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It was late afternoon, a nine days after Edward Hollum's suicide. The Captain of the Surprise had had his crew working double pairs for a week. This meant the two men that did identical shifts at different times of the day were doing both shifts, working alongside one another, thereby doubling each man's productivity.

"And fire. Reload. Double time. Master-at-arms…get the front row anear…down!"

Jack Aubrey strode across the foredeck giving orders to his officers, who in turn managed the co-ordination of the attack plan.

"Don't just stand there, Callumay, move your men down!" The young midshipman looked at his quarter of men, realising his order hadn't been given loud enough.

"As I said, drop two! Drop two!" he shouted, as they dropped down, and went behind the main body of the men, having practiced for the eighth time that day taking out the French front line.

Cicely and James crouched down, scuttling with six other men low to the oakum until they reached the back.

The morning after Cicely had told Blakeney her secret she had peered out of her bunk and had seen the boy had slept on the floor next to the bed of the doctor. He had said good morning to her before departing, and minutes later returning with four of the crew, Higgins and the doctor, who had taken him off the ship. Cicely had only moments to redress herself as Young, binding her chest and slipping on her one-sleeved shirt before they'd arrived.

That afternoon, she had been visited by Higgins herself who had assessed her for fitness by his asking her how she was feeling, before summoning Pullings who had her across the deck to the Captain's quarters.

Cicely had stood silently before the Captain who had said very little to her, other than she was to return to her duties for they were to fight the Acheron before waving her out of his sight. Before dismissing her Aubrey had expressed regret for Robert Young's loss before stating that her punishment for brawling would be the lash, carried out following the battle.

Following that exchange, she'd returned to the crew who had stopped their work momentarily as she walked slowly on deck. She had looked towards Blakeney uneasily and as Young's midshipman he had crossed over, showing her where she needed to work first. As she was about to bend to the deck, she saw a shadow cast on it, and she looked into the face of Joseph Nagel.

He looked somewhat sheepish, an expression, Cicely decided, that didn't suit him, and he spoke briefly and succinctly in his Yorkshire manner saying he was happy to see Cicely back as the mizzendeck was a downright disgrace.

And that was that: Cicely resumed her duties aboard doing as Blakeney told her (though she had a slight suspicion he was not chiding her as often as he should have) and with the salts treating her as ever they had done; as one of them.

That afternoon the Captain had made a speech to the whole crew, announced the double pairs, rousing the men to cheers and nationalistic pride, and the tide of euphoria had continued for a week, as the crew were shaped into the fighting force Aubrey required.

And though she needed to be there, to do what she needed to do, the bitter biting agony, whether through unhealed injuries or her feeble form, was beginning to return and she knew if ever she was to face the enemy without crumpling with the pain, she would have to take more drugs in order to combat the pain.

And today, finally, after three hours of manoeuvres, the Captain called a halt to the proceedings, declaring that the day be won, and the crew should rest as they would face the Acheron soon enough. Cicely watched the man evoke respect in his crew so easily on the quarterdeck, and she fixed her stare on him and on the tasks he was describing to stop her mind from looking at the now-recovering doctor to his left.

Laudanum, she thought, after slipping out onto the deck with her food. The food ration had improved greatly since they had anchored by these exotic islands, and Cicely suspected, as she tucked heartily into the meat, that she wouldn't recognise the animal it had come from.

She noticed James heading her way, so slipped down onto the first deck, with her meal plate. Now was her chance, she thought, just one last sip to ease these aches, then Robert Young could fight with the Surprise against the enemy.

Cicely crept down into the officers' deck walking quietly across the planks to the doctor's cabin again. No light emanated from the door this time; she knew if he was not inside he would be dining with the captain. Carefully, she turned the handle, wincing as the door creaked open, before closing it behind her and putting her back against it.

Early evening moonlight began to shine through the glazed window, and by the light, Cicely could just about feel her way through the cabin.

She came across the trunk, opening the lid carefully, and took out the boxwood case which had contained the drug those weeks ago, and lifted the lid. A sip; just one drop on her lips would dull her pain.

No, said a voice inside her mind, you cannot take this. The battle will mean too many men will need it. Cicely closed the lid and returned the medicine box back to how she had found it before turning and kicking her toe on the table.

As she shook her foot at the dull pain, her eye caught something which made her stop…and stare…at the fabulous illustrations, technical drawings and diagrams of animals from the Galapagos Islands, all carefully illustrated in the doctor's own handwriting.

