Heather nodded once more. “Thank you, Stubbs.”
“Aye,” he grunted. “Th’ surgeon’s in th’ orlop if y’ ’ave need of ’im.”
With that, the man tugged on his forelock and ascended the companionway, leaving her alone at the entrance of her cabin. Men rushed around the deck and stomped overhead, no doubt preparing for their departure.
Her stomach twisting painfully, she opened the door and stepped inside.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, waiting until she had acclimatized before taking in the space only just wide enough to accommodate the hanging bed at the back wall. On Heather’s left was a short, narrow chest of two drawers, atop of which sat two of her plants:Marrubium vulgareandHypericum perforatum, the yellow and white blooms on the herbs looking sad in the dim room.
Across from the chest was what appeared to be a fabric seat with foldable wooden legs on the sides, and on the floor beneath the hanging bed was a chamber pot and one of her trunks.
It was a sad space, indeed, scarcely large enough for the few items already inside. Where were her other plants? Wherecouldshe keep them? They wouldn’t survive without sunlight.
A soul-deep sigh overtook her. This would be her home for the coming weeks—or months. She’d best find a way to not only keep her plants alive, but also make this small cabin feel like home.
Tap-tap. A knock sounded at her door, and she turned to answer it.
Standing just outside was a young woman whose blue eyes veritably glittered with excitement, her mobcap vibrating with each of her heaving breaths.
The maid’s thin lips curved upward as she curtseyed. “I’ve come to unpack your trunk, miss.”
“Oh, of course. Thank you…”
“Berta, miss. I’m not ordinarily a lady’s maid, I’m afraid, but I’ll do my best to serve you. I usually work in the kitchens, you see. My main duties are to help the cook and do washing. But I can help you, too, when you need it.”
“Berta.” Heather returned the maid’s smile. “A pleasure, I’m sure. I shall leave you to it.”
The maid stepped away from the doorway while Heather slid past. She might have stayed to chat with the woman, but there was scarcely enough space for one of them within the small room, let alone two.
Unsure what to do with herself and not wanting to get in the way of the sailors, she ascended to the bright quarterdeck and settled herself near the railing. Men climbed the masts, wrapping themselves around the sail posts and adjusting the ropes, while others stood at the bottom of the masts and pulled ropes from there. There were sailors with buckets and barrels, and yet more walking with purpose or shouting orders. Two men stood at the helm, engaged in deep discussion.
Heather wondered what position Percy had taken upon the frigate. Would he be belowdecks, mayhap working the guns, or was he among these men, climbing, tying, or carrying heavy things?
Her skin warmed quickly beneath her frock, the sky clear and brilliant and the air heavy with humidity. She could scarcely breathe for the heat! Perspiration beaded along her hairline and between her breasts, and she fought the urge to scratch at it.
The broad back of a tall man caught her eye and kindled a spark of recognition, but it disappeared below deck before she could ascertain if it belonged to Percy.
Her thoughts drifted back to the mystery man of the night before, and her stomach gave a happy wobble. That man had been glorious indeed. He would be in her thoughts for many years to come.
Someone hollered from the gun deck, and then there was the shuffling of feet and the scraping of wood on wood.
Heather turned, bracing herself against the balustrade, and peered over the edge of the ship. From the deck below came long wooden oars through small doors along the boat’s side.
“Cat the anchor!” a man shouted.
Three men rushed over to the front of the ship and quickly pulled on some ropes.
The oars splashed into the water of the Thames, and a rhythmic shouting began beneath her feet.
“Row,row,row!”
Gradually, theSapphiredrifted away from the crowded Pool of London and manoeuvred between the other moored ships until they were no longer surrounded by land. Merchant ships sailed past in both directions, and Heather wondered if she could reach one of them if she leapt from theSapphireand swam. It was ludicrous, of course, and she had a duty to complete, but the curiosity was there…
Despite her eagerness for the assignment, her chest gave a squeeze of melancholy as she watched England gradually grow smaller. She would dearly miss her friends, her plants, and the comfort of the Bow Street offices.
With another scrape of wood against wood, the oars disappeared into theSapphire’s belly, and the small doors closed. Hurried footsteps sounded from below before men scrambled to their stations on the quarterdeck.
Heather bent over the rail, desirous to minimize the space she consumed on the deck and to watch the spray of water against the hull.
