Sea Change (2 page)

Charley bristled at the idea of her skills being "patently ridiculous," but she needed to stay on this man's good side. She had no idea how Captain Denham would react to her ruse being uncovered, and there was no place to run to in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Denham might accuse her of defrauding him and demand payment for her passage and additional compensation, or he might try to have her arrested.

"My father is dead and I needed to leave England. I am going to Jamaica to live with my godfather, Dr. Curtis Wilson. Disguising myself as a man and working my passage across the Atlantic was the most expeditious means of making the voyage."

"I know of Dr. Wilson. Is he part of this scheme?"

"No!" Charley said quickly. "It is all my idea."

Murray made a noncommittal noise and sipped his wine. He appeared to be thinking, and working around to his next statement.

"I will not reveal your secret, Miss Alcott.
Primo no nocere
means--"

"'First, do no harm,'" Charley said with some asperity.

"Amazing. She knows Latin, also. You likely have not killed anyone--yet--with your amateur efforts, and you were an able assistant today. Taking you off the
Lady Jane
could harm the crew that has come to depend upon your skills, lacking as they are. I cannot imagine Dr. Wilson would allow a gentleman's daughter to work at such a task, but if you feel you must push yourself forward in caring for people, consider midwifery as an outlet."

Now Charley really had to keep hold of her temper, telling herself nothing would be gained by antagonizing this arrogant medico. She simply said, "Thank you for keeping my confidence," and rose to take her leave.

"Sit down, Miss Alcott."

Charley sat.

The surgeon reached for a piece of paper and a pencil that he put on the table next to her.

"I watched you removing splinters today and while a probe can be best, sometimes there's no substitute for an index finger feeling the foreign object, especially with thinner fingers such as yours. Miss Alcott, if I am speaking, you should be taking notes." He gestured at the paper. "Now, for example..."

And to Charley's amazement the gruff Scotsman discussed wound treatment for what she might encounter at sea, including removing bullets and the treatment of burns. The hours passed so quickly that Charley was startled when a knock at the door announced the boatswain's mate with the news that the boat was ready to take her back to the
Lady Jane.

Dr. Murray rose and reached up to the railed bookshelf attached to the bulkhead over his desk, his hand resting on a thick volume.

"Take this with you, Miss Alcott. Study it. You will find it useful."

It was a worn copy of John Woodall's
The Surgeon's Mate
, and Charley took it, clasping it tight to her bound bosom.

"I have heard of this book but my father did not have a copy! Thank you so much, Dr. Murray!"

He looked at her steadily.

"I am not gifting you with this volume to make you happy, Miss Alcott. I am hopeful that the solid medical advice and common sense in that volume for treating men at sea will keep the numbers you kill to a minimum."

On that humbling note, he reached around Charley to open the cabin door, hesitated, then said, "I am being posted to the Jamaica station. If you encounter difficulties with Dr. Wilson, come see me. I may be able to be of assistance."

"Thank you, Doctor, that is a most generous offer."

He simply made that noncommittal noise again and ushered her out of his cabin and up to the deck.

The seamen from the
Caeneus
were ready to take her back to the
Lady Jane
, and Charley received the thanks of the officer on the watch for her assistance. The crew pulled the oars in the moonlight, hauling her away from the frigate. Charley looked over her shoulder from where she sat in the stern and saw Dr. Murray watching from the rail. She almost raised her hand to wave at him, but instead turned forward again, toward the ship looming in front of her.

When Charley and Captain Denham struck their bargain in Plymouth, Charley acting as ship's surgeon in exchange for passage, it could have been a disaster but it was too good an opportunity for her to pass up. Long accustomed to dressing as a boy while assisting her father, Charley felt more comfortable as "Charley Alcott" than as "Charlotte Alcott" anyway. She knew her square face, blunt features and long frame might not get her dance partners, but they could fool people who expected to see a young man.

Except, it seemed, for an astute ship's surgeon.

