The Lady and the Captain (2 page)

There was no doubt there was a strong bond between the two. And assuredly the older, wise woman had been consulted about Captain Jackson’s condition. Robert wondered what had been decided. Could these women heal Captain Jackson of this mysterious malady? Or was his commander doomed to certain death?

*    *    *

Sarah returned to the hearth and gestured for him to come closer. Her face was grave. The news she had to impart was not good.

“Well?” he asked.

“How has the captain been faring before now? Has he complained of stomach cramps and other digestive ailments? What of the other men aboard, did any of the hands suffer from similar complaints as his?”

“Aye, Captain Jackson complained of cramps. He has also experienced a loss of sensitivity in his limbs and he’s been having trouble with his hearing of late. But those difficulties would come and go, until this . . . ,” he answered honestly. “He became deathly ill nigh on two days ago. It was then I decided to seek your help. Many of my men had heard of your mother’s renowned skills as a wise woman and recommended her to me.”

She nodded at this remark.

Indeed their reputation as healers had spread all the way to the English navy. Aye, there had been many a desperate sailor who’d come to them in hopes of being healed from ailments that appeared to be hopelessly incurable. But she knew for this proud English lieutenant to have sought her help meant she was his last hope. She saw fear in his dark eyes. She sensed he was afraid his captain would die.

Sarah continued with her questioning. There were too many unknowns and she had to eliminate every other possible illness before she could get to the right one.

“Were your provisions fresh when the captain began to take ill?”

“Yes, they were, but if you are about to suggest that our provisions were in any manner compromised,” he replied, “I must disagree. None of the other men aboard have suffered any similar complaints. Therefore, I do not believe our water or spirits have been in any way tainted.” As a result, he hadn’t asked the Admiralty to launch a board of inquiry and send inspectors to assess the ship. Nor did he intend to do so when it returned to England, he silently promised himself.

Sarah made no comment about Robert’s remark that the food was untainted. Instead, she continued her inquiry. She had a list of questions. This was not going to be an easy diagnosis.

“How long ago was the last time you noted these difficulties with the captain’s limbs?”

“That would be about nigh on seven days ago.”

“And his meals are served with the rest of the crew’s?”

He shook his head.

“Nay . . . he’s the highest ranking officer aboard and like other captains has his mess fixed for him by his own steward.”

She gave him a quizzical look, her brow furrowed in thought.

“He has a servant fix his meals, Lieutenant? Was it separate from the rest of the men’s mess? Did he consume food different from them?”

“Aye, it is a common enough practice. If an officer wishes, he can purchase his own rations and have them prepared by his own servants. Now that Captain Jackson has become well off, it would have been tightfisted of him not to use some of his winnings. He uses his blunt for his own comfort and that of those who serve beneath him. He can well afford it.”

He smiled, remembering their shared victories—the moments that had sealed his friendship with Captain Jackson. The battles had also helped earn him respect from the ordinary sailors and fellow ranked officers. The smell of gunpowder, the raising of swords and bludgeoning cudgels as they stealthily climbed aboard an enemy warship in the dark of night, quickly capturing the vessel. At such moments a man could easily lose his life or gain a fortune.

It was those vivid memories that gave him reason not to abandon Captain Jackson to that worthless sawbones of a ship’s surgeon who’d condemned him to his doom.

“I will not abandon him now,” he said, a glint of determination in his eyes. “I will do everything in my power to save him.”

She took careful note of his resolve. It was most commendable.

Wisely, she made no comment. She first needed to confirm what she suspected was the root cause of the mysterious illness. It was sapping the life and spirit out of the English commander.

“His servant, was he sick like Captain Jackson? Did he eat of the same food as his master?” she asked, biting down on her lower lip in thought.

“He was not ill when last seen,” he said, his tone changing to one of slight impatience. “And, aye, the steward ate the captain’s food, as well. The troublesome part is that I cannot be certain of anything now.” He looked unsure.

“Why is that?” she asked.

“His man has gone missing.”

