His face twisted oddly. “We’re over halfway to Lisbon. If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Excuse me, sir, ma’am,” one of the sailors called to them, “the barometer has been dropping all night, and the waves are getting dangerous. We’re securing the hatches. You had best get below; it’s going to be a good squall.”
“What about the goat?” Mr. Belvedere asked.
“Oh, we’ll secure her below, sir. After you, please.”
12
The squall turned into a severe and lasting storm. The ship was hard-driven and began to rise and dip quite sickeningly throughout the day.
It brought a recurrence of seasickness for Caroline, and this time several other passengers were sick as well. The wind whipped the waves into something quite terrifying, and Caroline, between nausea and vomiting, was quite pale with terror that the ship would break apart. For once, she was thankful they had no window or porthole in their little cabin. It felt as if they were running up mountains and down valleys, and the ship yawed so hard to the side on some of them, she could only clutch the mattress and pray they were not inverted. She distantly heard Richard telling her that the Marstons, Mrs. Scott, and Anne were also hard taken. It was perilous even for him to leave the cabin.
Even Captain Wentworth admitted it was a serious storm—she heard him say so when he came to their door to check on them. The ship was in too much distress for tea to be made, but he brought them a small flask of lemon-water that she used towet her mouth. It stung her cracked lips, but the flavor helped cover the truly terrible taste that lingered there.
It was a nightmarish day, and even Richard at times was overcome. He leaned his elbows on his knees until his head was almost between them, looking quite green. The day gave way to an even worse night in which she barely slept at all, woken by stomach cramps or claps of thunder. Her body was empty, but still the heaves of nausea did not fully leave her. Her mouth and eyes were dry and her body weak.
She was at first embarrassed for Richard to hold her so comfortingly while she looked and felt so wretched, but by the end she could hardly care.
The waves and wind began to lessen sometime the following day, and Caroline at first distrusted it, convinced it was a trick to give her false hope. But as the bed stayed more or less horizontal and her abused stomach began to quiet, she finally dropped into a real sleep.
The entire company was lethargic and a little morose as they recovered from the storm. No one had feltwellfor those dreadful two days,even if not all had been so vilely sick. And no one had eaten much of anything. The cook rallied to make quick breads and fish chowder for the crew and passengers using both ovens. Now they were grateful for the warmth of the ovens, for the storm had brought a cold wind.
Captain Wentworth was the only one of the passengers—to no one’s surprise—to have weathered it mostly unscathed. It had frustrated him to have so little to do during a serious storm, but he had at least checked on all the passengers, distributing what relief he could in the form of brandy, lemonade, water, and extra basins. He had even made himself useful emptying and cleaning basins, along with the steward and a few sailors, and Caroline was rather horrified that a captain of the British Royal Navy should humble himself to such a task.
He seemed to take it in stride, however. “Any job is better than none in such extremity. But I will say, there is nothing I would’ve done differently than Captain Smythe, and a captain can’t give a higher compliment than that. As the gale increased he kept us running under very short sail. He put the helm hard a-weather—that means away from the storm—which brought her stern around to the sea, and the fore-top sail was clawed up to the main rigging to make theLady Marysnug as could be. She mainly received the force of the waves on her stern, which is her broadest and strongest part.”
Captain Smythe heard the latter part of this, and his gruff face plainly showed that he was gratified. “That’s right,” he added. “Although, at first I did have the storm stay-sail spread on the top mast and kept full, but that didn't work enough to steady the ship, hence the fore-top sail.”
“How much time have we lost?” Richard paused while a creaking and shower of light drops heralded the re-opening of the upper grate. They all breathed a little easier with the fresh air and light, despite the chill. “Did the storm blow us very far off-course?” he asked.
“I came to inform all of you on that point,” Smythe said. “We checked the chronometer and the sextant, and based on celestial time, we’ve only been pushed forty-five miles off course.”
“Only? Forty-five miles is quite a lot, isn’t it?” Sophia asked.
“On land perhaps, but not on sea. Why, we can go a hundred and fifty miles a day with a good spanking breeze like what we have now. I believe we could still reach Lisbon in a week, if we keep this good trade wind.”
The idea of land in a week cheered everyone considerably. And after a breakfast, or more like lunch, of fresh fish in chowder, boiled ham, and grape jelly, everyone was a little more themselves. The captain even allowed a little extra fresh water for washing, since they’d filled some of the empty barrels withrainwater. Salt-water baths seemed to be all the sailors expected. They used the “sea soap” to scrub down on the deck and the pump and hose to rinse one another off, but Caroline found it glorious to have a whole bucket of fresh water to herself. She even washed her hair, after a fashion, when Richard was done with the water.
She had just gotten her hair cut before their trip. It wasn’t a Bedford crop—a la Titus—or anything so bold, but it was much shorter than it had been. It was now just below her shoulders. Long enough to put up, but the front was short enough to curl easily with even a little encouragement. Despite her shorter hair, her arms were shaking by the time she finished. Her two days of misery had left her weak.
Richard helped her dry her hair with a linen towel and even helped her brush it when she found her hands were trembling.
“I should call Susan to help me,” she said.
“But I am here now, and Susan isn’t.”
“She is probably done assisting Anne.”
“Do you want me to go?” His voice was kind but also a little sad. “Is there some reason you don’t want my help?”
“I feel rather pathetic. I didn’t know I was such a poor creature.”
“Nonsense. You were terribly sick, my dear, it’s no wonder you need some time to recover.”
“Very well. Thank you.” It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his helpfulness—but it made her tense. A maid wassupposedto help with these things. A husband was not.
Caroline had been doing rather well in her effort to be the new version of herself, but while she was sick, she had faltered. She did not perfectly recall every moment, but she knew she had not been a very good patient. She remembered half-delirious complaints, moans, and possibly even recriminations against him for bringing her—although she wasn’t certain which of thoseshe might’ve spoken aloud and which remained a tangled mess in her mind.