But back aboard the merchant vessel, all was as it should be, and the days at sea passed with the convoy wending its way to the West Indies. Charley fell into the rhythm of the
Lady Jane
with a minimum of laughter from the crew at her landlubber ways. She was sure she would never learn the foreign language spoken by the crew, a language of "futtocks" and "shrouds," but at least by the end of her first day at sea she knew larboard from starboard (even if she had to remind herself "left for larboard" under her breath), and bow from stern.

Sick call was held in the morning and Charley's cramped cabin that also served as sick bay was a popular destination. She learned how to distinguish the malingerers from those needing treatment, and her store of emetics helped convince the ones who weren't truly ill that it was in their best interest to return to duty. The ones she bled and plastered were soon bragging of her skills to their mates, each one outdoing himself in describing the pain, oozing or itching of his particular condition.

The sailors took Charley's youth in stride, and she realized after only a short time that being competent counted for far more aboard ship than one's age or appearance. But appearance did make a difference, as Charley knew all too well from every day of her life masquerading as a man. Aboard the
Lady Jane
she dressed in loosely tailored brown or dark blue coats, her bound breasts invisible beneath heavy linen shirts and unadorned waistcoats. The total effect was one of sobriety and competence. Charley learned from watching her physician father and was serious in her demeanor, which contributed to an air of masculine assurance.

She checked every day on Mrs. Denham, the captain's young and pregnant wife, and was pleased to see the lady progressing well. There was an initial bout of seasickness that sent Captain Denham into a panic, but some ginger tea and dry ship's biscuit helped both doctor and patient get their sea-legs.

Charley and Mrs. Denham fell into the habit of a daily walk around the ship. There was not far to go on the brig, but Charley was sure taking the sea air as opposed to the miasmic atmosphere belowdecks would do them both good.

"'Mornin' Doctor! 'Mornin' Mrs. Denham!" a sailor called from aloft. Charley shielded her eyes and waved up at Ryan. He'd been to sick bay earlier in the week for the rheumatism that plagued so many of the sailors, working as they did in a wet and cold environment. One of Charley's tasks while waiting for the
Lady Jane
to sail was to mix up plenty of the liniment she'd used with such efficacious results in Little Abbot. Some of the sailors swore by a cayenne pepper rub for their aches and pains, but Ryan said her preparation had given him relief and Charley heard the crew arguing at length over the best medical treatments they'd ever used.

She wasn't an experienced traveler, but to her eye the crew appeared content, not sullen or subdued, and she overheard one say he liked being on a "hen-ship," because having the captain's wife aboard meant that in general there was better food and treatment for them than in an all-male company. And if Mrs. Denham--and Charley--had their vocabularies vastly expanded by contact with the sailors, they were polite enough not to remark upon it.

The brig was like a little village of its own, Charley mused to herself as she paced the deck. There was the steward and the carpenter, the cook and the boatswain, the sailors and the family who were the officers and owners of the ship. Everyone had a task and everyone knew his place in this village.

And Dr. Murray was a man of his word, for no communications came from the
Caeneus
to the
Lady Jane
exposing their fraudulent doctor.

The weeks passed on the Atlantic crossing and Mrs. Denham grew large, her ungainly shape causing her to laugh at herself as she waddled through the daily walk around the ship.

"This may be the last walk we take, Mrs. Denham," Charley said. "Your baby has dropped and I believe your child will make his arrival aboard ship rather than wait for Jamaica."

She said this cheerfully, knowing from past experience that one of the most important tasks in dealing with a
primagravida
was calming her fear of the unknown.

"Cook told me that if I was aboard the warships escorting us and the babe was born there, then he would be a 'son of the guns.'" Mrs. Denham chuckled and gestured at the mound preceding her on their walk. "I would rather be here, away from guns and fighting. Do not tell my husband though, Doctor, that the babe might come earlier than expected. He has enough on his mind, and he'll realize soon enough that his plans for the child to be born on land may not come to fruition."

