He pulled down the woman’s gown to cover her body before Briggs arrived. He took off his pea coat and tucked it snugly around the woman’s shoulders and arms
“Briggs, dammit. Come here on the double!” snapped the Captain.
Lifting his torch high, Briggs squeezed between two mammoth boulders on the narrow rock strewn shoreline. His mouth dropped open in surprise, and his brown eyes opened wide at the sight in front of him. “A dinghy, Cap’n? What’s that doin’ here?”
“Hurry! Go back to the ship and bring Doc Miller. Give me your jacket before you go.”
Briggs looked as though he wanted to argue about parting with his jacket, until he glanced down into the boat.
“Bloody ‘ell,” blurted out Briggs. “’ow in tarnation did a woman end up on the shore? I ‘aven’t seen any shipwrecks around ‘ere.”
“Give me your jacket, Briggs, and get Doc Miller back here NOW! I don’t want to move her until I ken nothing’s broken. You’d better run like your life depended upon it.”
Briggs stripped off his pea jacket and tossed it to the captain. As an afterthought, he took off his woolen neck scarf and cap and gave them to the Captain, too. Then, he turned and ran back to the ship.
The Captain grabbed the knitted cap and pulled it firmly down over the woman’s head covering her ears and forehead. Then he wrapped the neck scarf around her neck. Kneeling beside her shivering, almost blue body, he puzzled for a moment. Then without any further hesitation, he pulled her out of the jollyboat and icy water to lay down beside her on the wet slippery rocks. He pulled her inert body close beside his own and tucked both woolen jackets over and around her body. He lay beside her hoping what little body heat he had, could be shared with her. He waited for Briggs’ return with the doctor.
The woman did not stir, and after a few minutes, he heard Briggs shout, “We’re comin’ Captain. Hang on!”
Doctor Miller appeared first. “Good Lord! What happened? How did a woman ever end up on the shore in a place like this?” he asked.
“I don’t ken. But, check her for broken bones first Doc.” Looking to Briggs, the Captain said, “hand me those extra blankets, so I can wrap her up good after the doctor examines her I want to get her on the ship right away. As long as no bones are broken, we can tend to her on the ship, out of this bloody freezing wind.”
As soon as Doctor Miller performed a visual cursory examination and announced no bones appeared to be broken, the Captain gently picked up the woman’s limp body and secure the blankets around her. He beat a hasty retreat back to the ship and went directly to his quarters, where he carefully laid Lydia on the comforter on his bed. He pulled away the blankets from the woman and proceeded to remove the wet, cotton gown that clung to her body. He stared down at her full breasts, the dark pink nipples had risen to a firm point from the cold. He pulled a shirt from the mammoth mahogany armoire which took almost one entire side of his cabin. He tried not to look at her naked form any more than necessary. The situation was not romantic or sexual, but he was a man, and he had not been with a woman for more than three months now. Just the sight of her unclothed body was enough to awaken thoughts and create a growing tension in parts of his body he tried to keep dormant when on long journeys such as this one.
As he began to dress her, he had the definite impression he had met or at least seen this woman before. He could not place her. Her eyes were closed, her lips were pale blue, and her right cheek was bruised and swollen. Her hair hung down around her shoulders in strands and knots mixed in with splinters of wood and sand.
He pulled a night shirt over her left arm and noticed for the first time the shredded remains of the splint and cotton bandages wrapped around the splint.
“Doctor, what’s this? It looks familiar.”
The Doctor, in the midst of building up the fire in the cast-iron stove in the middle of the Captain’s quarters, walked over to the woman
“By George! Would you look at that? It’s my work.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course! Look, look at this, Captain.” The Doctor motioned to the one remaining splint of wood clinging to the shredded bandages with blue ink around the edges. “This is the young woman who slipped and fell at the wharf. Remember, the carriage ran over her left wrist and fractured it. I always put ink around the edges of my gauze rolls, along with a number on the beginning of each roll. It helps me to keep track of my inventory. Poor thing. I wonder if her ship broke up in the storm? Good thing we pulled into the cove just before the storm hit, or we could be broken up on the rocks ourselves.”
