“You sound as though you know something that the rest of the crew is not aware of. Is that true?”
“Please don’t ask me any more questions. I have sworn to reveal nothing.” She played with the makeshift belt on her trousers. She could not look the Doctor in the eye.
“Doctor, I have an idea. I don’t know if it will work, but we must try. I’ll need your help to succeed though. Will you help me?”
“Well, what is the big secret all about?”
“Doctor, if I could tell you, I would. But telling you would put your life in danger as well as Ian’s, and possibly mine. Please leave the secret with Ian and me. I can assure you, Ian would want you to help me if he were conscious.”
“I believe I know the secret, Miss Lydia. Captain Ian has confided in me the true purpose of this trip. I just had to know for certain you knew what you were talking about. Yes, we will work together on this.” He hoped that was the right decision.
CHAPTER 14
“Do you really have a plan?” asked Doctor Miller.
“Let me explain in a few minutes. In the meantime, would you please call the First Mate in here? We’ll need his help if we are to succeed in this endeavor. You saw how the crew members reacted to me back on land. They didn’t want to have a thing to do with me, let alone follow my orders.”
“Well, you are just a woman.”
“That is certainly true, but I am not helpless, nor am I useless. I cannot explain right now. Please help me, Doctor Miller. I can assure you, you will have the Captain’s undying gratitude.”
The bravado in Lydia’s voice belied the rapid drumbeat of her heart. The fact of the matter was she, herself, was not certain what to do. She only had the germ of an idea. But hopefully, by the time Doctor Miller came back with Mister Briggs, she could work it out – if only the doctor would agree to get the First Mate.
The distant voice of the man she once called “father” echoed once again through her mind. “Women are useless creatures. The divine Father created women for only one purpose – the perpetuation of mankind. God intentionally made women the weaker sex so men could guide them and be their masters and protectors in life. Without men, women could not survive. For this reason, women must be subservient – first to their fathers and their brothers – and then to their husbands.”
It was during that particular Sunday service Lydia realized she could not fathom being subservient to her father anymore, or to any man. The idea crystalized then - she would have to figure out some way out of her father’s house to find freedom and to find herself. She simply could not believe God truly meant women should be brainless slaves who went through their lives without a thought for anything except fashion, procreation, babies and husbands. If that were true, then why did God give women a brain in the first place? Surely He did not want women’s brains to shrivel from lack of use. Even her father had said that to waste a gift of God was a sin, because it was rebuking the heavenly Father’s wisdom in bestowing a talent upon an individual. No, her father had to be mistaken. She shook her head to clear out the unhappy memories of life in the parsonage. It all seemed so long ago.
Dr. Miller stood there looking at Lydia, not quite certain what he should do. Finally, he gave in. “Well, it’s clear to me at this point I really have no choice. We don’t know how long it will be before the Captain will be able to function again, and there is no way we can stay here in this godforsaken land. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He left Lydia and the Captain to search for the first mate, Mister Briggs.
Ian lay still on the bed while Lydia continued to fuss with his blankets and to check his for head for any signs of fever. No fever. But still, no movement from the Captain either. She paced the room trying to figure out what to do so she could save the Captain’s mission … and his pride and reputation. Hearing the clumping of footsteps approaching the Captain’s cabin, Lydia realized the time was not on her side. She had to think on her feet and be ready to act.
The First Mate did not even bother to knock on the Captain’s door – he charged in and glanced at the Captain’s motionless body. Mister Briggs was a large man with reddish hair wildly sprouting from his head in all directions. He had not seen the likes of a barber or scissors in months. It was impossible to tell where the sideburns ended and his beard began. Bushy red eyebrows sprung from over his deep-set brown eyes. A bulbous red nose gave him a comical air. His two huge black leather boots appeared to be from two different pairs of boots. The tears in his jacket must have made for many uncomfortable hours up on deck as the wind surely wove its way through the holes to his corpulent body. She stopped her wandering mind. The man’s homeliness and clothing were not important, but his willingness to cooperate with her was vital.
