Miss Whittier Makes a List (32 page)

“
Oh, I hope to ship out again on another raider with Captain Spark, if he
’
ll have me.
”
His face clouded over for a minute.
“
Of course, it won
’
t be the same without Mr. Lansing on the gun deck, but that is war.
”

She considered him. The night was dark, so he could never see blushes.
“
Mr. Futtrell, do you think Captain Spark might be induced to leave the sea?
”

He stared at her.
“
I think he would sooner sprout wings and fly to
Madagascar
, Miss
Whittier
.
”
He groped in his inarticulate fashion to explain.
“
On land, he
’
s just the younger brother to a baronet who
’
s pretty well managed to ruin the family.
”

“
Dear me,
”
she said.

Mr. Futtrell was just war
ming
to his subject.
“
I
’
ve seen him in drawing rooms and even at Almack
’
s, ma
’
am,
and it
’
s not a pretty sight! All he does is pace about and wish
himself elsewhere
.
”
He peered at her in the darkness.
“
The sea becomes a bit addictive, Miss
Whittier
. Perhaps you
’
ve noticed?
”

She thought of those glorious days under full sail, perched in the lookout, barefoot, wearing canvas trousers and a loose shi
rt
. She sat now in the dress Madame Aillet had given her, covered with a long
shirt
one of the Marines had removed from his own back when he noticed her shivering that first night as they fled
Terceira
. Soon I will be dressed properly again, she thought, but I can never forget how nice it was to be barefoot on a sunny
deck,
the wind in my face, listening to the rigging hum.

“
Yes, I suppose it is addictive,
”
she replied.

“
Captain Spark will die before he wi
ll
give up the sea.
”

She found a pair of shears in a forward cabin and cut the captain
’
s hair one morning while Adam snored on the mattress and Mr. Futtrell trod the deck above with firm footsteps. She had no comb, so she fingered his curls out as straight as she could, and made a good attempt.
“
You know, you could go on deck and relieve Mr. Futtrell, I believe,
”
she whispered, her lips close to his ear so as not to awaken Adam.

I could
,
”
he agreed,
“
but it is good for Futtrell to feel the full strain of command. It is an impo
rt
an
t
pa
rt
of his nautical education that I will not deprive him of.
”

“
He has done well, Daniel,
”
she reminded him as she gathered the shorn curls into a
corner
.

He took her hand.
“
So have you,
my dearest Hannah,
”
he said, and tugged her closer.
“
I think I will never forget this voyage.
”

“
Nor I,
”
she replied, suddenly shy. She closed her eyes and leaned forward for his kiss, even as she told herself not to.

It never came. From the mainmast came the cry,
“
Land-ho! Mr. Futtrell, we have raised
Lisbon
!
”

“
Damn!
”
said Spark as she drew away. He tugged her close again and his lips just
grazed
hers.
“
Damn,
”
he said
again, and it was more of a caress than a curse.

She pulled back then.
“
I don
’
t understand you, sir. You practically kill yourself to get
to
Lisbon
and now listen to you! I do not pretend
to
understand men.
”

He smiled,
but there was a bleakness in his eyes now.
“
My dearest Hannah Whittier, my so
rt
of proper Quaker miss, I have discovered to my great chagrin that I really do love you, want you beyond all bounds of propriety, and yearn for you like a mooncalf. Damn! And now we have raised
Europe
and my life is not my own anymore. Neither is yours.
”

“
What do you mean, sir?
”
she asked.

“
You are probably about to find yourself at the center of an international incident, Miss Whittier,
”
he said as he struggled to his feet, draping the blanket about his shoulders. He leaned on her and then grasped the deck above.
“
Soon there will be ambassadors, and ministers of state, and accusations hurled about and ...
.
”

“
Not from me, Daniel,
”
she said quietly.

“
Nor
I
,
”
he said.
“
Just tell me that you love me. It
’
s not enough, but it will do until I can get a more
firm
commitment. And I will, Hannah.
”

She opened her mouth to speak when the lieutenant of Marines hu
rt
led down the gangway.
“
Sir, Mr. Futt
rell requests your presence on deck, and I am to help you.
”

He was gone then, with a backward glance that seemed
to
through her like a hot poker. I do not know if I
love you, she thought as she returned
his g
aze. You are st
i
ll
too old, and you will not give up the sea for me, and there is this matter of our nationality. If I consider all these objections and still love you, I am a bigger fool than any of us thought.

I believe that I will soak and soak until my skin is wrinkled, and still smell of tunny, Hannah thought as she sat in the hip bath in Lisbon
’
s American Consulate. The consul
’
s wife had brought in lavender
bath
salts, and then verbena and lily of the valley, and they had even changed the water once, but Hannah still smelled fishy.

“
Miss
Whittier
, you must put the best face upon this,
”
said the woman as Hannah wrapped herself into a towel.

“
Yes, by all means! At least I did not drop into a tanner
’
s vat or irritate a skunk,
”
Hannah teased.
“
And my hands and feet are very soft from all that fish oil.
”

“
I am sure that the essence will fade,
”
assured the woman,
with no indication that she appreciated Hannah
’
s joke.