She stared them for a few moments more, picking up one, and then another, looking at the shapes of the strange and bizarre creatures and reading his descriptions of their appearance and habitat. Cicely looked harder; the doctor was indeed intelligent, for he had named these exotic creatures by the New Latin Taxonomy, although Cicely was sure he must be the first to have seen them.

Wonderful images of the exciting world just a quarter of a mile off shore filled her mind, where most of the Surprise's crew had been able to explore whilst she was still recovering. When the doctor had performed surgery on himself, or so the crew had each other the evening they had returned from Albemarle; a remarkable feat even if they had been in civilisation.

Her mind swayed, she looked at the other books on the table. One detailed insects of the South Americas, and though its pages were tidy, the doctor had made some of his own notes inside, cross-referencing to other pages with bookmarks and drawings. Then another book caught her eye: it lay almost hidden under a few unrolled pieces of parchment which would have gone unnoticed had she not been prying.

The book had the title, "Crustaceans and Invertebrates of the Mediterranean", and was written by Dr. Stephen F. Maturin, of the Royal Society. Cicely pulled it nearer, recognising the significance of such a volume instantly. The Society must have been at least partially funding the doctor's work aboard ship she thought as she opened the first page, in order for him to be able to travel to such places in the world to investigate such wonders. Only one or two commissions were granted a year, Cicely knew, and she marvelled again at the man's talents.

Sitting down at the table, Cicely held the book closer to the light, reading a couple of paragraphs, and looking at the illustrations. The doctor appeared to be describing an animal in Sicily whose habitat depended on volcanic extrusions for its survival, a groundbreaking suggestion.

She flicked over a few more pages before her hand was stayed by a beautiful etching near the back of the book of Maturin himself holding a large egg. The description below it read, "Largest ostrich egg of the genus reticularde discovered off the coast of Heard Island, by Dr. Maturin, January 1798." She flicked a few pages and swallowed as she read the corresponding paragraph to discover that he was the first to land with Gough in 1796 on the island.

"Hm-Hm."

Cicely jerked her head towards the sound before getting to her feet quickly and dropping the book, cursing herself as Stephen Maturin entered his cabin, placing the yellow sheep-fat candle in its holder on the edge of the large table for reading the book so intently that she had forgotten herself.

Bending to retrieve his book, he placed it back on his desk. Cicely stood up quickly and scuttled towards the door, before stopping and hanging her head automatically, as the doctor turned to address her.

"Your talents amaze even me," Maturin began as he looked across at his papers which Cicely had moved out of place. "And I am not easily amazed." Guilt began to eat into her heart; she hadn't taken the laudanum, or even touched it.

Why do you feel so wrong, then? she asked herself. Because of your vast overstepping of the mark by entering the doctor's quarters when you should be adecks with the men and looking through his possessions. She shifted from one foot to another; and her mind dwelt momentarily on Edward.

"It is unusual to say the least to find a lad of your age and rank literate…"

It's not as if the other men don't do it, another voice told her; they wait for the doctor in his quarters, right enough.

But in the medical quarters, not his cabin, she reminded herself sharply. And I expect they are not after what I was.

"…as well as being able to carry out your duties within the ship. For a mizzenlad, that is altogether remarkable," he continued warmly, smiling a little before grimacing as he adjusted his weight, leaning on his walking cane. Clearly the wound was healing enough, thought Cicely, that he was able to more or less carry out his medicine.

"And even more so that you were reading my own humble writings…here…" he held the volume towards her, and she looked at him, in pretence of ignorance.

"Er…" she began, then stopped, shaking her head. Humble writings? This is Society work! You were the first naturalist on Heard Island! Cicely bit her tongue before the words had a chance to tumble out.

"I can only read a little, sir," she whispered, hating herself for deferring to his superior status, both in rank and gender. "I was looking at the pictures..." Cicely shook her head. Maturin sighed heavily, as if a glimmer of pedagogic hope he'd been carrying had withered and died.

"I'm sorry, sir," she added.

"Sorry, Young?" He looked questioningly at her, and she dared a glance in his direction.

"Sorry to have to disturbed you, sir," she clarified. "And I'm sorry for your injury." The doctor looked at her.

"And I am sorry too, Young, for your loss. Please, sit," he added, gesturing towards the small kick-stool by the chair. Cicely glanced at him quickly before obeying automatically.

