Page 41 of Miss Whittier Makes a List
She thought of those glorious days under full sail, perched in the lookout, barefoot, wearing canvas trousers and a loose shirt. She sat now in the dress Madame Aillet had given her, covered with a longshirtone of the Marines had removed from his own back when he noticed her shivering that first night as they fledTerceira. Soon I will be dressed properly again, she thought, but I can never forget how nice it was to be barefoot on a sunnydeck,the wind in my face, listening to the rigging hum.
“Yes, I suppose it is addictive,”she replied.
“Captain Spark will die before he willgive up the sea.”
She found a pair of shears in a forward cabin and cut the captain’s hair one morning while Adam snored on the mattress and Mr. Futtrell trod the deck above with firm footsteps. She had no comb, so she fingered his curls out as straight as she could, and made a good attempt.“You know, you could go on deck and relieve Mr. Futtrell, I believe,”she whispered, her lips close to his ear so as not to awaken Adam.
I could,”he agreed,“but it is good for Futtrell to feel the full strain of command. It is an importantpartof his nautical education that I will not deprive him of.”
“He has done well, Daniel,”she reminded him as she gathered the shorn curls into acorner.
He took her hand.“So have you,my dearest Hannah,”he said, and tugged her closer.“I think I will never forget this voyage.”
“Nor I,”she replied, suddenly shy. She closed her eyes and leaned forward for his kiss, even as she told herself not to.
It never came. From the mainmast came the cry,“Land-ho! Mr. Futtrell, we have raisedLisbon!”
“Damn!”said Spark as she drew away. He tugged her close again and his lips justgrazedhers.“Damn,”he saidagain, and it was more of a caress than a curse.
She pulled back then.“I don’t understand you, sir. You practically kill yourself to gettoLisbonand now listen to you! I do not pretendtounderstand men.”
He smiled,but there was a bleakness in his eyes now.“My dearest Hannah Whittier, my sortof proper Quaker miss, I have discovered to my great chagrin that I really do love you, want you beyond all bounds of propriety, and yearn for you like a mooncalf. Damn! And now we have raisedEuropeand my life is not my own anymore. Neither is yours.”
“What do you mean, sir?”she asked.
“You are probably about to find yourself at the center of an international incident, Miss Whittier,”he said as he struggled to his feet, draping the blanket about his shoulders. He leaned on her and then grasped the deck above.“Soon there will be ambassadors, and ministers of state, and accusations hurled about and ....”
“Not from me, Daniel,”she said quietly.
“NorI,”he said.“Just tell me that you love me. It’s not enough, but it will do until I can get a morefirmcommitment. And I will, Hannah.”
She opened her mouth to speak when the lieutenant of Marines hurtled down the gangway.“Sir, Mr. Futtrell requests your presence on deck, and I am to help you.”
He was gone then, with a backward glance that seemedtothrough her like a hot poker. I do not know if Ilove you, she thought as she returnedhis gaze. You are stilltoo old, and you will not give up the sea for me, and there is this matter of our nationality. If I consider all these objections and still love you, I am a bigger fool than any of us thought.
Chapter Twelve
I believe that I will soak and soak until my skin is wrinkled, and still smell of tunny, Hannah thought as she sat in the hip bath in Lisbon’s American Consulate. The consul’s wife had brought in lavenderbathsalts, and then verbena and lily of the valley, and they had even changed the water once, but Hannah still smelled fishy.
“MissWhittier, you must put the best face upon this,”said the woman as Hannah wrapped herself into a towel.
“Yes, by all means! At least I did not drop into a tanner’s vat or irritate a skunk,”Hannah teased.“And my hands and feet are very soft from all that fish oil.”
“I am sure that the essence will fade,”assured the woman,with no indication that she appreciated Hannah’s joke.
“L’eau de poisson,”Hannah said.“I do not think it will overtake rosewater or patchouli as the scentdu jour, except among cat lovers.”
The woman managed a grimace that Hannah charitably called a smile, and went to the door.“I am sure my maid has left something on the bed that will fit you,”she said.“When you are dressed,please come downstairs to the bookroom. My husband says that he has more questions.”
Hannah suppressed a sigh and turned to the bed, sorting through the clothing until she found a chemise that appeared to be her size. She tugged on the smallest petticoat, and was chagrined to see that it was toolarge.If I ever had a womanly figure, I have lost it on my diet of tunny and ship’s biscuit, she thought as she gazed into the mirror. And horrors, I have never had so many freckles! She satcross-leggedon the bed, refusing to go any farther. If I find some clothes, I will only be subjected to more questions in the bookroom, she thought, her mind high on rebellion.
“I have told thee everything I know,”she said out loud, and flopped back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling.“Thee cannot squeeze any more blood out of this Quaker turnip.”
She folded herarms across her chest, scrutinized the ceiling, and blamed Adam Winslow for her current difficulties. As soon as Captain Spark had been taken off the fishing vessel on a stretcher, Adam leaped from the ship and demanded to see the American consul. Before she could protest, she found Adam and herself occupying a litter on its way to the consulate.
She would like to have shunned Adam for this betrayal, but it was difficult to overlook someone sitting knee to knee with her. She made herself as tall as she could and fixed him with a stare that would have wrung a cry of ill usage from a sculpture.“Adam, what fly was buzzing in thy brain when thee thought to bring in the American consulate?”she demanded finally.
He returned her stare for stare.“Don’t be a dunce, Hannah! I was thinking I would like to get home,”he declared in round tones. He stopped, skewered by her outraged expression, and slumped forward, exhausted.“Captain Spark has the dispatch, and we ....”
