'll be doing laundry ashore because of the fresh water. Leave yours bundled and it will be returned to you."
Now, that cheered her, the idea of clothes not laundered in saltwater! Speaking of saltwater, she looked back down at her gifts.
"Will Pirate be offended, do you think, if I drop these over the side rather than fry them up for breakfast?"
"One thing I have learned over the years, Doctor, is not to try to fathom how cats and women think."
She glanced at him quickly, but he was looking at the rats, so she only made a "Hmmm...." noise of what she hoped was masculine solidarity and agreement, then, since Captain Fletcher was still standing there, gritted her teeth and gathered the small corpses up for an informal burial at sea.
There was a festive mood aboard the Fancy that day, even in sick bay, as the men discussed the delights of Santa Rosa.
"We will go ashore in shifts, Doctor," Henry Fletcher said. She was seeing him now on a limited basis, and trying to help him deal with the pain from his phantom limb. His spirits were better as he resumed more of his duties, and that in and of itself was probably the best medicine for him. He'd started discussions with the carpenter on a wooden hand, the blacksmith said he could fashion a hook. Charley would not yet give permission for him to wear such devices and saw his impatience with her as a good sign--a sign he was trying to return to a normal life.
"You seem excited to be going ashore, Mr. Fletcher. Is there a particular attraction to Santa Rosa?"
"There's a small village, and a larger community on the other side of the island. Mr. Bryant will head over there and arrange to sell some of the goods in our hold."
His cheerful face dimmed as he said this last.
"Would that normally be your task?" Charley asked neutrally.
"Yes. But I'm not sure I can handle a horse and care for it with one hand on the ride across the island."
"You will. Eventually. After all, most of riding is in the legs, not the hands. But for now, it is best you continue the healing process without risking further damage to your limb.
Maybe she wasn't quite the "lubber" Captain Fletcher termed her.
At eight bells Charley finished up and washed her hands to go to breakfast, but when she exited the sick bay she stifled an all too girlish shriek.
There were bodies lined up before her door.
"I've been on some ships where we'd dredge those 'millers' up with flour and enjoy a feast!"
She looked up at Captain Fletcher, standing before her, admiring Pirate's trophies.
"Indeed." Charley cleared her throat. "I trust we will not be forced to substitute rats for salt pork on this voyage, Captain."
"Oh, I don't expect that to happen, but we do need to get more water. Later today we'll be dropping anchor and refilling our barrels."
"Really? Is there a town where I can get more supplies?"
"And look for rescue? Do not think you will be escaping any time soon, Dr. Alcott."
"That is not what I meant, Captain Fletcher!"
He was watching her steadily.
"No? My mistake, then, based on your rather persistent demands that we free you. Santa Rosa is a Spanish island whose chief claim to fame is a freshwater spring near the beach. We will spend the night there."
"Then if there's no British garrison within hailing distance may I have your permission to leave the ship?"
"Rank has its privileges, Doctor, and sarcasm is the captain's prerogative. However," he raised a hand, forestalling further arguments, "I don't see any reason why you cannot come ashore. I think it best that you stay near the beach and not go wandering off on your own, Doctor. For your own safety, of course."
"Thank you, Captain," Charley said with appropriate deference, which only made him frown at her. But she wouldn't let that spoil her mood. A day off of the ship sounded wonderful, and she intended to take full advantage of it.
"We'll be doing laundry ashore because of the fresh water. Leave yours bundled and it will be returned to you."
Now, that cheered her, the idea of clothes not laundered in saltwater! Speaking of saltwater, she looked back down at her gifts.
"Will Pirate be offended, do you think, if I drop these over the side rather than fry them up for breakfast?"
"One thing I have learned over the years, Doctor, is not to try to fathom how cats and women think."
She glanced at him quickly, but he was looking at the rats, so she only made a "Hmmm...." noise of what she hoped was masculine solidarity and agreement, then, since Captain Fletcher was still standing there, gritted her teeth and gathered the small corpses up for an informal burial at sea.
There was a festive mood aboard the Fancy that day, even in sick bay, as the men discussed the delights of Santa Rosa.
"We will go ashore in shifts, Doctor," Henry Fletcher said. She was seeing him now on a limited basis, and trying to help him deal with the pain from his phantom limb. His spirits were better as he resumed more of his duties, and that in and of itself was probably the best medicine for him. He'd started discussions with the carpenter on a wooden hand, the blacksmith said he could fashion a hook. Charley would not yet give permission for him to wear such devices and saw his impatience with her as a good sign--a sign he was trying to return to a normal life.
"You seem excited to be going ashore, Mr. Fletcher. Is there a particular attraction to Santa Rosa?"
"There's a small village, and a larger community on the other side of the island. Mr. Bryant will head over there and arrange to sell some of the goods in our hold."
His cheerful face dimmed as he said this last.
"Would that normally be your task?" Charley asked neutrally.
"Yes. But I'm not sure I can handle a horse and care for it with one hand on the ride across the island."
"You will. Eventually. After all, most of riding is in the legs, not the hands. But for now, it is best you continue the healing process without risking further damage to your limb.
Similar Books
