by Tamara Gill
“Thank you, Miss Covington. Usually I patch the men up as best I can in the time allotted. They’re not ones to sit around idle-like for the fancy stuff sutures require.” The doctor tied off a knot. He wiped his brow with a rag and then waited as she snipped the catgut. “The job’s done, mate. Mind you keep it clean else you’ll be back here with a raging infection.”
The sailor nodded and shot from the sick bay as if his hindquarters were on fire.
“What are the chances infection will occur anyway?” Sarah scrubbed her hands with a bar of harsh-smelling soap and rinsed in a nearby basin of water. She’d worked with the surgeon for nearly three days and she’d yet to become accustomed to the foul cleanser.
“Quite high. A ship isn’t the cleanest place to heal.” He washed his hands and then rolled his shirt sleeves down to his wrists.
“Agreed. It’s a wonder the sick bay isn’t full.” She liked the older man well enough, though he’d argued with Adrian’s decision to allow her to assist in the sick bay for no other point than she was female.
“Oh, we’ve had our moments. Influenza, scurvy, diseases the men pick up from prostitutes in certain ports, the status quo here changes with the wind. Undoubtedly, the next run will go much smoother now that you’re assisting.”
Finally, a compliment. She wanted to skip about the floor, grinning. Instead, she said, “Thank you.”
She glanced around the cabin. Two narrow bunks had been shoved beneath the windows. One held an occupant. One remained empty. Shelves lined another wall. Apothecary jars, bottles, pouches, sacks and wooden boxes contained all manner of medicines and herbal cures a surgeon onboard a ship might need. A long work table ran the length of a third wall. Tools of the trade—saws, pliers, pincers—rested upon it or were hung on hooks above it. Occupying the last wall was the operation table, a stout oak piece that could support even the most muscled man. Leather restraints dangled from its sides in the event the patient required immobilization. Beside the work table, a bloodstained bucket sat on the floor. This was used for entrails, amputated body parts and any other waste the surgery generated. At the end of the day, it was dumped overboard or used as chum for the crew who wished to fish from one of the lower decks. Life aboard the ship was myriad and busy. A self-contained village as it were.
Instead of the revulsion she thought she’d feel being in the midst of such a macabre scene, pride filled her. She’d found a place on the ship where she truly felt as if she belonged. Not only that, she was spending time doing good. Sarah smiled as she wiped her hands on the clean apron she donned. “Doctor Anderson, how long have you served Lady Catherine’s crew?” She peered at the tall man with the head of graying black hair. “No offense intended, but you do not appear the type of gentleman to volunteer for service with a bunch of pirates.”
“We’re privateers, miss.” He grinned and scratched his head. “No, it wasn’t my first choice of employment. You might even say I was pressed into service without a choice.”
“Ah, then you came aboard like a great number of us. Kidnapped, I would imagine?”
“More or less. And the correct term is shanghaied.” His grin revealed yellowing teeth, but at least they were all present and relatively straight. “It’s been several years since I first set sail with Captain Westerbrooke. I’d been walking home near the Custom Office on the London Docks. A man approached me and asked for the time. He seemed a congenial sort, so I gave it to him. We struck up a conversation.”
“Without letting on what he was about, I’d imagine?” Sarah couldn’t keep the amusement from her voice. It would seem Adrian didn’t realize he could merely ask folks if they’d like to join his crew.
“Indeed. He inquired as to my line of business. When I let on I was a surgeon, he looked quite pleased with himself. As I bid him goodbye, I felt a blow to my head and passed out. It was only when I’d come to that I realized I’d been captured by the captain.”
“Were you upset? When the same fate befell me—minus the blow to the head—I will admit I was not best pleased.”
The doctor chuckled. “Trust me, miss, all of Captain’s upper officers heard about your attempts to defy him. He unleashed his frustrations on us during our dinner meetings.”
