The Stowaway

VII

Jonesy and Echo left Eliza to go on with their normal duties, which meant that the ship's head was vacant, and newly clean. Eliza was still desperate to relieve herself, and it seemed as though she would have no other choice.

She looked around, waiting to see if any one of the sailors were paying attention to her. She would die of mortal embarrassment if any one of them saw her. She gathered up her dirty, damp skirts and quickly sprinted back towards the head.

Before she got near the boxes, though, a strong hand gripped her upper arm and pulled her back. Eliza stumbled and dropped her skirts, her legs immediately moving towards where she was being led. Captain Buckley had intercepted her. Where had he come from? Eliza had not seen him! Perhaps he was hiding, watching her in amusement as she tried not to vomit.

While she was terribly embarrassed, she was also beginning to feel quite desperately in pain. She needed to use that box, no matter how humiliating it would be!

Captain Buckley led her all the way back up to the helm, and inside his quarters, not once releasing her arm, nor telling her why he was pulling her away.

Eliza had not paid much attention to the interior of his cabin when she had been in there earlier. She had been too surprised at the sight of the captain on his hands and knees trying to retrieve his little mapping tool. But now she could see that it was quite a comfortable little room.

His bed was neatly made, though that did not surprise her. He seemed the type of man who liked things to be just so. Eliza was quite the opposite. Her bedroom, when not looked after by maids, was utterly chaotic. His large desk was facing the little window, and it was covered by a large map of the world, with several metal tools and instruments, pencils, quills and ink.

Everything had a place, it seemed. But she could not stare for long. Captain Buckley dragged her to the back of the room where there was another little door. She hadn't noticed that. It was then that he released her so that he could open the door.

Captain Buckley did not say a word, only motioned with his head for her to go inside. Eliza obeyed, and the captain shut the door behind her. It was no bigger than the size of an armoire, but it contained a private privy box and a porcelain basin.

Thank the Lord! And the captain, it seemed.

When Eliza was finished, she washed her hands, face and arms thoroughly. What she would have given for a bath at that moment! The Captain even had a bar of soap by his basin, placed neatly on a little glass dish, but Eliza did not touch it. It was not hers.

When she left the little privy, she saw that Captain Buckley was sitting down at his desk, poring over his map. He did not look up when she re-entered the room.

"Thank you," she said awkwardly. Oh, her poor mother would be having conniptions if she knew what Eliza was doing. Mrs Banes had told her from a very young age that women did not have bodily functions, or at least they were to pretend they didn't so as to create a virtuous and ethereal illusion for gentlemen.

Naturally Eliza had promptly belched at the next dinner party just to evoke a reaction.

Captain Buckley did not respond, and he did not look at her. "Put those on," he said instead. "You look and smell like a sewer rat."

Eliza frowned. "Thank you," she said again. "You are too kind." The only garments that he could have been referring to were laying on his bed in an impossibly neat pile.

Eliza found a large cotton shirt, a pair of black breeches, a dark waistcoat, a belt, and a clean pair of cotton socks. Were they his clothes? Was he lending her something of his to wear? Why would he do something like that?