War of Hearts, A Historical Romance (21 page)

“I guess it is lucky for us they are an
arrogant lot.”

“All is well, we will travel as far as we
can tonight and reassess tomorrow. You should come get some rest,”
he replied.

She shook her head, “I am needed here. There
will be time to rest later. In the morning we need to strip the men
in the hold and toss their clothes. Their blankets should be dipped
in seawater and placed on the deck to dry. The hold must be washed
down with vinegar, I need to get these men healthy, and keep the
crew safe. ”

Tristan nodded and headed over to check on
Jonathan. He was now sleeping soundly and Tristan frowned at his
rattling breaths. “Hang in there,” he whispered, heading back above
deck.

***

The sun rose gloriously the next day. Its
colors painted the water, appearing to rise out of the sea. Tristan
had stayed on deck and searched for any signs of the
Sea
Maiden
. They were a week away from their destination, a small
island off the coast of Georgia. With everything in check on deck,
he chose a handful of men to assist below.

Sarah awoke with a start; she had leaned
back against the wall to rest for a few minutes and had fallen
asleep. As her eyes focused, she took in the sight of Tristan
kneeling in front of her.

“Are you alright?” he asked again.

Still lost in the last threads of sleep,
Sarah took in his grungy appearance and smiled softly. It was so
unusual seeing the well-kept man covered in soot, with hair askew.
She reached up a hand to smooth it back from his face.

“Much better than this lot,” she replied,
pushing herself up on her wobbly legs. She swayed a bit and Tristan
grabbed her arm while steadying her. She pulled away, even though
she felt dizzy. “I have much work to do.”

“You need to rest.”

“I did,” she retorted.

Tristan sighed wearily. “I brought some men
to help. What do you need?”

Sarah looked around, giving a quick
assessment. “For starters, we need those hatches opened, the more
light and fresh air the better. The men will need to be stripped
and their clothes discarded. Their blankets need to be washed in
seawater and laid out to dry. The hold should be washed out with
vinegar to kill any vermin.”

“Is that all?” Tristan asked.

“We could use some fresh drinking water down
here and some food for those able to eat. Most should recover
quickly with proper nutrition. Others…”

She paused, trying to control her emotions,
“others aren’t so lucky. Some are with fever, and a few have bad
wounds that are festered. They will need more treatment.”

“You can help them?”

“I will do my best,” she replied, grabbing
his arm as the ship dipped low in the water from a wave. She leaned
her head against his arm, trying to combat the nausea that swept
over her. She was not used to being on a ship and her stomach
lurched as the boat shifted again in the ocean.

“Sarah?” Tristan asked in alarm.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, taking low deep
breaths trying to calm her stomach. It was a losing battle, and she
turned and shuffled to an empty bucket and heaved. She silently
cursed herself as Tristan knelt next to her in concern. Sitting
back on her haunches, she took a shuddering breath. “I’m fine,” she
repeated.

Tristan frowned at her, offering her a
handkerchief. “No, you’re not.” Ignoring her complaints, he easily
lifted her in his arms and carried her up to the deck.

The cool wind blew, and Sarah eagerly sucked
it into her lungs. He sat her next to the rail and joined her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked with concern.

“I’m not used to the motion; I’ll be
fine."

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m feeling much better
now,” she replied, lifting her face up to the sunlight. She took
another deep breath and looked around slowly, not wanting to make
herself any dizzier. She saw the crew tossing rags over the side of
the ship and dunking the blankets in a mixture of salt water and
vinegar. Others were wringing them out and throwing them on the
rail to dry.

Satisfied with the progress, she turned and
stared over the rail. There was water as far as the eye could see,
the ship ebbed and flowed with the waves and she found it quite
soothing.

“It’s beautiful. I see why you love the
sea.”

“It is even more so with you here. It is not
always so nice though; sometimes it can be quite cruel.”

“Such is life,” Sarah added, relaxing as she
leaned back on his chest.

“You need rest. And so do I.”

