Sea Change (12 page)

"Living aboard the
Fancy
and seeing the same faces every day may help you avoid that trap," Mr. Bryant pointed out.

"I hope so," Charley said, smiling at the older man. "I appreciate the reminder. I understand you will be traveling tonight? Do take some of the ointment with you."

Mr. Bryant looked surprised, but then chuckled. "I suppose I shouldn't be wondering how you knew that, Doctor. A ship is a small place, and secrets are hard to keep."

If you only knew.
..

But Charley suppressed that thought and nodded. "Indeed, Mr. Bryant, I thought of the
Lady Jane
as being like a miniature village, with many of the same people fulfilling the same roles."

"Well, it is much like that," Mr. Bryant acknowledged. "But we have no women in this village to round out our numbers."

"A fact for which I am eternally grateful," said a familiar, deep voice.

"Captain Fletcher, do you not miss feminine company?" Charley asked daringly, turning around to look up at the
Fancy
's commander.

"Not aboard my ship! Women are enough of a disruptive influence ashore, Doctor. I do not need them aboard and underfoot with their swoons and airs and delicate ways!"

"Aw but, Captain, aren't you longing for a little feminine company?" Mr. Bryant asked. "Maybe there will be some friendly
señoritas
in Santa Rosa."

"Good Lord," Charley said. "Should I lay in additional supplies of mercury?"

"I don't think we will be staying long enough for the men to pick up infections from the ladies ashore, but that does raise a point, Doctor. How are your supplies holding up?"

Mr. Bryant saw her hesitation and excused himself while Charley thought about the best way to frame her answer.

"That all depends on how long I will be here," she finally said. "If you get another surgeon, he will want to re-supply you with the medications he favors using."

"In the meantime, I want you to make a list, Doctor, of those supplies you might run short of over the next six months. After all, if I don't find another medical man to serve aboard the
Fancy
, I could be the one dispensing the drugs to the men, and you would not want to leave me unprepared, would you?"

Charley couldn't argue with this, since it was all too common for merchant captains to serve as their own ship's doctor.

"Very well, Captain, I will prepare such a list. And if the opportunity presents itself, I'll restock the supplies."

She knew she shouldn't swim in dangerous waters, but Charley couldn't resist.

"So, Captain, you believe women aboard ship would harm your little village? Do you not then plan to take your wife to sea?"

Captain Fletcher put his hands behind his back and started walking, and Charley fell into step alongside him.

"It takes a very special woman to live at sea, Charley. Most of them don't have the fortitude to put up with the inconveniences, the squalor, the lack of society. No, far better they stay ashore, tending to home and hearth."

"But you said your own mother went to sea with your father. And Mrs. Denham seemed quite content aboard the
Lady Jane.
"

He looked down at her and shrugged, then resumed walking.

"Oh, there are exceptions. But these are rare cases. Most women want to be coddled and pampered--as they should be, for they are delicate creatures."

Charley bit her tongue to keep from pointing out the women she'd seen working in Little Abbot and Plymouth, fisherwomen and farm wives and merchants. Even the women of the gentry tended to work from sunup to sundown, overseeing households and doing domestic tasks. Their labor may not involve hauling on lines like a sailor, but she'd put most of those women up against the men on this ship for sheer physical endurance.

And she knew from experience that women were not such big babies, like men were, about a visit to the doctor or coming down with a common ague.

But nothing would be gained by baiting her captor on this, so she nodded thoughtfully and strolled alongside him, her own hands clasped behind her back.

"Hang out with the crew of the
Fancy
long enough, Doctor, and you will receive an education in the ways of the fair sex that you will find invaluable in years to come!"

"Indeed, Captain," Charley agreed. "I have already learned more than I ever anticipated."

Captain Fletcher put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a companionable squeeze, then frowned.

"Good Lord, Charley, aren't you eating enough? There's no muscle here at all, boy!"

Charley shrugged herself out from under his grasp, knowing that color was flooding her face from the unexpected contact. There was nothing she could do about that.

