The Pirate and the Puritan (27 page)

“It stopped for a day or so, then
started again. The bandage cut the flow considerably.”

“I’m sure it did. It cut off his
circulation and caused the wound to fester.”

With the last layer of cloth
removed, she discovered the wound to be not nearly so large as she’d feared.
Luckily, the musket ball had penetrated his side, rather than his stomach. It
was possible the shot had missed any delicate and irreparable organs. If she
could stop the bleeding, he might have a chance. Though her experience with
musket wounds was nonexistent, she believed Avery could survive the infection.

“Where’s the musket ball?”

“What musket ball?”

“The one you removed from the
wound. A piece might have broken off and could be causing the infection.
There’s no wound on his back so...” Her voice drifted off at Solomon’s
perplexed expression.

“Our surgeon was killed. I don’t
think anyone thought to remove the musket ball.”

“Did your surgeon leave any of
his instruments?”

“They’re in that bag.” Solomon
pointed to an unopened leather case tucked in a shadowed corner.

“Has anyone bothered to use it?”
She seized the bag and began examining its contents. A handful of instruments
lay scattered in the bottom, and fewer medicines in moldy bottles lined the
sides. The lack of supplies and implements really didn’t matter anyway. She
wouldn’t know what to do with them if she had them. She pulled out a sharp
object that looked useful for cutting and another appropriate for probing.

“I’ll have to remove the musket
ball if he’s to have any chance at all.”

“We have an agreement. You are to
tell me what is wrong with the patient and I am to render the treatment.”

“I don’t know how to remove a
musket ball, nor have I ever seen it done.” She patted the wound with a
brandy-soaked cloth, cleaning away the dried blood.

Solomon watched her over her
shoulder. “What if you make it worse?”

After cleaning the excess blood
and puss from the wound, she poured brandy over the instruments. “If I do
nothing, he’ll bleed to death.”

“This won’t do. You’re likely to
be discovered if you stay. You need to get back to your cabin without further
delay.”

She turned to him, shoving the
instruments in his direction. “Fine. You do it, but it must be done.”

He jumped back and stared at the
instruments as if she had just shoved a severed limb in his direction.

“Do it then, but be quick about
it.”

She didn’t bother to tell Solomon
how ridiculous his request was. Be quick about it? She had no idea what she was
doing.

With her eyes closed and
instruments poised above the patient, she paused to pray. Certainly the Lord
had every right to turn a deaf ear to her request, considering her recent
behavior, but surely Avery shouldn’t be made to suffer for her lack of
morality.

“What are you doing?” Solomon’s
hiss rattled her concentration. “You’re praying, aren’t you?”

“A prayer can’t hurt.” As ready
as she would ever likely be, she gripped the surgical knife until her
fingertips turned white.

“I’m not reassured.” Solomon
moved so close she could feel his breath on her neck.

The wound had begun to close on
the edges, but the new skin was puffy and red. To probe for the shot, she would
have to widen the opening. A surprisingly steady hand lowered the instrument to
make her first incision.

After carefully cutting the skin
away, she gingerly inserted the long metal instrument with the flattened spoon
on the end. Perspiration formed above her lip. Accidentally disturbing some
vital organ terrified her, so her probes were purposely shallow. With no hint
of success, she removed the instrument and breathed again.

An exhalation of air whooshed
against her neck. Solomon must have been holding his breath too. “Try it again.
Perhaps you didn’t go deep enough.”

She glanced over her shoulder. He
looked as nervous as she felt. She nodded and turned back to Avery, encouraged
by Solomon’s support. Avery, on the other hand, was not as agreeable. He
moaned. When she tried to reinsert the instrument, he reached for her.

She jumped back. “Good Lord!”

Solomon grabbed Avery’s arms and
pinned him to the table. “Hold still, Sneed. We need to get the ball from your
side. Be a man about it, sailor.”

Avery Sneed thrashed more
violently.

“Good work.” To stay out of his
reach, Felicity backed against the hull.

Solomon didn’t appear offended by
her sarcasm. In fact, his eyes shone with excitement. “This is the most active
he’s been since his injury. I think he might be coming around.”

