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CHAPTER 9
What time is
it?
Anne sat up shock-still
in the hanging cot, still in her dress. After her argument with
Frederick, and their somewhat successful rapprochement, she had
decided to rest her eyes while her husband took his nightly stroll
about the quarterdeck. She had not intended to fall asleep, for
she still had to pay her nightly visit to the Sick Bay. But fallen
asleep she had, and with the cabin lit only by a candle she had
no idea of the o'clock. No matter - she could not fail in her
duty to those poor unfortunates.
Anne was still unsettled
by the argument with her husband, their first since their wedding.
It was foolish to believe that they would always live in marital
bliss - a quarrel had been inevitable - but now that it had occurred
Anne was hurt more than she had expected. Frederick had been
so angry - so unreasonable. Despite his claims to the contrary
she felt he was jealous of Dr. Maturin. It was troubling to see
again this unpleasant side of Frederick's character; his unfounded
envy of Mr. Elliot had certainly delayed them from coming to
an understanding in Bath. Did not he trust her by now?
His angry tongue
was a disconcerting surprise. How had he been able to conceal
it from her for all this time? Had she made a mistake in marring
him? Had Lady Russell been right?
No. Frederick had apologized to her most
completely, most sincerely. He loved her, as much as she loved
him. But what was she to do should this issue arise again? Should
she give up the company of Dr. Maturin? But if she did, would
not the next demand be more unreasonable? Anne felt alone; there
was no one to confide in, to offer counsel.
Anne climbed out
of the wonderful sleeping machine and put on the wrap that was
lying on the chair. She let herself out of the room and looked
about the cabin. As she expected, it was empty; Frederick was
on the quarterdeck. Holding the wrap tightly about her dress
- failing to put back up her loosened hair - Anne left the cabin.
Giving only the briefest of nods to the waiting sentry, she made
her way in the darkness to the stairs to take her below decks.
Just as she reached the steps, a shadowy figure arose from below.
"Oh! Pardon,
Miz Wentworth - I didn't see you there…"
Anne recognized
Mr. Lauck, a messmate of Mr. Utley. "That is quite all right,
Mr. Lauck - I am just on my way to visit your friend in the Sick
Bay."
"That's right
kind o' you, missus. Good evenin'."
Anne regained control
of her beating heart - Lauck had startled her - and continued
below decks.
Frederick prowled
the windward side of the quarterdeck, working out his frustration.
The disagreement with Anne was painful - more so because he had
lost his temper. Worse was that the issue still lay undecided
between them. Frederick was aggrieved that Anne thought his motivation
for insisting she have an escort was jealousy. No, it is not
so! It is perfectly reasonable to expect that the only woman
on board a ship in the middle of the ocean with 256 males should
have an escort - damn it, call it what it is - protection! Frederick
could not be sure of every man on board - that was impossible.
Why take chances?
Yet - was he jealous
of Dr. Maturin? With a sinking realization he recognized that
he might have given at least the appearance of it. But
that was foolish! He knew Anne was devoted to him; he was certain
of it. Yet, Maturin was an educated man - a clever man. Anne,
being so well read, obviously enjoyed his company and his conversation.
He was a mere sailor.
Damnation! Was he
not Captain of the Laconia? When he gave an order, should
it not be obeyed?
Yet - he could not
bear to hear her weep. It tore the very soul out of him. Anne,
a baronet's daughter, had given up so much to be with him. Could
she not see that all he wanted was to make her time on board
easy?
Easy - she had forgiven
him so easily. Why was he finding it so hard to let this matter
rest? When would he finally master his unpardonable temper?
But she needed an
escort…!
Round and round
Frederick's thoughts flew, with no hope of a resolution.
Anne knew that the
mess deck would be full of sleeping sailors. She moved down the
stairs as quietly as she could. With her foot on the bottom step
she beheld a sea of hammocks, swaying slowly in rhythm with the
ship. Only a few dim lanterns lit the scene; it was imperative
that she walk carefully, least she disturb someone.
Anne moved towards
the starboard wall.
Pyke stirred. He
knew he was to report on deck for the watch, but the port had
proved too temping. Putting down the nearly empty bottle, he
drunkenly made his way to the stairs that would take him up to
the mess deck.
He was late, he
dimly knew, and moved as quietly as he could. At the top of the
steps, he heard a sound. The sergeant-at-arms? Concealing
himself in a patch of darkness he saw that the source of the
noise was Lauck, heading upstairs. Pyke waited until Lauck was
out of sight - he did not trust his messmates.
