Page 19 of Valour

“Mei is cooking up a storm already,” Hester said, rubbing her stomach.

They passed down more steps, and Arnold threw open the door to the hold, Hester, Fliss and Peggy crowded behind.

Charlotte could barely make out what was happening inside.

Marjorie.

One of the sled dogs mounted on her back.

Charlotte screamed, her eyes wide with horror. “Marjorie! No!”

Hester cackled. “We’ll call that one Romeo.”

11th August 1914, Atlantic Ocean

Hester loved the start of a voyage, the freedom of life on the open sea, the potential for adventure expanding in all directions. She marched along the lower deck towards Fliss, standing at the wheel, past the three masts, fully laden with sails, the four lifeboats hanging from the sides, swaying slightly as the ship did, the crew working or relaxing on the deck. Her thoughts slid to Septimus, and she smirked as she imagined his rage to find them gone, and no trace of Charlotte either. Oh, she would have loved to see his face.

She eased off the steady unspooling of magic from her chest, the wind dropping by a few knots. She’d been eager to get away from land, but now the rolling waves and hazy sea mist were the only things in sight, she had to conserve her magic. It dwindled to nothing over time. Was only ever at full power on land. As she’d never travelled as far as they would on this journey, she wasn’t entirely sure when her power would sputter and die, and so it was best to use it sparingly.

“Morning, Captain,” a voice to her left said.

“Morning, Winston.” Hester smiled at the bosun who appeared at her side, matching her steps. His short, dark hair was blown back in the wind, handsome grey eyes squinting against the sun. Hester had once toyed with the idea of a relationship with him, but after sharing a drunken kiss she had given up the idea. She couldn’t quite remember what had happened afterwards, but neither of them had mentioned that night again. It was for the best. Best not to mix work and pleasure.

On the upper deck, Winston leant against the rail at the stern, watching the white spray of the wake. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Hester turned and shielded her eyes, scanning the hazy horizon.

Fliss glanced over her shoulder. “I can’t see anything.”

“Probably nothing.” Hester reached into a pocket for her spyglass and snapped it open with a well-practised movement. “Visibility is too poor to see much.” She closed the spyglass. “I’m going to check on Charlotte.”

“Poor thing,” Fliss said. “She’s barely left her cabin.”

“She’ll get used to it. Shout if you need anything.” Hester made her way down the companionway, through the corridors to Charlotte’s cabin, where she knocked.

“Come in,” a feeble voice called.

She opened the door to find Charlotte knelt over a bucket, Marjorie sat beside her. Doctor Valerie was closing up her medical bag on the dressing table.

“She’ll be fine. Just needs to keep eating and drinking,” Valerie said, tucking a loose strand of glossy brown hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear. She clapped Hester on the shoulder and left the room.

Hester wrinkled her nose at the stench and patted Charlotte’s shoulder. She knew it wasn’t pleasant, having spent many hours in such a state when she’d first taken to working on ships. Knew it was a debilitating thing to feel so weak and useless. She’d tried easing the wind, but they’d take forever to get to Argentina for resupplies if she slowed too much. Besides, even if she could calm the weather, it was more difficult to calm the seas.

“Better out than in, Charlotte,” Hester said, pinching her nose to block the smell. “Although I’m not sure that saying really applies to seasickness.”

Charlotte rose on wobbly legs, and Hester helped her over to the bed, tucking her into the sheets. “Keep drinking water. It’ll pass.”

“I sincerely hope so. I feel utterly wretched,” Charlotte croaked.

“Give it a few days, you’ll be fine.” Something brushed past Hester’s leg, and Marjorie stiffened, then turned tail and scampered under the bed.

“Oh, where did you come from? Hello little kitty,” Charlotte said, reaching out to the ginger tomcat that had jumped onto the bed.

Hester froze. Satan. How had he got back on board without her noticing? She’d managed to lure him far away from the ship on the night they left. But it appeared that the little devil had found his way back.

“Charlotte. Do. Not. Move. Don’t touch him,” she hissed, backing out of the cabin and into the corridor. “Don’t make eye contact with him or make any sudden movements. Whatever you do, do not say the word A—N—D, which is harder than one might think.”

Charlotte looked utterly bewildered and chuckled. “Surely you’re mistaken. He looks so sweet!”