Elementary (17 page)

She would. If not for that rope. “You need to send a message to Captain Conner in Greenwood.”

“Captain Conner, Water Master, recently retired from Her Majesty's navy?”

What a day for Dr. Evans to be gone. She missed being able to stamp her foot even though she was years too old for such an undignified response. “Yes,
that
Captain Conner. The serpent must be dealt with, without delay.”

Dr. Harris spread his hands. “Why would the undines not have told the Captain themselves?”

Marie took a deep breath and counted to five. There wasn't time for ten. “This isn't a stream or pond or a bucket of water, this is the sea. The deep undines saved me when my father's ship went down. They know me.”

“I see.” He glanced her at her file again as though it would have more answers than she did. “Unfortunately, Captain Conner is laid up with gout. He's not able to leave his chair. But I'll send word to England . . .”

“Fifteen days for a reply, best case scenario,” Marie snapped. Captain Conner could leave
his
chair with a cane and a litany of complaints. “There isn't a steamer heading across until the twenty-third, so that's by sail with an Air and Water Master on board. But if we had a functional Water Master, we wouldn't need to send a message to England. I own half of Hudson Shipping, Dr. Harris. I know how long it takes to cross the ocean.”

“Of course.” Startled, he sounded less patronizing. “There's no ship with a Water Master in port?”

She twitched at the folds of her skirt. “We'd need to check each ship. My uncle spoke of setting up a volunteer registry, having the Water Masters check in at the office when they come to shore, but some work for other companies, and some speak neither French nor English.”

“And all of them were suspicious of his motives?” When she nodded, he stroked his knuckles over his beard and sighed. “It might be faster to send the message than to check each ship.”

“It might,” she acknowledged reluctantly. “Though Boston is closer.”

“Boston? In America? Is there a Water Master in Boston?”

“I don't know. My uncle would, but he's in at the dockyards in Sydney.” Three days to Sydney even if she could convince Mrs. Barton of the necessity. Three days in the clarence, and the pain wouldn't be a lie. “If I could find a ship to take me, I could . . .”

“No. Not in your condition.”

“In my condition?” Marie bit each word off. “I wasn't planning to
walk
, Dr. Harris.”

“I don't doubt your will is strong, Miss Hudson, but your body is not.” The Earth Master was gone, the doctor in his place. “An injury such as yours will never be entirely healed. The
therapy
Dr. Evans has allowed would be dangerous in the extreme, were you not what you are.”

“Were I not what I am, I wouldn't be here.” And she didn't have time to linger. “My apologies for taking up your time.”

“Miss Hudson . . .”

“I'm sure you have actual patients to see to.” Rolling one wheel forward and one back, she began to turn. “Good day, Dr. Harris, I . . .” Interrupted by a brisk knock on the inner door, she paused.

Dr. Harris sighed. “Come in, Ealasaid.”

Ealasaid looked a little younger than Marie's twenty years, with bright red hair twisted into a knot it seemed determined to escape, and a heart-shaped face dusted with golden freckles. Not a Master, but something about her lifted the hair off the back of Marie's neck. She wore a dove-gray skirt over modest hoops, a white lawn shirtwaist with a tatted collar, and a starched white pinafore similar to the nursing sisters', although she wore no cap. “I'm sorry to interrupt, Father, but Dr. Kent needs your help.”

“Miss Hudson, my daughter, Ealasaid. Ealasaid, Marie Hudson. We're short staffed today, Miss Hudson. My apologies. Ealasaid . . .”

“I'll see Miss Hudson out, Father.” And with a gentle shove toward the door, he was gone.

Any other time, Marie would have wanted to make a friend of Ealasaid Harris, now smiling at her with a gleam in her gray eyes, but today, since Dr. Harris had failed her, she had to find a way to deal with that serpent. If she could convince Mrs. Barton to go to the docks, perhaps the undines would know of another Master.

“Miss Hudson, I couldn't help but overhear . . . Actually, I could have, but I didn't. Is there really a sea serpent? Don't worry,” Ealasaid added quickly when Marie's eyes widened, “I know what my father does besides medicine. And I have skills of my own.” She leaned closer and said quietly, “I help the dead.”

