Miss Whittier Makes a List (4 page)

She did as he said and wiped her streaming eyes with her sleeve.
“
I wish thee to hell, sir,
”
she said, her voice as quiet as his and more fierce.

“
Well I won
’
t go, Miss Spitfire,
”
he replied.

To her utter amazement, he grabbed her by the mass of hair on the back of her neck, hauled her close, picked her up, and kissed her. Her feet dangled off the deck and she grabbed onto him to take the pain off her hair, while he kissed her once, and then again more thoroughly. She clung to him, her head on fire, and tried to speak, even as he kissed her a third time, completely in command of the situation. Wild-eyed with fury, she stared at him, noting even in her rage how improbably long his eyelashes were. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

And then it was over. He set her back on the deck and released her hair.
“
I haven
’
t had that pleasure in two years,
”
he said softly. He stepped aside quickly in case she should strike out.
“
May I add that you needn
’
t improve upon a fine
thing?
”

He sprang to the railing, his
arm
draped gracefully in the rigging to maintain his balance, and then leaped across the space between the ships as his men laughed and cheered.

“
Release the grappling hooks,
”
he ordered, and then looked at his first mate, who wiped tears of laughter from his
eyes.
“Wear
the ship, Mr. Lansing, lively now.
”

As she watched in total humiliation and stunning fury, the sailors on the opposite ship grinned at her and released the grapples from the
Molly
’
s
mutilated railing. The vessels moved apart quickly. Captain Winslow joined her at the railing and put his arm tight about her shoulder. He was shaking, and his face was as gray as a
Nantucket
winter sky.
“
Oh, lass,
”
was all he could manage as the ships swung apart and the Marines climbed down from the riggings.

But there was Captain Spark on his quarterdeck again, a speaking trumpet to his mouth.
“
A word, Captain Winslow.
”

In pointed disgust, Winslow turned his broad back on the British officer.

“
I advise you to douse your running lights tonight,
”
called Captain Sir Daniel Spark.
“
The French are out and seem not to be asking questions before they open fire.
”

Winslow said nothing. At a word from his bosun, the remaining sailors fell to the ropes to continue their course toward
Charleston
.

“
It
’
s good advice,
”
Spark called out, his voice much farther away now.
“
Good
day, Miss Quaker. I hope we meet again.
”

“
Impertinent
bastard Englishman
,”
Winslow said, his voice drained of all emotion. He hugged Hannah close.
“
What am I ever going to tell my wife? She did not want Adam to go on this voyage.
”

Dinner that night was eaten in silence. Winslow toyed with his mutton and biscuit, then set his fork down, defeated. He bowed his head over his plate in silence until Hannah touched his
arm
. With an effort he looked at her, and pushed the plate away.
“
We
’
ll be in
Charleston
tomorrow night, Hannah,
”
he said, speaking for the first time, his eyes staring down again.
“
And then I do not know what to do.
”

“
Captain, surely Adam will be all right, once that abominable ship docks in
England
,
”
Hannah said.

“
If he gets there alive. Thee does not know what happens on a British warship. I do not suppose there is a harder service anywhere.
”

The other ship
’
s officers at the table nodded in agreement.
“
Wh
y do ye think so many jump ship?
”
asked one of them of no one in particular.
“
Adam
’
s a tender lad, and those jailbirds on the gun deck are a rough lot.
”

Hannah shook her head and put her finger to her lips, and the man was silent. The captain finally raised his eyes to the others. He rose as the bosun on deck whistled for the night watch.

“
Are you going to douse the running lightslike that wretched captain said?
”
one of them asked.

“
No,
”
was Captain Winslow
’
s brief reply. He trudged from the cabin, and in another moment, they heard his footsteps on the deck above.

The other officers ate quickly then, talking among themselves, but always coming back to Adam and the other American crew member, captive now on a British vessel bound for England. When Hannah could stomach no more of their whispered conversation, she left the table and retreated to her own quarters. The bed looked
better
to her than it had in three days, even with the covers still rumpled from her tardy rising. She wanted to crawl into the berth and pull the blanket over her head, and not emerge until they docked in
Charleston
and Hosea opened his arms to her.

