Page 17 of Miss Whittier Makes a List
The crews drilled the betterpartof the morning, exercising the guns faster and faster until the men were drenched in sweat that dropped onto the deck, turning thesand dark. She wanted to go up on deck, where the air was fresh, but that would meannavigating across the gun deck,with the men working so feverishly. Hannah remained where she was.
She was joined by Andrew Lease, who nodded to her and leaned against the bulkhead beside her. He smelled pungently of oil of cloves. She sniffed the air, grateful for a smell besides sweating men, and the ever-present bilge. He waved his hands in front of her.
“I broke a bottle in the pharmacy,”he said.“I thought it was time to inventory my medicine.”He sighed.“Not that much of it will do any good when the guns go off in earnest.”
“You are so sure that will happen?”she asked,her voice low.
“It’s only a matter of time.”He looked at his hands again, the veins standing out in high definition, a surgeon’s hands.“And then Igo towork.”
She looked at him, startled at the sadness in his voice.“Why do you dothis, Mr. Lease?”she asked. It was rude question to ask abrief acquaintance, but she could not help herself.
He glanced at Hannah, but his eyes didn’t seem to notice her.“It’s the perfect career for a man who wishes he were dead, my dear.”He touched her under the chin, leaving the smell of cloves as he went back down the companionway.“Maybe this cruise I will get lucky.”
Chapter Six
Pushed along by the prevailing winds, theDissuadesailed steadily on a course toward England. Hannah peeled great quantities of dead skin from her arms and legs and as far as she could reach on her back, and admired her golden tan, which wasbetterthan despairing over the loss of a ladylike complexion. She did not miss the confinement of her Quaker bonnet, with its long wings, like blinders on acarriagehorse. The abandonment of corsets she suffered without a backward glance.
There were even moments, sitting on the deck crosslegged and barefooted, when she was perfectly at peace with the life that had been thrust on her. True, her first crunched weevil had sent her flying topside to lean over the railing, to the amusement of the junior officers’mess. She still held her breath until Captain Spark had taken his sip of his first morning cup of coffee, and pronounced it fit to drink.When she lay in her hammock at night, swinging idly over the great gun below her, she still agonized over what her parents must be going through. For a few moments, she would be wild to be home, and then the moment would pass, and she would remember the pleasure of the wind on her face, and the feel of the white deck under her bare toes.
She entered into the life of the commerce raider as far as she was able, secretly pleased that Captain Spark found her useful. After that first gunnery practice, when she had peeled enough potatoes to get back into Cookie’s reluctant good graces, she had been summoned on deck by a peremptory command from the captain.
Hannah hurried up the gangway. The captain pointed to the afterhatch and she sat down, mystified. He nodded then, andthe bosun’s mate, grinning from ear to ear, deposited a large pile of old rope at her feet. Puzzled, she looked up to the quarterdeck.
“That, Miss Whittier, is oakum. It will be your task to separate the strands and place them in that sack.”
Doubtfully, she took up a piece of rope and began to unwind it.
“Excellent!”Captain Spark said.“When you have finished, there is always more. You ould be amazed at the amount of rope we go through.”
“Captain, tell me ...”she began as she worked.
“What do we use it for?”he asked, finishing her thought.“When we spring a leak, we patch it with oakum. It has a thousand uses, I suppose, but that is the one we are fondest of.”
She found herself observing Captain Spark from her usual perch on the aft hatch as she sat, day after day, picking oakum. He never sat down on deck, or even leaned against the railing, but ramrod straight, paced his quarterdeck, king of all he stared at. His eyes were often on the sails, and even more often on the brooding cannon below on the gun deck, which were exercised more and more often, the closer they came toEngland, and the dangers of a world at war for twenty years.
The hint of war came rushing to her the first morning they ran out the guns and practiced with live ammunition. Herheartin her mouth, she made herself small against the angle of the main deck and the quarterdeck and watched in terrified fascination as the guns boomed, the ship heeled to one side with the force of the discharge, then righted itself.
The men worked in silence for the most part, so they could hear the shouted orders of Lieutenant Lansing, who commanded the gun deck. There was only the screech of the gun trucks as the cannon were wheeled out to fire, and back to reload, and the sound of the explosion. The broadsides were painful almost, with the starboard guns and then the portguns roaring off together. Even worse, to Hannah’s way of thinking, was whenLansingordered his crews to fire as soon as they reloaded. The continuous roll of thunder as the guns belched fire set her whole body vibrating and her ears tingling in agony.
While the guns were roaring and the ship was heeling crazily from side to side,the lieutenant of Marines sent his detachment of men into the riggings with their muskets, where they clung to the lines, aimed, and fired at imaginary Frenchmen.
Accidents were an inevitablepartof practice—powder boys tripping on the gun ring bolts as they ran with the cloth bags of powder; fingers crushed from a moment’s carelessness in the hypnotic rhythm of swab, load, tamp, and fire. AndrewLeasewas always there, a canvas bag ofrudimentary medications and bandages slung over his shoulder, to help those in pain on the gun deck. He worked swiftly d surely, his face set, his eyes calm, then sent them back to their posts.
She had so many questions, but there was no one to ask. The surgeon spent most of the time on the lower deck in the pharmacy. In the evenings, he often stood on the coveted weather side of the quarterdeck with Captain Spark, conversing softly.When he did come onto the main deck during the day, Lease never failed to stop and talk with her, inquiring after her health, asking how she did, rather like they sat together over tea in a drawing room. She could only sigh after he left and continue picking at the endless rope,and wondering at the air of sadness he wore like a cloak.
Hannah kept her own counsel for the first time in her life. There was no one to giggle with, or share secrets, so she was silent for the most part,an observer. She began to anticipate the bells and the soft splash as the officer of the watch dropped the log in the water, then watched its speed to determine knots per hourbefore hauling it in. Even the twittering of the bosun’s pipe resolved itself into distinct orders as plainly understood by her as by the crew that assembled to receive them, or carry them out.
She came to dread Fridays, when the bosun, at the command of the lieutenant of Marines, would pipe all hands on deck for floggings. To her way of thinking, the infractions were so minor: spittingonthe deck; oversleeping when called on watch; exceeding the daily fresh water ration of one gallon per man. Eyes wide, scarcely breathing, she watched as the offender,shirtremoved, was tied by the hands to the rigging.
The bosun took the cat-o’-nine tails out of a red bag and flourished them beforegettingdown to the business. As crew and officers watched in silence, the lash camedown quickly and thoroughly, turning the malefactor’s back crimson. She watched in horror, forgetting to breathe almost, and then gulping air until she became light-headed.
It was on the tip of her tongue to protest.She glanced at the captain, standing tall in full uniform with his brother officers, his face impassive. He was watching her, too, as if expecting an outburst. She closed her mouth into a firmline and wished that the ship would stop spinning about. Dizzy and sick at heart, she watched as the sailor’s comrades cut him down, sluiced him off with saltwater, and replaced him with another offender. He took his ten lashes with little gasping noises.
But she was the one making the noises. The ship seemed to whirl faster and faster until allshe could hear was one continuous lashing after another. Hannah tried to get up from her customary perch on the aft hatch and make her way silently below deck, but her feet wouldn’t move. In another moment, someone pushed her head between her knees and held it there.
“Now stay that way until you feel more the thing,”said Captain Spark, his hand on her head. When she finally nodded, he released his grip.
Hannah sat upcarefully;waiting for the verbal flogging Spark was so capable of administering.Instead,his eyes were kind as he looked at her.
