Sea Change (28 page)

Luncheon was a subdued affair for the officers and the doctor. The crew was manning the ship's pumps even as Mr. Bryant and the captain discussed the best way to repair the
Fancy.

"Is the ship seaworthy?" Charley asked.

Both men looked at her, almost as if they were just now remembering she was at table with them.

"Yes, Doctor," Mr. Bryant said firmly. "We wouldn't sail for home if it wasn't. But we will be doing repairs on her to keep her that way, with the men working longer hours."

"Right now though you need to assemble the crew, Mr. Bryant. We must say goodbye to Asher."

"Aye, Captain," Mr. Bryant said, clearing his throat and excusing himself from the table. David still sat, staring down at his hands. It was so quiet that Charley could hear the snap of the canvas, the lines creaking, and the sound of the pumps.

"David."

He looked up, his face bleak.

"You did what you could yesterday for the men. Today you will do more. That is your task as the
Fancy's
commander."

He got up from the table and walked around, pulling her up from her chair and holding her hands tightly.

"Can you answer this, Charley Alcott? If you had to choose, today, to come aboard the
Fancy
or stay on the
Lady Jane
, with all that has happened between us, which would you choose?"

He waited, and she looked down at their hands clasped together, his so sun-browned and strong, her own, roughened and strong in their own way, not delicate, not soft, but hers. He took those hands that had failed some, and helped many, and raised them to his lips, putting a soft kiss on the back of one, then the other.

"If I had to do it all over again," he said, rubbing his thumb across the back of her knuckles, "I would steal you away, and keep you aboard my ship, and never let you go, Charley my darling."

She stared into his golden eyes, and she took her hand from his and brushed back a lock of hair that fell over his forehead.

"Your duty calls you, Captain,"

They went up on deck together, David carrying his prayer book. The men were assembled wearing their finest clothing. At the starboard rail a canvas length awaited them, sewn by Sails, weighted to carry its burden to the bottom of the ocean. It was on a trestle, covered with the flag of the United States that fluttered at the edges in the light breeze.

The crew was silent as their captain stepped forward, and a hurricane bird soared overhead, far from land but reminding them all that someday, they would return to their homes.

Some of them.

David cleared his throat.

"...They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep...Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and He bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so He bringeth them unto their desired haven."

He stepped next to the body where two sailors waited respectfully at attention.

"Asher Purcell was a patriot, and a good man. He will be remembered for doing his job well, for his love of life, and for his zeal in serving his country. For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the deep in sure and certain hopes of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ."

David nodded to the sailors, who picked up the inboard end of the platform and tilted it. The canvas slipped out smoothly from beneath the flag to fall into the ocean's depths with the smallest of splashes, a faint ripple showing where their carpenter went to his final resting place.

"Dismissed!" Mr. Bryant told the men, who returned to their tasks, but Charley stood watching David, who was watching the men folding the flag. It would be kept safe for when the privateer ran it up, after fooling another ship into thinking they were British, or Spanish, or something other than a predator out on the water to savage enemy shipping.

She asked him once if the privateers made a difference for America. David looked at her blankly for a moment, then said, "Bear in mind, Doctor, we are not the Royal Navy with hundreds of years of ships at our beck and call. The United States is young, but we are strong because we put everything we have into the fight, especially at sea. Yes, our privateers make all the difference in this war. Every ship we capture is another blow to Britain and its allies."

Charley was thinking about that conversation later that evening, and how thin the line was between a privateer and a pirate when there was a knock at the sick bay door.

She turned from her desk, hesitating, but finally stood.

"Come in, Captain."

David entered sick bay and closed the door behind him. There was only the lantern on the bulkhead over the desk, and Charley studied him, the shadows in the cabin blending with his midnight hair and overlaying the strong planes of his face.

"What do you want, Captain?"

"You."

Charley looked at him in amazement, then a harsh laugh burst from her.

"Have you been in the sun too long? What make-believe world are you living in? You will not listen to me when I say I cannot go with you to Baltimore! Do you expect me then to throw myself into your arms each night and give you what you want without any thought to the future?"

"Yes. Because it is what you want also."

"Damn you," she whispered, and she threw herself into his arms.

He caught her, and held her, and she smelled the salt on his skin, the scent of the ocean that would always make her think of Black Davy Fletcher. She would remember how his eyes darkened from amber to deepest sienna when he kissed her, the silken feel of his hair beneath her hands, the way he whispered her name, making it into a song.

His mouth hovered above hers, hesitating for the briefest instant before meeting hers, making that connection that brought her senses to life. They were silent in the dimness of the quiet cabin, not speaking, exploring each other, tasting the other, but finally, gathering strength she did not know she had, Charley pushed herself away from him.

"Leave. Now."

"Charley--"

She stood resolute beside her door, holding it open, her other hand fisted by her side. He looked at her for an endless moment, then stepped out into the night.

Charley was watching the boat returning to the
Fancy
from the unnamed island, loaded with casks of fresh water. David looked at the slender shoulders that carried an uncharacteristic slump to them. She hid it well from the crew, but he knew how unhappy she was.

He wanted to fix it, to make her world the place it should be. A place where she could practice medicine and a place where she would stand by his side, always.

But there was a war to fight, and cargo to transport, and his first duty was not to her, but to his men and to his country. And that meant traveling up to the United States.

He turned and walked to the stern, leaning over the rail to where the men were working.

"What is your estimate on the time of those repairs, Mr. Bryant?"

Bryant looked up at the captain, shading his eyes against the light. "Another three or four hours should do it, Captain."

"Carry on then."