“Wouldn’t you, if someone was
sticking a blunt object in your side?” She still had to finish the job, and
Avery’s return to consciousness could make her lose her nerve.

When Avery was secured, she
returned to his side. She touched the man’s fevered face, then bent to whisper
in his ear. “Avery, go back to sleep. When you wake up this will all be over.”

“He’s not supposed to know you’re
here,” interrupted Solomon.

To her relief, Avery calmed
instantly. He probably had just used all the fight he had left. “If he
remembers, which I doubt he will, tell him he dreamed it. Now, let’s get this
over with.”

She still held the spoon like
instrument in her right hand and returned to work without further delay. Drew
would not believe Avery Sneed dreamed his encounter with a woman, but hopefully
things would turn out well and she could tell him the truth herself. If she
couldn’t tell him she loved him, she wanted to do something for him no one else
could. Forcing her mind away from the distraction Drew always became when she
thought of him, she focused all her attention on the difficult task at hand.
She ignored Avery’s quiet moans and prodded deeper into the wound. After a few
moments, her efforts were rewarded.

“I feel something.”

“You do?” Solomon sounded
surprised at her minor success.

With all the concentration she
possessed, she carefully scooped the round object from the wound. Her fingers
ached from the strain of holding the spoon so tightly, but she feared her hand
would shake if she loosened her grip. Just as she almost had the shot out, the
door banged against the wall. She froze, holding her breath.

Hugh stood in the doorway.
“Captain’s looking for you! Captain’s looking for you!”

Without letting go of Avery’s
arms, Solomon motioned Hugh into the room with a jerk of his head. “Get in here
and shut the door.”

Carefully, she guided the
instrument out of the wound before there were any more interruptions. The spoon
came up full of red muck, but closer inspection revealed the dull metal of a
musket ball. She thrust the spoon in Solomon’s direction. “I did it!”

Solomon let go of Avery and
picked up the blood-covered shot. He held the round object between his thumb
and forefinger. After examining the ball carefully, he grinned. “It’s whole. My
God, Felicity, you did do it.” Solomon grabbed Felicity and hugged her. As if
regretting his impulse, he released her instantly. He stepped back as far as
the tight quarters would allow.

Hugh pulled on his father’s
coattails. “Papa, Captain Drew is looking for you. He almost went to Felicity’s
cabin, but I told him you were in the riggings fixing a tangled line.”

Solomon’s smile sagged. “He knows
I hate heights. Now I’ll actually have to climb one of those things so he can
see me jump out.”

Hugh shrugged, obviously
unconcerned with his father’s dilemma. “I want to hold the musket ball.”

“No, Hugh, it’s dirty. Go on,
Solomon, I have to clean and stitch the wound. I don’t want Drew to find us
before I’ve finished.”

Solomon wiped his brow with a
handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “I don’t want him to find out at all.
I’ll occupy him with something so I can return you to the cabin without his
suspecting anything. Hugh, sit by the door and keep a look out.”

Her care of Avery Sneed must have
finally earned Solomon’s trust for him to agree to leave her without an
argument.

“Don’t even think about leaving
this room without me. Wait here if you finish before I get back,” he added
before he and Hugh, who was still begging to hold the musket ball, left the
room.

In the surgeon’s bag she found
some curved needles specifically designed for her purpose and got to work. By
the time she had Avery bandaged again, it seemed as if an hour had passed. She
admired her work, then forced some brandy down the man’s throat for good
measure. The dressing no longer needed to be so tight or thick to keep the
white cloth from turning red. With nothing else to be done, she sat down to
wait.

Unfortunately, patience was a
skill she’d never mastered.

After a few more moments of
struggling with her will to stay put, she crept to the portal and quietly
opened it. A peek wouldn’t hurt. She could send Hugh to see what was keeping
Solomon. Glancing down both sides of the dim passageway revealed that Hugh had
deserted her. She stepped out into the empty corridor.

To the right was the way she had
come. The left faded into darkness. A couple of steps in that direction showed
a small opening that angled into a crease. By the way the walls met, she must
be at the bow of the ship. Sacks of supplies and a few crates littered the
cramped space. No wonder Solomon was anxious about bringing her here. Drew’s
cabin resided at the stern, the opposite end of the vessel.