Her cheeks heated. She hated that he’d shared their encounters with his staff. Tiny flutters tickled her lower belly. Did he also brag of his eventual conquest and subsequent beddings? Those moments belonged to them alone, and would be sullied if he’d shared.
“No worries, Miss Covington.” The doctor patted her arm. “The captain does have some integrity after all. He used discretion. Nary was a mention of what occurred between the two of you outside the arguments.” The smug grin on his face gave her doubts. “As for me, I got over the shock in due time, and once he explained the potential to earn more of a salary than I’d had before, I was right fine with the arrangement.”
“Why?” She dropped the few instruments they’d used in a pan of strong-smelling alcohol.
“My wife had died a few years earlier and my parents several years before that. I was alone in the world except for my struggling practice. The captain did me a favor, actually.”
“You have no regrets then?” How did he balance remembering the old life against living the new with all its pitfalls and uncertainty?
“Every now and again I’ll think on what I might have been doing had I not met Adrian.” The doctor shrugged. “There are worse things than working with a pirate crew.”
“I thought you were privateers?” She dipped a cloth into a basin of clean water and wrung it out.
His grin grew. “The difference is negligible.”
“So I have heard.” Laying the folded cloth over the forehead of the man on the bunk, she glanced again at the doctor. “How do you justify the captain’s harsh rule with your physician’s oath?”
“I do the best I can.” Doctor Anderson crossed his arms over his chest. “While onboard, Captain Westerbrooke’s word is law, but if he ends up in my sick bay, I have total authority. I think he knows this. I don’t question his decisions; he doesn’t refute my need to patch up what are sometimes the results of his orders.”
“He is a murderer. The actions that send men to your sick bay could have been circumvented with other means. Doesn’t this anger you?” She couldn’t move past Adrian’s darker side even though she’d tapped into hers.
“Not especially, since he’s the man who feeds and pays me.” He sighed and pinned her with a hard look. “What he does is no different than other aspects of life. Generals send soldiers into war. People are left to starve on the streets from pure negligence and class separation. Women and children die in workhouses for the sake of profit. The captain’s orders are but another side.”
She nodded. “Put that way, I suppose this is but another fiber in the bigger tapestry.”
“Aye. Piracy is naught but a business, Miss Covington. There is killing—us or them. It’s no different than anything else. You should be thanking our fearless leader that he’s kept us all from becoming fish food.”
His frank assessment of the situation humbled her and she lowered her gaze to the work table. “Remarkably, I do understand.” He’d had ample opportunity to kill her, give her over to his crew or offer her to one of the slave auctions on Bermuda. He’d done none of those things, choosing instead to trust her with his story.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Judgment isn’t yours to hand out. According to the tales he’s told us, you’ve killed as well. There’s no going back from it. You square that with yourself or you don’t, but it makes no difference. That’s who you are now. Sorry to be harsh, miss, but these are facts. He has his job. I have mine. You have yours. That’s all. He knows what he’s doing and he’s good at it. We should all aspire for such dedication.”
“Aye, we should.” She lifted her gaze to the doctor’s. A flash of camaraderie was exchanged. A greater realization of Adrian came to her. While the doctor might not agree with the pirate’s
decisions, it didn’t mean he and the captain couldn’t work side by side. There were many souls on the Lady Catherine, many in different walks of life. Many viewpoints made for a well-rounded crew. “Though he is driven, every man onboard is faithful to him in a different way, and everyone works toward the same goal.”
He nodded. “The simpler way is this—if we don’t hit our targets, no one gets paid. Money motivates the man. So does security.”
“What of living arrangements?” Since she’d been aboard, she’d taken to walking the upper decks for exercise and fresh air. Staying cooped up in her cabin while Adrian spent time working had rapidly lost its appeal. “There is precious little privacy on a ship, let alone real estate, shops, fresh food, and leisure activities. How do you cope without losing your sanity?”