Ian looked at the woman more carefully. He pulled the strands of hair away from her face. She does look familiar, he thought. “You must be right Doc. What was the name of the ship she was sailing on? Do you ken?”
“No, I don’t recall the name was ever discussed. I only remember her mother was with her, and an old fuddy-duddy lawyer. It’s strange we didn’t see any signs of a broken up ship along the shoreline where we found her.”
“Well, it was a hellacious storm. I cannot figure why any woman would be out on the deck during such vicious weather. If we hadna come along when we did, she’d most certainly be dead by now. It’s hard to believe I happened along just as the jollyboat washed onto the shoreline.”
“She’s not past the worst of it yet, Captain. She may well have been out there too long for her to survive. We’ll have to watch her carefully for the next few days. You don’t happen to remember her name, do you? I’m embarrassed to admit even though I’m the one who doctored her, I paid no attention to her identity, only to her wound.”
He frowned. “Well, I see that your bedside manner has not improved much - must be from working on me and our crew. Let me think… Was it Linda? No. Lynette. No. Ah ha! I’ve got it. Lydia. That’s it.”
The Captain stared at her face. “She doesn’t look too good. Looks as though she’s lost a lot of weight. She couldna weigh more than nine stone. The wee thing doesn’t look ta strong. I canna imagine why she would ever journey on a ship down around the Cape at this time of the year.”
“I spoke with the cook, and he’s preparing clear broth for her. In the meantime, see if you can get her to sip a bit of this brandy,” said the doctor as he poured the amber liquid into a small glass and handed it to the Captain.
The Captain looked at the liquor with doubt and then at Lydia. “I don’t think she’s capable of drinking anything, but I will give it a try.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Lydia into an upright position. He wrapped his arms under hers to give her body support, and rested her head on his chest. “Here ye go now, young lady.” He put the rim of the glass to her lips and tipped it slightly. She swallowed … and then spluttered and coughed.
“I… Where … Where am I?”
“You’re right here, Miss, on my own ship, the Emerald Tartan. You’re safe now.”
“What … What happened?” She stuttered from the chill that had not yet left her body.
“We were hoping you could tell us. We found you in a jollyboat along the shore.”
“What shore?” she asked.
“Give her another sip of the brandy, Captain. It’ll help with her circulation and to warm her body.”
The Captain complied. Again, Lydia drank, then spluttered and coughed. She motioned him away.
“No more, please. I just want to get warm and sleep.” She coughed again this time, and the cough came from deep in her lungs. She started shivering and fell back onto the pillow. She wheezed.
Doctor Miller shot a nervous glance at the Captain.
“I’m afraid the worst is happening.” He checked her forehead. Even though she complained of being cold, her forehead was hot to the touch.
“There isn’t much more I can do. Keep her drinking liquids as much as possible. I’ll make up a large pot of tea you can have her drink from time to time. It contains a few medicinal herbs that helps with infections. I think I’ve learned more from my travels about medici
ne than I ever learned in my medical training. At any rate, she needs warmth more than anything right now. Her body suffered a severe shock. First, she was in these frigid waters, but obviously not for too long or she would be dead already. Add to that, the exposure to the wind on the beach – her chances of survival are only fair to poor. You know, Captain, she probably won’t live. I can move her into other quarters closer to my cabin where I can keep an eye on her.”
“No! Absolutely not.” He surprised himself by the force of his voice. “Sorry Doctor. Guess I’m a wee bit tired myself. But, she’ll be all right here. I don’t mind taking care of her. You go ahead and check on Marley’s broken leg. We’ll be fine.” With that, he sat on the edge of the bed and took Lydia’s hand in his.
Doctor Miller left the captain’s cabin, and Ian sat there quietly beside Lydia. Lydia groaned and began shaking. “Cold … So cold.”