"If I may speak frankly, Young, I do not believe Edward Hollum was suited to life aboard ship. He knew his work well enough, but in these surroundings one must have a certain viewpoint on hierarchy to be successful." He looked at her carefully; his green eyes shimmering by the light of the candle as he spoke.

Yes, thought Cicely. The rules must be obeyed. Everyone is your master or your slave. It's how it works. But it's not how Edward worked, and that's why he's gone. She looked back and their eyes met. It's not how you work, either.

"The loss of a loved one is very great indeed." Maturin let the comment hang in the air between them. A few moments passed before Cicely spoke.

"I failed my brother, doctor," Cicely whispered quietly, trying to let the words come out sensibly and unchoked.

"I've searched for nearly two years to find him and tell him to leave the service. He is gone, sir, and I never told him that I was here to save him so when we fight the enemy I am determined to redeem his honour."

"Battle is a terrifying place, Young, as is a flogging. Are you not scared?"

"God will be with me, sir." He will forgive Edward for his selfish sin, she thought, and my penance will earn his place in heaven.

"God?" Maturin laughed, twisting a little in his chair towards her. Cicely looked up as he held his lower stomach, where she knew his wound had been.

"Don't you believe in God?" Cicely looked at him in awe.

"I believe in him well enough, Young…now…" he sighed, and got to his feet. Cicely watched him cross to the window, the flickering lights reflecting off the glass and the gold fibres in his evening jacket.

"All that religion brings is conflict; the results of which I have attended daily for several years of my life. But…when I was shot…when I was…close to the edge…I knew God was with me. He sent an angel to save me whom I saw standing near me…bending down…looking after me." Maturin turned to face her quickly and his expression returned from frankness to reason. "Even after all this science and reason, there is still room for God." He coughed.

"Well, Young," he said, in an altogether firmer voice, and Cicely found herself getting to her feet. "I find you in my cabin looking at my papers…explain your presence," he continued sharply, frowning in her direction; a gesture at odds with his mild nature.

"I was looking for Mr. Blakeney," she said slowly, getting to her feet and looking down again. "He said to find him if I was still in pain…" at least that wasn't a lie, she told herself. Will had indeed told her to find him.

"Ha, so Mr Blakeney is fancying himself as a doctor these days, then?" he asked jovially, pacing round to the other side of the desk, eyeing the rest of the documents laid thereon. Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Midshipman Blakeney opened it.

"If you please sir, you must – " he began, then stopped when he saw Cicely. She looked at him urgently, before looking back down.

"Ah, Mr. Blakeney," said Maturin, looking at the boy. "This man said he was looking for you, I am to understand, for he is in pain?" Cicely could feel her neck inflame, as a blush brought on by the lie infiltrated.

"Yes, sir," said the midshipman. "I told all of my men to report to me as you were recovering from your injury. I think he took my meaning literally." Cicely felt her heart relax as the boy's story explained her presence. Maturin smiled, before sinking painfully, Cicely noticed, into his chair.

"Your consideration does you credit, Mr. Blakeney; a fine quality in an officer. What is troubling you? Your head still?" He looked at the desk for his large ledger of crew, and pulled it forward, flicking to the appropriate page. "Hm, as I thought, we didn't perform the full fitness examination when you boarded. We shall do this now." He looked at Blakeney. "Perhaps you wish to stay?"

Cicely continued to stare at the floor, an action she had learned to stop herself from showing her reactions.

"That would indeed be an advantage in my training," she heard Will say to her left, "however I was sent to inform you of an accident upstairs. James Fillings," he added, and Cicely looked at him quickly. James? He was fine at supper, she thought.

"Dove was dropping the sail and the counterweight fell from the rig," continued Blakeney calmly, looking back at Cicely and informing her as well as the doctor. "Fillings was on ropes, and it came down on him." He held the door open and the noise above infiltrated the lower deck.

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Maturin, ignoring Cicely now and rushing out of the door that Blakeney had held open for him. Cicely tried to follow him, but Will stood in her way.

"It fell on his chest, Cicely…you don't want to see…" he said as Cicely tried to get past him.

"Will, he's my best friend here," she said, looking at the young lad in the eye as he barred the doorway.

"He won't make it," said Will slowly, trying to make her see reason. "The doctor'll just have to make him comfortable until the end…"

"No!" shouted Cicely, "I have to be there for him! He has no-one! Look, I'm sorry for what I'm about to do…" she darted forward and picked up the young William Blakeney round the small of his back, swinging him out of her way, then making a run for it above decks.

