Miss Whittier Makes a List (19 page)

He started his descent.
“
You are already doing wo
nderfully well, Miss Whittier. A
re all Yankee girls so useful?
”

“
As to that,
I cannot tell. Mama always told me,
‘
Hannah, thee must make a difference.
’
“
She
frowned and the
n
swallowed suddenly, thinking of her mother.

“
We
ll
, you have,
”
he said, then paused and fumbled in his pocket. He took out two large pieces of ship
’
s biscuit.
“
From Captain Spark.
”

She thanked him a
nd munched the biscuits happily,
swinging her feet over the edge of the platfo
rm,
and wondering why she ever wo
rr
ie
d about the swaying of the mast,
which was now only a pleasant diversion now.

When she descended to the deck again as the sun was setting, she shook her head at Captain Spark
’
s dinner invitation.
“
I am too tired to be sparkling company.
”
she apologized.
“
Besides that, it will take me an hour or two to unsnarl all these silly curls of mine.
”

The captain bowed, and picked up a handful of her hair that spilled in curls around her neck.
“
I could do that for you sometime, Lady Amber,
”
he said softly.
“
I know you do not credit it, but I am a man of infinite patience.
”

She stepped away from him in sudden shyness, and he let go of her hair.

“
Is patience on your list
?”
he ad
ded,
smiling at her confusion.

She nodded and da
t
ed below deck
,
wondering what had ever possessed her to mention that dratted list. Ah, but I have long since removed thee from any consideration since you do not
like children, swear to excess, drink
too much, are generally blasphemous, and are not engaged in a profession designed to quiet the fears of a wife. And thee is vastly old, thi
rt
y at least. So there, sir. She was asleep almost before she climbed the gun.

Hannah watched for days, gradually extending her time aloft until she could manage for most of the day. Captain Spark, while not sa
ying anything about her service,
made good use of his midshipmen, sending one below with
Mr.
Lansing to practice laying the guns onto a target, and sending the other to follow Mr. Futtrell and study the setting of the sails. As she watched from her perch, the second lieutenant drilled his topmen over and over in the prompt reefing of sails to make them battle-ready and less vulnerable to enemy fire.

Captain Spark remained on the
quarterdeck
with the third midshipman, the two of them shooting the sun with his sextant
,
and then spreading out the charts to determine landfall. She watched all this with interest from her perch above the deck.

Adam Winslow climbed up once to sit with her.
“
I am off duty, Hannah,
”
he explained.
“
Mr. Lansing released us from the gun deck, and I am glad of it.
”
He nudged her shoulder.
“
Hannah, is thee enjoying thyself?
”

She
smiled
at her lifetime friend.
“
More than I would admit to thee!
”

He nodded.
“
And why not,
I ask? The men talk about thee and wonder if thee is ever out of so
rt
s. I tell them no, that thee was born with a sunny disposition.
”
He took her hand then.
“
But we have to get out of here, Hannah.
”

“
I know,
”
she agreed, her voice soft.
“
Thee has to return to school, and I still would like to see
Charleston
. But how can we do it?
”

It was on the afternoon of the fou
rt
h day that she sighted the French frigate. She was idly scanning the horizon, to the north and east when she spotted the ship. She held her breath to further still the movement of the telescope, and trained it on the top mast of the distant ship where the pennant flew.

“
Drat!
”
she whispered to herself. The day was calm and the pennant drooped limply from the topgallant.
“
Blow, winds,
”
she ordered,
and to her extreme gratification the wind picked up and the pennant streamed out straight as an a
r
row from the mast. She took a deep breath. It was the tricolor of Napoleon
’
s
France
.

She kept the glass trained on the ship and watched in growing excitement as the frigate swung gracefully about. The
Dissuade
had been spotted at that moment, to
o
.
“
Oh, God.
”
she breathed, and slammed the telescope together, clipping it onto one of Captain Spark
’
s extra belts that wrapped around her waist
tw
ice.

“
Sail-ho,
”
she screamed to the deck.
“
It is
France
!
”

Futtrell, scarcely breathing heavy, was beside her in a moment
’
s time, ca
r
rying his own glass. He looked where she pointed.
“
By God, Miss Whittier, it is the
Bergeron
,
that gave us such trouble in the
Windward Islands
.
”

He leaned over the railing.
“
Bergeron
,
sir, damn them!
”
he called to Captain Spark, who stood in the
quarterdeck
riggings already, his midshipman
’
s glass pointed to the northeast.

“
All hands!
”
Spark roared to the bosun.
“
Beat to quarters.
”

“
Come, Miss
Whittier
,
”
ordered Futtrell,
his face alive with excitement as the Marine drummer boy began to pound his urgent message.

“
You firs
t,”
she said.
“
I think you need to get to the deck first.
”

“
I do,
”
he said, already descending.
“
I
’
ll be
sending up my topmen on these l
ines. They
’
ll run right over you, but don
’
t be afraid. Hurry down, miss.
”

Her hea
rt
in her throat, she began her descent as the sailors were coming up the rigging.
“
Pardon
,
miss,
”
each man said as he raced past her to a position on the footropes. When the last man had passed her she scrambled to the deck and made herself sma
l
l against the aft hatch.

She looked below her to the gun deck, which was full of sailors. Everyone had a job and did it swiftly and silently. Mr. Lansing looked up at her and grinned once, then redirected his
attention to the powder monkeys,
who were already running to each gun with their first charges. She heard other men tearing down the bulkheads that divided the remaining cabins from the rest of the gun deck. Soon Captain Spark
’
s furniture from the great cabin was carried on deck and lowered overboard into a dinghy tied to the ste
rn
, where it would ride out the battle.

She stayed where she was
,
fascinated by the urgency that swirled around her
,
and too afraid to leave her perch and get in anyone
’
s way. Marines hurried past her and climbed the rigging with their muskets. Others,
their faces steely,
hauled up a swivel gun.

“
Hannah!
”
She l
ooked up to see Captain Spark str
iding toward her.

He was dressed in his best uniform, his fore-and-aft hat anchored firmly on his head, which set off something in her brain.

“
Why don
’
t you pin on all your medals, too?
”
she asked as he reached her side.
“T
hen you would be an even better target, sir!
”

“I
always go into battle dressed in my best,
”
he said.
“
It
’
s such an insult, ma
’
am
.”
He took her by the
arm,
and none too gently.
“
You are to go below to the cable tier and remain there until I come for you, and not one moment before.
”