The following morning before breakfast when she was walking around the deck, Claire all but collided with the steward, emerging hastily from the companionway, a first-aid kit in his hands.
“Oh, excuse me, miss,” he apologized hastily, and started past her, obviously in a hurry and very agitated.
“Is something wrong?” Claire asked, her eyes on the white box with its significant red cross.
“One of the crew, miss, has had a bad accident.”
“Perhaps I can help.” Claire joined him in his race towards the stairs that led down to the engine room, and when he slowed his step and looked at her, puzzled, she added swiftly, “I’m a registered nurse.”
“Oh, then you can help, miss. We’d all be very grateful,” the steward assured her eagerly with obvious relief.
They hurried together down the stairs to the engine room, where several of the crew had gathered about a man who huddled in a battered chair, his face white beneath the grime and the sun-tan.
He was badly burned about the arm and shoulder, and as Claire hurried to him, Curt Wayne turned, saw her and frowned.
“You’re out of bounds for passengers, Miss Frazier — ” he began.
“She’s a nurse, sir,” the steward said eagerly.
“Oh — well, in that case — ” Curt looked bewildered as she brushed past him and bent over the man.
“It hurts like the dickens, doesn’t it?” Claire’s voice was low-pitched, warm and sweet as she examined the extent of the burns, her fingers gentle as a butterfly’s wings while she probed so delicately that the man scarcely winced. “Well, we’ve got something that will ease the pain and make you a lot more comfortable.”
“The clumsy fool — ” Curt raged.
Claire turned on him, a young fury.
“Why don’t you go away?” she demanded shortly. “You’re being no help whatever here. When the man has recovered, then you can bully him, but not now. I will not permit you to speak to my patient like that.”
“Your patient?” Curt was very aware of the faces of the crew, gathered about the injured man. “He’s a member of my crew.”
“He’s a member of the human race, and he’s in great pain. Why don’t you go away some place?” Claire resumed her treatment of the man, and when she had made him comfortable, she smiled at him warmly. “You’re going to be quite all right very soon. Perhaps you’d like to be put ashore at the nearest port and go into a hospital?”
The man, a grizzled middle-aged man, grinned bashfully up at her.
“No, ma’am, thank you kindly. They couldn’t do me any more good than you have. I’m sorry to be a trouble to you,” he answered.
“Nonsense.” Claire’s smile was warmly friendly. “There’s nothing an RN likes better than to feel she’s being of service in her profession, and I’ll see you again this afternoon. If the pain comes back, you send for me, you hear?”
“Well, thank you, ma’am, that’s mighty kind of you,” said the man.
Claire stowed the articles she had used neatly in the kit and smiled pleasantly at the crew, before she turned and started back up the ladder to the upper deck.
She didn’t know that Curt had followed her until, as she stood on the deck, he spoke at her elbow.
“That was a fine job you did, Miss Frazier.”
She looked up at him swiftly and saw nothing but honest admiration in his eyes.
“It was a pretty routine emergency,” she told him curtly. “We had a lot of those in the hospital.”
“So you are a registered nurse,” said Curt thoughtfully.
“I do hope you don’t mind,” she said sweetly.
Gravely, Curt leaned forward and flicked with a thumb and finger first at her left shoulder and then at her right. When she looked at him, bewildered, hostile, he grinned boyishly.
“Getting rid of the chips you were wearing on your shoulders when you came aboard,” he explained solemnly, though there was a faint twinkle in his blue eyes. “I can’t quite imagine just why you arrived with your fighting clothes on. So far as I can remember, I’ve done absolutely nothing to justify your treatment. You have been civil enough to some of the other passengers, even to Captain Rodolfson. Me, you seem to despise. Could I dare ask what I’ve done to offend you?”
Claire had the grace to be faintly ashamed of her behavior.
“You haven’t done a thing, Mr. Wayne, and I apologize for being so unpleasant,” she said awkwardly. “It’s just that — well, somehow, I just don’t seem to like breath-takingly handsome men any more.”
Curt stared down at her, his brows caught together in a puzzled frown.
“That’s a loaded remark if I ever heard one,” he observed at last and smiled at her. “Like the old question, ‘Have you stopped beating your wife’? If I ask why you don’t like — what was the expression you used, breath-takingly handsome men? — that marks me as a conceited oaf; yet I would like very much to be friends with you, if I may.”
“That would be very nice,” said Claire without warmth.
“But not very likely, judging from your tone?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, no, you didn’t, but your tone implied as much,” said Curt. And suddenly, as though he found the whole conversation getting out of hand, he added briskly, “Well, whatever happened to get you down on men, he was an utter fool, I’ll say that for him.”
Claire caught her breath and stared up at him speechlessly.
“I mean, of course,” he answered the question in her eyes that she would not put into words, “whoever the man was who hurt you enough to turn you sour on the whole sex.”
He turned without another word and went briskly about his duties, and a little later Claire realized that breakfast was being served and went into the salon.
The steward greeted her like a long-lost friend and waited on her with an assiduity that made the other passengers look at her curiously. The steward had been attentive to his duties throughout the trip, but this morning his attention to Claire was almost embarrassing.
Major Lesley, beside her when the steward had brought fresh hot toast, smiled at Claire and said quietly, “Whatever you’ve done for him — ”
“One of the crew had had an accident.” Claire spoke so that the whole table of passengers could hear her. “A very bad burn, and I helped take care of him. You see, I’m a registered nurse.”
The others were immediately interested, and Major Lesley reminded her humorously, “I warned you not to let that become known.”
“The man was badly hurt and I was glad to do what I could for him,” Claire answered quietly.
The steward came up then, smiling warmly at Claire.
“The captain’s compliments, miss, and he’d be honored if you would have lunch with him in his quarters,” he announced.
Claire said quickly, “That’s very kind of him, but — ”
“You can’t refuse, my dear,” Major Lesley said, before the steward could speak. “It’s a sort of royal command, and one any of the other passengers would give a lot to receive. Tell the captain Miss Frazier accepts with pleasure.”
The steward touched his cap brim and departed.
Claire looked up at Major Lesley.
“Well, now, really.” She was faintly annoyed.
“Did I seem unduly presumptuous, Miss Frazier? I’m sorry. I had no such intention,” Major Lesley apologized like an abashed schoolboy. “It’s just that I was afraid you didn’t realize how much of a compliment the captain was paying you.”