Sarah protested as she was again lifted into
his arms as if she were a child. Embarrassed as he carried her past
his men, she hid her face in his chest and shut her eyes. She knew
he was taking her to his cabin and blushed, realizing his men knew
this as well.

She clutched onto his strong shoulders as he
carried her down the stairs. Kicking open his door he gently set
her on her feet. He pulled her close and she regretfully pushed him
away.

“I’m not clean,” she explained, looking down
at her dress stained with blood and sweat from the men.

He turned her, revealing a tub full of
water. “It’s not warm, but it is fresh.”

Sarah eyed the tub warily; she needed to
return to the sick.

Tristan sighed. “They are being cared for,
you cannot help them if you are worn out.”

Sarah undressed with her back to Tristan;
she stepped into the chilly water and sat down with an involuntary
squeal. Not warm my ass; it was downright cold! She first cleansed
her mouth and teeth with the salty water before moving on to her
hair. She scrubbed her body last with the coarse cloth and sliver
of soap. The soap had refused to lather in the harsh water, but she
made do; her skin felt raw, but clean. She looked up to see Tristan
lying on the bed watching her. “You’re next.”

He groaned and stretched. “I’m fine.”

“Humph! You are covered in soot and who
knows what else! What’s good for the goose...” she quipped, cutting
off as he pushed himself off the bed.

With a grin, he began stripping down in
front of her, mesmerized, she watched ‘til he too was bare. Her
eyes roamed over the body that she knew so well. She stood up,
clutching the towel to her nakedness. He stepped in and pulled her
to his chest. She was rendered speechless as he leaned over and
licked her throat from the base of her neck to her chin.

“Clean,” he agreed, before capturing her
mouth in a soul-searing kiss. Sarah’s knees dipped and she clung to
his hardened frame for support. His tongue twirled around inside of
her mouth, mimicking his need that pressed against her stomach.

Sarah pulled back reluctantly, gasping for
breath. He was more than willing to sate his need by nibbling at
her ear. The ship tilted suddenly and Sarah panicked, knocking him
off balance and toppling them both in the tub with a splash.

Someone hollered and soon there was pounding
on the door, as Tristan cursed and rightened himself. Now covered
in soot and water he marched to the door naked and pulled it
open.

“This had better be good,” he growled.

“Sir, there’s a whole fleet of ships headed
right toward us!”

“British?”

“No Sir, French.”

Tristan nodded before closing the door and
grabbing the sopping towel off the ground.

“What is it? Sarah asked, her voice full of
worry.

“I don’t know, stay here.”

“I will not!” she challenged, standing in
defiance. She would have probably looked more intimidating if she
were not naked.

His eyes raked over her before remembering
the last fiasco when he left her alone. He sighed. “Fine, stay by
me,” he ordered, washing his face and drying off as well as he
could with a wet towel. Grabbing a clean set of clothes he donned
them quickly. Sarah tossed on a clean shift, one of Tristan’s
shirts, and fresh petticoats. She pulled her wet hair up in a messy
bun, following him out to the main deck.

Most of the crew was scurrying about,
adjusting the sails as Zack barked the orders. Tristan immediately
headed to the rail and looked out at the horizon. The specs bobbing
in the distance were indistinguishable to the naked eye.

He glanced at a crewman whom had climbed the
mast for a better view. He had the brass watch glass extended and
was fixated on the ships.

“Are you sure they are French?” Tristan
asked, their options flickering through his mind.

“Aye, Sir!”

He moved down the ship to the wheel where
Zack was in the process of turning the
Vixen
out of their
path. “Should we raise our colors?” he asked.

Normally they ran with a British merchant
flag, they had not raised it since dawn, but kept it handy in case
any British patrols came within sight. However, they were not
expecting French ships in the area and were not sure how to
respond.

“I might have something that will work,”
Tristan replied, heading back to his room. Sarah, not sure if she
should follow or not, waited for his return. The ship lurched again
in the sea, as did Sarah’s stomach. Funny how spending time with
Tristan made her forget her illness.

