Quintspinner (27 page)

“Packing!” the doctor roared, recovering his wits. “I may be able to save this man’s life yet!”

He flushed the wound with dark rum, and packed it with steamed tobacco and cotton. As a final administration to his patient, he dispensed a strong tincture of henbane for pain, pleased that Edward’s breathing seemed to have become less labored. Throughout it all, Tess stayed, never taking her eyes off of Edward, except for brief glances during which she appeared to be studying the ring she had received from him. And then, as strains of a flute and fiddle had filtered into the room from the open deck, the doctor touched his daughter on her shoulder.

“Let him sleep for now, Tess. In the days ahead he may fester or he may heal. But he’ll not die tonight. Let us get Cassie and Mrs. Hanley, and join the festivities. I’ll have another stay on watch with him for now.”

And with that, they had left Edward and joined the reverie of the night’s music and dance.

William and Smith opened the evening with a foot-stomping jig. Smith kept time on makeshift hand drums–the side of a cask and an over turned bucket–while William led with the melody of his choice. It was a moderately bawdy song and before long several voices rose in chorus, and hands clapped along to the beat. The flute made only thin notes however, and just a few songs into the revelry, William realized the strains of a fiddle had arrived to fill in. An officer from the
Mary Jane
stepped forward with the instrument tucked under his chin and a bow in hand.

Now we have the makings of a real party.
The officer took his cue from William and followed along, alternating from melody to harmony and back again. Once again under the guidance of a waxing moon overhead, with plenty of rum flowing freely in their veins, crew members gave in to the joyful trance of the music; it became invasive, soothing them and flowing over their rough edges, wearing away much of their harbored suspicions and hostile feelings.

Lit almost entirely by moonlight alone, faces took on two-toned shadings of silver highlights and dark shadows, making most individuals in the gathered crowd identifiable only by their shapes and movements. Even so, William noted that the two ships’ crews began to mingle together.
Captain was right.
The man had a sense for such things. He was aloof, as an effective commander had to be, and a hard man to please, but William often found the captain’s thoughts to be wise and insightful. William abruptly abandoned his consideration of the man when a silhouette appeared directly across from where he stood.

It was Tess.

Alluring as he found her in the golden light of day, by moonlight she was breathtaking.
Not so curvy as her darker sister, but plenty there to warm a body and cushion a fellow’s bones,
he reckoned. Glancing down at Smith he saw that he was not the only one to be distracted by the girls’ arrival. His friend’s drumming took on a noticeable flourish, its steady rhythm morphing into a furious and showy display, leaving William and the fiddler hard pressed to keep up. It filled the assembled men with a deep primal recollection, and many sprang to their feet, their arms and legs flapping wildly, their bodies spinning and dancing with boisterous abandonment.

Easily hidden in the merriment of the moment, William allowed himself a leisurely study of Tess. She was clapping her hands along in time, the rhythmic swish of her skirts giving proof of her hips swaying from side to side.

And she was smiling.

William was captivated. During her near constant companionship on the open deck by either Cassie, her father, or by Mr. Graham, he had not seen her show any emotion. Especially not towards him. In fact, day by day, her eyes had seemed increasingly glazed and vacant. But not now. Not tonight. He couldn’t help but wonder what she would be like if she were unfettered by her station in life.

William scanned the bodies standing next to Tess. Cassie stood on her left, and sure enough, on her right stood Dr. Willoughby and Mrs. Hanley. Edward Graham seemed not to be in attendance for the moment. William had heard the man had suffered a serious wound earlier on.
Probably counting his riches lying down in his elegant cabin while he recovers.

William noticed with satisfaction, the unmistakable outline of his father in the crowd. John Robert stood a full head taller than most of the others, and it was easy to see his head bobbing in time to the music as his feet shuffled in a half-time step dance.

The song ended with an explosive cheer from the crowd and just before the next tune could be started, a high pitched wail drifted above the sounds of the rum-soaked company.
The doctor’s son.
William noted that the doctor quickly bowed his head to speak with Mrs. Hanley and then retreated in the direction of his family’s cabin.

“Hey there!” a drunken voice greeted William a little too loudly. It was the
Mary Jane’s
navigator, the man from whom Smith had been learning to plot and read the ship’s charts. The man’s breath was a fetid mix of rot, tobacco, and rum. Even in the dim light William could see a thick rivulet of tobacco juice drool exiting from the corner of his mouth.

“What say ya’ let me have a go on that pipe of yers?” the man slurred. Without bothering to wait for an answer, he grabbed the flute out of William’s hands and held it up to his own slobbering mouth. Repulsed at the thought of ever putting it to his own lips again, William bade a silent and sudden good-bye to his only possession and made no attempt to retrieve it. Much to his surprise, the navigator could play and played reasonably well, given his state of inebriation.

