Page 24 of Miss Whittier Makes a List
He put the glass to his eye again.“I think it is what you Yankees call a right whale, MissWhittier,”he said, unable to keep the laughter from hisvoice.“The Frenchies think they are so clever, but even they cannot spout.”
She sighed with disappointment.“And now you will tease me,”she muttered at last.
“I?”he asked, all innocence.“Oh, never,ma’am. My first ship sighting was an island, as I recall. My fellow midshipman named it the H.M.S.Puerto Rico.”
She smiled up at him charitably andtookthe glass back.“Very well, sir. I shall do better.”
He started his descent.“You are already doing wonderfully well, Miss Whittier. Are all Yankee girls so useful?”
“As to that,I cannot tell. Mama always told me,‘Hannah, thee must make a difference.’“Shefrowned and thenswallowed suddenly, thinking of her mother.
“Well, you have,”he said, then paused and fumbled in his pocket. He took out two large pieces of ship’s biscuit.“From Captain Spark.”
She thanked him and munched the biscuits happily,swinging her feet over the edge of the platform,and wondering why she ever worried about the swaying of the mast,which was now only a pleasant diversion now.
When she descended to the deck again as the sun was setting, she shook her head at Captain Spark’s dinner invitation.“I am too tired to be sparkling company.”she apologized.“Besides that, it will take me an hour or two to unsnarl all these silly curls of mine.”
The captain bowed, and picked up a handful of her hair that spilled in curls around her neck.“I could do that for you sometime, Lady Amber,”he said softly.“I know you do not credit it, but I am a man of infinite patience.”
She stepped away from him in sudden shyness, and he let go of her hair.
“Is patience on your list?”he added,smiling at her confusion.
She nodded and dated below deck,wondering what had ever possessed her to mention that dratted list. Ah, but I have long since removed thee from any consideration since you do notlike children, swear to excess, drinktoo much, are generally blasphemous, and are not engaged in a profession designed to quiet the fears of a wife. And thee is vastly old, thirty at least. So there, sir. She was asleep almost before she climbed the gun.
Hannah watched for days, gradually extending her time aloft until she could manage for most of the day. Captain Spark, while not saying anything about her service,made good use of his midshipmen, sending one below withMr.Lansing to practice laying the guns onto a target, and sending the other to follow Mr. Futtrell and study the setting of the sails. As she watched from her perch, the second lieutenant drilled his topmen over and over in the prompt reefing of sails to make them battle-ready and less vulnerable to enemy fire.
Captain Spark remained on thequarterdeckwith the third midshipman, the two of them shooting the sun with his sextant,and then spreading out the charts to determine landfall. She watched all this with interest from her perch above the deck.
Adam Winslow climbed up once to sit with her.“I am off duty, Hannah,”he explained.“Mr. Lansing released us from the gun deck, and I am glad of it.”He nudged her shoulder.“Hannah, is thee enjoying thyself?”
Shesmiledat her lifetime friend.“More than I would admit to thee!”
He nodded.“And why not,I ask? The men talk about thee and wonder if thee is ever out of sorts. I tell them no, that thee was born with a sunny disposition.”He took her hand then.“But we have to get out of here, Hannah.”
“I know,”she agreed, her voice soft.“Thee has to return to school, and I still would like to seeCharleston. But how can we do it?”
It was on the afternoon of the fourth day that she sighted the French frigate. She was idly scanning the horizon, to the north and east when she spotted the ship. She held her breath to further still the movement of the telescope, and trained it on the top mast of the distant ship where the pennant flew.
“Drat!”she whispered to herself. The day was calm and the pennant drooped limply from the topgallant.“Blow, winds,”she ordered,and to her extreme gratification the wind picked up and the pennant streamed out straight as an arrow from the mast. She took a deep breath. It was the tricolor of Napoleon’sFrance.
She kept the glass trained on the ship and watched in growing excitement as the frigate swung gracefully about. TheDissuadehad been spotted at that moment, too.“Oh, God.”she breathed, and slammed the telescope together, clipping it onto one of Captain Spark’s extra belts that wrapped around her waisttwice.
“Sail-ho,”she screamed to the deck.“It isFrance!”
Futtrell, scarcely breathing heavy, was beside her in a moment’s time, carrying his own glass. He looked where she pointed.“By God, Miss Whittier, it is theBergeron,that gave us such trouble in theWindward Islands.”
He leaned over the railing.“Bergeron,sir, damn them!”he called to Captain Spark, who stood in thequarterdeckriggings already, his midshipman’s glass pointed to the northeast.
“All hands!”Spark roared to the bosun.“Beat to quarters.”
“Come, MissWhittier,”ordered Futtrell,his face alive with excitement as the Marine drummer boy began to pound his urgent message.
“You first,”she said.“I think you need to get to the deck first.”
“I do,”he said, already descending.“I’ll besending up my topmen on these lines. They’ll run right over you, but don’t be afraid. Hurry down, miss.”
Her heartin her throat, she began her descent as the sailors were coming up the rigging.“Pardon,miss,”each man said as he raced past her to a position on the footropes. When the last man had passed her she scrambled to the deck and made herself small against the aft hatch.
