Come Looking For Me

by CHERYL COOPER

  “No,” came the terse reply.

  Leander was soon standing before her curtain. “May I come through, Emily?”

  “By all means, Doctor.”

  Leander sidled in, his back to her, carrying a bundle of clothes.

  “Good morning,” he said, holding the clothes up for her to see. “I managed to get these for you from the ship’s purser, Mr. Spooner. I’m afraid they won’t fit well, but they’ll do for Mondays.”

  “I am quite decent, Doctor.”

  There was a shy look of uncertainty on Leander’s face as he laid the new clothes by her feet and turned towards her.

  “I was beginning to worry you would not speak to me again after finding me with Biscuit and his messmates.”

  Leander quickly cleared his throat. “Yes, well.” He looked at her over his spectacles, his blue eyes meeting hers, and drew in breath. “But – do you not remember anything of last night?”

  “Last night?” Emily angled her head. “What happened last night?”

  Leander hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. “You – you had a nightmare.”

  His words hung in the humid air of her little corner. Emily’s eyes shifted past him to stare absently at the closed gunport.

  “Perhaps I – should not have reminded you …”

  “No, I remember. And you gave me some water and laudanum.” She looked back at him. “If you are not careful, Doctor, you will surely waste your entire supply of laudanum on me. And here Mrs. Kettle thinks I am nothing more than an idler. Perhaps we should tell her that you perpetually have me in a drug-induced slumber.”

  Leander moved closer still to the head of her hammock. “We will tell no one of it.”

  The ship rolled and he raised his slender arms to steady himself on the boards above his head. He grew suddenly sombre. “After breakfast, Captain Moreland would like to have a word with you in his cabin.”

  “Am I in trouble for yesterday?”

  “I cannot be sure. He said little to me, only that he wished to see you.”

  Emily sighed. “Do you suppose he will banish me to his gaol cell in the bowels of this ship with the ever-affable Mrs. Kettle as my protector?”

  “If the captain seeks my counsel, I will recommend you stay where you are.”

  “Comforting words; however, do not forget I am only a woman.”

  Leander studied the floor.

  Seeing his lips move silently, Emily asked, “What is that you say, Doctor?”

  He dropped his arms at his sides. “Oh, I … I wondered whether you would be able to make the trip to Captain Moreland’s cabin with that ankle of yours.”

  Emily smiled at him. “I cannot leave it here.”

  He smiled back. “I will ask Gus to escort you there … and back.” Reaching out to pull the curtain aside, he whispered, “Will you require assistance with your new clothes?”

  “As I have lost my underclothing to Mrs. Kettle’s laundry pile,” she whispered back, “I had better try this one on my own.”

  2:00 p.m.

  (Afternoon Watch, Four Bells)

  THE CAPTAIN'S CABIN DOOR swung open, revealing Biscuit’s flaming orange head. Gus took off his hat. “Miss Emily is here. The captain is expecting her.”

  Biscuit’s good eye gave Emily a thorough going over, moving from the top of Dr. Braden’s borrowed straw hat down to her bandage-wrapped ankle. She had on a pair of loose-fitting brown trousers, a checked shirt, and a polka-dotted red scarf tied at her neck. On her feet were her blue silk shoes. Biscuit chortled, and then muttered, “New slops, Mr. George?”

  Gus peered up at Emily, a puzzled expression on his small face. With her eyes, she entreated that he ask no questions. From within the cabin came Captain Moreland’s insistent voice. “Thank you, Mr. Walby. I will call for you again later. Please come in, Emily. You may keep your hat on.”

  While Biscuit stepped aside, Emily passed into the room, holding her breath against his sour stench. With an outstretched arm, the captain motioned her towards a red-velvet wing chair at the opposite end of the oak table from him. Fly Austen leaped up to help her settle in, placed her walking cane across her knees, and returned to his own chair on the captain’s left.

