Evidence of the British Army was everywhere on Gibraltar, as well as sailors and marines from the Royal Navy ships in the bay. All the same, she knew there had been civil uprisings in Spain, and that country loomed close at the edge of Gibraltar’s official border. She’d be glad to be back aboard theArethusa.
The marine guard who had remained aboard the shore boat with the coxswain noticed their fast return and met them a bit up the walkway along the mole. He and Sergeant Claridge exchanged looks and commenced a fast unpacking and stowing of their purchases.
Willa, young Charles, and the cook’s mate clambered back aboard the shore boat. She could not explain her unsettled feelings, but she was ready for a dull, uneventful afternoon in the surgery helping Cullen. Captain Still was waiting for her when she climbed the rope ladder up to the main deck, and the grim set of his mouth did not bode well.
“Isn’t Dr. MacCloud with you?”
His sharp demand without any explanation stopped her mid-inhale. “He was here when I left. He was going to spend this afternoon in sick bay with our patients.”
“He left the ship about two hours ago, saying he had to meet someone in Gibraltar before it was too late. I assured him you were perfectly safe with Sergeant Claridge, but he insisted on being taken ashore anyway. He wouldn’t give any further explanation.”
“And you let him go? Knowing I was perfectly fine with Sergeant Claridge?” Willa tried to keep the panic out of her voice.
The beginning of a wry smile quirked at the captain’s lips. “You of all people know your husband cannot be budged once he gets a notion in his head. Especially if he thought you were in danger.”
Willa nodded her head slowly, but she wondered silently if her safety was the real reason Cullen had raced into Gibraltar. “Of course. Once he gets an idea in his stubborn, thick head, no one can move him from his intention.” Her eyes smarted and she blinked hard. She wouldnotfall apart in front of all the sailors and marines on deck. They were like a bunch of sharks in the water, waiting for the first sign of a prey’s weakness. She refused to satisfy their needs.
At a bump from behind, she felt Sergeant Claridge’s hand on her arm. “After I escort Mrs. MacCloud to the surgery, I’ll take a shore party of marines back to find Dr. MacCloud.” Once he’d hurried her below to the sick bay on the orlop deck, he turned to leave.
“Wait.” Willa plucked at his sleeve. “Where will you look? How will you know how to find him?”
“We’ll report to the Governor’s mansion at the Convent first to see if there’s been any…” He paused in his explanation, a look of pity on his face.
Willa was horrified at the thought of what he must think of her now tear-stained face. She hated to let him see her frustration and weakness. “There’s something you should know aboutMadamede Santis andMonsieurDuvall. She tried to kill the doctor in Algiers four years ago.” She smarted with embarrassment at having to reveal her husband’s betrayal by the harpy who, for all Willa knew, could have tried to kill him again.
“We know. The captain filled us in.”
“They weren’t really diplomatic passengers.”
He brushed his hand over hers. “We know.” And with that he was gone.
Willa stared after him for a few moments and then grabbed a bag of supplies they kept in the surgery for emergencies - strips of linen to stanch blood flow and her special calendula salve. She pounded up the steps to the upper deck and raced to Captain Still’s side. “You have to let me return to Gibraltar with the marines.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You do remember I’m the captain of this ship? I’m the one who has the final say, because I’m the one who’s responsible for the three hundred souls aboard theArethusa.” When Willa opened her mouth to protest, he continued. “Nor would I want to face the wrath of Dr. MacCloud if I were to send you into a dangerous situation.”
Behind her, Surgeon’s Mate Parker gently took the bag from her hand and slipped over the side down the ladder to the boat with the waiting marine shore party.
Cullen backed against the wall of a courtyard somewhere near Gibraltar’s north city gates. The geranium hedge blocking the view of the Spanish walled garden from the street gave off a seductively sweet fragrance. But the dense greenery and bright red blooms were not too sweet to offer a convenient screen for the eight ruffians who were doing their best to beat him senseless.
He’d made way with six of the burly men but when he tackled the seventh, Number Eight took him out from behind with a heavy piece of crockery. His last sense was of his sight blurring and wondering how many head injuries this would be in his long career of carousing and fighting in the Royal Navy.
Willa tried to stay busy in the sick bay, taking up the duties Surgeon’s Mate Parker would be tending to if he weren’t with the marines looking for her missing husband. There were a large number of men being treated for rat bites which was why Cullen had been in charge of a crew of sailors cleaning and fumigating the lower decks when she’d left earlier in the day.
She blamed herself for selfishly wanting to spend some time away from the ship before the long voyage down to St. Helena. She and Cullen had actually discussed taking turns getting off the ship for a short while. TheArethusawould surely stop at Madeira on the way out into the Atlantic to take on crates of the popular wine for the captain and officers of the ward room. Cullen had teased her that taking his turn when they stoppped for provisioning wine would be a better cause than her expedition to Gibraltar for lemons and limes.
And now her stubborn, secretive husband was lost on Gibraltar. What if he was injured? What if Madame de Santis had convinced him to abandon his commission to follow her? What if…? She ceased indulging in unhelpful flights of conjecture and gathered up soiled linens from the surgery. A strenuous session of tending to laundry would push all the negative thoughts away. Hours later she was exhausted but still couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible had happened.
She was folding bandages and clean patient linens when she looked up to see Lieutenant Dalton leaning against the entrance to the sick bay. The other surgeon’s mate had left to join his fellow mess mates for supper, and she was alone.
“Is there something wrong?” Willa said the first thing that popped into her head, because, frankly, crew members rarely darkened the door of sick bay unless they were ailing.
“Why does there have to be something wrong? Why can’t I come down here to see you?”
Willa was pretty sure she was not a vision of beautiful, blushing female pulchritude. Her hair frizzed in unkempt curls falling down over her eyes after the hours spent in the damp, steamy ship’s laundry. Huge blotches of water stained her skirts from all the pounding and rinsing she’d engaged in washing the sick bay’s dirty linens.
“Why are you here?” Since they were alone, she felt no need to engage him in polite conversation.
He was suddenly at her side, grasping her by the shoulders and turning her around so that he faced her back. He leaned down and whispered harshly in her ear. “I know what you’re hiding in your sea chest.”