“Keep it,” William told the man with a false note of cheer in his voice. Seeing the look of surprise on the navigator’s face, he clapped the man heartily on the back. “My gift to you.”

“Mr. Taylor!”

William squinted to see the source of the call, although he recognized the voice. Mrs. Hanley waved a hand in a beckoning posture.

“I need yer help, young Sir,” she explained, and grinning widely, she pointed to Mr. Lancaster. The carpenter had been sitting on a small box just behind her. A makeshift crutch lay across his lap.

“Help him up, if ya’ would.”

The craggy carpenter protested. “I don’t need any help. Wasn’t plannin’ on gettin’ up. Not goin’ anywheres, was I? ‘Course not. Not yet anyways.”

“Help him to his feet, Mr. Taylor,” Mrs. Hanley persisted, “an’ catch him if he falls.” She turned to look down at Mr. Lancaster and smiled. “We’re havin’ a dance, Sir. Right here, right now.” Upon hearing this plan, the carpenter was stupefied.

“Wha-? Dance?” He looked truly astonished. “I’ve lost me buggerin’ leg!” he sputtered. “An’ you’ve lost yer mind, woman!”

“An’ it appears
you
have lost yer manners as well as yer foot!” she retorted. “A
lady has
asked ya’ to dance. An’ bein’ as how you’re so focused on yerself, it would be good practice fer yer balance. Well? Are ya’ goin’ to further insult me or are ya’ risin’ to dance?” She held out her hand to him. Mr. Lancaster stared up at her, his jaw sagging open in continued amazement.

“But it’s not proper, a dance between a lady like yerself an’ plain ruffian the likes of me!”

“Nonsense, Mr. Lancaster. As carpenter, you’re of Lieutenant rank, answering to the Captain, and I am house servant to the Doctor. None will object. Help him up, Mr. Taylor,” she repeated firmly.

Supported from behind by William’s hands on his shoulder blades, and the crutch under one arm, Mr. Lancaster stood and appeared confused as to where to place his free hand. Mrs. Hanley had obviously already thought it out.

“If ya’ was to hold tight near my waist, there’d be less risk of ya’ fallin’ down.”

Surprised and himself made shy by her boldness, he nevertheless complied, tentatively placing his calloused hand ever so lightly on the thin material of her dress.

“Ya’ may hang on as is necessary fer yer safety, Mr. Lancaster,” she instructed him. “You’ll find I’m built quite sturdy after all.”

William watched in amusement and couldn’t decide. Was it fear of falling and making a fool of himself, or was Mr. Lancaster taking advantage of a situation that had literally been thrust into his hands? The carpenter had begun the dance with his hands barely in contact with Mrs. Hanley, and progressed to steadying himself by leaning heavily and comfortably into her shoulder and bosom.
And perhaps it’s the rum,
thought William,
but she doesn’t seem to mind.

He caught Tess’s eye and she smiled conspiratorially back at him, as if reading his own thoughts.
Now that I’m relieved of music duty, maybe I could dance.
He looked at the carpenter steadied in a warm embrace, then glanced at Tess.
What an opportunity! Only I’d never be allowed to dance with her.
He watched the carpenter swaying on his remaining foot while Mrs. Hanley steadied him.
Maybe if I was her patient? If only my own ankle sprain hadn’t healed up so damned quickly!

Edward’s survival of his wound was nothing short of amazing to all on board. It was, everyone agreed, a testament to the remarkable skills of Dr. Willoughby. Tess had attempted to resume her place as the primary caregiver in sick bay, but Mrs. Hanley had insisted on continuing to personally carry out her rehabilitation routine with Mr. Lancaster.

“He’s too heavy fer the likes of yerself, Tess,” she scolded. “If he was to topple over, he’d squash ya’ right flat! An’ I’ve plenty of practice with tendin’ to boils an’ rashes an’ such fer these other gents.” She waved a hand in the general direction of the sick bay hammocks. “But that’s another story altogether. Besides,” she added with an approving nod of her head towards Edward’s cabin, “it’s only proper that ya’ be lookin’ after yer man in there.” She grinned at Tess as she concluded the suggestion with another one of her familiar declarations, “There’s always somethin’ what comes from somethin’,” and punctuated it with a wink.

Edward had been moved to the privacy and comfort of his own cabin the morning after his injury. Dr. Willoughby had determined that bleeding from the wound had all but stopped by then, and Edward seemed to be running only a slight fever.

Her father was relieved, almost overjoyed, it seemed to Tess, that her financial security and social position had been resurrected with Edward’s escape from a shadowy death. At her father’s insistence, Tess spent most of her daytime hours at Edward’s bedside, occasionally assisting him with changing position in bed, taking a few steps around the room, and helping him with his meals. In between these activities, Edward slept, and at such times, Tess quietly reflected on her predicament.