  Glancing around the table, Emily found four pairs of keen eyes staring at her as if she were a curiosity at a local market. With the exception of the young officer with the bad complexion, the men all had warm smiles for her.

  “You have already met Mr. Austen,” said the captain, “and I gather you made the acquaintance of our sailing master, Mr. Harding, in the hospital.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Emily with a brief nod.

  “But I do not believe you know our first lieutenant, Octavius Lindsay.”

  Emily looked his way, feeling his dark eyes attaching themselves to her body like two black leeches. He had thin lips and greasy coal-coloured hair, and the aspect of a person who would not age well. She watched as his lips curled.

  “I understand, ma’am, that you lived in Dorset. Perhaps you have made the acquaintance of my family. We have one of many properties in Dorset, my father being the Duke of Belmont.”

  As Emily had already developed a distaste for the man, she replied, “How wonderful for you, Mr. Lindsay.”

  Octavius raised his black eyebrows in surprise, then looked askance at Captain Moreland. With a nonchalance that irritated the younger man, James held up the decanter Biscuit had brought in for their interview.

  “Would you care for some wine, Emily?”

  “No, thank you, sir.”

  Fly Austen addressed her amiably. “Have Dr. Braden and Mr. Brockley taken good care of you in the hospital?”

  “They have both been very kind. You have all been kind to me.” Emily excluded Octavius in her glance.

  “And your injuries?” asked James. “You are on the mend?”

  “I am much improved these past seven days.”

  “Good, good. It is our hope that you are comfortable while you are here on the Isabelle; however, Emily, your safety too is important, and you have given us some anxiety of late. As a result, we have felt it necessary to lay out certain restrictions for the duration of your stay.” James leaned back in his chair, resting his thick, intertwined fingers on the belly of his buttoned-up coat, trying to harden his facial features and inject a note of harshness into his voice. “Henceforth, you will be forbidden to set foot above deck during the day. Should you require exercise, you may take it, but only after the evening eight bells, and only with an escort of my choosing. Secondly, there will be no more mixing with the sailors. The areas on the gun decks where the men take their meals and where they hang their hammocks at night will be off limits to you.” Seeing Emily’s face fall, James felt a twinge of frustration. “You have proven yourself to be an affable young woman, but the men on my ship …” he stopped to choose his words. “I fear they will misinterpret your gregariousness.”

  While James poured more wine for himself, and Mr. Harding and Fly gazed at the view beyond the cabin’s mullioned windows, Mr. Lindsay fixed a hostile stare upon Emily.

  “But, sir, it was not my intention to end up in the mess yesterday,” she said. “I’m afraid I was hopelessly lost.”

  “Ah, but while there,” said James, “you were imprudent enough to sit among Biscuit’s messmates and accept their offerings of beer.”

  “It did not happen that way, sir.”

  “Are you telling me you were forced then?”

  “I was not, sir.”

  James threw up his hands. “Then I’m afraid I am quite confused.”

  “I understood you to be a woman of impeccable breeding,” Octavius eagerly interjected. “Obviously I was mistaken.”

  Emily lifted her chin to him. “You know nothing of me.”

  “N
onetheless, my good opinion of you has dropped a notch.”

  “I do not care – or need – to be held in your high esteem, Mr. Lindsay.”

  Octavius’s face flushed a deep red. “My father could ruin your family.”

  Emily threw him a direct look. “Are you quite certain of that?”

  James slammed his hand down on the table. “Enough! Mr. Lindsay, you forget yourself. You are not exempted from civility on my ship.”

  With a dramatic flourish of his shoulders, Octavius jerked his face away and fumed like a schoolboy. James set his weary gaze upon Emily. “And you, young lady … unless King George himself sits on a branch of your family tree, I suggest you hold that arrogant tongue of yours.”

  Emily tightened her grip on her walking cane.

  Mr. Harding pursed his lips, his eyes shifting expectantly between Emily and James. Fly fingered the crystal stem of his wine goblet and gave her a small smile which she did not dare return.