But his progress
was interrupted again; this time Lauck was speaking to someone.
It took him a moment to realize that the voice belonged to a
woman - Wentworth's woman. Returning to his hidey-hole, he watched
her descend the stairs like a ghost.
Where's she going?
Hair down, cloak wrapped around her, sneaking like she's afraid
o' being seen. Of course, she's to meet her lover - that Doctor-guest
she's been spendin' time with. Aye…creeping like a cat.
Lord, she's a handsome enough whore! Maybe she's lookin' for
somethin' better, eh? Aye, I've got somethin' you want, woman…
Anne had just reached
the wall when she was seized from behind. One hand covered her
mouth as another encircled her waist. The shock of being assaulted
froze Anne's mind; she could not make a sound.
Next to her ear
she could make out a male voice drunkenly mumbling vile things.
The smell of port and infrequent bathing brought Anne to her
senses. She began struggling and tried to scream. Her assailant
seemed to anticipate her reaction and slammed her head against
the wall. The blow stunned Anne into insensibility.
Through her pain
and nausea, Anne had the impression she was being carried/dragged
down steps into an even darker world. She became aware of a damp
aroma before she was tossed into a room. She fell onto a strange
floor; while firm it was not as hard as a deck should be, and
it was uneven. It was as if the carpenter had not planed the
boards before nailing them to the floor.
Free of her attacker,
she began to move backwards on her hands and feet. Within a moment
she was against a wall - she was trapped. Terrified, her clearing
eyes beheld in the gloom a shadowy figure in the entrance of
the room, his drunken voice filling her ears.
"Goin' ta meet
your lover, were ya? Cap'n ain't much in the sack, is he? None
o' those stiff pricks are. What ya needs is a real man, lovie
- I got want ya want."
He took a swig from
a bottle. Anne tried to clear her head enough to yell, but still
no sound came. The pain in her head was excruciating. She again
felt the man's hands on her arms, her body. N…no…must
stop him…must… She reached down deep and swung
her hand as hard as she could. The resulting shock running up
her arm and the sound of the crack of palm against cheek were
incredibly satisfying. Her triumph only lasted an instant - the
return blow was harder than the first one. Anne saw stars. At
first her ears were filled with thunder, which was slowly replaced
by a rhythmic sharp sound - a barking dog? When she could
see again the shadow was above her, hand held high to strike
her again…
Radle was worried.
Two bells into the First Watch and Pyke was nowhere to be seen.
Not that he liked the lubber - truth be told he despised the
lazy sot. But the man was a messmate and his responsibility.
He hoped the fool would show up before the bo'sun got wise. He
could see Wentworth pacing up and down the quarterdeck. Radle
worked his way further up the forecastle. No need to call his
attention over - he might notice that the crew was short-handed.
Finally a welcomed
face. "Lauck!" he hissed. "Any sign o' Pyke?"
"Naw, nobody
- 'cept maybe Miz Wentworth."
"Miz Wentworth?
Where's she goin' this time o' night?"
"Told me she
was for the Sick Bay."
"Who was for
the Sick Bay?" Eades was just coming up the companionway.
"Keep your
voice down."
"Who did you
say was goin' to the Sick Bay?"
Lauck answered,
"Miz Wentworth."
"When did you
see her?"
"Just now,
maybe a couple minutes ago."
"Well, she
ain't there. I just come from there, seeing how Utley's doing."
"Look, Eades;
I tell ya I saw Miz Wentworth and she told me…"
"Belay that,"
Radle got their attention. "Eades, you say you just come
from the Sick Bay?"
"Aye."
"And you didn't
see Miz Wentworth, or come across her?"
"No; you think
somthin' happened to her?"
Radle thought hard.
Lauck sees Miz Wentworth goin' to the Sick Bay…talks
to her. But Eades just come from there, an' there's no sign o'
her… An' Pyke's missing… Radle got a sick feeling
in his stomach - he had heard some of the things Pyke thought
he had mumbled under his breath.
"Lads - look,
we've got to go look for Miz Wentworth - quiet, like."
"You think
she's hurt somewhere?"
"I don't know."
"Oh, crap…Pyke
ain't here…shit!"
"What do you
know, Lauck?"
"Nothin' -
'cept Pyke talks in his sleep. Come on!"