“The dead?”

“Move on.”

“We're in a hospital.”

“Sometimes . . .” The rustle of starched cotton bracketed her words. “. . . sometimes they don't want to leave.”

Marie rolled back, noticed that Ealasaid watched her, not the chair, and made a decision. “Yes, there's really a serpent. Men have already died. I have family out on the sea, and I've lost enough family. I have to stop it.”

“Of course you do. And I can help. I know a Fire Master at the Citadel.”

Of course she did. She looked like the sort of girl young men would want to walk home. Dance with. “How will that help?”

Dimples flashed. “He has a friend with a boat.”

 • • • 

“Marie will be perfectly safe with me, Mrs. Barton.” Ealasaid spoke with such confidence Marie could actually see Mrs. Barton be convinced. “I'm a doctor's daughter, and I help at the hospital when I'm needed. We'll walk over to the gardens—it's not far—and I can introduce Marie to some of my friends.”

Mrs. Barton's brows dipped. “Male friends?”

“One friend is male, yes. An officer in the Citadel regiment and a gentleman, I assure you. They do a luncheon in the garden, and Marie and I will chaperone each other.”

“I'm sure you will.” After a long moment, Mrs. Barton nodded. “I wouldn't mind a few hours to myself.” Turning to Marie, she added, “Keep an eye on the Citadel clock and be back here by four. You have your medicine in your bag? Good. And wear your hat.” She tied the green plaid ribbon under Marie's chin and laid a hand gently against her cheek. “Enjoy yourself, but be careful.”

“Thank you. I will.” If they spoke of two different things, Mrs. Barton wasn't to know.

A braided belt of turquoise cord and a turquoise half jacket much like Marie's own turned Ellie's near uniform into a stylish walking outfit. Marie shifted her shoulders and tried not to resent Ellie's quick footsteps behind her. Ellie. Not Ealasaid because that was a mouthful, and not Miss Harris because they were going to be friends.

For the last three years, all of Marie's friends had been of the sea.

She wasn't sure she remembered how to be a friend on land.

 • • • 

Captain Alistair Williams was not happy about Ellie's plan. “Begging your pardon, Miss Hudson, but you're . . .”

“Crippled?” Marie tilted her head back far enough to look him in the eye and wondered if he could even see her brows go up under the brim of her hat. “I'm also the only Water Master in Halifax right now, and every moment we delay increases the chance of another attack, of more men dying. I can stop that. But I need your help.”

“Ellie . . .”

Ellie glanced down at her, then back up at the captain and grinned. “We won't be walking to the island, Alistair.”

When Marie laughed in response, it surprised her almost as much as it surprised Captain Williams.

 • • • 

Getting them to the friend's boat took all the ingenuity of the captain and the cabbie combined. Although Captain Williams had easily lifted Marie inside, without the extra strapping Conway had installed on the family carriage, her chair was causing problems.

“Honestly, they carry sea chests all the time.” Ellie handed her a cheese sandwich on a tissue paper napkin.

“I think it's frightening the horse.”

“They'll work it out. If you don't mind my saying, you're less fragile than I expected.”

“I swim. Dr. Evans prescribed salt water immersion,” she added when Ellie looked startled.

“Ah. Because you're a Water Master.”

“Because I can't use my legs.” Marie crumbled a bit of the bread. “I don't really swim. I just scull about in the shallows at the end of a safety line holding me close to shore. I wish . . .” She stopped and wondered what she was doing. She never talked about this. Of course, if she told Mrs. Barton, she'd never be allowed back in the water, and if she told her mother . . . When did she have the chance to tell her mother? “I wish sometimes I could just swim away and never come back.”

Ellie seemed more curious than shocked, but then, she spoke to the dead. “Isn't your mother still alive?”

Marie sighed. “Not entirely.”

Then Captain Williams climbed in, triumphant over her chair, and they lost the chance to continue the conversation.

 • • • 

“You don't realize what you're asking. Sable isn't an hour's pleasant sail, you know; it's maybe sixteen hours if the wind is going right and going out . . .” Erik Ahlquist spread large, scarred hands. “. . . it's never right.”

“I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.”

“It's always important with you, Williams. Always. My answer's no.”

