“To what purpose?”
“There has been, ah, some concern overMonsieurBonaparte’s health. The Admiralty asked that my surgeon make himself available for a medical examination of the prisoner. Another opinion, if you will.”
Cullen’s senses prickled. He’d heard of a previous Royal Navy surgeon who had endured public ridicule as well as a court martial for giving his “opinion” on the former emperor’s health. Public outcry could turn on something as innocuous as the bastard’s associates on the island complaining to papers in Europe and England about the amount of firewood he was provided. He must be severely ill if someone in the Admiralty had a bee in their bonnet over the condition of his health.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No. Those are your orders.” Captain Still re-folded the letter he’d pretended to read from. Cullen was not fooled. His commanding officer had known he’d be issuing this particular order, probably since the beginning of the voyage. Even the Admiralty could not have gotten a message to St. Helena that quickly. And why when it would have been so easy to issue the order before they left the basin in Portsmouth?
“How long will I have to stay on the island?”
“As long as it takes to secure the General’s cooperation.”
Cullen could not stifle the smile that leapt to his lips. “That could be a very long time indeed. My wife will of course accompany me. You agree that leaving her here alone on the ship would not be prudent?”
The captain sighed and gave a slight nod in assent.
“How soon do we report?”
“Immediately. A longboat crew awaits. Take a few minutes to gather your things and then be on your way to shore. We have to weigh anchor as soon as possible. The topmen have sighted that blasted Chilean ship again, south of the harbor. I’ll have to hunt him down and demand an explanation for his lurking in the vicinity of the island.
“And Dr. MacCloud…here is something I’ve been keeping safe for your wife.” He handed over a small, cloth-wrapped bundle.
Cullen took the packet from Captain Still with a look of puzzlement. “She’ll explain everything,” he assured him, and sat down at his desk, gathering letter-writing implements, and signaling the end of the discussion. “Good luck with the assignment.” He waved a hand in dismissal.
Cullen saluted the captain and left to find Willa.
He finally found her curled up on the bunk in their cabin poring over her journal.
“What is this?” His tone came out sharper than he’d intended, and she looked up with a blend of amusement and annoyance on her face.
“What is what?”
“This.” He shoved the packet into her hand and stood back with his arms folded tightly around his middle. After a few silent moments, he exploded. “Well?”
“Captain Still gave you the locket.” She leveled a steady, unblinking gray gaze on him.
“And? Does it belong to you?”
“No.” She slowly unwrapped the locket from the winding cloth and dropped it on the bunk.
He picked it up and when he saw the likeness, flung it down hard again. “Why, Willa? Why did ye let her pull ye inta her web?”
Her gaze still hadn’t wavered. “I can’t say.”
“Ye can’t say?” He pounded his fist against the bulkhead.
“It belongs to Ariadne’s cousin who lives on St. Helena. I promised I’d deliver it to her.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Ye heard me, lass. I’ll not have ye dragged into that evil conniver’s skein of lies.” He stabbed his fingers through his wind-blown hair and took a wild look around the cabin. “Give me that thing back.” He held out his hand.
“No.”
He took a deep breath and turned away, trying to count off a hundred seconds before he launched into another argument with Willa. Even then, he knew he couldn’t win.