The three sailors
crept down the companionway to the gun deck. Radle got a lantern
and was about to lead his men downward when…
"What's going
on here? Why aren't you men on deck?"
The three looked
at Midshipman Dawsey with a mixture of fear and impatience. "Mr.
Dawsey, we're lookin' for Miz Wentworth - she's missing, maybe…"
Radle explained.
The young officer's
outrage at his men not being on deck evaporated. "Mrs. Wentworth
is missing, you said? Why have you not called for the master-at-arms?"
"Pyke…he's
missing too…"
Dawsey paled - Pyke
was part of his division, he was his responsibility. I should
have reported that bugger days ago! "And you think she's
with him?"
Radle was growing
desperate. "I don't know but…"
"Yes, I see.
Where do you suggest we look?"
A slightly relieved
Radle said, "She was seen goin' to the Sick Bay, but she
didn't make it."
The hold. "Lead on, Radle."
The group was halfway
down the stairs when they heard a loud noise. Dawsey's ears pricked
up - he had grown up with dogs and knew their ways. "That's
Lucky! Someone's in trouble! You there!" he shouted to a
Marine. "Come with me! Move!"
At first her ears
were filled with thunder, which was slowly replaced by a rhythmic
sharp sound - a barking dog? When she could see again
the shadow was above her, hand held high to strike her again…
Her world was suddenly
filled with dark figures and loud shouts. The sound of curses
and blows filled her ears. As hands grasped her she began struggling
again, until a soothing, gentle voice made itself heard:
"Mrs. Wentworth
- do not be alarmed! We are here to help you. Please, come with
me. Are you harmed - can you walk?"
Anne was too confused
to do anything but mumble in the affirmative. As light filled
the room, she saw she was in the cable tier and the voice belonged
to Mr. Dawsey. "Please, let me assist you. Greengard, is
that you? Help me, here."
Anne was gently
extracted from that horrible place. The gentlemen supported her
as they began to move towards the stairs. Anne had but a glimpse
of Pyke, face bloody and beaten, restrained against the deck
by at least three men, she could not tell how many for sure.
Slowly the group
ascended the stairway. Once they reached the mess deck it seemed
there were people all about staring at her. Anne began shivering
in terror when a familiar face filled her field of vision.
"Mrs. Wentworth!
By all that's holy! What has happened here?"
"Dr. Maturin!
Mrs. Wentworth has had quiet a fright."
"Fright? What
is this about a fright? Does a fright give one a split lip? Come,
come, sir - tell me what has happened!"
As Dawsey whispered
into Stephen's ear, Anne slowly raised a hand to her face, the
copper taste of blood in her mouth. A split lip?
"Yes, yes,
thank you, Mr. Dawsey. I shall take care of Mrs. Wentworth."
Greengard gave up
his position. "I shall return downstairs and see to the
prisoner."
"Excellent,
sir. Now, Mrs. Wentworth; please, come with me."
"W…where
are we going?"
"Why, to your
rooms, for all love."
The hairs on the
back of Frederick's neck told him something was amiss. The shouts
from below deck confirmed it. "Stokes! See to that commotion!"
Minutes later an
ashen boatswain returned to the quarterdeck. "Sir, best
come quickly."
"What? What
is the matter?"
"Your rooms…Mrs.
Wentworth…"
For the second time
since they had left Portsmouth, Frederick had the sensation of
ice water being poured over his heart. Fighting to keep a calm
exterior - fighting to breathe - Frederick hurried to his cabin
just as Dawsey was leaving it.
"Mr. Dawsey!
What has happened?"
The officer could
not look his captain in the face. "Sir, you better go in,
sir."
Frederick paused
as he took in what the midshipman said. With an impeding sense
of doom he entered his cabin to find it empty. Confused, he looked
about the place while rooted on one spot until the door of the
sleeping quarters opened and Dr. Maturin came out.
"Doctor! Where
is my wife?"
"Captain, please
keep your voice down. Your wife is resting."
"Let me see
her!" He tried to get past the physician and failed.
"Captain! You
can do you wife no good if you go bursting in there. She is my
patient."
"She is MY
WIFE, sir!"
Stephen looked Frederick
right in the eye. "I am well aware of that, sir. I am also
aware that you hold her in some esteem. You are her husband,
but I am her doctor. Who do you think she has more need of at
this moment?"
