Seasons of War 2-Book Bundle Read Online Free PDF Page A

don’t like the look of him.” James scratched his head. “Should we ask Mrs. Kettle to sit with her?
    “Heavens, no,” said Leander. “Given the chance, she’d toss our guest overboard.”
    “In that case, would you allow me to call up Gus Walby?”
    “By all means! Young Walby’s a most trustworthy fellow.”
    James hesitated a moment, then gave Leander a sheepish grin. “But first, let us have her removed at once to your hospital. I’m afraid I would not be setting a good example to the men if she were to stay alone with me in my cabin.”
    10:15 p.m.
    (First Watch)
    ON THE LOWER DECK, Bailey Beck and the two cook’s mates, the Jamaican brothers Maggot and Weevil, gathered the few belongings of the sailors who had lost their lives earlier in the day. Their clothing and possessions would be sold off at the mast on the following day to the highest bidder, and the raised money sent home to England to benefit their dependents. The men worked by lantern-light, humming sea shanties, and fortifying themselves with the extra ration of grog Captain Moreland had ordered for them to ease the burden of their unpleasant task.
    Above deck, despite the sadness of the day and the repair work that had to be done, James allowed those hands who hadn’t rushed to their beds in exhaustion to gather as usual for a bit of entertainment. Biscuit played his fiddle and the young sail maker, Magpie, his flute. The men clapped and cheered as Morgan Evans hopped up on an overturned crate to lead them in singing an ode to grog:
    While up the shrouds the sailor goes,
    Or ventures on the yard,
    The landsman, who no better knows
    Believes his lot is hard,
    But Jack with smiles each danger meets,
    Casts anchor, heaves the log,
    Trims all the sails, belays the sheets,
    And drinks his can of grog.
    * * *
    THE DIN ON THE WEATHER DECKS awakened Emily. For a few bewildering moments, she glanced about her tiny room – illumined by a lantern, which swung gently on a wooden peg by her feet – trying to remember how she came to be in this new place … on this new ship. Someone had placed her in a cot next to a sealed gunport, and closed off her corner with the aid of two lengths of canvas suspended over a rope affixed to the ceiling timbers. Despite the noise overhead, she could hear moaning and weeping beyond the canvas. One or two people were moving quietly about, speaking words of reassurance to those who wept. A foul stench assaulted Emily’s nose and made her stomach queasy, but she had no desire to investigate its source; she was too preoccupied with her own sorrows and discomforts. Her mouth was dry, her left ankle throbbed, and there was a vicious pain in her right shoulder. How she longed for a cool drink of water, and the luxury of a real bed and a fat pillow. How she longed to forget everything that had happened to her in the past few weeks. Unable to tolerate the pervading smells of her surroundings, she buried her nose in her blanket and prayed that sleep would soon return.
    To her surprise, a little yellow-haired fellow suddenly appeared between the canvas curtains. He wore tight white pantaloons, a dark-blue frock coat, and a big grin.
    “Are you feeling better, ma’am?” he asked cheerfully.
    “No, actually … my whole body hurts. And I feel ill, but perhaps that is a result of the horrendous smell about this place.”
    “I am sorry about that. Dr. Braden has opened all the gunports for you, with the exception of the one by your head, but I’m afraid, whether the ports are opened or not, most of the ship carries with it an awful odour.”
    “Could I ask you to open this port as well? It may alleviate some of my suffering.”
    Emily watched the boy closely as he worked to lift the heavy port into place. When he was done, the bracing air that instantly found her corner did much to improve her temperament.
    “Dr. Braden says you broke your ankle and that you were shot in the shoulder. I hope it wasn’t one of our men that