Read Online Sea Change by Darlene Marshall - Free Book Online Page A

with cool water, and snapping at poor Mr. Lewis when he asked about a blistering plaster to draw the fever out.
    After an especially tense night Mr. Fletcher's fever spiked, then broke, and his sleep now was the deep sleep of healing. Charley returned to sleeping in her own bunk, and thought David Fletcher looked at her with new respect, but that could have been the bad lighting belowdecks.
    She prepared stimulating Peruvian bark tonics, and Henry Fletcher complained about the "swill" being forced on him--a good sign, to Charley's eyes. The swelling around his stump appeared to be normal for a wound of such severity, and there were no red streaks of infection or development of proud flesh around the site, for which she thanked whatever angel guided the hands of surgeons, especially unqualified ones.
    It occurred to her one morning as she was preparing a sulphur ointment for Stern's scabies that she was oddly content. While she might question herself, and feel all too often that she wasn't up to this task, the crew of the Fancy had faith in her, and that strengthened her resolve.
    When she wasn't tending to Mr. Fletcher, Charley tended the rest of the ship. She soon realized that the daily sick call could be a high form of entertainment for men stuck at sea with no vessels to rob. Her schedule kept her busy enough that she spent most of her time in sick bay either seeing to the men or writing up her notes, oftentimes taking her meals on a tray. The talented carpenter, Mr. Purcell adjusted her examining table for her so that it could be raised or lowered as she needed, and when it wasn't covered with a sailor's body it was a good workspace. While Charley could have wished for more windows and natural lighting, there were plenty of lanterns on hand to work by. She knew her situation, at least from a professional point of view, could have been much worse.
    When Charley didn't eat in her cabin, she ate with Mr. Bryant and Mr. Purcell and "Sails," the sailmaster. The captain, she discovered, preferred to spend his scarce free moments with his brother or in his own cabin.

    * * * *
    David Fletcher was enjoying a rare moment of quiet, a moment interrupted by a peremptory knock at the cabin door. He sighed and stood, setting aside the gothic novel he'd been reading, a secret vice he kept well hidden from his crew.
    "Come in, Doctor."
    Alcott strode into the cabin, frowning. "How did you know it was me?"
    "I suspected it from that annoying knock."
    "Oh." Alcott looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. "We need to talk, Captain Fletcher. You have been avoiding me these past days and I will not have it!"
    David looked down at the feisty youngster. The doctor had balls, there was no doubt about it. It would be sad to have to chuck him over the side, but sometimes a captain did what a captain had to do.
    On the other hand, there was Henry to think about. David pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the bunk. When he turned back, the doctor was staring at him and... Good Lord, the boy was blushing.
    Alcott cleared his throat and said, "You have quite a collection of scars, Captain Fletcher."
    David went to get a clean shirt from his chest, and pulled it over his head. Alcott was staring out the window, not watching him.
    "Do my scars bother you, Doctor?"
    Alcott adjusted his neckcloth, then looked back at David.
    "No, Captain, certainly not. I expect in your line of work they are not at all unusual. It just...startled me." A smile twitched the doctor's lips. "Usually, people do not take off their clothes in my presence until I tell them to."
    "I can see how that might cramp your social life with the ladies."
    Alcott frowned again and crossed his arms. "I did not come here to discuss my social life, Captain Fletcher, but the state of your ship. I refuse to work in a pigsty! I do not care if you are the most ferocious pirate to ravage the shipping of the West Indies..."
    "Privateer, and as a matter of fact, I am."
    "...but I will