David went to his cabin to gather supplies, telling Lewis where he was off to and when he'd be back.

"Aye, Captain," Lewis said. "We'll have supper waiting when you return. Will the doctor be joining you?" he asked diffidently. Only the steward had an inkling of how things stood between David and Charley, but one of the reasons David valued the man's services was because he wouldn't gossip.

"I don't know yet, Mr. Lewis."

"Aye, Captain. If I may say so, sir, she's a fine young lady as well as a good doctor."

"She is that, Mr. Lewis."

David found Charley still standing at the rail, staring out over the water, her mind a million miles away.

"Charley."

He stepped closer to her, so that their conversation would remain private.

"Come with me into the boat, Charley, over to the island."

"Why?"

"So that we can spend time together before..." He hesitated and tried again. "I want you to come with me, Charley. Aboard ship I am always the captain, and you are always the doctor. On the island, we can be just Charley and David."

He put his hand on her face, cradling it, and rubbed his thumb across the fine grained skin, feeling the strong bones beneath. "We can be ourselves--for a few hours."

Her face was wary, and drawn with tension. He wanted that time back when they could laugh together, but it seemed like a distant dream. Which was why he needed her now to come with him.

"I do not know what will happen in the future, Charley, no one does. But I know that right now, today, we have each other and these moments. I do not claim to know much about love, but I know that what we have is rare. Do you want to look back at your life with regret for what you rejected?"

Her lashes lowered, veiling her thoughts from him, and she sighed.

"Those are pretty words, Davy. They are the same kind of pretty words that have charmed women into men's arms since time out of mind."

"Yes, but I mean them," David said, his lips curling up at how the wheels in her head kept turning. "If you were a woman of greater sensibility than sense you would not be analyzing my conversation this way."

"Then I would not be who I am," she said, and her own mouth blossomed into a smile. "Despite that, and try as I might, I find that there are times when my heart overrules my head. Too often."

"Is this such a time?" he said in a low voice.

Charley looked out at the land, the palm trees swaying and the bright birds flashing through the foliage.

"I fear so, Captain," she said with another sigh. "Let me gather some items and I will rejoin you shortly."

Yes!
He controlled himself and nodded, schooling his expression to be serious and thoughtful rather than triumphant. He knew he could bring her around, but he needed time and opportunity, both of which were in short supply aboard the damaged
Fancy.

The captain and the doctor sat silently in the boat as they were rowed ashore. Charley'd removed her shoes, but left her worn brown coat on and her neckcloth neatly knotted. David watched her. Someday he'd like to see her dressed in lace and silk, though he wondered if he'd recognize her. He smiled to himself at the thought.

"Pick us up at sunset, Wells."

"Aye, Captain," the sailor said.

David put his hand beneath Charley's elbow, steadying her on the sand. "Give yourself time to adjust, Doctor. You have been at sea a long time now."

Charley looked at him, her face burnished by the afternoon sun. "I feel sometimes like I have been at sea forever."

David glanced over his shoulder. Wells was already rowing back to the
Fancy
and was out of earshot.

"Why don't you take off your coat, Charley. No one will see you here."

Charley being Charley, looked around to confirm that they were alone on this little island, then she unfastened her coat and David took it from her, draping it over his arm. At the very least he'd like to buy her some new coats, as Dr. Alcott's wardrobe was showing the strain of life aboard the
Fancy.

"Come with me, Charley. I'll show you something that will make you glad you came ashore."

He moved his hand down her arm, taking her hand in his and clasping it. He looked down at their joined hands.

"Such a small thing, holding a lady's hand. I took it for granted, thinking I could do it wherever and whenever."

"But not aboard ship," Charley said with a wry smile, looking down at their joined hands, his so brown, hers white, but strong and steady.

"Remember, Charley, today we are just ourselves, all alone here. I can hold your hand if I want."

So saying, he led her into the trees to where a stream burbled down to the shore amidst water smoothed rocks. Charley put her shoes back on and they began to climb, following the water to its source, a spring set deep in the forest.

"Oh my," Charley said. "This is like the pool at
Señor
Martinez's island!"

"Yes, but today is different. Today you can join me in the water."

It was indeed a pool similar to that on Santa Rosa, deep enough to swim in, shaded by trees and fragrant with the blossoms of plumeria and jasmine. Charley laughed in delight as their intrusion disturbed a flock of brightly colored parakeets, who flew through the trees like living flowers.

David was already taking off his clothes, and after a brief hesitation, Charley followed his lead.

"It is shallow at this end, Charley. I recall you do not swim."

Charley blushed, remembering how David had hauled her out of the ocean and discovered her secrets, but she gamely stepped into the water, placing her feet carefully on the sandy bottom.

"You're right, I can stand up here! Oh, please tell me you brought soap with you, Captain!"

David chuckled and rummaging through the basket Lewis put together pulled out soap and towels.

"I knew what would make you happy, Charley. Catch!"

He tossed her the soap, and she stood there and held it, looking at him. She was standing chest deep in the water, her breasts covered, then exposed by the wavelets that lapped back and forth.

"You do know what makes me happy, don't you, Davy?"

He waded into the water and joined her. "This makes me happy, Charley. To see you in the sunshine. All of you, unbound, unfettered."

He took the soap from her lax hand and turned her so that he could scrub her back, a move that made her purr like Pirate the cat.

"Here we are, the two of us, alone and naked in paradise," he said as he worked the creamy lather into her smooth shoulders.

"I recall there's a serpent in this story, and an apple."

"Of course there's a serpent..." He smiled against her neck, pulling her tight against him so she could feel for herself.