He grunted as he swung around from checking out the Captain, to stare at Lydia. Wiping the melting snow from his mustache, he said in a deadly quiet voice, “You know, Miss. You’re the source of all our troubles here. Women! Bad luck on a ship! We should have tried harder to convince the Captain not to bring you back to the ship. We are in real trouble now. Most of this crew is new to the Captain, and while he may be the Captain, he was still proving himself to the sailors. There is already a lot of grumbling below decks. We’ll be lucky if we don’t have a full mutiny on our hands within twenty-four hours!”
Lydia could sense feelings of inadequacy creeping back into her mind. She looked down at the men’s trousers she was wearing and began to fidget with the rope belt around her waist, as she did when she was nervous. She was so tired of always trying to prove herself to someone else, and it always seemed to be a man whom she was trying to please. She was never quite good enough, at least to them. She sighed.
Well life is different now. I won’t let myself be bullied anymore. Especially not now. I am capable and smart! I guess it will just have to be the men who learn women, too, can deal with life’s traumas.
Although she knew she couldn’t change the world overnight, she decided her first project would have to be the First Mate and the Doctor. She had to convince both men to be on her side … and the Captain’s side.
She straightened her shoulders and looked at Mister Briggs in the eye. “Mister Briggs, despite what you may think of me because I happen to be a woman, I do have a brain, and I intend to use it to help save this voyage for the Captain and the crew. Now as I see it, you have two choices: sit here in freeze your bottom until the Captain is well, or trust me to guide the ship back on course and into Hawaii.”
“Now see here little lady,” began Mister Briggs.
“No, Mister Briggs! You see here. You have no choice. I am the only one on this ship who knows how to use a sextant besides the Captain. Is that not correct?”
Mister Briggs’ face turned purple-red. No woman had ever talked to him in such a manner. He sputtered as though to speak, and then paused. “Yes, that is true, but …”
“There are no buts, Mr. Briggs. You or someone else in the crew has to know how to use the sextant, or you will get lost at sea. Isn’t that correct?”
“Well, yes.”
“It seems to me to be a good idea for the Captain to keep the sextant to himself. My understanding when I was on the Wyndom Wydoh, was that Captains tend to keep the sextant under lock and key to discourage mutinies. Does that sound about right?”
Mr. Briggs stared at her and said nothing.
“Sure, maybe a few of the sailors might be able to chart their course by the position of the stars, but those sailors were never very accurate or consistent. A cloudy night could put the ship miles off course. The ocean is big, and errors are fatal. Admit it, Mr. Briggs, you need me and so does this ship.”
“What makes you think you know enough about the use of the sextant that you could guide the ship? Besides, you’re just a woman. How could you know how to use such an instrument?”
“When I was on the Wyndom Wydoh, Captain Adams was kind enough to take the time to teach me how to use the sextant. I was bored and could not
embroider to pass the time, due to my broken wrist. But, with some effort and practice, I learned how to use the sextant, and Captain MacLeod recently taught me how to do the calculations to chart a ship’s course. Captain Adams also taught me the basics of sailing the ship. Nevertheless, while I do know how to use the sextant and chart the course, I am certainly not qualified to sail the ship.” She looked up into Mister Briggs eyes. “That’s where you come in.”
Mister Briggs ran his fingers through his bushy beard. “Just what do you have in mind, Miss?”
“Well, do you think the seamen would follow your orders? You could tell them the Captain is doing well, just his sense of balance isn’t what it should be. So he’s staying below deck to recuperate, but he is still in charge of the ship. Twice a day when we need to take the sextant reading, you and Doctor Miller will accompany me up on deck to do the reading. Just stay close to me as though we are talking, but with the two of you on either side of me you can hide the fact I’m taking the readings, or I will act as though you are teaching me how to use the sextant. I will talk loudly enough so that any sailors nearby won’t think anything unusual is going on. The fact remains, Mister Briggs, you will have to be in charge of sailing the ship and in charge of giving the crew their orders. It certainly would not seem to unusual for you and the Doctor to join me in a daily walk on the deck for some fresh air. The crew knows I am not allowed on deck without an escort, and they will simply think the Captain has ordered you to accompany me on deck for daily walks.