He pulled a woolen blanket from his trunk and put it over Lydia. He thought of lying beside her and tucking her close to him again. Then he remembered the sight of her body as she lay naked before him while he took off her wet gown and redressed her in his nightshirt. He laughed out loud and said to himself, “Nay, Ian! None of that for you. She’s a fine looking lass, but you’re too randy a man to behave yourself with such a lovely temptation lying beside you.”
He stripped down to his long johns and lay on the top of the blankets beside Lydia. He rolled over and lifted himself up onto his elbow to look at Lydia. Her oval-shaped face was ashen. He traced the outline of her cheek with his forefinger. Her skin felt so smooth and soft. He became mesmerized watching her breathe.
When he awoke, it was dark inside the cabin – except for the glowing embers in the wood burning stove. He felt agitated movement beside him. It was Lydia. Her arms were out from under the blankets, thrashing back and forth. She mumbled incoherently. Ian put his hand to her forehead. Beads of sweat rolled down her cheeks. She seemed to be burning up. Jumping out of bed, Ian lit the lantern near his desk. In a flash he was back beside Lydia, pouring water from the pitcher into a basin. He wiped her for head with a cool cloth. In a state of delirium, she continued to thrash about. Water splashed everywhere as Ian tried to pour water into a glass for her to drink. She drank the icy liquid as though she had been on a desert, and then opened her eyes. She stared, unblinking, looking off into nowhere. Then her eyes closed again. Her shallow breaths wheezed with every inhalation and exhalation of air.
He looked out his porthole window at the night sky. It was clear and stars twinkled in the cold air. It appeared to be about five o’clock in the morning. The storm had finally subsided. The seas were still rough, but the extreme wind and blinding snow had died down.
The wrinkled trousers felt cold against Ian’s skin as he pulled them up over his legs. He grabbed a sweater and walked back to the bed to check on Lydia. He forced Lydia to drink a little more water. He then stepped outside his cabin and banged on Doctor’s door and ordered the Doctor to his cabin to care for Lydia. He wanted to set sail immediately.
Within a matter of minutes, he was barking orders and men scurried from below deck to run up the sails. It was still treacherous outside – but no longer just from the storm. Ice had formed on the rat lines of the shrouds the sailors used to climb to the top of the masts. The sailors took each step with great care and secured their grip on the shroud rat line above, in case they miss stepped in slipped on the line below. Yet, no one talked. Each man concentrated and performed his duty with expertise in the frigid morning air. As the ship left the protection of the cove and reentered the heaving waters, the sails made a loud snapping noise and caught the wind. The ship surged forward.
Later that afternoon, the Captain return to his cabin to check on Lydia. He opened the door to his cabin and found the doctor slumped in a chair beside the bunk. He snored softly. Wheezing sounds signaled Lydia’s difficulty in breathing.
He pulled the door shut, and Doctor Miller woke up with a start.
“Ahem,” said the Doctor in an effort to clear his throat. “I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about our patient.”
“Nay. I just wanted to make sure we set a good course for today to make up for putting into the bay yesterday. How’s she doing?”
“So-so. She fluctuates between burning up and freezing cold. She hasn’t passed the crisis yet. It should be soon, though. At least, I hope so.”
“Why don’t you get some food? I’ll take over for now. I just ate. Is she still taking liquids well?”
“Yes. She fights it until the water is in her mouth, then she drinks quite a bit.”
Doctor Miller stood up and stretched. As he did so, a button popped from his shirt – his rotund girth was no match for a few strands of thread. “If she starts profuse sweating again, give me a yell. She was cold most of the night. So I expect the sweats to happen at any time. When it does happen, you will need to wash her down with a cloth dipped in icy water to help control her body temperature.”
“Aye. Will do. Go get a hot meal before the cook puts it all away. I’d wager you’ve not eaten all day.”
“You’d win the bet, Captain. I’m on my way.”
