This was no time to quibble or argue, or even ask questions. ‘Follow me.’
As Captain Tyler’s crew carried in three men on stretchers, she ran to the sitting room, looked around and pronounced it serviceable.
‘Set them down. We will move this furniture,’ she directed, and picked up a side table.
‘We can do that, ma’am,’ a stretcher bearer said. He had a delightful, drawly sort of speech. Too bad there was no time to enquire about his home in faraway America.
To her relief, Madame Durand materialised, rolling up her sleeves and not wasting a moment. ‘There are several cots in the room off the kitchen,’ she said, and called for Hector.
Captain Tyler took Anna’s arm again, but gently now, his head close to hers, as if suspecting the very walls of eavesdropping. ‘La Guerrejumped us. We managed to get away whenSwallowsailed to our defence.’
‘Was anyone onSwallow…’
‘Injured, too? Nothing thatSwallow’s surgeon couldn’t manage.’ He looked down. ‘Except for this man. He’s a private, a Royal Marine. It looks bad enough, and John—beg pardon, Captain Beattie—insisted I bring him here.’
She followed Captain Tyler to the first stretcher, where the Royal Marine lay, his uniform coat half on, half off, exposing a bloody bandage on his right arm. Anna knelt beside him and touched his shoulder lightly.
He opened his eyes. ‘I told the captain it was nothing, but he insisted,’ he said. She heard pain in his voice. ‘Arguing with officers is against the rules. Breaking rules is what got me busted in rank, and I doubt I can get lower than a private.’
She couldn’t help smiling at that. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Private David Bartleby at your service, ma’am. I’ll be all right.’ He looked to the other stretcher, where Dan Tyler stood looking down at the occupant. ‘He’sthe one to worry about.’
‘The Marine is right,’ Captain Tyler said, speaking softly. ‘Thisman is here to die.’ He passed his hand across his eyes. ‘He’s my second-in-command, my sister’s husband and father of two daughters. I wish to God I could stay with him, but I must return to my ship.’
She knelt beside the wounded man, hesitated for the smallest second, then took his hand. He opened his eyes in that drowsy way that she had seen years before when her own father died.
‘Joel Watt is his name,’ Captain Tyler whispered.
‘Joel,’ she said. ‘I’ll take good care of you. You’re on Menorca and in my house.’
Joel nodded like a dutiful child and closed his eyes. She made no objection when Captain Tyler’s hand went to her shoulder. Obviously, more than one man needed tending.
‘Beg pardon, Mrs Beattie.’
‘No worry, Captain Tyler,’ she said. ‘I wish you could stay, too, but I know you must return to the fight.’ She hoped she sounded calm and in charge, even as her heart raced as she thought ofSwallowalone againstLa Guerre.
He pointed to the other stretcher. ‘Thisman from my ship has a leg injury. We both thought it best he come here, too. You’re not in too bad a shape, are you, Billy?’
‘No, sir, not at all,’ was the cheerful reply, to Anna’s relief. ‘Can’t move too fast, but you might argue that’s my specialty, Captain.’
Captain Tyler smiled. ‘You’re a talented malingerer, but damned useful when sails flap and no one else climbs as fast as you do. Billy Whitlow is a foretopman, Mrs Beattie, damned cheeky and… Ah, here we are.’ The Durands arrived with cots. ‘Let me help.’
Anna hurried upstairs to her newly organised linen closet for sheets and pillows while Hector and Captain Tyler set up the cots. Madame Durand followed at a slower pace, ready to complain. ‘More work and worry for us,’ she said. ‘I thought those ships had surgeons.’
‘Some do, if large enough.’ Anna remembered Grace Fillion of the Drake, and her calm message from what seemed like years ago, but which rang fresh in her mind and heart:This is how we fight Napoleon. ‘I will tend the injured,’ Anna said. ‘You will cook more, and that is that.’
‘I’m sounding like John,’ she whispered to Captain Tyler after the housekeeper glared at her and turned on her heel with a great swish of skirts. ‘When did that happen?’
‘Ah, the fierce Royal Navy! Then we’re all in good hands,’ he joked, despite the circumstances. ‘I’ll help you.’
He was no expert at spreading sheets and tucking them just so, but she knew that wasn’t Captain Tyler’s lot in ordinary times. She stood quietly to one side when they transferred the wounded to cots from stretchers. She arranged pillows behind heads and got grateful smiles from the two less seriously wounded men. ‘I’ll be close by and you can tell me what you need,’ she whispered to them as the captain knelt by his brother-in-law and kissed his forehead.
He stood there a moment, then turned towards her, his expression resolute.I recognize that captain’s look, she thought, her heart going out to him.
She could almost feel his sorrow when he took her arm again in the doorway. She put her hand over his, and waited.
‘He’s a good man, my brother-in-law,’ he began, not looking at her because she knew he couldn’t bear eye contact at the moment—not this man. ‘John told me to bring him here and said you would watch over him until death.’