“I know all this must seem far–fetched to you, but the bottom line is we cannot stay here in this Cove any longer. The Fuegians are one problem, and the oncoming winter is the other. To stay here will doom us, and at this point, the Captain is unable to take charge. That leaves you gentlemen to take charge, with me to help out.” Lydia paused. “What do you think?”
Mister Briggs scratched his belly and glanced at Doctor Miller. Doctor Miller shrugged his shoulders.
“How do I know that you know anything about using the sextant and charting the course? I would be allowing you to take the lives of the entire crew into your own hands. If you are wrong and misread the sextant to chart our position, that would spell the end for all of us.”
“That’s right. It would be my doom, too. Do I look like I want to end up at the bottom of the sea? Captain Adams trusted me enough to allow me to take the readings for the entire last week I was on the Wyndom Wydoh.”
Lydia gathered her strength and puffed with as much bravado as she could muster. “So, Mister Briggs, you and I can either work together, or you can refuse to do anything and simply wait for the Captain to get well. However, given what I have seen of the weather here so far, I don’t relish the idea of staying in this climate any longer than necessary. If the weather doesn’t get us, then the Fuegians will wait us out, until we run out of food or water or both, and take what they want from us. I would rather take my chances on the open sea, even with my beginner’s knowledge of the sextant.”
Mister Briggs scratched his bearded chin and pondered Lydia’s words. “You have got a point there, Miss. But are you sure you’re not going to start telling me how to sail the ship?”
“That would be ludicrous. I want to live through this voyage. I promise – I’ll only take the readings and chart the course – you do the rest.”
“All right. When do we start? There is a high tide in about two hours.”
“Then, I guess we should sail in two hours then. Deal?” Lydia kept a serious look on her face as she put her hand out to shake Mister Briggs’ hand. From this point on she knew she could not allow herself to show any form of emotion, be it fear, happiness, or doubt. She would keep to herself until the ship was safely in Honolulu. She owed Ian that much. After that, she would worry about getting to San Francisco. Mister Briggs took her small delicate hand in his large hairy paw, and he squeezed just hard enough to let her know he would hold her responsible for her choices and decisions.
As agreed, the ship left at high tide later that afternoon. At first, the crew grumbled about taking off without the Captain at the helm, but Mister Briggs gave the orders and the crew complied. He encouraged the seamen with talk of the warmer weather that awaited them as they neared Hawaii. Given the dark gray skies, increasing winds, and swirling snowflakes, the crew went to their chores with only a few lingering doubts as to the wisdom of setting sail without the Captain at the helm. Eagerly, the Emerald Tartan strained into the choppy seas away from land.
The next week passed without problems, although there were a few stares and grumbles from some of the seamen whenever Lydia appeared on deck with Mister Briggs and the doctor. It all appeared harmless enough, Lydia thought.
At the end of their third week out of Fuegia, a few of the seamen became more aggressive in their disapproval of the fact a woman was onboard. Some of the sailors managed to spit just as Lydia neared them, when she and the Doctor came up on deck. At other times one or two of the crew happen to drop ropes or other odds and ends as they climbed the rigging. Some of the debris came perilously close to Lydia, but she refused to allow either the doctor or Mister Briggs to say anything. She kept hoping by not starting anything with the seamen, they would be content to harass her, but not enough for any serious trouble. She knew her success in this plan lay in her ability to be as strong as any of the seamen. Any sign of weakness or feminine frailty would spell disaster for the ship, the Captain, and her own well-being.
