Page 18 of Miss Whittier Makes a List
“It’s a sight that’s felled strong men, Miss Whittier,”he said. He motioned to Lieutenant Futtrell to help her below.“Perhaps we’ll make a sailor of you yet.”
She shook her head, and then groaned as it began to pound. Captain Sparkturnedhis attention back to the misery on his deck, punishment which he had decreed. The lash whistled and popped and she went gratefully below.
But there were glorious days of sailing, when all the canvas was loaded on and the frigate ran toward home. The humming of the rigging became music to her ears. She watched the sailors climbingabout likemonkeys in thejungle, scampering up rigging that seemed to stretch upward and out of sight,like an Indian fakir’s magic rope.
And then one morning,she set down the everlasting hemp in her hands and started toward the rigging herself. It wasn’t a conscious thought that drew her there like a moth to flame, but more of an involuntary movement, the result of watching others climb up and down the rigging. She knotted hershirtfirmly, so the wind would not whirl it above her head as she climbed, rolled her trouser legs to the knee, then began her ascent.
She kept her eyes ahead, looking steadily at the unoccupied lookout on the mainmast. There was usually a midshipman there, bare feet dangling over the ed, spyglass in hand, but they had all been summoned to the deck by the sailing master for a lesson in shooting the sun. The wind tugged at her hair the higher she climbed, until it was swirling about her face and in her eyes.“Drat and botheration,”she said, wishing she had tied it tighter at the back of her neck.
She reached the lookout and was contemplating her next move when she heard a shout from far below,and made the mistake of glancing down. She gasped and clutched the rope tighter, astounded at the great distance between her and the deck. Lieutenant Futtrell stood far, far below, pointing up at her and waving hisarms about. Then others were looking at her. She clung to the rope and stared at their upturned faces. As she watched in growing terror, the wind picked up and the mast began to sway. She closed her eyes and wished herself back on the aft hatch, safely picking oakum. Climbing the rigging had looked so easy from the deck.
As she watched LieutenantFuttrell’santics, he picked up the speaking trumpet.“Come down right now, before youhurtyourself,”he shouted to her.
It sounded like excellent advice. Hannah gulped and tried to move her feet. They would not budge, no matter how hard her mind willed it. She clung tighter to the rigging and prayed for rescue. As she clutched the rope, someone darted for the gangway and tumbled below.
In a few minutes, Captain Spark hurried on deck,stuffing his shirt into his pants,and then running his hands through his curly hair, anxious eyes on the mast. Hannah closed her eyes.“Oh,heavens,not him!”she whispered. He had been up for the early watch and had retired for a nap. She tried to move her feet again, but they were anchored like glue to the ropes. She dared herself to look down again, to see Captain Spark climbing steadily toward her.“Hannah Whittier, thee is an idiot,”she said out loud.
Quickerthanshe would have credited, Spark climbed the rigging. He keptcoming, as though to travel right over the top of her, andstopped only when he was standing on the same ropes, his body shielding hers from a fall.He as breathing heavily, and his breath ruffled the hair on her neck. She waited for the ax to fall.
He said nothing at first, only wrappedonearm through the rigging, gathered herhairback into a manageable handful and retied the string at her neck.“It helps to see what you’re doing, Miss Whittier, if you have fancies of climbing the rigging.”
“I am so sorry,”she managed to gasp out through tightly clenched teeth.“I had no idea I would be so scared.”
He didn’t move, but rested his chest against her back until she relaxed a little.“You can’t fall with me here,”he said finally.“Just loop yourarm through the rigging and listen to me. Do it now.”
She forced herself to do as he said, afraid to look at him. She shivered and clenched her jaw tight to keep her teeth from chattering.
When he spoke, his tone was conversational, and she was grateful right down to her toes.“As Iseeit, we have three choices,Miss Whittier. I can have my men rig a block andtackleand we can lower you down, but that would be quite humiliating,don’t you agree?”
She nodded, still shivering. He took her by the shoulder and gave her a little shake, then rested his hand beside her neck. His fingers were warm.
“I could alsoturnyou around right now, and you could put your arms about my neck and your legs around my waist, and I could carry youdown. But you will doubtless agree that such a maneuver lacks in dignity for both of us. You’re a bit of a scamp,but I do have a position to maintain on theDissuade,my dear Miss Whittier.”
He was silent a moment more. Hannah cleared her throat, wondering if she could make her voice work any better than her legs.“Thethirdway, sir?”
“I go back down to the deck by myself, and you followme.”
“But ... suppose I fall?”shewhispered, looking at him at last.
His face was so close to hers that she could see interesting black specks in his pale eyes.“You won’t fall, Miss Whittier. I believe you aremade of much sterner stuff than that. Anyone who survives two days on a grating is not going to succumbso easily. ByGod,I did not realize it before, but your eyes are more yellow than brown. I had acat like that once. Named herLady Amber.”
She giggled in spite of herself, and relaxed her death’s hold on the rigging.
He took his hand off herneck.“Much better, Miss Whittier. Bear this in mind, my dear. When you get to the bottom on your own, I’m going to send you right back up and then down again, and I’llprobably have my watch outtiming you. Which is it to be?”
She raised her chin and looked him squarely in the eyes.“I ... I will come down by myself, sir.”
“An excellent choice, Lady Amber.”He smiled at her then,the wrinkles deepening around his eyes. He sniffed the air around her ear.“What is that wonderful odor, MissWhittier? I can’t help noticing it at such close quarters.”
She blushed.“My lavender water sank with theMolly Claridge,sir, but Cookiehad some extract of vanilla that I am sure he is not missing.”
He threw back his head and laughed.“Not only are you a rascal, but you are a sneaky one, at that. I like it, Miss Whittier. I can probably locate another bottle in my personal stores, if Cookie cuts up stiff. Seeyou on deck, lively now.”
Without another word,he was gone, scrambling down the riggings, a veteran of twenty years at sea. Her hands tightened as the ropes shook during his descent but she did not clutch them with theprospectof never letting go. Shetook a deep breath and looked across the yard to the foremast where three sailors stood,carelessly balanced on the foot ropes, ready to trimsail. There was no ridicule on their faces as they watched her, and she realized that at one time they had all been where she was now. As she watched, one of the men blew her a kiss then clasped both hands over his head in a triumphal gesture.
She nodded to him and started down the rigging, slowly at first, groping for each new foothold, then more confidently, as each rope was right where it should have been. By the time she reached the deck, she was breathing regularly again.
The men in the sails cheered, and Hannah grinned. Captain Spark pulled out his watch and snapped it open.“Let’s see how fast you can do it again, Miss Whittier.”