“I make due.” He tidied his work table. “The captain is mindful of his crew’s needs. He tries to make port once every six weeks when we’re not pursuing a target. He’s generous in handing out leave. The only danger in port is too much rum and women.”
The knot in her stomach tightened. “You are happy?”
“As much as a man can be, miss. If you still harbor doubts, best to talk them out with the captain.” His gray eyes reflected his grin. “He can’t fix what he doesn’t know is wrong.”
This was probably true. Her head ached from constantly mulling over her future. She owed it to Adrian to share her concerns honestly with him. Speaking of respect was nothing if she didn’t put it into practice. “Thank you for the talk.”
“Aye, it’s hard at first, I know. Eventually, you’ll settle with yourself. You’re either going to enjoy life wherever you are and with whomever surrounds you, or you’re not. And if you’re not, well you might as well be dead because what’s the point?”
What indeed. Sarah smiled. “You are a wise man, Doctor Anderson.”
“Nah, I’ve merely lived longer than you.” He shooed her. “Go on now. Your shift’s almost over, and dinner will soon be served. I trust the captain has given you leave to join him and the officers this evening?”
“Yes.” He’d invited her once he’d returned from his shift last night, before he retired for the evening without asking for her company. Since she’d been roused from an exhausted sleep, she’d merely nodded and let him close the door. “What about you? Are you not also part of his upper staff?”
“Oh, aye. I suspect young Matthew will be along soon to look after the place for an hour. Besides, my acceptance of you into my domain is my stamp of approval. Captain Westerbrooke doesn’t need me at dinner for that.”
“I don’t understand.” She bit her bottom lip.
“Never you mind. Please, call me Michael or even Doc.” His wink took ten years off his weathered face.
“I will. And I’m Sarah.”
“Aye, but Captain Westerbrooke would have me drawn and quartered if I took the liberty of using your name without his consent.”
Flutters filled her insides. Adrian showed that much possession of her with his crew? “I see I need to talk with him about that as well.” She whipped the apron over her head then hung it on a peg on one wall. “Send for me if you need help.”
“Will do, but there’s no great demand for my services at the moment.”
“Thank God.” She’d found the work interesting and liked listening to the doctor talk of his time on the ship. However, she had misgivings regarding her ability to be of service once gruesome injuries rolled into the sick bay. Without much experience in the realm of medicinal healing, how would she react? Only time would tell, but she looked forward to the challenge.
The beginning pinks and golds of sunset stained the horizon as Sarah walked the decks and headed toward her cabin. Sailors passed her, most polite, some not so much, but she nodded to them all. Life on a ship was a public community at best. Everyone deserved a bit of kindness. She’d no sooner reached her cabin than the youngest of the three cabin boys sprang out of the shadows with a wad of dark green fabric in his arms. “Tommy? I don’t require your help at the moment.” Since she’d arrived onboard, she’d noticed the boy trailing after her, but it wasn’t until the last few days that he’d finally spoken to her, saying the captain had charged him with her “protection” and anything else she might need. She’d humored him as she liked the companionship the ten-year-old brought.
“This is for you, from the cap’n. He said you should wear it at the officer’s dinner.”
“Oh, so now the captain is dictating my wardrobe choices?” She looked at Tommy’s upturned face framed by curly black curls and grinned. “So be it.” Some of her spare time had been spent mending the clothes he’d already ripped and damaged since she’d known him. “Let’s see the castoff, shall we?” All the clothes she’d been given had come from previous “residents” of the Lady Catherine. Every once in a while, she wondered what became of those women and how many of them had shared Adrian’s bed. Then pangs akin to jealousy would assail her and she’d push the thoughts away. It wasn’t her business. What did she care how he’d spent his time before her?
