Read Online Castaway Dreams by Darlene Marshall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Darlene Marshall
Tags: Romance
Ads: Link
small cabin, filling the air with the scent of mint.
"Yes, Miss Farnham, oftentimes a red sky at sunrise means rough weather ahead."
Daphne frowned down at the clean, but worn cloth strip she was rolling for bandages. The sea rocked this morning, the waves having an oily look to them as they swelled beneath the Magpie. She felt the tension in the crew as they worked at their tasks, all of them looking to the southeast where black clouds piled up in an ominous wall. The sky at sunrise had a sullen reddish cast and the air was oppressive and heavy. Yesterday sea birds followed them, but the skies were now empty of life, only high, scudding clouds moving as the wind picked up.
Dr. Murray was already at work when she arrived, and his eyes skimmed over her neat braid and the muslin dress she wore. It was one of her favorites even though it was out of fashion, and she thought the doctor's braided ribbon a nice complement to the dusty rose stripes in her skirt. There was a rose flounce at the bottom, the higher hemline showing off her wonderful kid half-boots that laced behind, the ones she'd fallen in love with when she saw the design in the shoemaker's.
"Why such a sad sigh, Miss Farnham?"
"I love these shoes, Dr. Murray, and I fear when I return to London they will no longer be fashionable. Then I have to give some serious thought as to whether I should continue wearing them."
Dr. Murray paused from his labor and looked at her.
"Miss Farnham, I am going to pretend you just walked into the cabin and we did not have this conversation. It makes my brain hurt when you say things like that."
"That is odd, Doctor. My brain never hurts."
He looked about to remark on this, then stopped himself and gave his head a small shake, returning to his task.
"What are you mixing, Doctor? It smells"--she thought for a moment--"pungent."
"An ointment for sprains, Miss Farnham. That is one of the more common injuries the sailors suffer during storms. I am also making a salve for treating rheumatism."
"Rheumatism?"
"A sailor who spends his time in a cold and wet environment is prone to aches and diseases of the joints."
Daphne grabbed a fresh strip of cloth, and paused. She'd never thought about the details of doctoring. What had these bandages been used for in the past? Had they wrapped broken ribs on a sailor falling off of one of those sticks that jutted out and held up the sails? Covered a nasty gash after an encounter with pirates? Who had the unpleasant task of washing out the bandages when they were unwrapped?
She was about to ask Dr. Murray this when voices were heard outside the cabin. Daphne paused to listen, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation between the captain and the mate.
"Barometer still dropping," she heard the captain say. "Our best option is to try to run before the storm."
Daphne could not hear Mr. Carr's reply, and when she glanced at him she saw Dr. Murray also had stopped to listen to the conversation, but the two officers moved off.
"It is going to be a bad storm, isn't it?"
He looked down at the ointment, his fingers shiny in the shifting lamplight with the grease from his preparations. Then he looked her in the eye.
"Yes, Miss Farnham, it will be a bad storm."
Oddly enough, his stark words eased the tension from Daphne's shoulders. Dr. Murray may not like her very much, but his answers to her were always bluntly honest, if rudely phrased. He did not smile at her and tell her not to worry her pretty little head as the other gentlemen did.
"What should I do to prepare for the storm, Doctor?"
He still watched her, and his eyes changed. He didn't smile at her--she could not imagine that happening. Instead, his look was, if not approving, at least less censorious.
"A very good question, Miss Farnham." He straightened up from his labors, wiped his hands on a cloth and then covered the bowl with it.
"The Magpie is a sound ship, and the captain and crew are experienced. But if I were you, I would
"Yes, Miss Farnham, oftentimes a red sky at sunrise means rough weather ahead."
Daphne frowned down at the clean, but worn cloth strip she was rolling for bandages. The sea rocked this morning, the waves having an oily look to them as they swelled beneath the Magpie. She felt the tension in the crew as they worked at their tasks, all of them looking to the southeast where black clouds piled up in an ominous wall. The sky at sunrise had a sullen reddish cast and the air was oppressive and heavy. Yesterday sea birds followed them, but the skies were now empty of life, only high, scudding clouds moving as the wind picked up.
Dr. Murray was already at work when she arrived, and his eyes skimmed over her neat braid and the muslin dress she wore. It was one of her favorites even though it was out of fashion, and she thought the doctor's braided ribbon a nice complement to the dusty rose stripes in her skirt. There was a rose flounce at the bottom, the higher hemline showing off her wonderful kid half-boots that laced behind, the ones she'd fallen in love with when she saw the design in the shoemaker's.
"Why such a sad sigh, Miss Farnham?"
"I love these shoes, Dr. Murray, and I fear when I return to London they will no longer be fashionable. Then I have to give some serious thought as to whether I should continue wearing them."
Dr. Murray paused from his labor and looked at her.
"Miss Farnham, I am going to pretend you just walked into the cabin and we did not have this conversation. It makes my brain hurt when you say things like that."
"That is odd, Doctor. My brain never hurts."
He looked about to remark on this, then stopped himself and gave his head a small shake, returning to his task.
"What are you mixing, Doctor? It smells"--she thought for a moment--"pungent."
"An ointment for sprains, Miss Farnham. That is one of the more common injuries the sailors suffer during storms. I am also making a salve for treating rheumatism."
"Rheumatism?"
"A sailor who spends his time in a cold and wet environment is prone to aches and diseases of the joints."
Daphne grabbed a fresh strip of cloth, and paused. She'd never thought about the details of doctoring. What had these bandages been used for in the past? Had they wrapped broken ribs on a sailor falling off of one of those sticks that jutted out and held up the sails? Covered a nasty gash after an encounter with pirates? Who had the unpleasant task of washing out the bandages when they were unwrapped?
She was about to ask Dr. Murray this when voices were heard outside the cabin. Daphne paused to listen, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation between the captain and the mate.
"Barometer still dropping," she heard the captain say. "Our best option is to try to run before the storm."
Daphne could not hear Mr. Carr's reply, and when she glanced at him she saw Dr. Murray also had stopped to listen to the conversation, but the two officers moved off.
"It is going to be a bad storm, isn't it?"
He looked down at the ointment, his fingers shiny in the shifting lamplight with the grease from his preparations. Then he looked her in the eye.
"Yes, Miss Farnham, it will be a bad storm."
Oddly enough, his stark words eased the tension from Daphne's shoulders. Dr. Murray may not like her very much, but his answers to her were always bluntly honest, if rudely phrased. He did not smile at her and tell her not to worry her pretty little head as the other gentlemen did.
"What should I do to prepare for the storm, Doctor?"
He still watched her, and his eyes changed. He didn't smile at her--she could not imagine that happening. Instead, his look was, if not approving, at least less censorious.
"A very good question, Miss Farnham." He straightened up from his labors, wiped his hands on a cloth and then covered the bowl with it.
"The Magpie is a sound ship, and the captain and crew are experienced. But if I were you, I would
Similar Books
