Page 119 of Valour

Hester had never smelled anything as good.

She sat under the upturned Tempest, with Frank, Winston and Peggy, all watching Septimus cook elephant seal steaks on the primus stove in the dim light. The rain pattered against the hull, the white noise comforting.

Winston was finally sitting up, colour in his cheeks, his health much improved after a week of eating well.

“We should set out for Stromness tomorrow,” Hester said, stealing a steak from the pan. “Ouch, that’s hot.”

“Of course it’s hot. What did you expect?” Septimus said, though there was a lightness in his blue eyes, a twitch at the corners of his mouth. His wicked mouth. Oh, the things he had done to her with that mouth. Hester chuckled, a shiver running up her back.

She bit into the steak, blood and fat dripping down her fingers onto the stones. “Mmm. Delicious. Hilary tastes wonderful.”

“I do wish you’d stop naming them just as I’m about to shoot them,” Septimus said.

Hester smirked. “I like that growly noise you make when you tell me off.”

Septimus’s mouth twitched again.

Winston shook his head, muttering something she didn’t quite catch and rubbing at the scar on his neck.

Peggy jabbed a finger towards her. “Enough, lovebirds. So, we’ll set out tomorrow?”

“You are in no fit state, Peggy, nor Winston. You can barely walk outside to relieve yourselves. Septimus and I will go. Frank will stay here to look after you until we can fetch help.”

“Alright, Captain,” Frank said, his words sombre.

“The end is nigh, fear not.” There was just the small matter of crossing a hostile mountain environment to contend with. But surely that was nothing compared to the voyage to get here. Hester settled back. Nothing would stop her from rescuing the crew.

Elephant Island

The mood in the stinking, cramped hut was morose, and Charlotte was at her wits’ end with knowing what to do about it.

Rufus let out intermittent sighs. Mei grumbled as she stitched her breeches back together, and even Arnold was in a foul mood.

“That dratted cat scratched me across the face. We should have shot him along with the dogs,” Emlyn said.

Fliss patted Emlyn’s scratched cheek. “It’s a marvel he’s made it all this way, honestly. He’s made of strong stuff, that one.”

Rufus sat up in his sleeping bag. “He shat on my pillow last night. I didn’t notice till I’d put my ear in it. I can still smell it. Disgusting creature.”

Charlotte grimaced, shifting so that the little loaf of ginger cat was hidden behind her body.

19th May 1916, South Georgia

One foot, then the other.

Hester had climbed all day and night, trudging up the mountains behind Septimus. They stood at 2500 feet above sea-level, and after months of low rations, her legs were shaking with exhaustion. The full moon lit the broken interior of the island, the crevasses in deep shadow, the glaciers stretching forever. It looked nigh-on impossible to cross.

“Shit,” Septimus breathed.

She flicked the rope slung around her middle. “It’s not that many miles, as the crow flies.” But it could have been a thousand.

“It looks like…death. Like certain death.”

“There’s that optimism for which you are so famous,” Hester said, resting a hand on his back. “Let’s eat. I need to rest for a moment.”

She sat in the deep snow, shivering and opening a bag containing the primus stove and their rations. Her fingers shook as she tried to light the stove. “I can’t light the damn match. You do it.”

He took it from her, struggled for a minute, and then the flame sparked.