BY DAVID’S RECKONING there were close to thirty children onboard. He’d wager each of them had cried out at one time or another throughout the night—and not at the same time, mind you; the bairns had it synchronized so that there was never more than five minutes of silence between outbursts.
And that was after the others had knocked about for an hour or two preparing for bed in the dark. Why that was, he hadn’t a clue; all one had to do was take a piss and set aside one’s boots. No livestock to see to, no barn to secure.
But things were what they were, and thus he’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, little of it sleeping. Especially when the image of a lass called Elisabeth had come unbidden, filling his mind, crowding his dreams, displacing all lingering remnants of Betsy, the barmaid from Bath.
Opening his eyes slowly, he glanced over. Alone. They’d been fortunate; they had only one other, a man from Galloway, sharing their berth. He stretched out across the full width and length of the berth, pointing his toes and raising his arms above his head in an effort to ease the tightness in his body. His hands slammed into the rafters. Grunting, he readjusted his stretch, lengthening it until he could feel his muscles calling out their thanks. Rolling off the side of the berth, he pulled on his boots and made his way to the bucket that served as the privy.
Someone had thought to hang a blanket for privacy, nice touch. Nicer still if someone had thought to empty the bucket before it was so full it splashed over each time the ship rolled. He grabbed the pail and hauled it up the ladder, emptying it over the side of the ship. Replacing it, he looked for something resembling a wash basin. He’d like to splash some water on his face and hands; he wasn’t waking easy today.
A boy was studying him, one he recognized from the inn in Bristol, one of the Germans the place had been full of. “Good morning, lad. Have ye seen any water?” He pantomimed splashing his face and washing his hands.
The boy grimaced.
“Don’t care for washing, then?” David said, laughing. The boy rattled off something and pointed to a woman packing away the remains of breakfast. She looked up and smiled, signaling David to wait. Bringing over her small tub, she offered it with a towel.
“Thank ye, Frau—” He looked at her, and she supplied her last name, or so he thought. “Thank ye, Frau Kiefer. Much obliged.”
He gulped down the oatcake his uncle had left him on the berth, shaking his head in disbelief at the small amount of water in the cup. Really? He tossed it down in one swallow, then scowled. Foul tasting stuff anyway.
At least he could hold out some hope for supper. He grinned, recalling the stroke of luck they’d had last night when a woman had approached them on deck, timidly offering an exchange of services.
“Reverend,” she had said. “Begging your pardon, sir, but—well—it’s just I seen you and your boy—I was wondering. Well, d’ye suppose I might take on the cooking for ye, in exchange for your boy taking on the burden of the heavier work the captain be asking of us?” Her hand had gone up nervously as she made her request, shielding a side of her face. She’d been beautiful once, still was on the side unscarred by burns.
Wilson had smiled gratefully. “Aye, I’d welcome such an exchange. Neither my nephew nor I have much experience with the stove. Thank you, madam. I’m Reverend Wilson; this is my nephew, David. And you are?”
“Mary, sir. Mary Andrews. These be my two boys, Adam and Samuel. My husband, he’s in America, a year it be now. He thought it too risky to take us, without his having work first, that is. But he’s sent for us now, I’m glad to say. It’s been hard without him.”
“We’ll be glad to help ye, Mrs. Andrews. I’ve two brothers at home. You look to be the age of one of them, Adam,” David had said. “And I don’t mind taking the meals to and fro the fire once ye have them set. Gives me reason to be on deck, makes it more of a fair exchange.”
“Och no. I’ll have your meals hot and ready.” Thanking them, she had led her boys away, Adam peering back shyly at David from the shelter of her skirts.
“Thanks be . . . huh, Uncle?”
Wilson had smiled. “Aye, David, the Lord provides. And do cart the pots. She doesn’t need to be hauling and watching two small lads shipside on her own. Poor lass; looks like she’s already experienced her share of mishaps ‘round the fire.”
But it was a long while until supper. He headed up on deck to search out Liam and his friends, spotting them gathered below the mainmast, a lass among them as well.
Liam called out to him. “David, are ye up for a game of hazard? Come meet Elisabeth. Her pa’s not taking the sea well; she’s up for a bit of fresh air from tending him.”
David stilled as the girl turned to greet him. She was the one he’d seen quayside yesterday.
He could now see her eyes were indeed blue, a startling sapphire blue, flecked with dark specks of indigo. Her flawless skin was creamy white, unmarred by smallpox, touched with just a bit of color along the fine line of the bones above her cheeks. Hair was escaping her cap in the breeze and curling in wisps about her face, some of it caught in the corner of her mouth. Her mouth . . . full pink lips tilting up in a perfect bow. His hand rose to touch her face, to pull back the hair, to test the softness of her skin.
Don’t.
He couldn’t recall ever seeing hair the color of hers, not the color of wheat as he’d first thought, but that of a pale amber. He didn’t recall ever seeing a face such as hers, period. She was the colors of sunrise.
Liam elbowed him in the ribs. How long had he been staring?
He roused himself, taking his cap in hand. “Hello, I’m David Graham. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, horrified to hear his voice betray him with a slight stutter. He noticed Liam’s raised brow and resolved it best to say no more. Elisabeth smiled politely and returned his greeting. There was silence then, an uncomfortable silence, but he didn’t trust his voice to speak, didn’t know what to say. She was the first to break it, taking her leave to see to her father.
No sooner was she down the ladder and out of sight than the others began their merciless banter at his awkwardness. Liam played a part of the proper English gentleman, Sean the lass, and Rob provided an amicable commentary, letting him off easy. He shrugged it off good naturedly—what could he say anyway? He had played the fool; he deserved the taunting. Besides, if he resisted, it’d only go on longer.
“Eijits,” he said, a wry smile turning up a corner of his mouth. Admiring the effortlessness with which they interacted, he gave them a couple moments before deciding enough was enough. Running his hand back through his hair, he set his cap on, pulling it down tight. “Are we to play, or are ye all too busy acting the goat?”
“Oh, to be sure, we can carry the weight of both, David. Don’t ye be mistaking that,” Liam said. “But ye seem a bit discombobulated so we’ll make it simple for ye and keep it to the bones. Rob, toss ‘em, will ye?”
Hazard was a game of chance, though Liam turned out to be a skillful player in his gaming strategy and the play required all David’s attention for the next few hours for him to hold his own. The stakes were tiny, but he didn’t like to lose. Especially after he’d just embarrassed himself over the chit.
Liam stood when they broke for the midday meal. “D’ye play whist David? No? Well, we’ll teach ye tonight then. Mr. O’s always looking for a fourth.” Mr. Oliver was also set on teaching lessons in the afternoons, and Liam invited David to participate in those as well.
“He willna mind a bit. He loves to impart bits of his wisdom. He’s even arranged with Elisabeth’s father to include her,” Liam added with a wink and an elbow to Sean. The lad took his cue and pantomimed a swoon.
David grinned, shaking his head at the teasing. He gave a noncommittal answer before leaving to find his uncle, sure Mr. Oliver would be expecting payment, something he didn’t have to spare.
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