"I am built along slender lines, Captain. The men in my family resemble greyhounds more than mastiffs."

"No need to be embarrassed about it," Captain Fletcher said, giving her a sideways glance. "But you need to build yourself up, Charley. You might find yourself having to grab a line or pull an oar, and you don't want to let your shipmates down."

"Thank you, Captain, I will take that under advisement."

David frowned to himself as he walked alongside the doctor. The youngster was so competent, so in command in his sick bay that David forgot he was a boy until it was brought back to him by incidents such as this. The lad was as scrawny as a poor man's chicken and, if nothing else, David could act in the role of mentor and help guide him toward manhood.

Aye, maybe that was the key to bringing him around to America's point of view. Young men aboard ship looked up to older, more experienced salts, those who could teach them the ropes. David would make it his goal that before the lad left the
Fancy
--if he left the
Fancy
--he would have those experiences young men need to be guided toward their place in the world.

And it could start today.

"When we go to Santa Rosa, Doctor, we will be meeting with representatives of the merchants and planters there. They will be in a position to negotiate with us for some of the goods in our hold, and I'm anxious to lighten our load."

"And make way for more booty?"

"Sarcasm?"

"No, merely a statement," the doctor said blandly.

"Wear your finest coat and shirt tomorrow. We want to put our best face forward, because these Spaniards put great store by appearances. Do you plan to stay ashore tonight?"

The doctor thought about it for a moment, lines furrowing his smooth brow.

"No, I will come back to the ship, in case I am needed here. What about you?"

"As much as I enjoy spending the day ashore," David said, "I prefer to sleep aboard ship, out on the water where the mosquitoes cannot get to me."

"I had not considered that, Captain. The miasmic air near the water may bring on fevers. I will keep an eye on the crew and do my best to keep them healthy."

He did do his best, David believed, even though he saw the Americans as his enemies. And the men were better for it. He looked at the boy walking alongside him, the sweep of his long lashes over cheeks not yet roughened by years of exposure to salt and wind. He realized how much he had come to value the friendship and services of the doctor. While Henry's injury had been a tragedy, finding Dr. Alcott was a blessing. The doctor's services, along with the nights they spent together playing chess and discussing matters of more importance than the day-to-day maintenance of the
Fancy
--David had missed that kind of conversation and it was good to have someone to share ideas with. In some ways, it was almost like having a younger brother to guide again, but Dr. Alcott's maturity and wisdom made him an even more valuable companion.

He did not want the doctor to leave the
Fancy.
Charley Alcott was a fine lad, one any man would be proud to call friend. David would mourn the loss of the friendship growing between them if the Englishman found his way home. If Charley could be persuaded to settle in Baltimore, perhaps they'd ship out together again. It would be good to have a companion to talk to in the dark hours of the night, someone who listened and gave the kind of advice and counsel you only got from real friends. Not always what you wanted to hear, but what you needed to hear. That was especially important for a commander, who so often was alone in his thoughts about the best actions for the men and the ship.

That afternoon the doctor shared luncheon with David, Henry and Mr. Bryant as the men discussed their upcoming visit to Santa Rosa.

"Do you speak another language, Doctor?" Henry said.

"I can speak and read Latin, and read Greek, Mr. Fletcher."

"That will be useful if we run into a troop of Roman legionnaires, or philosophers, but not much good in Santa Rosa or Havana," David said. "For example, you need to know how to say,
'¡Traéme otra, esa está podrida!'
"

Mr. Bryant hid his smile in his mug of ale, while Henry pursed his lips and stared out the stern window. Dr. Alcott just looked at David suspiciously and paused in passing the peas.

"I suspect, Captain Fletcher, you have just said something that cannot be repeated in polite company!"

"Believe me, Dr. Alcott, for the type of Spanish you need to know, polite company has nothing to do with it."

"Here's another handy phrase then, Doctor," Mr. Bryant chimed in. "
'¡Échame más ron y deja el frasco!'
which means, 'More rum, and leave the bottle!'"

"Now, that's Spanish a man can use!" David said.