Except she did care, too much for the circumstances. Society wouldn’t deem any part of her experiences since meeting Adrian acceptable nor did she care about the tabbies’ opinions. After all, what had following rules ever gotten her? At least onboard she’d found a peace of sorts. She should hate Adrian for everything he’d done to her, but she couldn’t, not when she knew without him she’d be dead, and especially not after he’d brought her such pleasure in the moments only they shared. Yet the goodwill went beyond that into something she refused to name at the moment. She guessed it didn’t matter since outside of their respective cabins, Adrian treated her as he would any other member of his crew, never using her first name, never acknowledging that they’d been intimate in any way.
Navigating those impartial waters was lonely at times, never knowing where firm footing stood. Perhaps it would all work out, but in the meanwhile, she had to practice patience.
The soft clearing of a child’s throat brought her back to the moment at hand. “Come, Tommy.” Sarah opened her door and stood back for the boy to enter. “If Captain Westerbrooke thinks he can thrust some woman’s used dress at me and expect me to be happy…” She yanked the garment from the boy’s arms and shook it out. “Oh, my.”
“Does it please you, Miss Covington?” The boy’s dark eyes twinkled.
“Most definitely.” Made of forest green silk, the empire-waisted gown had crocheted ivory lace at the elbow-length sleeves and around a scooped bodice.
“This too, miss. It fell out.” The boy waved a silky wad at her.
With a trembling hand, Sarah took the ball of fabric. “A petticoat, of course.” Nearly sheer, it was the finest bit of lingerie she’d ever felt. Both garments were new, the only wrinkles were from how Tommy had tangled them together. Her heart beat an irregular rhythm. She blinked away the tears prickling the backs of her eyelids. “Please tell the captain I like these very much.”
“I cain’t do that, miss. He told me not to leave this cabin ‘til I saw with my own eyes you had that frock on.”
“Very well.” Why did it matter to Adrian whether she wore the dress or not? “Turn around then. I shall endeavor to dress quickly.”
Tommy did as instructed. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go ahead and close my eyes. The cap’n said he’d take the pussy to me if I so much peeked at your unmentionable bits. Says they’re for ‘im and no one else.”
After hearing again of Adrian’s possessiveness, heat flooded Sarah’s body. If he didn’t think of her more than a bed partner, surely he wouldn’t care if other crew members wished to use her or address her by her first name. As it was, he’d given permission to assist the surgeon and leave her cabin, all the while accompanied by Tommy. Everywhere else on the ship had been forbidden unless she went with Adrian himself. She’d been glad for the freedom since it was more than she’d been afforded at first.
Making sure Tommy wasn’t peeking, Sarah qui
ckly stripped out of the dress she wore during the day and replaced it with the new petticoat. The cool silk slid over her skin like water, so soft it felt as if invisible hands caressed her. Fine lace settled against her breasts and heighted her budding arousal. She shivered. Her nipples hardened as she thought about Adrian. Would he be pleased to see her in the undergarment? With no time to become lost in fantasies, she struggled into the dress, pulling it over her head and then fixing the bodice so it lay correctly over the petticoat. Thank heavens the laces didn’t need to be adjusted.
“You’re free to turn around.” She entered a new level of awkwardness as the boy scrutinized her as only a ten-year-old can. “Well?”
“I want to be like the cap’n someday, miss.”
She gaped at the rapid switch in subjects. “Why is that, Tommy?” She smoothed a hand over the front of her gown. I cannot believe he picked this out for me.
“He’s a real good man, he is.” Tommy’s eyes gleamed with hero worship. “He can do magic tricks, too.”
“So I have seen for myself.” The puff of smoke at the gallows must have been nothing more than sleight of hand. She needed to remember to ask him how he’d slipped the ropes. “What about when he punishes you? Do you still want to be like him?”
Tommy’s slight shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Yup. Those straps hurt like the devil, but how else will I learn wrong from right? He’s teachin’ me real good, Miss Covington.”
“I have no doubt that he is.” She held the boy’s gaze as her mind tumbled over the new knowledge. “How does the dress look?”
He shrugged again. “I’ll tell Cap’n you’re ready.” Before she could utter another word, Tommy scampered out of the cabin.