Her own eyes dull, her heart sick, she removed her clothes
and just
left them in a pile on the deck. Too tired to look for her nightgown, she crawled into the berth in her chemise. Her head still ached where Captain Spark had grabbed her hair and pulled so tight
.
She massaged the spot, and then touched her lips
,
which felt bruised and swollen from their encounter with Captain Spark. A glance in the mirror earlier had told her they were nothing of the kind. He had not kissed her to hurt her, she had to admit, as she lay there in the dark and let the ship rock her toward slumber. Under other circumstances, she might have enjoyed it.

It galled her and threw her into the depths of humiliation to realize that her first kiss ever would come like that. She had hoped it would come from the man she loved, and not some captain of the Royal Navy too long away from a woman, any woman. She blushed in the dark, reliving the shame all over again. I wonder if I will ever kiss another man and not remember that degradation, Hannah considered.

It was a disturbing thought. She lay in her berth, hands behind her head, and allowed the gentle motion of the
Molly
to soothe her jangled nerves. As her eyes began to close, she thought of her list of all those qualities she required in a husband.
“
Well, Hannah
Whittier
,
”
she spoke out loud, her voice drowsy,
“
there is one man thee can cross from any list. Captain Sir Daniel Spark is the last man on earth thee would ever marry.
”
She closed her eyes and let the ship rock her to sleep.

Why she woke, hours later, Hannah could not tell, not then or ever. The
Molly
was making fair progress under a full moon, running smooth and swift toward Charleston. She was familiar by now with the creaks and groans of the well-weathered timers, and the hum of the wind in the riggings. Suddenly it was as though all sounds were suspended
,
and then superseded by an
enormous
roar of cannon.

The percussion tumbled her onto the deck, and she lay there, trying to collect her wits
,
as the
Molly
leaped like a wounded animal, and then shuddered to one side. Even as she lay there, doubled into a
little
ball with her hands over her ears, Hannah heard the shrieks of the wounded, and the crunch and groan of settling timbers.

She could not move. She gri
tt
ed her teeth and waited for another explosion. When it came, she braced herself and closed her eyes tight, as if to keep out the horror. This time she heard the mainmast crash through the deck. The brig heeled sharply to one side as the sails and rigging from the mast dragged in the water and threatened to pull the
Molly
under. The deck slanted, and she slid hard against the berth she had left so unceremoniously only seconds before.

Hannah wailed in terror and tried to crawl toward the companionway. The force of the explosion had blown the door off its hinges. She could make out its vague
silhouette
, half in and half out of the companionway. She stared at the door
stupidly
for a moment, thinking how useless it was, lying there like that
.
She rose up on her knees and discovered they were wet
.

In growing panic, she pa
tt
ed the planks. They were all wet with cold water that seemed to bubble up out of the hold itself. Dear God, she thought, her mind suddenly crowded with memories and thoughts long-forgotten, but rushing back now in a most peculiar review. Was this how it felt to die?

And then the thoughts were gone, leaving her almost exhausted. Her trunk floated by. I must get out of here, she told herself as she struggled to gain her footing on the deck, which continued to rise at an absurd angle. As she paused, someone grabbed her under the
armpits
and hauled her into the companionway.

“
Hannah, is thee all right?
”

It was Captain Winslow. She felt the wool of his soggy uniform against her bare skin.

She nodded, then realized that he could not see her in the
dark. “
Yes,
”
she gasped.
“
Only let me find a dress, or something besides this chemise!
”

“
No time,
”
he said, his voice sharp.

The companionway lay at crazy angles, with floating rope and boxes. The hanging lamp tilted weirdly, its flame extinguished. She shrieked as a rat ran across her bare shoulders, its feet digging into her flesh, and then mad with fear, leaped with a splash into the steadily rising water.