17

Friday, July 2

4:00 p.m.

(Afternoon Watch, Eight Bells)

Aboard HMS Amethyst

PAUSING BEFORE THE LOOKING GLASS nailed upon the wall of Captain Prickett’s great cabin, Emily contemplated her reflection. She hardly knew herself. It had been a long time since she had curled her long hair and adorned her head with a bandeau – in this case a blue one to match her blue-and-white-striped morning dress. Magpie had sewn it for her from the fine yards of fabric Prosper Burgo had produced from the hold of the Prosperous and Remarkable, stolen a while back, he had smugly admitted, from some “fat, forgotten merchantman.” As usual, the young sail maker had done wonders with his needle, making pretty little puffs on the long-sleeved gown that tightly wrapped her from neck to wrists, but fell loosely below her bosom. His creation had left Emily speechless and certain the lad could become a sought-after dressmaker once his naval career ended; her suggestion had awakened a dreamy glow in Magpie’s eye. Though she would have preferred to wear loose-fitting trousers and a short jacket, she doubted her uncle would recognize – or be pleased to find – her dressed like a sailor, with her hair an untamed tangle completely at the mercy of the capricious winds.

Through an open gunport, she could see her uncle’s ship, its sails furled, its myriad pennants – including the flag of the Duke of Clarence – flapping in the Bermuda breeze from the highest points on its three masts. In the clear turquoise waters around it lay anchored a flotilla of smaller ships, and beyond, the grey rocks and dark green wind-swept shrubbery of Ireland Island. She took in great gulps of sea air, then glanced around Captain Prickett’s cabin, where she had taken up a pleasant residency for the past week – at least during the hours when she was not found in the forepeak, supplying food and affection to its one precious occupant who, with each passing day, grew stronger under her watchful eye.

Full of regret and trepidation, she left the great cabin and made her way towards the break in the larboard rail where a row of men had formed, like a receiving line at a ball, to speak their parting words to her before she was taken the short distance across the harbour to her uncle’s waiting ship. Hundreds of heads swivelled the moment she was spotted crossing the quarterdeck, the men stopping in their tracks to mark her steps, some of them raising their hats to her, some bestowing a naval salute. By now she was accustomed to their eager displays of curiosity and felt such goodwill towards each and every one of them – regardless of whether he was a true compatriot or had been born on this side of the Atlantic – that she wished they could all return to England with her.

Amazed that her wobbly knees were able to carry her, she walked slowly, acknowledging as many as she could, so pleased whenever she recognized a face she had once known upon the Isabelle. There was Osmund Brockley, Lewis McGilp, Jacko, Mr. Stewart, the red-haired midshipman, and Maggot and Weevil – all of them beaming their biggest smiles. Prosper Burgo was there too, his arm still draped around a complacent Meg Kettle, which astounded Emily, for the man had now been acquainted with “thee affable lady” for a full week. Emily had hoped that – somewhere in the crowd – she might see Mr. Crump, Mr. Harding, Bailey Beck, Bun Brodie, Captain Moreland, and even Octavius Lindsay, but she never did.

Arriving at the place where she was to descend to the Amethyst’s launch, Emily found two sailors strapping Gus Walby and his splints into the bosun’s chair. He alone would be making the journey with her. The thought of his dear company in the weeks ahead had sustained her during the darker moments of the past few days. At the rail stood the forlorn figure of Magpie, watching Gus as he was lowered to the rocking launch. Overwhelmed by the woeful scene, Emily turned away from it to address the waiting men.

Biscuit stood at the nearest end of the farewell procession. He placed a paper bundle in her hands and winked his straight eye at her. “I baked ’em fresh this mornin’. Ya won’t find nothin’ like ’em on thee admiral’s ship.”

“Thank you, Biscuit. Thank you for everything.”

He bowed low and clumsily before her, and upon straightening himself up, said, “Stay well, lass.”

Beside the Scottish cook, shifting from one foot to another, was Morgan Evans, a new knitted hat sitting at a jaunty angle upon his head. “Mr. Evans,” Emily said, fighting to compose her voice as she extended her hand to him, “I am so glad we were able to rewrite that letter to your sisters. Have you passed it off to the mail boat?”

“I have, m’am.”

“I hope you will soon see your family again.”

“I hope so too. And don’t worry,” he said, his cheeks reddening, “I’ll look out for Dr. Braden and Magpie for you.”

“I will be forever grateful. And thank you … thank you for pulling me from the sea – twice.”