True to his word, he reappeared moments
later, his arms laden with a red and white striped cloth. “It’s an
American Merchant Flag; I picked one up a while back. It might buy
us a reprieve.”

Zack grunted, “I doubt they will worry about
the
Vixen
. We’d have to be mad to try attacking a fleet of
war ships.”

The flag was tied and lifted into place
where it waived loudly. Sarah thought it was a great contrast to
the blue flag full of stars that Washington hung outside of his
headquarters.

“Hope you’re right,” Tristan responded to
Zach, leading Sarah to the railing and pulling her to his side. He
rested his hand on her hip possessively as they watched the ships
creep closer.

“How far away can a cannon ball travel?” she
asked with concern. It would be no good at all to rescue the men
just to have them drown at sea.

“Depends on the size of the cannon, but
further than you would think,” he said grimly.

The ships were closer now; she could make
out the individual specks, the sight would have been breath taking
had it not been such a threat. She leaned against Tristan, his
warmth bringing her comfort. He kissed her cheek for
reassurance.

With the
Vixen
out of the way, the
hands joined them at the rail to watch the spectacle. Sarah
realized the importance of this event. She clasped her hands in
front of her as her heart swelled with glee.

They were here to join the cause, to put up
a naval presence to rival the British’s. She had heard rumors that
Benjamin Franklin was in France seeking aid, and this was a sign of
that pact. The French Flag could now be seen flying proudly, the
red, white, and blue blocks of color easily distinguishable
now.

“Isn’t it glorious!” she asked, turning to
Tristan, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’ll be happier when they are further
away,” Tristan replied. He was not comfortable putting Sarah in
danger of any large guns, especially those he had no guarantee of
allegiance with. And more, he was still miffed that their earlier
romp was interrupted.

The
Vixen
was tossed in the sea from
the wake as the larger French ships glided by without
acknowledgement. The smile disappeared from Sarah’s face as her
queasiness returned. She returned to her rhythmic breathing; she
had much work to do and did not need to be indisposed.

Sensing her mood change, his attention
shifted to her. “Seems like the excitement is over; we should sneak
back to my cabin.”

“I’m fine, I have to return below.”

“It is my duty to make sure you are
safe.”

“Great! You can come down and help, the more
hands the better.”

Tristan sighed taking one last look at the
French further off in the distance. Grumpily, he turned and
followed her back into the cargo hold.

The acidic scent of vinegar filled their
noses and Sarah was happy her preparations were taken seriously. A
quick look revealed about half of the men remained. The others who
were healthy enough moved to the deck and crew quarters. The ones
remaining were leaned against the wall or sleeping peacefully.

She sent Tristan over to check on Jonathan
while she headed to the corner where her small pox patient lay. She
was glad to see he was on fresh bedding and his filthy clothes had
been removed. Her hand instinctively went to his forehead; it was
still warm but much cooler than when he first arrived. She pulled
back the blanket from his naked form to examine his lesions. It
appeared that some of the blisters had started to scab. A good
sign, but he was still far from safe.

She hated to wake him, but he needed to
drink. His gray eyes fluttered open when she shook him, and he
looked at her bewildered.

“It’s okay, you’ve been rescued. You need to
drink so you can heal.”

Unable to speak due to the sores in his
mouth, he nodded. Taking half a dozen sips, he drifted back to
sleep.

Sarah moved to the next patient, one of
Tristan’s crew was with him and she joined him. His leg was exposed
and an ugly gash could be seen. It was raw and open, the odor from
it was repulsive. However, Sarah took it in stride. The wound was
infected; his best option was to have the leg amputated.

“It’s not healing properly; you’d have a
better chance if it was removed.”

“No disrespect ma’am, I entered this world
with two legs and I plan on leavin’ with both of ‘em.”

Sarah looked at him sadly. “You could
die.”

“I’ve seen men have their limbs hacked off
and they died anyway. No thank you.”

“Ya could dunk ‘im in the Sea,” the hand
spoke up. “Sea’s a magical thing, seen men festering and they clean
right up. That is if the fish don’t get ‘em.”