Page 40 of Miss Whittier Makes a List
Captain Spark slept for two days as theMarialaRainha,a fishing smack from Terceira,plowed a course for Lisbon, some nine hundred miles distant. Hannah found an old mattress from one of the forward cabins and with Adam’s help, rolled him onto it. He made no comment beyond a stifled groan and another lapse into unconsciousness. When he was conscious, he seemed intent on what was happening inside his body. She held his hand, fearing this inward preoccupation and praying that it did not require a doctor. And then one morning he sat up and demanded something to eat.
“We have lots of tunny, and it’s not getting a moment younger,”she said.
“Why then, I’ll have some, Miss Whittier,”he said. He made a face.“You would think Mr. Futtrell could have commandeered something with a keg of salt beef and sea biscuit on board.”
“Oh, you are a difficultpatient!”she teased.“You are complaining, and here we are under all sail and proceeding toLisbon, where I trust we will see no more ugly customers.”
He nodded and rubbed at the stubble on his chin.“Only a courtmartial board, Lady A, and they can be decidedly unpleasant.”
She stared at him.“Surelytheewill ... you will not be castigated for losing theDissuade.”
“It is standard procedure. You still remember the dispatch you memorized?”
She nodded.
“Good! That will help. I only wish I had the original.”
“But you do,”she said and tugged at the blanket around his waist.
He grinned.“Hannah! Mind your manners! Ship’s discipline!”
“Oh, hush,”she said, blushing. She pushed on the bandage and was rewarded with the crackle of paper.“Dr. Lease bound it around your waist.”
“ByGod,so he did,”Spark replied, fingering the dispatch layeredbetween the muslin strips. He leaned his head against the gunwale, looking suddenly old.“And all he had in that medicine satchel was gunpowder,I suppose.”
“I suppose,”she echoed, her voice soft.“Why did he do it, Daniel?”
The captain touched her face.“You have never called me that before.”
“I was forward. Forgive me.”
“You are charming, and I won’t forgive you.”He let his hand drop to his lap, serious again.“I don’t know why he did it. Maybe some people have to beat themselves over the head with their sins, real or imagined. I am not numbered among that sensitive lot.”He gazed into her eyes.“Put that on your list, Hannah. A rascal is always a better bedfellow than a man with a guilty conscience.”
She was silent, looking at her hands.“I wish I had never mentioned that list,”she said finally, and got up from the deck where she sat. She quietly left the lower deck, even as he called to her to return.
The ate tunny for a solid week—boiled, stewed, soupy, fricasseed, roasted, poached, andsautéed, while Mr. Futtrell andAdam, their eyes almost gluey from lack of sleep, stood watch and watch about and Captain Spark grew stronger. He could open both eyes now, and wiggle his fingers without flinching, and when he laughed at something she said he did not have to hold his side. She would have shaved him,but no one on board had a razor.
TheMaria la Rainhahad been captured at the end of its voyage, and the water barrels were all but empty. The sailors and crew went on quarter rations immediately and began an elaborate deception to make sure Captain Spark had plenty to drink. Hannah was touched by their solicitude, and by the way that at some point during the day or night, everyone on board managed to wander by the lower deck to see that he was getting better. I wonder how I could have thought them rough,barbaricmen, she asked herselfwhen she came on deck one night,relieved by a sailor who insisted that Captain Spark was well enough for her to leave his side.
Mr. Futtrellwas standing the watch. He motioned to her to give him a progress report and then invited her to join him.“Soon we’span>ll be inLisbonand this adventure will be over,”hesaid.“Do you think you’lltry to go toCharlestonthen?”
Hannah smiled to herself.“Charlestonseems like another world, Mr. Futtrell.”
“It isn’t. You can pick upyour lifewhere you left off.”
She couldn’t answer him. She knew she could never return to what she was before. Perched on the railing, herarmlooped through the rigging, she examined her character and realized with a shock how much she had changed. I know that I can face the worst kind of trouble, she thought. I also know better than to let Hosea or Papa bully me into marriage, no matter how good their intentions or how good the man,if he is not right for me. I also know that I cannot put people in lists or categories. We are all governed by so many different circumstances. I hope this will make me more tolerant of others and leave me flexible enough to see good, no matter how well disguised it may appear.
It was not something to tell Mr. Futtrell, of course.“What about you,sir?”she asked.“What will you do?”
“Oh, I hope to ship out again on another raider with Captain Spark, if he’ll have me.”His face clouded over for a minute.“Of course, it won’t be the same without Mr. Lansing on the gun deck, but that is war.”
She considered him. The night was dark, so he could never see blushes.“Mr. Futtrell, do you think Captain Spark might be induced to leave the sea?”
He stared at her.“I think he would sooner sprout wings and fly toMadagascar, MissWhittier.”He groped in his inarticulate fashion to explain.“On land, he’s just the younger brother to a baronet who’s pretty well managed to ruin the family.”
“Dear me,”she said.
Mr. Futtrell was just warmingto his subject.“I’ve seen him in drawing rooms and even at Almack’s, ma’am,and it’s not a pretty sight! All he does is pace about and wishhimself elsewhere.”He peered at her in the darkness.“The sea becomes a bit addictive, MissWhittier. Perhaps you’ve noticed?”
