“The what?” Caroline tucked her feet up under her on the bed.
“Them—er—cockroaches, ma’am. Haven’t you noticed? Not so bad as most ships, from what a few of the sailors did say, but—ugh. I dodespisethem creatures, ma’am.”
“Well,” Caroline tried to slow her racing heart. “I suppose Anne would say that if that is the worst trouble we have, we should count ourselves lucky.”
Susan looked skeptical and Caroline did not blame her at all.
4
No further troubles emerged until Day 7—as Caroline listed the days in her journal—but the vermin made up for it. Caroline had somehow not seen the insects at first. Perhaps her eyes, unused to such pernicious pests indoors, were not adept at picking them out. Sadly, once the scales fell from her eyes—metaphorically speaking—shedidsee them.
A beetle in the garden, crawling through the moist leaves or alluvial soil was one thing. But one on the dining table was quite another. And a quick-moving black splotch on the bed-linens was not to be borne.
And yet, somehow, it had to be. Her flinches and inadvertent exclamations grew less, and her ability to step on one with her small boot and feel it crunch grew in proportion.
Whenever Susan was in her room, she killed them relentlessly. Caroline feared eradication was impossible, but Susan did not seem to doubt that—eventually—the ship could be vermin-free. As for the scratching of rats, which could be heard in the night, Caroline refused to contemplate it at all, and she and Susan kept a tacit silence on the subject.
One of the best distractions was cards, which Caroline played often with Richard, Anne, Wentworth, and sometimes with Mrs. Scott and Mr. Belvedere.
Caroline also drew and wrote in her new journal. It was a lovely book bound in leather with hot-pressed sheets of pale green. Even taking some care with the composition and clarity of her journaling, however, the task could not fill more than an hour of the day.
She napped in the afternoon—for she did not sleep well at night, yet—and multiple times a day she took the air by walking to and from the foremast to the stern thirty times. The captain suggested the exercise, and she and Anne and the others took him up on it from the very first day. The ship goat, which was kept for milk and usually allowed to wander freely, had a penchant for chewing on their gowns, but at least it was docile and easily dissuaded.
Caroline wasnota great proponent of goat milk in their daily tea—it was so strong!—but with a little sugar, it was drinkable.
The very best thing was that Caroline did not seem prone to sea-sickness. The uncertain dip and rise of the ship did unsettle her stomach at times, but nothing like the Marston’s maid. The poor girl had not left her cabin since they set sail.
Susan was acting as maid to both Anne and Caroline and now also assisting Lady Marston. When questioned, she confirmed that she did not feel resentful. “For it don’t take much more work,” she explained to Caroline. “Neither you nor Mrs. Wentworth is dressing for balls or routes or morning visits, and it isn’t as if I had to go more than five steps to her room when she is ready to undress.” And although Lady Marston had not yet offered her even a small vail for doing this extra service, Susan hoped that it might be coming later.
The young man who had the parrot catered to the gentlemen; his name was Donny and he was general ship’s boy. He helpedthem tug off their boots and would polish them when the steward directed. The steward was also in charge of the captain and surgeon’s clothing, and he did his best for the gentlemen aboard.
Caroline and Anne were quite happy on Day 5 when two lanky sailors came to construct the harpsichord. The case housed the main box and strings of the instrument, and under these, lengthwise, were the legs and the keyboard. The men must have done the task before, for they seemed to know their business. Caroline shuddered a little to see their dirty hands and oil-stained fingernails as they handled the blond wood and fine hinges, but she did not protest.Shecertainly did not know how to construct a traveling harpsichord.
The harpsichord was considered an inferior instrument to its larger cousin, the pianoforte, but beggars could not be choosers, and Caroline was relieved at the thought of any music to enliven the coming tedium. When the sailors had got the thing put together, they wedged it tightly in a corner. The small bench was trapped behind one of the large posts that held up the upper deck, and Caroline had to suck in her slight person to fit around the beam. That was followed by a tricky operation to sit on the bench and get her feet to the other side without showing a scandalous amount of petticoat or ankle.
She accomplished this, however, and ran her hands over the keyboard. It was somewhat pitted and worn. She pressed a key experimentally and the quintessential plucked sound rang out, quickly subsiding.
For one brief moment, she allowed herself to long for her beautiful pianoforte at Netherfield! Its rich sound, sustained notes, and dynamic volume would be much missed.
Resolutely, she put that aside and played a simple scale. The keys had half as much depth as piano keys and they clicked a little disconcertingly, but she would grow accustomed to them.A slight delay in the sound was also different than the hammer-strike immediacy of the pianoforte.
Still, the notes were the same. She played a light air, reminding herself not to press too hard on the keys. She’d heard the strings were notoriously breakable.
Anne applauded. “You play so well.”
“Thank you. It is a little out of tune, I’m afraid.” It wasdreadfullyout of tune.
Anne wrinkled her nose. “I suppose that’s to be expected for an instrument kept on a ship. The humidity and water must be terrible for it.”
“True.” Caroline sighed. To be humble and uncomplaining didnotcome naturally to her, but she was determined to do it or die trying. “I’m just thankful for what we have.”
Anne smiled, seemingly unaware of Caroline’s struggle, which was for the best. Caroline wanted Anne—and Richard, for that matter—to think optimism and kindness were natural to her… Although perversely, Caroline also wanted them to recognize how hard she was working.
“Would you like a turn, Anne?” she asked.
“Play another before you crawl out of there. I am delighted to have something musical to while away the hours, both listening and playing.”
Caroline did so, and the other guests emerged from their rooms before too many minutes had passed. Suppertime was near, and Lady Marston and Sir Mark had changed for dinner. Mrs. Scott still wore one of her dark, plain traveling dresses, which seemed to be the bulk of her wardrobe, but she had persistent color in her cheeks now, from the wind and sun. Mr. Belvedere sidled up to her while they listened to Caroline play. “Beethoven, yes?Iknow, I’ve been to many a concert at Cambridge.”
