FIVE
All night long, the ship’s bell clanged, waking Maddie again and again. She dozed off, only to wake with a start, not knowing where she was until she remembered. Without the Admiral to see her cry, she let the tears flow until she fell back to sleep, dreaming about a kind man kissing her forehead to kiss away the nightmares. At breakfast, the Admiral looked concerned, watched her pick at the unpalatable porridge and mentioned repeatedly that she would soon become accustomed to the ship’s rocking. Tired, weary and miserable, she set off to explore her surroundings. To her relief, she discovered that a British ship of the line was not such a small place after all.
She wanted nothing to do with the Admiral, whom she did not trust. When she found that she could observe him secretly through the skylight on the poopdeck, she made a study of him in the hope of uncovering the source of Mama’s infatuation. He was stern usually, but when he was alone he chewed on phrases like “my daughter Madeleine” or “Lady Sarah’s daughter”, tasting every syllable before dropping his head in his hands, growing weary of the exercise. Maddie knew who she was, and she was neither of those things. She was not his dear girl, nor would she ever be.
Standing on a coiled rope, she looked over the top of the taffrail and discovered a forest of white sails trailing behind the Intrepid. A convoy followed like goslings, one after another bending to the wind and tacking in near perfect unison with the Admiral’s ship. She watched the midshipmen change the signal flags and consult the code book, ignoring her all the while. Except for Edmund Powell, who winked at her. A pang of homesickness too strong to ignore drove her to find some reminder to ease her aching heart. With the Admiral busy at his desk, she slipped into his cabin and crawled across the floor to the sleeping compartment, where she retrieved Grandmother’s receipt book. While he jabbered with Captain Thomas, she made her way to the weatherdeck and sat down in the shade of the jolly boat, to pretend she was in Charleston, in the sunny morning room, reading again the last few letters her mother had written to her.
Loneliness crept into her empty stomach by noon. She thought she might talk to Edmund about his family, to see if they had a place for her, but instead he brought her along to the navigation lesson that was held every day. As if she were one of the midshipmen, Lt. King handed her the sextant and she did her best to hold the azimuth steady, as ordered. “Well done, Miss Ashford,” he said. “Although you are an experienced sailor, as I understand. Your brother, Lt. Beauchamp, spoke highly of you when he dined with us in April.”
The warship appeared quite different if she thought of her oldest brother wandering its decks, which she knew he had because he had written to her about his encounters with the Admiral in the Mediterranean. Stephen greatly admired Mr. Ashford, and he wanted her to admire the gentleman as well. Easy enough for him to so command. He was sailing all over the world as a lieutenant in the United States Navy, not facing six years of exile in a foreign land. Maddie retraced her steps from the night before, down the ladder to the gun deck, where she found the sally port shuttered water-tight. Running the length of the deck were thick ropes that she stooped to touch, only to have a midshipman sidle over to inform her that the ropes connected the wheel to the rudder, and any disruption would leave the ship unnavigable.
When a mad clatter erupted, the young gentleman explained that it was the changing of the watch and she had best keep clear. Afraid of being trampled, Maddie hurried back to the weatherdeck where she pressed against the main mast and observed the daily routine. What at first appeared to be chaos was actually order and regimentation, not unlike the steady rhythm of the rice harvest that she knew so well. Thinking of rice set her stomach to rumbling while tears pooled in her eyes. Like a slave with nowhere to run, she returned to the Admiral’s cabin for dinner, but found she could not swallow a bite. Not that anyone noticed. The Admiral and his clutch of officers were far too busy regaling one another with witty anecdotes and tales of bravado. The deadly dull chatter was like a lullaby and Maddie fell asleep.
The Second War of Rebellion Page 5