“
L
’
eau de poisson
,
”
Hannah said.
“
I do not think it will overtake rosewater or patchouli as the scent
du jour
, except among cat lovers.
”

The woman managed a grimace that Hannah charitably called a smile, and went to the door.
“
I am sure my maid has left something on the bed that will fit you,
”
she said.
“
When you are dressed,
please come downstairs to the bo
okroom. My husband says that he has more questions.
”

Hannah suppressed a sigh and turned to the bed, so
rt
ing through the clothing until she found a chem
ise that appear
ed to be her size. She tugged on the smallest petticoat, and was chagrined to see that it was to
o
large.
I
f I ever had a womanly figure, I have lost it on my diet of tunny and ship
’
s biscuit, she thought as she gazed into the mirror. And horrors, I have never had so many freckles! She sat
cross-legged
on the bed, refusing to go any farther. If I find some clothes, I will only be subjected to more questions in the bookroom, she thought, her mind high on rebe
ll
ion.

“
I have told thee everything I know,
”
she said out loud, and flopped back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling.
“
Thee cannot squeeze any more blood out of this Quaker turnip.
”

She folded her
ar
ms across her chest, scrutinized the ceiling, and blamed Adam Winslow for her current difficulties. As soon as Captain Spark had been taken off the fishing vessel on a stretcher, Adam leaped from the ship and demanded to see the American consul. Before she could protest, she found Adam and herself occupying a litter on its way to the consulate.

She would like to have shunned Adam for this betrayal, but it was difficult to overlook someone sitting knee to knee with her. She made herself as tall as she could and fixed him with a stare that would have wrung a cry of ill usage from a sculpture.
“
Adam, what fly was buzzing in thy brain when thee thought to bring in the American consulate?
”
she demanded finally.

He returned her stare for stare.
“
Don
’
t be a dunce, Hannah! I was thinking I would like to get home,
”
he declared in round tones. He stopped, skewered by her outraged expression, and slumped forward, exhausted.
“
Captain Spark has the dispatch, and we ...
.
”

His jaw dropped as he fell asleep in midsentence, leaning forward until his head touched his kne
es. With a sigh, Hannah pushed hi
m back against the side of the liner.
“
Thee is the dunce,
Adam
.
”
she said,
even though he was past hearing.
“
I have the dispatch now!
”
She wished for the hundredth time that
she could have convinced Adam to
let them stay with Mr. Futtre
ll
. But that would have been futile, to
o
, she realized as the liner swayed up to a mansion overlooking Lisbon
’
s magnificent harbor. Blasted with exhaustion himself, Mr.
Fu
t
trell
had merely waved Adam on and stepped aside for the consul when he came on board the
Mar
ia la
Rainha
to retrieve these errant children from Yankeeland.

“
But how
is
thee, Captain Spark?
”
she asked the ceiling in the consulate. The question energized her and she sat up and pawed through the simple muslin dresses on the bed. The sooner she finished wth the questions, the sooner she could petition a visit to the hospital where Spark had been taken. She had to re
turn
the dispatch from the
Bergeron.

Don
’
t let thee get a swelled head, Captain Spark, she thought as she pulled on a pri
mrose
-colored muslin cut a bit lower than she liked, but
otherwise
acceptable. I merely
mean
to se
e
that thee is taken care of, and that the dispatch is safe. Then it would suit me f
ine
to be on a ship bound for home.

She
burst into tears,
wondering
why it did not suit her fine, and decided that her nerves
were as tangled as her hair and
needed
a good comb out. She only cri
ed harder, remem
ber
ing the time Captain Spark had so gently combed her ha
ir
when she was stricken with
sunburn and could
not move. And now
h
e is lying somewhere in this dirt
y city
full
of shifty charac
ters
of
Mediterranean
extraction, and I am not with him!

She slapped cool water o
n
her face and lay down until the moment passed, then brushed her unruly hair until her shoulders ached. She was tying back the gleaming mass of hair when the consul
’
s wife returned.

“
Miss Whittier, the consul would really like to speak to you.
”

“
Very well,
”
Hannah sighed.

Adam was sti
ll
deep in exhausted slumber and could not be wakened, but that was no reason for the consul not to question her again about the entire escapade, beginning with the hailing of the
Molly Claridge
and the impressment. She gave the same answers to the same questions, only this time a clerk took
down
every word. His pen scratched and grated on her nerves until she wanted to swing from the chandeliers, babbling gibberish.

When she finished again, two more men came into the room and were introced as the incoming and outgoing ambassadors to
Holland
. They requested her story, and she told it again, fighting back tears this time. Each word she spoke seemed such a condemnation of Captain Sir Daniel Spark and the
Dissuade
,
however unintentional. How could she tell them of his many kindnesses, the days of glorious sail aloft in the lookout? They would never understand how safe s
he felt when she sat on the quart
erdeck after the battle, covered by his boat cloak, or how the gallant Mr. Futtrell had steered them safely to
Lisbon
. She knew she would never mention the dispatch. It was not the business of the
United States
.

“
There, sirs,
”
she said finally.
“
I have told this story over and over and it does not change.
”

“
No, it does not, Miss Whittier,
”
replied the consul at last
,
after observing her over his
laced fingertips as he sat at h
is desk.
“
Why do I think that this is not all the story?
”

“
I cannot imagine,
”
she said, sitting up more straight in her chair, hoping that she had tucked the dispatch into a safe place in her ro
om
.

“
Perhaps Mr. Adam Winslow, when he finally wakes up, will have an augmented edition?
”
the consul asked.

She nodd
ed, hoping they would not notice the sweat that suddenly
beaded
on her upper lip.
“
It
’
s entirely possible. He
saw the whole adventure from the gun deck, and I did not
.
”

“
Adventure? Was it an adventure, Miss Whittier, to be terrified out of your mind?
”
said the incoming ambassador to
Holland
, his voice heavy with disbelief.
“
I think you are too kind. We will lay this
‘
adventure
’
on the desk of David Erskin
Britain
’
s ambassador to the
United States
, and see what comes of it
.
”