  “Do we understand one another, Emily?” asked James.

  She was slow to respond. “Yes, sir.”

  He pressed his fingertips to his temples and rubbed in circles. “The men involved yesterday,” he continued, “including young Magpie, have all heard their punishment for failing to return you safely to the hospital. They will lose their grog ration for three days, and it will be their sole responsibility to holystone the upper decks for the next four. Furthermore, unless under extenuating circumstances, they are not to keep company with you again.”

  Emily’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “But that is unjust! The men did nothing wrong. They … they thought I was a man.”

  “Ho, ho, ho,” said Mr. Harding, peeking up at her. “Did they now?”

  Octavius threw back his dark head to laugh. “They knew exactly with whom they were toying, you foolish child.”

  Emily’s eyes flashed as they fell on Mr. Lindsay. “You call me a child, yet I am astounded that someone such as yourself – with so obvious a belligerent and puerile disposition – is an officer of the Royal Navy.”

  Shocked by Emily’s insult, Mr. Harding choked and dribbled his mouthful of wine down the front of his dark-blue uniform. James looked annoyed, but made no comment; instead, he simply handed the sailing master a handkerchief. Not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner – especially by a woman – Octavius shot forward in his chair and grasped the edge of the oak table, an expression of contempt on his homely face.

  But Emily did not care. She gave Captain Moreland a beseeching look. “Sir, please, I am not a leper. And Magpie, of all people, I should like to see and speak with again.”

  “Magpie must learn to stay and sew his sails in his dark hole on the orlop,” said Octavius, in a low, threatening voice.

  Emily stood up quickly, swaying in pain as her injured foot hit the floor. “Perhaps we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all, Mr. Lindsay, if you had minded your own business in the first place, and kept your eyes and thoughts on your sea watches and not on me.”

  “Sit down, Emily,” ordered James. He turned on Octavius. “And you, Mr. Lindsay, not another word.”

  “I will not, sir,” cried Emily. “Do you not see? You will have every man on this ship despise me for this … this madness. Why, you might as well just string them all up on the Isabelle’s yardarms until their necks have broken.”

  The weary lines on James’s face dissolved in red anger. A deathly silence descended as if an unseen force had dropped a suffocating shroud upon the oak table. When James next opened his mouth his voice was frighteningly chilly. “We are currently fighting a war, and I have spent more of my time on your damned affairs than I have on fulfilling my orders from the Admiralty. Mr. Austen, summon Mr. Walby and have her taken back to her hospital cot. Madam – you are dismissed.”

  The moment James finished speaking, the Isabelle resounded with raised voices.

  “Sail ho!”

  “Four points off the larboard.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “A large vessel, standing towards us!”

  “Clear the ship for action.”

  The drums sounded to beat to quarters. Emily’s head hurt so much it seemed to her that every drumbeat was a blow to her skull. Almost instantaneously, there came a knock at the door. Fly moved swiftly to answer it.

  “There’s been a sighting, sir.”

  “British or Yankee?” asked Fly.

  “Too soon to say, sir.”

  “Thank you, Mr. McGilp. Have the men lower the boats. If lead is about to fly, we don’t need their scattering splinters killing us.”

  “Gentlemen,” said James, trying to regain his composure. “To your stations, then. This cabin must be cleared for action.” He watched the three officers make their hasty departure, Octavius’s fiery gaze once again falling upon Emily when he rose from his chair. As they were leaving the room, James spoke again, this time, very calmly. “Under the circumstances, Emily, I will ask that you find your own way back to the hospital. Go to the hatch on the fo’c’sle. The ladder down will bring you to your destination.”

  * * *

  EMILY WAS ABOUT TO MAKE her painful way down the ladder when she spotted Gus on his way up. Clutching his bicorne hat and cutlass, he beamed up at her, his eyes swimming with excitement. “There’s been a ship sighting, Em. Dr. Braden asked me to find you. He wants you to get back below.”

