Vivian made her way down below to her cabin. As she entered the room, she found Gabi on the floor, leaning back against the wall right next to a chamber pot. She had an awful green pallor about her.
“Oh, you poor thing.”
“Vivi? Oh, Vivi, will this storm ever stop churning? It feels as though the world is about to end.” A tremendous clap of thunder rumbled through the cabin, causing Gabi to wince.
“Here, my sweet, let’s get you to the bed. Unless you think you might be sick again?”
“No, I can’t imagine I have anything left to throw up.” Her friend’s shoulders slumped.
Vivian helped her up and sat her on the bed. Then she helped her out of her dress, putting a fresh nightgown over her head. As she re-plaited Gabi’s long, black hair, Gabi asked, “How can you be so calm and steady when it feels as though we’re out in a hurricane?”
“Oh, this isn’t a hurricane.” She finished tying off the tail end of the braid. “And these storms come and go. An hour or so and it will be all over. I have had plenty of experience being on board during storms. When we sailed with my father, Mama used to tuck us up together in bed. She would sing to me until the storm passed. Shall I sing?”
“Well, I am not some child to be soothed.” Gabi’s lips pressed into a pout. “But let’s sing something together, to keep our mind off the storm. Something loud and bawdy—” Gabi smiled “—one of your father’s many sea shanties, I think.”
Vivian started one of her favorites about a man who had a woman in every port and got into trouble with each woman before he moved on to the next. As she sang, Gabi chimed in with her lovely soprano on each refrain. After a few songs, they read from Mrs. Willamette’s book of etiquette all about the proper way to address a duke and duchess and so forth down the ranks.
“I will never remember all these titles. I am going to be a disaster.” Honestly, how would she keep all these silly rules straight?
Gabrielle gave her an encouraging smile. “Cheer up. You’ll get it eventually. Let’s play some cards for a while instead. You can trounce me at rummy. That will make you feel better.”
Two hours later a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Vivian called out. Mr. Davis, the ship’s surgeon, opened the door. He stood in the doorway dripping, his hair wet and slicked back from his head.
“Miss Jamieson, Miss Gabrielle.” He nodded to each of them, but his gaze traveled back to Gabrielle. “I just wanted to check on you ladies and see how you’re faring.”
Gabi drew her robe closer about her and blushed. “Thank you, George. We are fine. I felt quite sick at the start, but Vivian has done a good job distracting me.” She smiled shyly. Vivian looked from Gabi to Mr. Davis.
Mr. Davis smiled back at Gabi and said, “Good, then…I must get back on deck. This storm took us all by surprise. The North Atlantic can be quite unpredictable.” He sketched a short bow and left, closing the door behind him.
“Why do I get the feeling he couldn’t care less how I fared in this storm? The man only had eyes for you. And since when are you on a first name basis with Mr. Davis?” Vivian asked.
Gabi blushed again. “Earlier in the week, George heard I felt seasick and came to see me. He offered a remedy he concocted to help with nausea. We ended up talking for a while. And then he came back the next day to see how I fared, and then the next day…” She trailed off.
“And where was I when all this wooing occurred?” She arched an eyebrow.
“On the main deck probably, sketching your dashing sea captain.” Gabi teased.
“He is rather dashing, isn’t he?” Vivian leaned back against the pillows, thinking about how tall and commanding Captain Jack looked standing at the helm. “Too bad he is so aloof. Although earlier this afternoon he asked me to help him draw up some sketches of a house he is having built. He was relaxed in my presence and quite charming.” Thinking of the captain made her wonder how the seamen were fairing above. “Hmm, the crew have been battling this storm for hours now. I think maybe I will go see if Cooke needs help organizing some victuals for when the storm passes.”
“Vivi, we’re not supposed to leave the room!”
“Don’t be silly. I am just going to the galley. I’ll be fine.” She threw her cloak over her shoulders and strode out of the room.
When she arrived in the galley, Cooke was preparing trays of dried meats, crackers, and sliced boiled potatoes. “I’ve come to see if you need any help getting grub together for the crew. They’ll be hungry for sure after battling this storm.”
“Yes, indeed, little lady. I’ve got it well in hand, though. Have you seen Johnny around? Thought he mayhap was visiting with you and Miss Gabrielle.”
“No, I haven’t seen him all day.”
Cooke frowned. “I hope he isn’t on deck getting hisself in the way.”
“I’ll go check and see where he might be.” She swung around and left Cooke muttering his protest that the middle of the storm was no place for a lady. She needed to make sure poor Johnny was all right. He was just a boy after all.
A cold stinging rain slapped her in the face as she emerged on deck. The force of the wind caused her to stumble back. But the thought of poor Johnny out here huddled somewhere on the deck made her straighten her shoulders and step forward. The sky bore angry, dark clouds, blocking out the sun. They gave everything a haze of twilight, even though it was probably about four in the afternoon.
There were men at various positions on the rigging, tugging and pulling at the smaller sails, the largest sails having already been pulled down to prevent the winds from blowing the ship too far off course. In the middle of it all were Captain Jack and Smith at the helm, both holding onto the wheel in an effort to keep the rudder steady.
