Page 19 of Miss Whittier Makes a List
Hannah took another deep breath and climbed back into the rigging. Her eyes on the pennant snapping out straight from the topgallant,she clambered up therope, touched the lookout, and hurried down, reaching the deck again to cheers from all hands.
Captain Spark shut his watch.“Pretty good. It can be better, Miss Whittier, but we will let you rest on your laurels for now.”He turned for the gangway.“And nowif you will excuse me, I will return to my cot. Miss Whittier, do stay out of trouble for at least another hour, if you can.”
Only minutes ago, she would have taken offense at his tone. Now, she merely smiled.“Aye, sir. I promise.”
“Sir, perhaps we could include her in the rum ration today?”Mr. Futtrell asked, his eyes lively with good humor.
The captain turned around, his eyes frosty again.“That is the last thing I would recommend for Miss Whittier! Mr. Futtrell, you know rum is for heroes. We will wait on that for this misguided bit of shark chum.”
Futtrell chuckled and returned to his duty on thequarterdeck, and Hannah went back to theafthatch and the pile of old rope that awaited her. Shark chum, indeed, she thought as she picked out the strands. You would not say that ifIwere tall and willowy, with a beautiful face. She sighed and flopped back on the hatch, surrendering to the sun. And why, HannahWhittier, shouldst anything like that matter to thee?
It was foolish, she decided, as she sat up and applied herself more diligently to the oakum. Besides all this, he is so old.
“Beg pardon, miss?”
She looked up to see Trist standing before her, and hoped she had not been talking out loud.“I am almost done with this batch,”she said, indicating the oakum.
“Oh, no, no, it is not that, Miss Whittier.”The little man cleared his throat.“Captain Sir Daniel Spark wishes your company at dinner tonight in the great cabin.”
She remembered her last refusal of the captain and had the good grace to blush. She hesitated, and Trist continued.
“I was to tell you, if you looked indecisive, that he canarrangelive coals, if you prefer, but all the same, he’d like you to eat with him.”
Hannah laughed.“Very well, then! I will take mutton with the captan. When, sir?”
“Fourbells,ma’am.”
“Very well. Will anyone else be there?”
“Oh, yesma’am, the surgeon.”
She remained on deck all afternoon, picking oakum and watching the water. Captain Spark came on deck in midafternoon after his nap,nodded to her, and proceeded to hisquarterdeck, where he remained, hands clasped behind hisback. During the long afternoon,he stared out at sea, roared at the helmsman to pay attention, and then coached the midshipmen in the mysteries of navigation. She tried to listen, but the intricacies of the math involved eluded her, and she was grateful she did not have to suffer such a lesson herself.
As the sun began to slant across the deck and to set the water to dancing with new colors, Hannah went below. Dressing for dinner involved nothing more than changing to the other shirt,which, while still black-and-white checked, was not as faded as the one she had been wearing. She washed her face with her two-inch ration of fresh water and dabbed more vanilla extract behind her ears, then brushed her hair until it crackled about her face like a nimbus.
“Such a bother,”she said into the tiny mirror, as she tamed it down and braided one heavypigtail. Mama had told her once,when she had been in tears about her hair,that someday she would come to appreciate it. Well, that day had not dawned yet, she decided as she left her cabin, nodded to the Marine, and went to Captain Spark’s door.
She knocked.
“Come.”
She entered the room to see the captain and ship’s surgeon seated by the table, drinkingMadeira. They rose when she came closer, and the captain ushered her into a chair at the table. He sat down across from her, and Lease took the other place. Trist set the food before them, and it was the same as she had eaten for several weeks now, only served on rather fine Wedgwood. She smiled.
“Are you weary of ship’s fare yet, Miss Whittier?”the captain asked, noticing her expression.“I hear from my junior officers that you do not care for surprises in your ship’s biscuits.”
“They told you truly,”she said as he picked up his fork.“Sir, can we not say grace?”
The captain put down his fork, and Lease eyed her with a cross between amusement and respect.“Do you really think that an appeal to the Almighty will make it more palatable?”the surgeon asked.
“What? Have you no faith?”she teased.
“None whatsoever,”the surgeon replied, his face quite serious.“And no hope,and precious little charity.”
There was an awkward pause, and then Hannah plunged in.“All the more reason to ask the Lord to bless it. Bow your heads, gentlemen.”
She asked a blessing on the food specifically, and the HMSDissuadegenerally, said amen, and picked up her fork.
They ate in silence at first, then the captain looked up at Hannah, amusement on his face.“Forgive us, Miss Whittier, but we have been so long at sea that the art of dinner table conversation quite eludes us.What should we be speaking of? Affairs of state? The economy of the nation? Ladies’fashions?Price of corn whiskey?What interests Americans?”