  “Do we know yet? Is it an American warship?”

  “We can’t be sure. Please! Just get below. The worst place to be is above deck.” He scurried off, securing his hat upon his blond head.

  Emily stepped back as dozens of men now began pouring up the ladder, tripping over one another in their haste and articulating a variety of emotions:

  “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name …”

  “Goddamned Yankees.”

  “We’ll slice ’em up nicely.”

  “Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done …”

  “Move along. Git yer arse out of me face.”

  “England expects every man to do his duty. England expects every man …”

  “Now let ev’ry man drink off his full bumper, and let ev’ry man drink off his full glass; we’ll drink, be jolly and drown melancholy …”

  “On earth as it is in Heaven …”

  “And here’s to the health of each true-hearted lass …”

  Once safely returned to the hospital, Emily found Leander and Osmund clearing away the clutter on the desk. Osmund, his thick tongue hanging out of his mouth, grabbed a roll of bloodstained cloth and plunked it down hard on what would now become the operating table. Leander opened it and began arranging his surgical equipment. He glanced up when Emily entered.

  “What can I do?” she asked quietly.

  Leander spoke rapidly. “Sit down on the floor in the corner. Make certain the gunport is closed up and stay clear of it.”

  Emily slid the straw hat off her head, her wheat-coloured hair tumbling down around the shoulders of her checked shirt. Feeling faint and headachy, she limped towards the canvas curtain.

  “Doctor Braden,” pleaded Crump from his hammock, “please let me get up, sir. I’m willin’ to fight.”

  “Mr. Crump, you have just lost your leg. You must wait until Mr. Evans has time to fit you up with a new one.”

  Mr. Crump grumbled like an active volcano, cursing saints Peter and Paul.

  “Emily …”

  She whirled about to find Leander holding out a pistol to her. “Take this. If it’s an American warship, you may need it.” Catching her expression of anxiety, he softened his tone. “I suspect you know how to use it.”

  6:30 p.m.

  (Second Dog Watch, One Bell)

  CROUCHED ON THE FLOOR of her small corner, as far away as
was possible from the gunport, Emily heard the echo of one bell. It had been some time since Fly Austen climbed down the ladder to the hospital to inform Leander that it was indeed a Yankee frigate and to make ready for the wounded.

  “Fly, as there are only two of us here,” Leander had said, peering over his spectacles at his friend, “please try to make short work of it.”

  “Shall I send in Biscuit? He claims to know something of medicine.”

  “I forbid it. His smell alone will surely do me in.”

  Fly had laughed as he ascended the ladder to the fo’c’sle deck.

  Emily was surprised they could joke at a time like this, especially when her own heart had been thumping uncomfortably for the past two hours. Her legs were already cramped from crouching, and her ankle throbbed. The waiting was agony. Why weren’t the guns firing?

  Leander suddenly pulled aside the curtain and held up a lantern. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m terrified.”

  “I have a shot of rum here for you. It might help.” He bent his long frame to hand her a small cup.

  Emily downed it, ignoring the burning sensation as it passed to her stomach. Leander shook his head as he looked down upon her. “I’m afraid by the time we reach Halifax, you will not only be a laudanum addict, you will also have developed a fondness for grog.”

  “And I will entirely have you to blame.” Emily handed him back the cup with a sigh. “Then, of course, if Captain Moreland is obeyed, I shall have nothing to look forward to, with the exception of my cot, grog, and laudanum.”

  “Your interview did not go well?”

  “It was horrendous. Captain Moreland is being quite unfair, particularly to the men with whom I was sitting yesterday – suspending their grog rations amongst other things. He has even gone so far as to punish poor Magpie for not escorting me back here before returning to his duties. I will soon have many enemies on the Isabelle, the worst of them that vile Mr. Lindsay, although where that man is concerned, I do not give a fig.”