Page 86 of Unlikely Heroes
“Who told you that?” Bertram spoke quickly, but she heard no accusation.
Captain Ogilvie.”
After the prickly valet dried his tears, blew his nose and became again the Man To Be Feared, Meridee walked slowly down the corridor. She knew which classrooms belonged to which instructor. The pupils were all abed at this late hour, so she took her time, breathing in the familiar odor of chalk dust.
She opened the door to Able’s room and felt a momentary pang. She walked to the plaque on the wall, the one withRattus norvegicusstretched out in all his skeletal splendor. She remembered the hours she and her new little boarders had boiled those nasty bones, and then rescued them in the rain with Davey Ten and Nick Bonfort, but only Nick then because he didn’t have a last name. Now Davey was acting surgeon on theMercuryand Nick assistant secretary onHMS Victory.Be safe, my lovelies, she thought.
In permanent metal letters, she readGunwharf Rats. There were more little metal plaques with the names of Rats from two years ago to the present. She kissed her finger then ran it lightly across her husband’s name. “Plighting my troth to you was the smartest thing I ever did,” she told her man.
She went downstairs thoughtfully, hopeful that the grand experiment of St. Brendan the Navigator School would continue. She glanced back up the stairs, putting all her trust in Mr. Ferrier to step into the vacant spot. Able wanted nothing more than to teach here. She put her hope in that, too.
She drew her cloak tighter, unwilling to think of Christmas arriving next month, except that her morning sickness should have ended, and she should be feeling their baby move.
On the sidewalk, she turned around to gaze at St. Brendan’s, pleased with what she saw. She thought she heard boys singing “Heart of Oak,” which made her smile. When they were joined by a wonderful baritone, her heart stopped, reconsidered, then started again.
She saw a little knot of six figures passing Bartleby’s Bakery, one considerably taller than the rest, moving at that rollicking pace of men freed from the pitch and yaw of the seafaring life, with legs trying to figure out land again.
“Able? Able!” She picked up her skirts and ran, not caring who saw her legs, only determined to grab that man as soon as she could.
The last few steps were easier because he grabbed her first. She knew it was scandalous, but she wrapped her legs around his hips as he hoisted her up and kissed her soundly. He reeked, he positively reeked, but she didn’t care. His beard scratched her face, but never mind. He was home and he seemed to have all his parts, as well as all his Gunwharf Rats.
“My goodness, better set me down,” she whispered in his filthy ear. “Any constable in Portsmouth would lock me up as a menace to public morals.”
Able hugged her tighter. “If I must,” he said, patting her rump. “You can do this later and no constable will know.”
Decorous again, her skirts where they belonged, she faced her Rats, who were grinning. “You are such a welcome sight.” She noticed Nick for the first time. “Nick! Did the secretary let you leave theVictory?”
“Master Six is persuasive,” he said in that solemn manner she had missed.
She looked them over. Tots had a plaster on his cheek, but only a small one. When Able removed his bicorn, she saw the bandage on his head, low by his right ear. The light was dim, but she saw no blood seeping through. “This is your work, isn’t it?” she asked Davey Ten.
Davey nodded, his pride unmistakable. “We did some fast surgery in a hot place, Mam, but no one’s the worse off.” He grinned. “Not even that nasty-faced Frenchman.”
Able nudged him and he laughed. “We saved his wretched life in spite of him, didn’t we, Davey?” When the others added their laughter, Meridee knew they belonged to a fraternity that she could never join. She knew they would tell her their war stories eventually, but their shared experiences would never be hers. She knew that was right and proper, even though she dreaded every moment they were away, which was its own purgatory. Because they went to war, she could stay home in peace and raise little ones without fear.
She somehow managed to hug all the Rats at least once, standing there in front of the bakery. Their noisy high spirits finally meant the baker himself came out, clad in a nightshirt, ready to complain until he saw who lounged outside his shop at midnight. “Lord bless you all,” he exclaimed, beaming. “I’ll bring over cinnamon buns in a few hours. Good night!”
Held close by her grimy husband, Meridee look around. “Despite everything, you managed to drop off your father, my love?”
His face changed. He slowly shook his head. “Meri, we fought at Trafalgar with the fleet. My father gave his life for mine.” He pulled her close. “I’ll tell you more later.”
In an hour, they were cleaner, but packed back into dirty clothes, except for Able. Mrs. Perry woke up and worked some kitchen miracle that saw them all fed, while Meridee pulled out sheets and blankets and spread them in the sitting room, except for Smitty and Nick, who shared a room upstairs.
Meridee sent Able into the washroom by himself, while she hurried around with Mrs. Perry. He came out in a clean nightshirt, minus the bandage. She stared at him, not minding that his curly hair had been clipped away from around his ear – it would grow back – but startled to see a generous peppering of white hairs among the black ones.
He shrugged. “It was that kind of warfare, my love.”
The Rats’ stories tumbled out, treating Meridee to a hodge podge of two-deckers here and there, the frightening size ofSantísima Trinidad, cannon blasting, dark smoke, the crack of falling masts and spars, the groan of ships under duress that sounded nearly human, the awful sight of men on fire, men sliced in half or clutching their entrails, overheated guns cooking and exploding. She listened, horrified, holding tight to Able’s hand.
“It’s so confusing,” she said into his much cleaner ear as the boys chattered on, needing to talk. She understood that.
“That was Trafalgar,” he told her. “It was ship to ship and devil take the hindmost. Our little admiral would have called it a grand business, had he lived. What loss!”
Gradually the talk petered out and the boys lay down to sleep. Smitty and Nick went upstairs to their room. Meridee helped Able to his feet and took his hand as they walked to their room. She pulled back the coverlets, plumped up his pillow and kissed him after he lay down.
He got up quickly and went next door to look at Ben. She joined him by their son’s crib, watching as he touched their son’s head, almost as a benediction.
Arms around each other’s waists, they walked back to their room. Able lay down with a sigh that went right to Meridee’s heart. She cuddled close, relishing the briny fragrance of him, now that the smoke, tar and fear-sweat were gone. She touched the wound by his ear. “What happened?”