Before Captain Williams could continue the argument, Marie rolled past him. “I'll pay you a hundred dollars. Fifty now.” She dug her felted bag out from where it was tucked under her skirt. “Fifty when we're back safely.”

Ahlquist looked at the new Dominion of Canada ten-dollar notes. “And if you don't come back safely?”

“Then you'll be out fifty dollars.”

Chapped lips twitched into a smile in the depths of his white-blond beard. “Why do—”

“And another fifty to not ask questions.”

“Then in the morning . . .”

“We need to go now.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his bright blue eyes shifting from the money to her face. Finally, he sighed and turned to the captain. “We should take Miss Hudson and her chair aboard separately.”

“Do we even need to take the chair?” Captain Williams wondered. “There's not a lot of room . . .”

Marie could feel Ellie watching her as the two men discussed the best way to secure her. “Did I not mention I was rich?”

“No.”

“My uncle gives me pin money every quarter. I don't have anything to spend it on.” They used to come to Halifax once a month and stay at Uncle Edward's house. Her cousins' wives would throw parties. She owned half a dozen pairs of dancing shoes.

“How did you know he'd take the money?”

She came back to the dock. “His shirt's been mended with sailmaker stitches, so he probably did it himself, and his left boot is cracked just above the sole. Every cent he has goes into his boat.”

“You sound like you approve?”

“It's a beautiful boat.” The
Vand Hjerte
was close to a hundred feet long, her cabin rising almost a full three feet above the foredeck, and she gleamed. Not a bit of peeling paint, not a frayed line; no doubt the sails would be mended and tight. She could probably hold a crew of seven or eight, but with the mizzen aft of the rudder post, she could also be sailed by a single man. A single strong man, Marie amended, watching muscles ripple under shirt and vest.

“Does your nurse know you've got so much money with you?” A pause. “Marie?”

“Sorry.” She shook her head. “I was admiring the boat. No, she doesn't know.”

“What will she do when we're not there at four?”

“She'll go to your father, and he'll explain. He'll know where we've gone.” Marie untied her hat and pushed it back, letting the sea breeze dry her curls. “He'd stop this himself, if it were on land.”

 • • • 

They were out of the harbor when Ahlquist shouted something that didn't sound polite and Captain Williams shuffled along the tiny walkway linking stern to bow until he could crouch beside her. She'd refused to be stowed in the cabin like baggage. “It's not going to take sixteen hours, is it?”

Marie laughed as a spray of water rose against the wind and drenched him. “No, it's not.”

 • • • 

Ahlquist steered by the stars after dark, standing at the rudder with his shirtsleeves rolled up while Captain Williams napped. Once they were in the lee of Sable Island and the sea anchors were out, they traded places. Wrapped in a rough blanket, Ellie curled up on one of the narrow bunks under the foredeck. Marie didn't sleep. She didn't need to sleep, not surrounded by the sea.

Captain Williams came to her at dawn, dark hair and whiskers spiky with salt. “The sea's mercurial enough that Erik's accepted the speed of the journey out, but if he sees the serpent . . .”

Marie pulled a small brown bottle from her bag. “It's calm enough to light the stove; make him a strong coffee and put in half a teaspoon of this. If it doesn't put him out, he'll be sleepy enough to be convinced he's dreaming.”

The captain's eyes were a surprisingly pale hazel, with flecks of gold in among the brown and green. “Why do you have laudanum?”

“I have a broken back.”

“You're in pain?”

His voice held no pity, so she told him the truth. “Sometimes it's like dancing on knives.” But not in the sea. Never in the sea.

 • • • 

The sea rocked the boat slowly up and down, a mother's hand at the cradle.

As the sun rose, Marie slipped out of her jacket and shirtwaist, unfastened her skirt and petticoat and inched her way back out of them, thankful that she was free of most of the complications of women's clothing. Laced into a corset at the hospital, she'd screamed until they removed it. Shoes off, stockings rolled down, she could hear Captain Williams explaining Ahlquist's sudden return to sleep. As she hand-walked to the rope lines, legs trailing behind her, she heard Ellie complain he'd made the coffee bitter enough to hide a pint of laudanum.