Frederick clenched
his fists, but looking into Maturin's unwavering stare he began
to get control of his emotions. "You are right, sir. How
is she?"
"She has been
attacked most brutally, but save for a contusion about the eye
and a split lip she is - physically - fine. She is whole,
Captain. As for her state of mind, she needs rest. I am retrieving
some tincture of laudanum from my cabin."
"But what shall
I do?"
"You are the
captain, I believe you have duties elsewhere."
Dawsey had only
thought he had seen Wentworth angry before. "Report, Mr.
Dawsey!"
"Sir, Mrs.
Wentworth was attacked on her way to the Sick Bay. My men and
I were fortunate to intervene and rescue Mrs. Wentworth."
Wentworth spat out
his questions. "Who attacked Mrs. Wentworth?"
"Pyke, Sir
- landsman on the larboard watch - assigned to Number 26 gun."
"Your division."
"Yes, Sir."
"Who assisted
you?"
"Seamen Radle,
Eades and Lauck; and Lt. Greengard."
"Have them
report to my cabin. Where is Pyke?"
Minutes later Wentworth
was down in the orlop. He gazed impassively at the prisoner,
rolling on the deck in pain and in irons. A glance told him that
the man was too drunk and too abused to be questioned. Wentworth
walked over to the cable tier and peered within. A shudder ran
through his body - It was here that Anne… Shaking
his head to clear the ugly thought something caught his eye -
two bottles of his best port, one empty. I must have a talk
with Nowak.
"Lt. Price,
take command here. I shall be in my quarters."
"Gentlemen,
I must ask you to keep your voices low, as Mrs. Wentworth is
resting in her room."
"Sir,"
Radle blurted out, "Is she all right? Beggin' your pardon,
Sir."
There was a very
slight softening in Wentworth's look as he heard the genuine
concern in the man's voice. "That's quite all right Radle
- you have the right to ask. The doctor tells me that she is
unharmed." His heart warmed at the relief he saw
on the five men before him; he fought off the small smile that
threatened to break out on his lips. That will get the word
about ship as quickly as may be done. He knew how fast news,
good and ill, spread onboard ship. The rumors that were undoubtedly
flying about the lower deck turned his insides. He respected
and liked most of the crew - those he knew - and their respect
was important to his notion of a well-ordered ship.
He played with some
papers on his desk. "Please tell me, in detail, what happened
tonight."
Dawsey spoke up,
to the seamen's relief. "I was approached by Seaman Radle
and his gun crew. He expressed concern that some misfortune might
have befallen Mrs. Wentworth. I organized a search party and
was just coming down to the mess deck when we heard Lucky barking
in an agitated manner. It was at that time that I was able to
collect Lt. Greengard. We then hurried down to the orlop where
we observed the dog barking at landsman Pyke in the cable tier.
We also saw that Pyke was not alone. My men subdued Pyke while
Lt. Greengard and I recovered Mrs. Wentworth." It was not
quite the truth, but it was close enough.
"When did Dr.
Maturin arrive?"
"When we got
Mrs. Wentworth to the mess deck, Dr. Maturin was there. He took
Lt. Greengard's place. We then escorted the lady back to your
cabin."
Wentworth turned
to Radle. "Radle, why did you think some misfortune had
befallen Mrs. Wentworth?"
Radle voice was
calm. "Well, Sir, Lauck here met Mrs. Wentworth on the stairs
to the mess deck. She told him that she were headed for the Sick
Bay, to visit the men there, which is a fine Christian thing,
to be sure. We were talkin' on deck about it when Eades comes
up from Sick Bay…"
"Why were you
in the Sick Bay, Eades?"
Eades, surprised
at being called upon, became flustered. "Uh…I were
there to see me mate Utley, Sir…as he broke his leg, sir…
I had leave to go, Sir…"
"Yes, yes,
that's enough, Eades. Go on, Radle."
"Well, as I
were sayin', Eades hears we were speakin' 'bout Miz Wentworth
an' he says, 'Miz Wentworth's not in the Sick Bay, as I just
come from there.' Me an' the lads get worried, you see, 'cause
Miz Wentworth's a fine lady an' all that, but she don't know
the barky too good. So, we find Mr. Dawsey an' start looking
for her - Sir."
"Lt. Greengard,
do you have anything to add?"
"No Sir - it
happened just like Mr. Dawsey reported."