Felicity heard a noise somewhere
above deck and tiptoed back the few feet she had traveled. Safely inside
Avery’s sickroom, she almost had the door completely shut, the last bit of
evidence of her dull yet forbidden adventure, when she heard a disturbing
noise. A child’s muffled cry echoed somewhere in the passageway.

Felicity followed the soft
whimpers back into the triangular storage area she had just left. The child’s
cries originated from inside something, but the strange echo kept her from
finding the source. She rolled a heavy sack off a stack of supplies, fearing
Hugh might be trapped underneath. The bag of grain landed with a loud thump,
which increased the boy’s hysterics.

“It’s all right, Hugh. Where are
you?”

Silence greeted her question.
Something was terribly wrong. Had he lost consciousness? Removing a musket ball
from a grown man was one thing—tending a frightened, hurt child was another.
Frantically she scoured the dim storage area for a clue to Hugh’s location.
Until she hit her toe on the heavy, metal ring protruding from a grate, the
hold had gone unnoticed. With a shout of pain, she grabbed her injured foot.

“Shut up. I hear a woman,” said a
man’s muffled voice. She stopped hopping. The voice had definitely come from
the hold. Hugh’s cries began again, but were stopped short by the distinctive
sound of a slap. The grate in the floor, secured with the heavy lock that had
tripped her, separated her from the bodies that went with the voices. Solomon
would be furious, and so would Drew for that matter, if she let one of the
crewmen see her. Yet she couldn’t let Hugh continue to be hurt by the
mysterious man. She had no choice.

She knelt to peer into the
darkness beyond the grate. “Unhand that child at once or I’ll bring the
captain.”

“I don’t need the bloody whore of
a pirate to tell me how to take care of my son. If you brought us some rum give
it over, if you ain’t, you can save that trap of yours for that murdering
bastard,” said the man out of the darkness. His slur was followed by a couple of
male snickers.

The outrage! No wonder Drew
didn’t want her around his crew. The man was undoubtedly being imprisoned for
insubordination. That would explain his obvious disdain for Drew, but it did
not excuse his treatment of Hugh.

Felicity recovered from her
momentary loss of words with a vengeance. “Give me that child right now or I
promise you whatever fate Drew has for you will increase in severity tenfold.”

A grimy face appeared on the
other side of the grate. “Sure, love. Just open her up and I’ll hand the lad to
you.” He lifted a child until his red head almost hit the crossed metal holding
them in. The boy blinked at her from a tear-stained, freckled face.

He wasn’t Hugh. The man had
called the child his son. Regardless of their relation, she was determined to
get the child away from him. But she wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t unlock the
grate even if she had the key. If Solomon would not see to it, she would tell
Drew. Surely he didn’t realize the crewman’s son had been locked up with him.

“I’ll have someone release your
son, but if you lay another hand on him, I’ll see that your punishment is
doubled.”

“I already got fifteen lashes,
but I know he ain’t done with me.” The prisoner lowered the boy and grumbled.
“Stupid slut, you going to have your devil lover kill me twice?”

“I don’t want to die,” whimpered
the boy. His voice sounded weak. He needed immediate care.

“You won’t die, little boy. I
won’t let that happen.” Felicity leaned closer to the grate. The child had
disappeared into the darkness, swallowed by the shadows of at least a dozen
men.

“
El Diablo
lets his whore
run his ship? I bloody doubt it,” said the same man. A few of the men agreed in
mumbled curses. The rest seemed to have succumbed to the gloom.

For some reason, she recognized
his voice, though she was sure she hadn’t made the acquaintance of anyone so
horrible. “Who are you?”

“Harold McCulla, former captain
of the
Carolina
. And who might you be? Show me your tits and maybe I’ll
remember you. You remind me of a wench I fondled at the Hare and the Hound back
on Barbados.”

His name brought a flood of
clarity. The boy must be Tanner, though his red, swollen face hardly resembled
the happy ragtag boy she’d met at the docks. These were the men from the ship
Drew had captured. Everything started to make more sense. She’d been so upset
over the news of her father, she’d not even thought of the men onboard. This
dingy hole was a proper home for McCulla, but Tanner would have to be placed
elsewhere.