Except for Lydia’s wheezing, the room was quiet again. He poured himself a glass of Highland Park Scotch and eased back into the chair just abandoned by the doctor. The taste of the alcohol sliding down his throat warmed his insides, and he relaxed. The glowing embers from the stove warmed to the room and took off the icy chill that gnawed at his body. He slid back a little further into the chair and closed his eyes.
Glass shattered. Ian awoke with a start and realized he must have fallen asleep. As he picked reached down to pick up the small shards of glass, he looked over to check on Lydia. His heart almost stopped. She wasn’t there!
He heard a light scratching sound behind him and turned around. At the porthole stood Lydia, stark naked, working with the porthole latch. The nightshirt lay at her feet, torn apart. She whispered, “Hot. Need air. I’m so hot. Why is it so hot in here?”
“Stop that!” he shouted, while he stepped over the glass to reach out to Lydia. She didn’t jump or turn around when he spoke. She continued to scratch at the heavy latch, without the strength to lift it open. Beads of sweat rolled down the small of her back over her rounded derriere. Her hair, now wet from perspiration, hung down her back. The bruise on her right cheek beamed an angry deep purple.
This time there was no gradual awakening of his physical needs – he could feel the rock hard bulge in his trouser straining for relief.
“My God. I must be an animal.” He looked down at his groin in frustration and mumbled, “She’s sick for Christ’s sake.” He tried to push Lydia to the side so he could open the porthole. She wouldn’t budge.
Lydia continued to struggle with the latch as though her life depended on it. And with each effort, she unwittingly rubbed up against Ian, who was also trying to open the latch.
He groaned, “God, lass. Ye’ll drive me to distraction.” He grabbed her arms and firmly moved her to the side and opened the latch. She pushed him away and leaned her head into opening to breathe in the cool air, completely oblivious to his presence.
“Don’t mind me, lass. I’m going to clean up the glass over by the chair.” There was no acknowledgment from Lydia.
He picked up the splinters of glass and used a damp cloth to wipe up the tiny bits of it. “God’s blood! I must be losing my mind to think I can take care of this woman by myself. She faces more danger in here with me than the danger she faces from pneumonia. I’d better get the doctor down here to help me. We will have to take shifts.”
He pulled another shirt from his armoire for Lydia. He pulled the shirt down over her head. He bid her to lift her arms, which she did in childlike obedience, so he could get the shirt on her. He chanced to look down at her breasts. He gritted his teeth. “For a man trying so hard to be honorable, I’ve never been so tested – or in so much pain. You’re not helping me a bit, Lydia.”
She didn’t respond, but kept her head turned toward the open porthole still desperate for cool air.
He doubled his resolve and finished dressing Lydia without looking below her neck again. Her deep green eyes and long brown lashes stared blankly, but directly at him.
“You are a beauty, Lydia. You’ve captured my attention like no other woman I’ve ever known.” He picked her up and carried her back to his bed, where he washed her face, arms and legs with a cool cloth. Lydia fell into a restless sleep.
“I’ll be right back. I think it best that both the doctor and I be here with you tonight. I ken you don’t mean to, but you test my strength of character. I’ve never taken advantage of a woman or forced a woman to do anything she didn’t want. But every time I turn around, you’re naked. I don’t need any more reminders how long it has been since I lay with a woman.”
Lydia continued to sleep, so he slipped out the door to get the doctor.
When the Captain found him, he offered a bit of scotch to the doctor before heading back to his quarters.
“So, you’re having a bit of trouble managing your partner,” laughed the doctor, glancing pointedly at Ian’s groin.
“Aye, that’s the truth,” laughed Ian as they headed back to his cabin. “Thanks for joining me. Your presence will remind me I am a gentleman.”
Ian opened the door and ushered the doctor in first.
“Uh, Captain, we have a problem,” said Doctor Miller.
“What now?” asked the Captain as he stepped into his quarters and shut the door.
The doctor motioned towards the Captain’s bed.
Ian looked in that direction. “God’s blood!” yelled Ian. “She’s gone!”
The Emerald Tartan Page 6