Seasons of War 2-Book Bundle. Cheryl Cooper

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СКАЧАТЬ know of this Mrs. Seaton?”

      Mr. Brodie shrugged. “Not a lot. She was always askin’ thee questions o’ me. She always wore such pretty dresses and hats. Oh … I do recall this one time, when thee weather was fine, she put on men’s trousers and climbed a wee way up thee shrouds just ta say hello. Shocked thee lot o’ us.”

      “Was she travelling alone?”

      “Nay. There was a woman with ’er, a servin’ woman, she was.”

      “Anyone else?”

      “Aye, Mr. Seaton – her husband. Never spoke ta him. He had an aloof, arrogant kind o’ look to ’im.”

      Fly pressed his lips together and went quiet while Mr. Brodie happily polished off the plate of sea biscuits. Through the galleried windows at their backs, the sun began to peek through the clouds, sending warm light shadows to dance upon James’s oak table.

      “What became of Mr. Seaton and this serving woman?” asked James.

      “Don’t rightly know, sir.”

      “You said there were many women on the Amelia. Why then would Trevelyan have taken only Mrs. Seaton?”

      “Not certain of that either, sir, but I can tell ya this – Trevelyan’s servant, a mongrel named Lind, came down below ta give we Amelias food. When I asked him about Mrs. Seaton, he smiled and said she was ironin’ thee cap’n’s shirts.”

      A spasm of irritation crossed Fly’s face. James’s voice stayed even. “Anything else?”

      “Aye. Lind said Trevelyan holds an ancient grudge against Mrs. Seaton’s father.”

      James’s jaw worked as he stirred his coffee with a silver teaspoon. “And where is she now? Still on the Serendipity?”

      “I’ve asked, sir … no one can say.”

      James stood up suddenly, the legs of his chair scratching the worn floorboards. He stepped over to the windows to gaze out upon a calmer sea, then abruptly marched to the door of his cabin, yanked it open, and bellowed, “Call for Mr. Spooner.” At last, he wheeled about to face the big Scotsman, who quickly rose from his chair.

      “You have been most helpful, Mr. Brodie. Our purser, Mr. Spooner, will see to your provisioning – clothes, a hammock, and whatever else you may need. As we’re quite short of men and our young sail maker was injured in yesterday’s skirmish, we’ll need you to begin working in the sail room. And should you possess any carpentry skills, we would surely welcome them.” He extended his right hand to Mr. Brodie who gripped it fervently.

      “’Tis a pleasure to be back on thee Isabelle, sir.”

      Once the door had closed behind Mr. Brodie and Mr. Spooner, James shot a glance at Fly, who was trying to snooze with one eye closed.

      “Before we question the other men from the Liberty, I’d like to drop anchor and start in on our repairs.” He unbuttoned his jacket as he plunked down wearily into his wing chair. “But first – we have men to bury.” He folded his arms across his belly and closed his eyes. “So stay where you are and sleep well.”

      “You too, sir.” Fly shuttered his other eye.

      “I was thinking,” mumbled James, half asleep already, “ perhaps it is time to interview Emily again.”

      “My sentiments exactly, sir.”

      9:00 a.m.

      (Forenoon Watch, Two Bells)

      MAGPIE'S MOANS AWOKE EMILY, who had been sleeping on the stool next to his hammock, her cheek resting against the post closest to his head. She stood up to stretch the knotted muscles in her back, wincing as her swollen foot touched the cold, wet floor, but when Magpie’s remaining eye popped open to find her standing watch over him, her smile was warm.

      “How’re you feeling?” she asked, reaching out to touch the bit of his forehead not covered in bandages to check for signs of a fever.

      Magpie moved his lips, but was unable to give Emily more than a whimper of pain.

      “Is there anything you need?”

      His ghostly face brightened a bit.

      “What is it? A cup of water, perhaps?”

      Magpie lifted a corner of the blanket currently covering his body, and whispered, “Me special blanket.”

      “Is it in the sail room down on the orlop deck?”

      He nodded.

      “Right, then. I will go fetch it as soon as I am able.”

      A look of alarm suddenly crossed Magpie’s features, and he tried raising himself up on one elbow.

      “Lie still,” Emily gently admonished him. “I know. You are worried I’ll be severely punished if Captain Moreland should catch me down on the orlop.”

      “Aye,” he said, gritting his teeth as he lay back down upon his pillow.

      Emily’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “The men will soon be summoned to the burial service on the main deck. I will go then.”

      He gave her a feeble smile and closed his eye.

      The minute Magpie slipped into sleep, Emily parted the canvas curtains to survey a scene of bedlam in the hospital. Four more men had died that morning, and their bodies were being carried from the hospital by Maggot and Weevil, whose linen shirts were soaked in sweat. One of the dead men was the teenaged lad who had helped Emily carry Magpie to her bed yesterday, the one who had claimed, “Only got lead in me leg, but I don’t feel it none.” Emily’s chest knotted in emotion as she said a prayer for the poor young man.

      The groans and wails of the injured resonated around the cramped quarters. Some of the men hollered profanities while others mumbled senseless remarks in their stuporous sleep. The air was rank with body odour, bitter medicines, and festering wounds. Moving amongst the chaos and the cots, administering food, medicine, and words of comfort were Leander, Osmund, and two loblolly boys whom Emily had never seen before. Leander was pale, moving slowly, his cream-coloured shirt once again splattered with blood. Behind his round spectacles, his blue eyes were red-rimmed.

      Seeing her, he said, “I’m afraid, Emily, this is not the most pleasant place at the moment.”

      “Your gaol is full, Doctor, and as I refuse to bunk in with Mrs. Kettle, you’re stuck with me.”

      Mr. Crump, ever ready with his quick wit, piped up. “Ya wouldn’t be gittin’ any peace at all if ya was bunked in with dear Meggie Kettle.”

      Emily, far from being affronted, smiled at Mr. Crump. “I’ll take my chances here in the hospital, thank you.”

      “Safest place fer ya, Miss Emily. The men here, even if they had a hank’ring to jump ya, are incapable of doin’ so.” He patted the stump of his amputated leg.

      Leander frowned at the saucy landsman. “Mr. Crump, your tongue is СКАЧАТЬ