He shook his head sadly before continuing. “It is believed the steward fell overboard in the middle of a particularly treacherous gale, like the one battering outside. He is thought to have drowned. That occurred the day before we came near these southern shores.”

He remembered the storm. The gale had hit just before The Brunswick reached the southwest coast. It happened as they were descending from the north. There had been a hurried bustle of activity and a sense of urgency as the small frigate was tossed about on the rough seas.

“Our experienced able-bodied seamen were ordered to fasten down the riggings and sails. The idlers, those who were not experienced hands, were ordered to dutifully man the bilge pumps. They were set to the task of pumping the water out of the hull.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he continued. “We had the very devil of a time of it that night. It was a hair-raising experience requiring all our skills at once.”

Sarah nodded in understanding. She couldn’t help but notice how thick and attractive his hair was as his fingers combed through it. She gazed at him for a moment, and then mentally gave herself a shake. She shouldn’t be noticing such things, she told herself. The poor man needed her help. “Please continue, Lieutenant. Everything you are telling me is of importance to my diagnosis,” she said in encouragement.

The lieutenant cleared his throat and added, “It was also the first time I took over full command for Captain Jackson. Aye, between fighting the gale and putting out the fire, it was pure bedlam. Among the idlers were the chief cook and his crew, as well as the captain’s steward. It was in the middle of the gale that the mizzenmast went up in flames. My men reported it had been struck by lightning. At the same time, unbeknownst to anyone, Captain Jackson’s steward, John Stafford, was swept away into the sea.” He paused in his telling, visibly upset. “The man’s disappearance went unnoticed till the next day.”

“A tragedy to be sure,” Sarah murmured. She could tell the event greatly troubled him. His brow was furrowed as he revealed the events of the storm.

Her gut instinct told her something was not right.

“How had it come to be the mizzenmast caught aflame so quickly?” she asked in concern. “Surely, your hands were well trained, so why had it not been put out before going up completely in flames?”

She saw his eyes narrow as he assessed what she had just asked him. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he spoke first.

“You’re right, of course,” he acknowledged, a gleam of respect in his eyes at her quick assessment of the situation. “There had been no noticeable lightning strikes near the ship. They had all occurred about a league off in the distance. Yet the officer in charge informed me that one of the crew had reported sighting strikes close by shortly before the mizzen caught fire. Everyone had been so occupied with saving the ship that no one noticed when the captain’s servant fell overboard.”

A tinge of regret entered his voice. “A rescue might have been attempted. Stafford was known to be one of the few hands who knew how to swim.”

To himself, he wondered why no one had seen him. He could have been rescued. If only someone had noticed.

More disturbing to his thoughts were the unanswered questions about the steward’s actions. Why had the servant not gone below deck as ordered and manned the bilge pumps? And was it truly a coincidence that the steward was washed away into the sea at the same time the mizzen caught fire?

These two disturbing events left him with an uneasy feeling. Someone aboard The Brunswick, he sensed, was not telling the truth . . . but why?

He swiftly concluded his narrative. “It was discovered Stafford was missing when he did not appear at morning mess. One of the noncommissioned crew replaced him at the captain’s table. Do not ask me who it was. I cannot now recall.”

“Captain Jackson has he, uh . . .” She hesitated, wondering how she was going to put forth this next question.

It was a private matter. One a lady was not supposed to speak about with a gentleman. But she had no choice. She had to ask.

For sure now, she thought gathering her courage, how true was the saying, which said that there are three diseases without shame—love, itch, and thirst. The one she wanted to ask about was none of these. For where did lust
belong on the list?

Boldly, she decided to plunge ahead with her questioning. If it offended the gentleman, so be it. She needed to know. She could not be timid about seeking out the cause of the illness. If she waited any longer, he might take a sudden turn for the worse.

“Has Captain Jackson suffered recently from any sexual contagion? Has he been treating himself for any syphilitic complaints?”

The lieutenant looked up, startled by the question.