Wentworth tapped
his fingers upon the table. He knew some, if not all, of the
men before him were keeping something from him, the point was,
was it important? Had they known or suspected that Pyke was up
to no good? Did it matter? He looked very intently at Radle.
He knew him, had sailed with him before. Any other day he could
vouch for his loyalty , could stake his life on it. Humph!
I have staked my life on Radle's loyalty, and Eades' too - there
was that fight in the Med in 1810… "Very well,
gentlemen. We will have a formal hearing tomorrow, so I will
see you then. It remains to me to thank you for your service
to me and my wife. I will not soon forget it. I am proud to call
you shipmates, and I would be honored to shake hands with each
one of you."
After the men left
Fredrick sat alone in the half-lit cabin, the sound of the bells
marking the passage of time. At six bells, Stephen left the sleeping
quarters again.
"Doctor, have
you anything to tell me?" Frederick's anger was for the
moment buried under a crushing weight of weariness.
Stephen tried to
reassure the man. "My examination of Mrs. Wentworth has
verified my earlier diagnosis. She has suffered few physical
injuries from the attack, the most notable the hurt to her eye
and face. It is swollen and painful, but the eye is sound. There
was also a contusion to the back of the head. The skin was not
split and, except for her headache, she should have no further
problems from that injury. I have no concerns over her full recovery.
"I have examined
Mrs. Wentworth thoroughly, and I have been able to speak to her
for a short time. The attack was stopped well short of its intended
goal. As I have said before, she is whole."
Frederick closed
his eyes in a short prayer of thanksgiving. "Doctor, it
would have made no difference to me, I assure you."
Stephen nodded.
"Captain, those are admirable words, to be sure. Many would
hold a different opinion. I bring up this fact not for your benefit,
however, but for your wife's. Her emotional state is very precarious.
It is up to us, those that are responsible for her physical care
and those that are required for her emotional care," he
nodded at Frederick, "to do all we can to ease her worries,
so that she may recover quickly and completely."
"I…I will
do all that you ask, Doctor."
"She needs
rest and care. Soon she will be as she was, with the blessing."
"May I see
her?"
He took a moment
to consider the state of the captain's feelings. Satisfied that
they were no danger to the injured lady, he said, "If you
allow her to sleep - do not disturb her - yes, you may. I shall
return to my cabin. I will look in on her in the morning."
"Thank you,
Dr. Maturin. And forgive me."
"Forgive you
for what, my dear sir?"
"I am afraid
I have not been a very gracious host, sir. I must beg your pardon."
Frederick was ashamed of himself.
"Think nothing
of it, my dear captain! I am sure I have been very poor company.
Good night, sir." Stephen shook his hand and departed.
It took a few more
moments for Frederick to steel himself to enter the bedroom.
He slowly let himself in, making as little sound as possible.
By the light of a single candle he could see the sleeping form
of his darling, swaying to the motion of the ship. He crept as
close as he dared and looked down upon her. The beginnings of
a great bruise on her face caused him to gasp. Frederick felt
his anger returning, furious that someone could do such a thing
to his beloved girl. He worked to check his rage, for Anne's
sake. There will be time tomorrow for that - oh yes, plenty
of time.
Frederick moved
to the chair in the corner of the room. He knew it would be uncomfortable
to sleep there, but he dismissed the idea of resting in the great
cabin, he could not bear to leave her side. There was no room
to hang one of the smaller cots, and he would sooner die than
to awake her by climbing in the large cot with her. Frederick
settled himself as best he could and closed his eyes.
"Frederick?"
Wentworth's eyes
shot open. He knew not how long he had slept and was unsure if
the sound he heard was not from his dreams. The room was dark;
the candle had burned itself out. Straining in the gloom he listened.
"F…Frederick?
Where are you?"
His heart gave a
great lurch as he heard the longing and fear in Anne's voice.
He moved to her side. "My darling, I am here."
"Frederick?"
He could see that
she was in a laudanum-induced dream. He looked about uncertainly
- he knew not how to comfort her. Did not Dr. Maturin say not
to awaken her? But he could not resist the pain in her voice.
There was only one thing for it.
Slowly, carefully,
he eased his body into the hanging cot beside Anne. As soon as
he was prone his wife grasped him like a drowning person. He
softly encircled her form in his arms, trying to sooth her with
mumbled endearments. Soon she ceased shivering and settled deep
into his embrace. Together they sailed to the end of this night
of terror.
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