"And don't forget the first Spanish you taught Henry, Captain," Mr. Bryant added, and the two men said in unison,
'¿Cobras por hora? Toda la noche, ¿cuanto?
, and then laughed and raised their mugs to each other in a toast.

"What about that first thing, what you said, Captain?" Alcott asked.

"'I want a different girl. This one is poxy!'" Henry said quickly, and David could have sworn he was blushing, which was a surprise because it usually took a story involving spinsters, molasses and donkeys to make Henry blush.

Dammit, the boy was blushing as he added, "I'm sure Dr. Alcott doesn't need to know that."

"Yes, I do," said Alcott, glaring at Henry. "If I'm going to take my place with the other men, I need to know what they know!"

"There's a good fellow!" Mr. Bryant grinned, lines creasing his weathered face as he raised his mug to the young doctor. "No die-away airs for this boy!"

When the doctor joined them at the boats that afternoon, David raised his brows at the satchel slung over his shoulder.

"Are you expecting trouble, Doctor?"

"Just as you always go armed, Captain, I always go armed--with my tools. It is best to be prepared."

David was the last to enter the boat, climbing in after the doctor clumsily made his way to the stern. Most of the men rowing had stripped down in the tropical heat, and David joined them in their casual attire, wearing a white cotton shirt unfastened, but tucked loosely into his trousers. The doctor, however, was still fully attired from shoes to hat, even wearing his ugly coat. He looked hot and uncomfortable, his face flushed as he looked at the bare-chested sailors rowing them ashore, their bronzed torsos glistening in the sun.

"Doctor?"

Alcott jumped, and looked a little startled.

"I'm sorry, Captain, I was...lost in thought."

"Why don't you remove your coat and get more comfortable, like the rest of us?"

"No, thank you, Captain. I am fine as I am," the boy said stiffly.

It occurred to David that perhaps Alcott was embarrassed by his scrawniness, especially when compared to the strapping crew of the Fancy. He let the subject drop.

Mostly.

"Well, at least take off your shoes, Doctor. You will have to jump into the surf to get ashore."

The doctor hesitated, then nodded, removing his shoes and stockings. He tucked his bare feet beneath him on the bench, and turned to watch the island they were nearing.

David watched the shore also, scanning it for any signs of trouble, but all seemed to be well. The men had brought the casks over first and were starting to fill them, while a hunting party was off in the woods, looking for fresh game for supper. He could see Henry gesturing with his hand as he supervised, and turned to see Alcott watching him.

"Your brother is making a good recovery, Captain," the doctor said. "He will not need my services any longer."

David clamped his jaw shut, not wanting to have this discussion now, in front of the sailors who were straining their ears to hear. Instead, he changed the topic.

"Wish the hunters luck, boys, and we will dine on roast pork tonight!"

Next to their ration of rum, sailors valued their victuals the most. The thought of freshly killed wild pig roasted over an open pit set their mouths to watering and they pulled the oars with a vengeance.

Charley clumsily splashed her way out of the boat and hurried to get her shoes and stockings back on. She knew enough about anatomy to know that if her hands gave her away to Mr. Fletcher, the sight of her smaller-than-male feet would give her away as well.

She stood, huffing in the heat, and took her hat off to wipe her forehead. Captain Fletcher did look comfortable, damn him, and she wanted to look away, but she couldn't as he laughed at something Mr. Bryant said to him. His hair was in need of a trim, the shaggy midnight silk curling 'round his neck. She'd had to nearly sit on her hands in the boat to keep from smoothing back a stray swath falling across his forehead.

She pushed her own hair back from her forehead, slicking the short strands down close to her scalp. She'd trimmed her hair last night, trying not to think about how her hair used to curl and wisp delicately, softening her features. That was the last thing she needed now, here, where she was so careful about how she stood, how she walked, how she held her arms and cocked her head.

If she ever gave up physicking she might consider a career on the stage, playing breeches roles as so many actresses did. Acting could hardly be more disgraceful than living with pirates.