Chapter Fifteen

"Good morning, children." Jack Simpson said, lowering his plate at the head of the table. "Sleep well, Archie?" He taunted. Archie said nothing.

"No thanks to you." Emma murmured. Oh how she had the most powerful urge to dump her coffee over Simpson's head. She did not like Jack Simpson one bit. He got his jollies through intimidation and fear. Her father would say that he must be a very broken incompetent man if that was how he had to command respect. Emma found it very hard to pity Jack Simpson. All her pity and concern was taken up by Archie. Was he really the same age as her husband? He seemed so much younger to her especially now with his head bowed, not meeting anyone's eyes. Did Simpson beat him? Last night, she'd been sure he meant to hurt Archie somehow. Was it only Archie? Clayton was considerably older than Archie, Horatio and herself but there was vulnerability there. Emma glanced at Horatio. Was he suffering at Simpson's hands as well? Her hand reached over to cover his and Emma felt the tension in his fingers. Horatio started, as if he'd forgotten he was there and gave her a small smile but his body still held itself rigid.

The rest of breakfast was a quiet, somber affair. Emma's appetite was ruined.

The older man who'd been seated with Styles was named Matthews. He and one of the younger men, Oldroyd helped her move the few pieces of furniture from the sick berth out into the corridor. Oldroyd, after much protesting. Matthews helped her fill buckets with water and soap so they could set to work making her physicians quarters functional once again. He helped her spray the walls free of blood and filth.

"Well at least it smells a good deal better." Emma said as the water began to finally run clear down the wood panels. "Where do you keep the alcohol? I didn't find any in here." Emma asked, brushing back a damp strand of red hair from her forehead.

"Oh. Well, the lads finished it off after the good doctor passed on." Matthews admitted.

"You drank it?" Emma asked staring at Oldroyd who looked none too happy at her chastising glare. He glared right back.

"Aye, bloody right we did. A body's got to keep warm in this cold don't he?" Big round blue eyes challenged her.

"But that's pure alcohol wasn't it? Used for disinfectant purposes. How could you drink that?" She asked with a shudder. Her father had let her have a bit of brandy on her sixteenth birthday that past March and it had been like swallowing fire. She couldn't imagine drinking straight alcohol.

"Aye well, we used it to make our own spirits. You understand, lassie?" Matthews explained to her.

"Oh." Emma nodded. "Well there's nothing for it, I suppose. I don't suppose you'd have these spirits available would you?" She asked scratching her cheek.

"Thirsty are ya?" Oldroyd asked smiling.

"Certainly not." Emma insisted narrowing her eyes at him. "I was thinking I could merely improvise with it. Until we stop for more supplies."

"You could ask the captain. He keeps at bottle or two in his quarters." Matthews suggested.

"Thank you, Matthews." Emma glanced around the room. "I'd been hoping to scrub the walls down to disinfect them but I suppose soap and water will have to suffice for now. Let's get all of this back inside now shall we?" Once they had all pieces of furniture back in place, Emma thanked them.

"Very good, Mrs. H ." Matthews said nodded following Oldroyd up the stairs to the upper deck.

"Bleedin' hell Matthews! It's like 'avin me bloody mum on board." Emma could hear Oldroyd whine.

"Let's hope no one cuts themselves open just yet." Emma said to herself shaking her head over the unlikelihood of that being avoided.

"Bloody whoreson! Watch my fingers ya idiot!" She heard above her. It took her another hour to scrub down the beds and tables, taking careful pride in cleansing the surgical instruments. Familiarizing herself with each one. Reading up on and remembering how each was to be used. Tears suddenly came to her eyes when she imagined her father seeing her here, amongst the tools of her trade.

James Stuart had parted from her after a lengthy embrace where neither wanted to let go. Emma closed her eyes and felt again the tight, loving security of his arms around her. The warm spicy smell of the cologne she had bought him for his previous birthday.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. " He had whispered, stroking her hair as she sobbed into his collar. "God willing, I shall get word to you somehow. Now courage. Chin up, my little doctor." He smiled indulgently, tilting her face up to see his smile. She forced herself to give a small smile through her tears when she was that he was doing the same. "Ah. That's my Emmy." He said with a quick proud nod. Her smile nearly faltered at the endearment. James saw this and had pulled away, focusing his attention on bidding his new son-in-law goodbye. "Treat her well. Or I'll carve up your family jewels and serve them to the king of France." James vowed as he shook Horatio's hand. Both men smiled.

"Aye, Sir. I will." Horatio promised clearing his throat.

"And he has, Father." Emma whispered to the empty room. She resolutely wiped her tears away.

A short while later, all that was left was to get fresh linens and alcohol of some kind to disinfect the instruments. Horatio had shown her where the laundry was done earlier. She decided to take care of the linens first. She knew that Captain Pellew was not thrilled having her onboard. Emma didn't relish spending anymore time with the scowling man than she had to but the matter was simply unavoidable. The man owned the ship where she now resided and her husband was under his command as well. Common sense dictated that she had to forge some kind of cordial relationship with the man. "Courage." Emma said taking a deep breath. She changed her mind and decided to visit Captain Pellew first. She would never gain anyone's respect if she let a little thing like fear stand in the way of her responsibilities.

She picked up the last bucket of filthy, soapy water and opened the door to dump it out. Emma cried out in surprise when the water splashed onto fine leather buckled shoes and gasped in horror when she looked up into the thoroughly irritated face of Captain Edward Pellew.