Chapter Fourteen

Emma jolted awake, sitting up in bed while Horatio pulled back the blanket with a frustrated exclamation.

"Damn. Not again." He kneeled next to Archie who had fallen out of his hammock and was violently trembling and crying, his eyes wide with panic. Emma rushed to their side while Horatio and Clayton lifted Archie up and eased him back onto his hammock.

"What is it? What's wrong with him?" Emma asked while Archie struck out against Horatio and Clayton, fighting some unseen enemy.

"Tilt his head back. Try and keep him from biting his tongue." Emma instructed fascinated in a horrific way with Archie's movements. She'd never seen anything like it.

"He has fits occasionally. They're more frequent when he's worried or anguished." Horatio explained motioning with his eyes towards Simpson. Emma felt a burst of anger as she watched Simpson in his hammock, watching them with a smirk on his face. She threw him a hateful glare and focused her attention back on Archie.

"Shh.... Archie......Shh..." Emma whispered, hoping to sooth him.

"If you don't shut him up. I'll be glad to do so." Simpson warned. It took all of Emma's willpower not to throw Archie's boot at Jack Simpson's head. She brushed back Archie's damp hair from his forehead. His soft face was flushed with the terror that gripped him. "It's alright, Archie. It's alright. You're safe now." Emma whispered with a confidence she didn't feel. Slowly, Archie's struggles lessened. His hands had gripped hers. Emma hadn't realized the force he'd been squeezing her fingers until his grip eased. "There we are.......sleep well." Emma murmured watching the agony on his soft features ease with the peace of sleep once again. Dreamless sleep now, she hoped.

"Well, that was certainly quicker than usual. Good thing to have you around after all, woman." Simpson said stretching himself back out on his hammock.

"It's Mrs. Hornblower." Emma snapped.

"Come Emma. Let's try and salvage what's left of the night." Horatio said pulling her back to his hammock with him.

Emma slept fitfully. This time remembering her dreams. Simpson had Archie bent double in front of him, holding the younger man's head under water. Horatio was holding Emma back so that she was unable to help him. Emma could actually feel the life ebbing out of Archie, the suffocation in his lungs. She jolted awake. Her body was cold even beneath the thick blanket. Emma burrowed herself closer to her husband who reached for her in his sleep, tightening his hold around her waist protectively.

Breakfast was another ordeal. Horatio introduced her to the men in the mess hall and the responded with cold politeness and silent glares of resentment. She was an outsider, and worse, she was a woman with the nerve to think she could become one of them. Emma tried to smile bravely, hoping to warm them to her as they glared at her over their mugs. Emma shuddered in the face of their hostility. Winning these men over was going to be more difficult than she'd imagined.

"They're not a bad lot for the most part. Just set in their ways. Women have no place on a navy ship's crew." Archie explained.

"I did warn you." Horatio reminded her as he poured her some coffee.

"You did. But I'm here anyway. They're just going to have to come to terms with that." Emma said.

"Aye, well we'll see about that little Miss Priss." A gruff voice whispered from a few tables over.

"Shut your trap, Styles." Another voice warned. Emma's cheeks burned and Horatio was about to stand but she held his hand on the table to stop him. Instead she forced herself to swallow back her fear and turn in the direction the voices had come from.

"Mr.....Styles, is it?" She asked, standing up. A man with a broad pockmarked face looked straight at her.

"Aye." He snapped.

"Is there something you wish to say to me?" Emma asked, willing herself to stand still and not tremble beneath the man's intimidating gaze.

"No, Miss." he sneered.

"Mrs." she corrected.

"Of course." His taunting smile revealing yellowed and broken teeth.

"To familiarize myself with your medical histories I will be conducting individual examinations this afternoon." She said, her words coming out in a nervous rush as she addressed all of the men. Then she turned her head back to Styles.

"Mr. Styles, you shall be first." Emma gripped the edge of the table to stop her trembling hands.

"Like bloody hell I will." He shot back. Emma's face went white at his blatant refusal.

"Failure to comply will result in your removal from this vessel, Sir." The words kept coming but Emma was too scared to be conscious of them.

"Ladies first." Styles snapped.

"Styles!" Horatio yelled angrily. Emma held up a hand to hold him back. Her knees were trembling and she felt that and second now her legs were going to give way but she stood her ground. She had to. This man, by speaking up had shown himself to be the most adamant of those against her staying on board. If she could win him over, she was certain the others would follow. She could not, would not back down. And as much as she wanted him to, Emma could not let Horatio fight this battle for her.

"I will not allow you to endanger the lives of the other men on this ship by refusing medical attention. You will be in the sick berth by two o'clock this afternoon, Mr. Styles or so help me I will go to the captain and tell him you've come down with the fever! Is that understood?" She asked. The entire room was deadly silent. The men at her table looked up at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration but Emma kept her eyes on Styles. His grey eyes locked with hers.

"That's a bleedin' lie." He seethed.

"There will be only one way to prove it, won't there?" Emma countered. The older man sitting next to Styles choked on his coffee. Wiping his chin he looked up at her and she could see him fighting a smile. It encouraged her. "I'll be expecting you, Sir." She said to Styles. The broad burly seaman tried to stare her down but Emma wasn't moving, despite her urge to run screaming. He didn't give her the satisfaction of replying, just sat back down.

"Checkmate, lassie." The old man whispered, even though he knew everyone else could hear him. The tension left the room and Emma sagged back onto the bench. She misjudged the distance, having moved away from the table in her confrontation and ended up flat on her bottom instead. The men erupted into raucous laughter, including Archie and-thank you very much- her own husband, who laughed even as he helped her to her feet.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Bleedin' peachy." Emma scowled, embarrassed. She glared at a giggling Archie across the table and threw a roll at his head. As if someone had blown out a candle, he stopped laughing. The table became very quiet. Both Archie and Clayton lowered their heads. When Emma saw Horatio's hand clench into a fist next to his dish, she didn't have to look back to know who had entered the room.