‘Listen,’ he said. ‘We’ve been hit twice. Hear it?’
She listened, then heard a rhythmic clank. ‘What is it?’
‘The pumps, ma’am,’ he told her, sounding so matter-of-fact, when she wanted to run in circles like a crazy person. ‘Getting t’ water out.’
‘What now?’
She didn’t know how a wounded man could grin, but he did. ‘We hope that Neptune likes the Royal Navy more than he likes the French.’
Chapter Eighteen
Anna motioned the children closer. ‘I don’t like this,’ Allan told her.
‘That makes four of us,’ the sailor said cheerfully. ‘Miss, you tie a right good bandage.’
‘I’m discovering hidden talents,’ she replied, heartened by his calmness.
She longed for silence, wondering how nice it might be, if she survived to see her wedding, to listen to John breathing that calm sleep of the content and satisfied person. Something deep in her heart told her she could provide him with restful slumber.
The nautical dance of death that was a ship-to-ship action continued: dodge and parry, fire, and dodge again on their nimble but wounded ship, well-captained. How long could they survive?
‘Ah,’ the sailor said, alert now. ‘You hear that?’
‘Something else? What?’
‘There’s another ship nearby,’ he told her, listening intently.
‘Theirs or ours?’
‘We’ll know soon enough.’
They waited. The sailor closed his eyes. It touched her heart to think that he had stayed awake, or maybe even conscious, because he felt they needed him.
He opened his eyes later when the bombardment stopped. ‘We’ll be all right now. Don’t you worry,’ he said, then closed his eyes again with a relieved sigh.
She heard someone on the ladder. His face blackened by smoke from the carronades, the first lieutenant opened the door, peered in and smiled, teeth so white in a darkened face. ‘I’ll get you topside,’ he told Anna. ‘And I’ll get something better for Joey’s bare bum.’ He looked closer at her ‘bandage’ and grinned. ‘I like the crocheted edging. Someone should suggest that to the Sick and Hurt Board.’
‘Really, sir!’ she exclaimed, but had to smile, despite all.
Topside was a tangle of rope and shell casings. To one side she saw a man covered entirely with bloody sailcloth, and looked away, saddened at the high cost of war.
‘We had a time of it, Miss Fontaine,’ Captain Carlisle said. He gestured to the tall man beside him, wearing an unfamiliar uniform. ‘Miss Fontaine, let me introduce Captain Dan Tyler, US Navy.’
‘How do ye, ma’am?’
‘We owe you a debt, sir.’
‘Indeed we do,’ Captain Carlisle echoed. ‘Miss Fontaine, if you will permit, I want you and the children on…on…’
‘TheHartford,’ Captain Tyler said. ‘We harbour near Boston.’ He nodded to his Royal Navy counterpart. ‘Lately, we sail here, too.’ There was no mistaking his good humour. ‘Captain Carlisle, the Mediterranean does not belong to the Royal Navy.’
‘Can we not continue to Gibraltar on theJaunty?’ she asked.
‘Only if you wish to be towed behind her in our dinghy for safety,’ Captain Carlisle said. ‘Miss Fontaine, we’re in precarious shape. I won’t endanger you three by keeping you aboard.’ Henodded to his fellow in rank, if not nation any more. ‘Thank God Captain Tyler arrived to harry away the French.’
‘Very well, sir,’ she said, because there was no other answer.
‘We should meet up with Admiral Collingwood’s flagship along the way. I have asked Captain Tyler to leave you there with the sailor you so prettily bandaged.’
