The Captain's Beloved

3 - Finding the Smoking Pelican

"You remind me of him," he went on. "You have the same spark in your eyes. Like you have the answers to everything, but you want others to figure it out for themselves." He turned and smiled at me. "Your hair is also the same. The colour of wheat when the sun is setting."

"Thank you. It sounds like you care for you brother. You are blessed."

"When I left my home, my family was alive and well. If I am truly blessed, I will find them in the same condition when I return."

"Will you go home after the Surety makes port in Europe?"

He stared at the water for a while, and I watched a crease form in his brow. "It is what I should do. But I cannot say what will actually happen."

"I expect they miss you. When was the last time you saw them?"

"I set sail not long after Napoleon invaded Spain. My travels have taken me to many ports since then."

"That was nearly five years ago."

"Yes." He resumed his examination of the sea and that was all he said on the matter. We talked then of fishing, which he knew a great deal about, and how to prepare cod with lemon and capers. He had learned the recipe from a woman he'd met in Palermo.

That evening, I went to bed with visions of lemon trees while attempting to recreate the salty tang of capers. How I missed the food of London. After a restless sleep, I woke to the shrill ring of the ship's alarm and the sound of boots pounding past the door. I carefully raised my head to peer over my bunk just as Collette was doing the same.

"What in the flying flip is going on?" she croaked. "If it's the colonel putting us through more drills, I'm going to put a sleeping draught in his tea."

A man stuck his head into our barracks, shielding his eyes with his hand. "We've got smoke on the horizon. A distressed vessel off the port side. Casualties are expected."

"Is it one of ours?" someone called out.

"We're still too far out to tell. Should have sight of them before breakfast."

When the man had gone, the barracks came alive as nurses stumbled from their beds and rushed to the privy. Despite my sleep muddled brain, I dearly wished to join them. This was what they had trained for. They would finally make use of their specialized skills. While I was left to wait until the soiled linens piled up.

Once the mayhem died down and the barracks fell silent again, I realized my laundry comrades, Jasmine and Bernice, were asleep in their bunks. This did not surprise me. But I knew Gunther would be awake and preparing the tubs. I also knew I would not be able to find sleep again. So, I carefully climbed from my bunk and readied for the day.

Truthfully, I did not hate working in the laundry. I had come to see Gunther as a father figure. Or, perhaps, an irreverent uncle. He told madcap stories and never held back the curses. Between him and the two whores I shared duties with, there was never a dull moment.

As expected, I found Gunther standing over a tub of billowing steam, tipping a mug of coffee over his lips. When he saw me, he smiled. "What'r ye doin' up at this hour, Rosie?"

Oh, and he had taken to calling me Rosie, which I allowed because I liked him. "I knew I couldn't go back to sleep after all this hullabaloo. So, I thought I'd come in here and help you get things ready."

"There ain't much to get ready. Yer gonna regret not restin' when ye had the chance."

"I'll be fine. What can I do?"

He wiped a hand on his apron then rested it on his meaty hip as he glanced around the room. The place was set up like an obstacle course, with drying lines strung in all directions, washboards hanging from the ceiling, and a row of tubs forming ranks at the back of the room. The scent of lye crept into every corner, and my eyes were already watering.