Will gave a weary chuckle and nodded.
A half hour later, Jack Flynn followed Ann toward the sick bay.
“I’m so glad the captain sent you to help Mr. Boyd to his cabin. The doctor and I can bring him out to you, Mr. Flynn, if you don’t want to enter the sick area,” Ann said over her shoulder.
“A little lass like ye thinks ye can help that deadweight Boyd up a ladder? Not a chance, missy.” She heard him tsk behind her. “I’ve had them pox when I was seven, and I’m Irish. They don’t make men stronger than that.”
“I am sure you are right,” she said with a chuckle. Suddenly everything felt light, and she’d laughed more in the last twenty minutes than she had in a fortnight.
“Seems mighty fast to be healed. He’s had it about a week. Doesn’t it usually it take three to recover?” He shrugged. “I always knew Boyd was the hearty type.”
She just nodded, not expounding on the details of the blessing. She’d told the captain, and his eyes had gone wide enough that she’d realized it might be best not to tell the other sailors. Will could explain, if he so wished. Newsof the miracle would undoubtedly spread, but something told her she ought not mention it to Mr. Flynn at present.
They were now in the dark corridor, and a groan of someone in pain could be heard from the sick bay. The place was riddled with disease and malaise, and anyone who was getting close to being well ought not spend their time there. She felt the wear of it, the fatigue of day after day among sickness starting to run her down.
It was best for Will to convalesce in his cabin. That would mean, however, that she couldn’t know how he fared with as much frequency, and that fact pained her. But with the rate he seemed to be healing, perhaps he’d be about his duties sooner than she had expected.
She chose to follow the doctor and Mr. Flynn to Will’s cabin, just to make sure he was well settled. Will was too weak to stand on his own, but the other men buoyed him up. When they finally made it up the ladder with him and across the small portion of deck to his officer’s cabin, they helped him into his hammock. The doctor returned to more pressing cases below, but she lingered at the doorway, and Mr. Flynn seemed to understand.
“I’ll leave him to ye,” said the boatswain. “I’m sure yer bedside manner is much more desirable than mine.”
Ann chuckled and nodded.
When Mr. Flynn was gone, Will gazed at her from his hammock. The red sores still covered his hands, but they weren’t full of the horrid pus, and his face, though flushed from exertion, lacked the telltale signs of the disease.
“Before this journey, I never thought I’d be part of a miracle, Ann.”
Her mouth drew into a half smile. “Well, you haven’t ever transported a whole ship full of religious zealots before. We have some benefits, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” he said. “I still can’t believe it. There aren’t words.”
She was still a moment. “No, there aren’t.” She threaded her fingers together and met his penetrating gaze. “But you might offer a prayer of gratitude ... that is, if you are of a mind to pray.”
“I am, as of late. It’s a new hobby of mine I’ve picked up on this voyage.”
Ann tried to mask her utter delight. “Really?” she said evenly.
“Does it seem so hard to believe?”
“You just seemed skeptical after the Sunday sermon.”
He blew out a gust of air and closed his eyes. “I was. But my time for being critical has passed. God has saved me too many times.”
She watched him as he said it, overjoyed by the sentiment but also observing the tiredness that etched into his face. It was a deep kind of weary, like it had existed long before the smallpox.
“I should let you rest.”
He nodded. “As much as I like our chats, Iamrather spent today.”
She turned toward the open door.
“You’ll check on me soon, though, I hope?”
She paused. “Yes, if you need it.”
“I do,” he said, with a smile. “And Ann—”
“Yes?” She thrilled as he said her name. Thrilled, too, that he was well enough to do so.