She met his gaze with a steady one of her own. She did not flinch. This was not some blithe question she asked. She needed to know.

As a wise woman, she had never been cloistered from learning about sexual contagions. She was familiar with the ways in which sailors slacked their penned up desires. She had at one time or another tried to treat them, often to no avail.

His dark eyebrows lifted briefly. He was surprised.

Quickly, he recovered. Nodding, he thought it over. He understood why she asked such an intimate question. It might indeed explain why Captain Jackson was in this sickly state. It was well-known that dangerous substances were recommended by naval surgeons and wise women to cure illnesses and ease pain.

Poisonous night shades, arsenic, belladonna and opium were some of the deadly plants recommended for such use. The toxins were at times effective in fighting sexual contagions. But they had to be used carefully. Improperly taken and they could quickly kill the patient.

“Nay, not to my knowledge,” he answered honestly. “He is a man dedicated to the sea. He’s had these past few months little time for female companionship. The captain knows his duty to the Admiralty, his ship, and to those serving beneath him. He’s never been one to idly fritter away his time with loose women.”

What he did not add was that Captain Jackson kept a mistress. Her name was Fiona Foxworthy, a pert, young theatrical performer barely out of her teens. She lived in a townhouse Captain Jackson rented in Portsmouth. She was the only woman in the commander’s life.

Those who did know the light-skirt in question did not ask if she had other lovers. It was well known that the talented Fiona happily amused herself with several men. These gentlemen were her security. They stood in the captain’s shadow. They were ready to take his place lest he should unexpectedly pass away at sea. That was a likelihood that could occur to any seaman, no matter how experienced. And Fiona, the daughter of a naval gunner, knew it better than most.

When Robert asked how he felt about the dancer’s fickle ways, the older officer shrugged off his young mistress’s other admirers with an insightful remark.

“Fiona needs other men to amuse her. Aye, she’s a vain little puss. I cannot reprimand her. ’Tis her way of keeping herself happy whilst I am away . . . I’ll not deny her the small group of admirers she has. Aye, when I am back on land, ’tis only then I demand she become mine alone.”

Robert put thoughts of Captain Jackson’s young mistress aside. She couldn’t be the cause of the illness. It wasn’t possible. He turned his attention back to the wise woman.

“It has been more than six months since our last visit to Portsmouth. Thus most unlikely Captain Jackson caught any contagion of that kind,” he explained. “He simply has not had an opportunity to be intimate with any woman. We’ve been out on the open sea these past several months as part of a blockade run. When we did take leave, he showed no interest in visiting the harbor trollops.”

“I see,” she said thoughtfully.

She ceased her questioning about Captain Jackson’s love life. Whatever had brought about the present illness must have happened aboard The Brunswick.

“Is he well liked by the crew?” She glanced down at the ill officer who now slept fitfully by the hearth.

It was difficult to imagine anyone wanting to harm their commanding officer. Unless someone had an evil grudge against him, there would be no reason to wish him ill. Sailors usually respected their commanders. They were like demi-gods on the high seas.

“As much as any man in his position . . . he’s a superb navigator. Controlled when under fire, a fair judge, he treats the men better than most captains. He is by all accounts a most excellent commanding officer to work under.”

“’Tis good to hear,” she said, shaking her head remorsefully.

“Why? Is he going to die?”

“Nay, I think not . . . but someone does want your commander dead.”

“What! What do you mean?” he asked, shocked at her comment.

She tried to calm him. Her mother was resting in the other room. She was recovering from lung fever. The last thing she wanted was to disturb her.

“For sure now, there is no way of my putting it more delicately. But I must tell you although it may be painful to hear . . . someone is trying to kill him. This villain may very well have started after your last victory.”

“Are you certain?”

She nodded in affirmation. Unable to look him directly in the eye, she fingered her woolen skirt.

“It was undoubtedly done by one of the ship’s hands. Only someone aboard could have done this shameful act. It could not have been done any other way. One of The Brunswick’s hands is a villain, sir,” she said calmly.