They stopped outside Captain Still’s cabin, and he tapped on the door. In spite of Sergeant Claridge’s kind assurances, bitter doubt still niggled at Willa’s senses and slid down her throat like a foul-tasting tonic.
Captain Still opened the door in his shirtsleeves. She could see several candles glowing on a side table and a book lying face-down on a comfortable, stuffed chair.
“I’m sorry, sir, to interrupt your evening, but Mrs. MacCloud is unsettled about the details of her husband’s attack.”
“Of course.” He motioned them in to the large table where charts were neatly stacked. Once they were seated, there was another tap at the door to the quarters. “Come.” Captain Still urged the newcomer to join them.
Sergeant Claridge’s commanding officer, Marine Captain John Woodall, ducked his head and came through the entryway.
Once they all sat at the table, there was a long, awkward silence. Willa suddenly felt more alone than in all her time with the Royal Navy. She didn’t want their pity, she wanted the truth, but she knew they probably would not give it to her. She was a woman. A sudden vision of Wills’ clothes neatly folded in her sea chest gave her courage and made her smile.
Captain Still extended a hand toward Marine Captain Woodall in a signal to begin the story.
“My men went to the governor’s house to see if anyone had information on where Dr. MacCloud might be. But when they got there, the lieutenant in charge of the garrison told us they’d found a naval officer assaulted and left at the cemetery outside the north city gates. They were about to send out messengers to the ships anchored in the bay to see if anyone had a missing officer.”
Captain Still interrupted Woodall. “I’m sorry, Mrs. MacCloud, but we’ve not been able to find anyone who knows what happened to your husband. And we have to set sail with the tide in the morning. Has the doctor awakened yet?”
“No.” Willa bowed her head before snapping back up to address the three men. “I cannot believe a man could endure such a vicious attack without anyone hearing or seeing anything. The island is not that big. Surely someone knows something.”
Captain Still spoke for all of them. “There have been some civil disturbances in Spain since the peace agreement. But you know as well as I do, Gibraltar has one of the largest British military presences in the world. I’ve asked the governor to forward a message to my attention on theArethusaif any more details are uncovered concerning Dr. MacCloud’s attack. We’ve done all we can, Willa.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. “I promise.”
Captain Woodall remained with the captain after Sergeant Claridge offered to escort Willa back to her quarters.
“Bad business that, with his wife left to piece together what’s to be done, and him not even able to tell her the truth of what happened.” Marine Captain Woodall took a long sip of Madeira and leaned toward Captain Still. “Why doyouthink he was there?”
“I would not want this to leave my quarters, but I’m afraid our former passengers probably had a hand in this tragedy. I hope to God my surgeon survives, but there’s not much anyone can do for a severe head injury like his. Except wait.”
The marine commander, Woodall swallowed the last of his wine and bid Captain Still good night before heading back to the ward room below.
Willa sat on a stool by Cullen’s hammock in sick bay and leafed through a book of compounding directions for tincture preparations for the ship’s medicine kit. His chest still rose and fell in steady inhales and exhales, but there was no sign he had any knowledge of her presence. She touched the backside of her hand to his bruised forehead, but could not detect a fever through the bandages still wound around his skull. She was about to stand to put the heavy book away when one of his eyelids not hidden by the linen bandaging seemed to flicker.
She sat back down and began to read to him…the endless, boring lists of ingredients of the routine medications they dispensed to sailors every day. The surgeon’s mate about to retire from the first watch gave her an odd look before finishing his duties, but she kept on reading.
She’d gone through ten pages of the bone-numbingly boring lists, when the surgeon’s mate for the middle watch arrived. She gave him an idea of what patients needed attention during the night and then returned to Cullen’s side. The mate had no more than settled in to his rounds than the ship’s purser, Horace Baker, appeared at Willa’s side.
He leaned down, hands on his knees, and spoke low to Willa. “It’s Kathleen. It’s her time. The babe…it’s coming early.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead in the lantern light, and he was breathing heavily as if he’d run down to the surgery from his quarters. Willa grabbed her father’s old medical bag and an armful of clean linens from the fresh laundry basket she’d not yet stowed away and nodded for him to lead on. The purser’s cabin was close to the captain’s quarters, near the stern of the ship.
As soon as they approached, his older daughter, Mary, opened the door, her eyes wide in the candlelight. “Mama’s making a fearsome noise, Papa. Will she be all right?”
Willa touched the girl’s arm and held her back a bit as Mr. Baker entered ahead of them. “I’m going to help your Mama,” she said. “Go to the galley and see if you can bring back some water from the still on the stove.” Willa would not lie to the young girl. She had no idea if her mother would be all right, but she would do her best.
Chapter Seventeen
When Willa enteredthe cabin part of the purser’s suite where the couple slept, she was surprised to see Mrs. Baker sitting on a stool with her dressing gown on, brushing out her hair in front of a small, round mirror attached to the bulkhead.
She turned at the sound of Willa shutting the door behind her. “I am so glad to see you. Are you sure you can be spared from the surgery?”
“Your husband and daughters were worried about you. I came as soon as I could.”
“Oh, falderal!” He only thinks he knows when this baby is due.”
“How long has it been since your last courses?” Willa winced at the intimate nature of the question.
Kathleen laughed. “I have no idea. Maybe eight months?” She tilted her head and gave Willa a considering look. “Just wait till the babes start coming. You won’t have time to track the rising and setting of the sun, let alone when you miss your courses. Dr. MacCloud will be on his own in the surgery. No time for anything but cooking, laundry and chasing the little devils away from mischief on the ship.” She abruptly stopped talking, sucked in a breath, doubled over, and grunted. After a few moments, she straightened again. “And be sure to save as much as you can for peace time and ha’pay.”
The woman’s stomach was hugely swollen, and Willa could see a tiny fist pushing out against the skin near the base of her protuberant belly. At least from the looks of the babe, the head and shoulders were in a good downward position. Willa prayed he or she would stay that way until she could coax the newest Baker into the world.