“It was my pleasure. You … well … you brightened up our simple lives,” he stammered, quickly adding, “Mr. George … sir.”

Emily gave Morgan a warmhearted smile, then, proceeding down the line, gazed up at Fly Austen. Like Biscuit, he too had a gift for her.

“I received a packet of mail when your uncle’s ships dropped anchor and was delighted to find amongst the letters a new offering from my sister, Jane. It’s called Pride and Prejudice. As there is still a war to fight and I will soon be given another ship to command, I thought you might like to read it. I hope it will entertain you as well as her first novel did.” He handed her the black, calf-leathered, gilt-banded volumes.

“Thank you, Mr. Austen. I doubt I shall like it as well as Sense and Sensibility,” she said with a reflective smile, “but I can assure you I will look forward to reading it.”

Fly nodded. “Good! And have you Captain Moreland’s letter with you?”

“I do. Rest easy that I will guard it with my life, and that – once back in London – I will make certain it falls into the right hands.”

“Godspeed, Emily.”

“And you too, sir.”

Emily took a deep breath and looked towards Magpie.

“I don’t know if I kin stand it,” said the little sail maker, struggling to withhold his tears. “Gus were the best friend I ever had.”

Emily sank to her knees before him and took one of his hands in hers. “And he will want you to stay strong so that you can look after Dr. Braden for us. But cheer up! I will tell the Duke that you send your regards and remember well the kindness he and Mrs. Jordan once showed you long ago at Bushy House.”

Magpie made an effort to return her smile. “I wish I could go too. I – I just can’t bear bein’ parted from ya, Em.” His dark eye glistened like a star. “Why … yer like a mum to me.”

Emily squeezed his soot-stained fingers.

“Will ya promise me one thing, Em?”

“What is that, Magpie?”

“When ya come back to find Dr. Braden, you’ll come lookin’ fer me too.”

“I promise,” she said, planting a kiss below his eye patch, but so overcome with emotion she could barely stand again.

Leander was the last one waiting for her. He appeared agitated and embarrassed, like a young lad who has arrived at a birthday party without a present. He was dressed in an open-collared shirt and dusky-blue breeches that looked well on his tall, slim frame, and his complexion was suffused with high, healthy colour. Emily was barely aware that Fly, Morgan, and Biscuit had wandered away, taking Magpie with them.

“You will come back to me, Emily?” Leander asked, his eyes darting over the planks of the deck at his feet.

“I will, as soon as I can,” she said brightly, hoping to gain his dear glance.

“You won’t forget this poor doctor on the seas?”

She laughed. “How could I forget the man that introduced me to rum and laudanum? But you … you may soon forget what I look like.”

Leander shook his head. Assuming an air of mischief, he slowly pulled the miniature of Emeline Louisa from his coat pocket.

Emily gasped. “Ahh! How … ?”

“On that last day … just before your marriage ceremony… I was summoned to Trevelyan’s cabin to take a cup of tea with him and Mr. Humphreys. As Trevelyan’s thoughts were naturally engaged elsewhere, I took the opportunity to take back what is rightfully yours.” He held the miniature out to her, then – with a grin – snatched it back again. “However, unless you put up a monstrous protest, I have no intention of returning it to you … not just yet.”

“You will let Magpie know you have it.”

“He already knows. We have agreed to share it.”

They laughed and smiled at each other, but soon, knowing they had an audience, fell into an awkward silence. Above their heads, the sun blazed brighter, and around them, the world seemed to suddenly stir to life. Calls, commands, bells, and laughter drifted into their consciousness, like an unwelcome cue that their time together was drawing to a close. At last, Leander inhaled and said, “Good-bye, dear Emily.”

“But, Doctor, this is not our last good-bye. My ship is set to sail at sunrise. Watch for me. I’ll wave to you from the mizzen crosstrees.”

“Not the crosstrees, Emily. I’ll be sick with worry that you’ll fall. Just to the platform, please? And make certain someone is standing ready to catch you, should you falter.” Leander seized her hand and held it to his heart, the simple gesture raising a roar of approval from the onlookers, their applause and stomping feet shaking the ship’s timbers beneath Emily’s toes. Then, without warning, Leander pulled her to him and his lips found her mouth, lingering there until, in a choked whisper, he said, “I’ll be waiting, watching every sail on the horizon, for your return.”

Her eyes were so full of tears she could barely see him, but she nodded and gave him a fierce hug. “As will I, Doctor.” Releasing him was the hardest thing she had ever done. With a final wave to everyone, and a last look at Leander, she turned away to face her next journey.