Today Mrs. Denham was wearing an emerald green wool dress that strained at the seams in front, but she dutifully wrapped herself in a heavy plaid shawl after her husband gently scolded her for risking herself in the sea breezes. Charley watched the way the aging Captain Denham treated his young wife, as if someone had handed him a rare treasure to guard. This was why he'd been so open to allowing Charley to barter passage on his ship in exchange for doctoring the crew and Elizabeth Denham. He cosseted her and pampered her as best he could in the middle of the ocean, and Mrs. Denham seemed genuinely fond of him.

"Y'see, Doctor," she'd confided to Charley on one of their walks, "my sisters always told me I wasn't pretty enough to get a husband of my own. When Ronald came courting they were sure he wanted one of them, but he said he'd have no one but me, if you can fathom that!"

Charley was not at all surprised, for despite eyes that were small and set close together, and a chin that had an unfortunate slope inward, Mrs. Denham had a way about her that made people feel warm in her presence.

"I would say that the captain was looking for a handsome lady of a sweet disposition who would make him a comfortable home after his years at sea. He is a fortunate man to have found you."

"Why, Dr. Alcott, are you flirting with me?"

"A doctor never flirts, Mrs. Denham. That was my professional observation."

Mrs. Denham smiled at this, and kept walking with a rolling gait that incorporated the ship's movement as much as her own bulk.

Mrs. Denham peeked up from beneath her bonnet and saw Charley watching her progress. "Do not fear that I will overbalance myself, Dr. Alcott. I am comfortable with the motions of the
Lady Jane.
This is now my home. If I am to be a good wife to the captain, then I must make him feel I fit into his world, Doctor. What of you, do you fancy a life at sea now that you have had a taste of it?"

"Absolutely not," Charley said with conviction, offering Mrs. Denham her hand to help her step around some lines. "This has been a wonderful adventure and opportunity, Mrs. Denham, but I will be satisfied and relieved to stand again on a floor that does not shift beneath my feet!"

Mrs. Denham laughed at this, but pronounced herself well satisfied with life at sea, as long as she had Captain Denham beside her. Later that evening when Charley came above to take the air, she came upon the captain and his lady, but they did not see her. Captain Denham had his arms around his wife, his hefty bulk acting as a windbreak to shield her from the fog rolling across the water. Charley watched from the shadows, and swallowed down the lump in her throat. They seemed so content together, just standing at the rail and holding each other. Charley hugged herself to get a bit of extra warmth, then turned back to her solitary bunk.

Charley was awakened from a sound sleep that night by a frantic Captain Denham pounding on her cabin door. She wasn't surprised, but got dressed in a few moments since she slept in shirt and trousers to maintain her disguise.

In the captain's cabin a lantern was lit, and Mrs. Denham was sitting on a chair in her nightdress, clutching her belly. A patch of wetness on the deck told the tale as much as her next words.

"I arose to use the chamber pot, and when I stood there was a rush of water from between my legs!"

"Is she well? Is something wrong?"

Charley turned to Captain Denham, who was wringing his hands and nervously shifting from foot to foot.

"Mrs. Denham's waters have broken and your son is going to make an earlier arrival than anticipated, Captain. Do not be concerned. Mrs. Denham and I have it all well in hand. You should go above now, and we will call you when it is time."

"But Elizabeth--"

"Listen to Dr. Alcott, please, Ronald," his wife said as she clutched her belly.

Charley took the captain by the arm and turned him toward the door.

"Your part is done, Captain," she said with a wink to convey masculine solidarity. "You don't want to be here now. It will not happen quickly and your presence is a distraction."

"Aye," the captain said in a daze as he allowed Charley to evict him from his own cabin. "This fog--I need to talk with the helmsman..."

He was still mumbling to himself as Charley closed the door behind him.

"Well!" she said, pushing up her sleeves. "Let us see what we can do to help the newest Denham into this world."

The fog closed 'round the ship like a heavy blanket during the night, cutting them off from contact with the convoy. Sounds were muffled in the damp gloom and the lookout strained to keep the running lights of the other ships in sight.

Charley spent the pre-dawn hours helping Mrs. Denham pace the confines of the cabin, holding her when the contractions hit, bathing her forehead and soothing her fears.