Thankfully, the Captain began to show signs of slow improvement. The gash over his eye was no longer quite so swollen. The deep purple bruises diminished in size and turned slightly yellow around the edges. Importantly, the Captain had regained consciousness. He still slept for long portions of the day, a few hours at a time. When he was conscious, he was occasionally confused. With each passing day, he remained awake for a few minutes longer than the previous day, and his memory, which was lacking completely when he first regained consciousness, came back to him little by little.
Lydia was not certain whether she should be relieved or disappointed he did not seem to recognize her at first. Each day upon waking awakening, he would puzzle aloud, “Who be ye Miss? Where are we?”
Each time Lydia patiently explained how she came to be on the ship, and where they were. As long as she was responsible for the navigation of the ship and the Captain was unable to fulfill his duties as Captain, she would act as businesslike as possible around him. If the Captain, without having regained all of his senses, found out she was actually the one charting the course for the ship, he might become difficult if not impossible to handle, believing a woman whom he did not know was actually responsible for his ship. For whatever reason, the Captain had yet to question how they were sailing without his guidance. Apparently, he had not yet realized his role in the ship operations.
The new morning dawned gray and chilly. As usual the wood burning stove had gone out in the early morning hours, leaving Lydia curled up in a ball, shivering on the wooden floor next to the Captain’s bunk. Since his injury, he spent the night’s flailing about in bed. It only took the Captain’s elbow landing on Lydia’s nose twice, for her to realize she was better off sleeping on the floor than atop the covers next to him.
Tossing the scratchy, brown, wool blanket aside, Lydia jumped up quickly to stoke the few remaining coals in the stove and put on a couple of logs. Within a matter of minutes, the flames within the cast-iron stove gave off comforting warmth. She walked over to the Captain’s dresser and used his comb to rake out the tangles in her hair. She did the best she could with her hair by gathering it all behind her neck and tying it with a short length of leather.
“What I would give for a hot bath and clean clothes,” she said aloud.
“Aye, lassie. Me, Too! I’m a bit ripe, even if I do say so myself!” The Captain struggled to get up enough to rest his body on his elbow.
“Captain, you’re awake so early today.” In her haste to rush to his side, she nearly tripped on the blanket sh
e had tossed aside moments before. For the first time in three weeks, the Captain had color in his cheeks.
“Careful, Lydia. I’d not be happy to have you hurt yourself again.”
“Again? You mean you finally remember me?”
“Aye, Lass. Some of my mind is a bit garbled, but I definitely recall finding you on the shoreline and having to nurse you back to health.” Ian threw back the covers and started to sit up.
“Ach. My head. Hurts, it does… A headache worse than when I drink too much with my crew.”
Sitting on the edge of the bunk, Lydia eased Ian back down onto his pillow. As his hand wiped across his face, he grimaced when his hand grazed over the swollen eye. He grinned again. “I guess I hit my head somewhere along the way.”
Lydia smiled through her tears. She could not believe the Captain appeared to be more like his old self for the first time since his encounter with Kurok. She clasped his hand to her cheek. “Ian, you are getting better! I’ve been so worried about you.”
“What exactly happened to me? All I can remember is going after you when Kurok took you away.” The Captain grinned. “And, I seem to recall that … that you and me … ah, we were very close to one another.” His hand trailed down her shoulder to her arm and glided back up her arm to her neckline.
Uneasy, she blushed and slid closer to the edge of the bunk. “Yes, you found me and Kurok. In fact, you rescued me from that heathenish brute. But as you and I were walking away from him, apparently he threw a rock at you just as you turned around in response to his grunt. It hit you over your left eye. You’ve been unconscious for most of the time since the attack. That was slightly over three weeks ago. You awoke briefly each day, but then would settle back into what appeared a very deep sleep.”
Abruptly, the Captain’s hand stopped caressing her cheek. “You mean we are still off the coast the Fuegia? My God! How could I have been unconscious for so long? How can I have been so careless as to let myself get hurt? We will never get to Hawaii on time!”
The Emerald Tartan Page 13