Page 5 of Hired by Pirates

“I’m not a doctor,” she said quickly. “Although I’ve probably studied twice as much as he has.”

“Well, he’s not here, and you just did an excellent job. I vote that you are.”

“Seconded,” Simon said automatically. Now that the bleeding had stopped, he was looking less ashen.

A thin sheen of pink touched her cheeks as she scrubbed her hands again. “Sit up, please.”

With a bolt of dull beige muslin, she fashioned a sling that held his arm close against his stomach.

“I want you to keep that sling on, and not move your arm at all for the next several days,” she said sternly, but with a twinkle in her eye.

Astor darted around the corner to what must be the kitchen, coming out with a cup of odd yellowish tea. “Drink this. It will help prevent infection.”

Simon’s head jerked back after he smelled it, but he took the cup with his good hand and drank it quickly with a grimace.

“When you come in tomorrow, I’ll loosen this bandage a little, and give you another dose of the ointment,” Astor said.

She wasn’t just beautiful, she was bewitching. Mesmerizing. Like some sort of goddess or fairy brought to life right from the story books.

Her hand reached up to tap back and forth along her collarbone as her head tilted to the left. “Actually, no. I’d like you to come back around supper time tonight so I can check that a fever hasn’t set in.”

Simon looked at me with wild eyes. “We can’t. We have to set sail immediately. We have…” He hesitated before finishing with, “...an appointment to get to.”

I knew full well that our schedule couldn’t be changed in the slightest, but figured we could worry about that once we were back on the ship.

“I certainly wouldn’t recommend that,” she said, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip. “The biggest risk now is infection. If that takes hold, the wound would have to be reopened and cleaned again. If it took a bad turn, the arm would have to be cut off, which is incredibly dangerous in itself.”

“What’s all this, then?” A short, stocky man in a rather worn dark gray suit came in from the other end of the room.

“Dr. Grenville,” Astor said politely, “I just finished placing thirty stitches across an axe wound.”

“Good job,” he said, but I could see he was eying us up warily. “Did you remember to use the Fletcher blend ointment?”

“No, sir. These men live on a ship, and that blend wouldn’t last in the salty air. I used the Morgensen balm instead.”

She looked so nervous that I wanted to reach out and hold her. Yet I respected how she was speaking up, despite the doctor’s dismissive attitude.

Her eyes were such a soft sky blue, but it was the sharp energy behind them that I was really drawn to. I’d always had a bit of a soft spot for smart women. All women were admirable in their own way. But if she were to set my mind on fire with pointed questions and a quick wit, she’d have me wrapped around her wee finger forever.

As the doctor came closer to inspect the bandage, the stench of cheap wine and a general lack of bathing assaulted my nostrils.

“I was just telling these gentlemen that I’d like them to come back this evening so that I can adjust the bandage, and add another layer of balm.”

The doctor scrunched up his face, then waved his hand dismissively at her. Anger rose within me at the way he was treating her. “Not necessary. Let these men be on their way.”

“But sir, if infection sets in, he’ll lose the arm.”

Simon’s eyes jerked to mine in terror. My brother was also our quartermaster, and the best one of our crew for lock picking, explosives and weapons handling, and any number of other things that he definitely needed two hands for.

“Just keep it clean, and don’t move it for the next day or two,” the doctor said.

“At least a week,” Astor said firmly. “Preferably two. That’s thirty sutures. If you want to live the rest of your life with a somewhat normal arm, you’ll err on the side of caution.”

The doctor walked back to a shelf full of bottles, and unlocked the glass door. Uncorking

a decanter, he took a sip of the clear liquid, which caused him to shudder. “Ah, that’s better.”

He offered the bottle to me, but I waved it away. Not only did it reek like it had been distilled in a horse trough, I didn’t find it necessary to dull the world with drink at nine-thirty in the morning.

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