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An hour later she was in the sick berth. James's breathing was getting even worse now, more laboured and ragged. The lamp in the room flickered as Maturin left, walking through the crew who were packed inside the small room, but Cicely didn't turn from James Fillings, his poor broken body lying in a low-slung hammock.

She stroked the back of his hand lightly and brushed some of his blood-matted hair from his forehead. His injuries were far worse than she had imagined and if it had been another man, Cicely probably would have thanked Will Blakeney for his consideration of her: she had become light-headed when she saw her friend, his right leg crushed with the force of the hundredweight, and his abdomen now concave.

However this hadn't stopped her from ignoring the doctor's request for all to move back, and though Pullings had prevented her from rushing forward. As his pair however she had been allowed to accompany James to the sick berth.

And now he was lying there, perspiration soaking his greying shirt as they waited for the doctor to return. He had told those present that the boy would probably die from his injuries, however he would do all he could to prevent the pain.

Before he left, the doctor had warned Pullings that he was probably going to have to amputate the leg, to give James the best chance of survival, and Old Joe had nearly wept there and then.

"He was such a brave lad, so brave," he said, as the doctor left, to the crew who remained in the berth as well as Cicely. "Done nothing to no-one he, and look."

"Don't be so downin'" said Chell, quickly. "He 'aint done for yet. The doctor said he had a chance with a 'namputation. You know the doctor can fix anyone."

"Aye!" said a few men in unison, but the call was dull and hollow.

"Come now, lad," continued Chell, tapping Cicely on the shoulder. "You've done what you can for your pair, right enough." Cicely got to her feet and turned to the men, stepping back with Chell as Old Joe approached him.

"You know, lad," he said quietly to James, "there's summat I been meanin' to tell thee since ya mentioned your father. I recall a young man by the name of Fotherington who turned spy for the Captain here…"

"Yes we all know this tale, Joe," said Bonden, scornfully.

"But 'ere's the bit I been 'aving trouble with since my 'ead was shot at by the Frenchies them months ago…Fotherington told us was married to a woman called Louisa Fillings, and was commissioned in Spain and 'ad to leave 'is family…"

Cicely listened intently as Old Joe told the tale again to James, that when he returned, having fought in Alexandria, Louisa had left their home through impoverishment, dying in a convent in Almeira.

When he heard his son was the cabin boy of a captain in the Navy he boarded the next ship, working wherever he could, vowing never to give up searching for his son. Cicely's heart glowed a little, knowing that John was still out there, looking for James, and that at least, when her friend pulled through part of a family may at last be reunited.

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"I do not believe it!" Stephen Maturin through the boxwood chest at the cabin wall as he searched for the amber vial.

"Sir?" Blakeney was standing in the doorway, looking in alarm as the ship's surgeon became more and more irate. He turned to the midshipman, and held pointed towards his medicine chest.

"I never believed that I would agree with the Captain that flogging a sailor was appropriate, but he has crossed the line. And I believed the lad was here because you sent him."

"Who?" asked Blakeney, daring to take a step into the cabin as the doctor slammed the bottle of laudanum onto the oak table.

"Young, that's who; here tonight! Tell me, Mr. Blakeney, did you send him here through illness?" He stared at the lad, his anger bubbling under the surface. Blakeney shook his head, dumbly.

The doctor pulled out a small packet of what looked like brown powder, throwing it onto the table.

"If I make it now there will be just enough till we get back to England if we don't have the battle. I had more than enough here, and now Young has the audacity to come into my cabin and steal."

"But – "

"When will he be sorry for his actions, Mr Blakeney, can you tell me that? He has to have stolen medicine out of his friend's mouth for his own selfish needs…"

"Sir, it wasn't – "

The doctor pushed the medicine chest out of the way before reaching underneath the table and extracting a large flask with an arm. In the darkness, the candle Blakeney was holding glinted off it.

"Mr. Blakeney, would you be kind enough to reach back under there and pull out my oil burner and spigot? They are at the back, and since my injury I can't bend low."

"I will sir, but if you'll just let me explain – "

"I gave him the benefit of the doubt before, through his weakness and injuries, but this is theft, clear and plain. I'll recommend to the Captain at least two-dozen lashes to be carried out before the battle..."

Blakeney stopped stock still in the process of pulling out the equipment Maturin needed to distil more laudanum, and faced the doctor as he began to prepare the cannabin.

"Sir, she didn't take the medicine, I did."