18 credits Bean? Holy crap! Why torture yourself that way?
I expect that reading this is going to be hard for Legrace. This is about as "angsty" as I get, I think.
Although I think David Hawkes is a very attractive, sexy man, I would never fall for someone like that in real life – no way! As you all know, I like the more gentle, sweet type. I stuck on my DVD of M&C for the first time in months and remembered how much I fancy "movie Stephen". Sigh.
I have been watching "Rome", and I am amazed at how much sex they can show on TV. You are right, Legrace, Marc Antony is foul, but he certainly looks good.
Toy Soldiers
The Coventry provided her guests with quarters far larger and more comfortable than the cramped little cubicles with flimsy walls that they endured on the Surprise. Stephen sat playing cards with young Silvester Stirling as Rose reclined in her cot watching with a smile. The boy was a clever young fellow at ten years old, and although he seemed a bigger version of his brother, this one was more confident. Something sly, something secret in his manner reminded Stephen of Captain Hawkes, but there was another aspect new and strange. Unlike Rose and David Hawkes as well as little Christopher Stirling, whom Stephen had talked with a little, young Silvester valued himself greatly. Whether the conceit was justified or not was irrelevant, though Stephen thought that it probably was; however, whereas Rose and her little Christopher remained unaware of their attractiveness, Silvester not only realized it, he also made use of it. Interesting in a child of merely ten years. Stephen decided to ask Captain Hawkes about Richard Stirling's characteristics. If he got the chance.
The Port of Nassau could be entered from the east or the west, for it was situated in the wide waterway between the north side of New Providence Island and the south side of little Goat Island. (Now called Paradise Island.) Most ships approached from the north, sweeping in with the wind between Great Abaco and Eleuthera Islands; however, the Coventry approached from the southeast as dusk was falling.
Both Rose and the boy felt the change in course and looked at each other. "I think I shall go up on deck," she said, swinging herself out of the cot.
"The dogwatch will be over soon," said Silvester as he slipped his arms into his coat. "I had best go and prepare. Until later, Mama. Thank you for the game, doctor."
As Stephen escorted Rose up on deck, he saw the admiral standing alone on the quarterdeck. Rose was insisting that she felt well enough, so even though he thought she looked ill, he made no argument. When they caught the cool evening breeze on their faces, she smiled at him a little. "I am glad you are here with me right now," she admitted. "Although Theo is an older brother to me, we have not ever got along as well as he and David do." Even as she was saying this, her expression changed when she saw something behind him.
When he turned to see what it was, he spotted the other two ships at anchor. The Surprise looked as normal as ever; however, the Gallant was abuzz with lights and activity. The 74-gun ship of the line slipped into place between them and cast down her anchors.
Leading the doctor, Rose went up to the quarterdeck where the admiral was examining the Gallant through his spyglass. "What do you see?" she asked him. "May I look?"
Not having realized she had approached him, he started at her voice. "Ah... well, I see some activity on deck, and Aubrey is there." He handed the telescope to her. "Too soon to guess what has happened."
As Rose looked, she said, "Yes, I see Jack… there seems to be some… casualties. They're carrying someone below…" Lowering the glass, she looked at Stephen anxiously and wide-eyed.
"What the devil is this?" said Admiral Sam Bellows to himself, and Rose turned back to see of what he was speaking. "Theo!" he called. A longboat from the Gallant was approaching them with powerful strokes of the oars.
The commodore strode over and raised his own glass to his eye. "They've spotted us, it seems."
"How could they miss us?" said Rose in a caustic tone that made the men glance at her with frowns. It was true that the massive Coventry could hardly be overlooked, but the men aboard the Gallant seemed to be quite busy with events on their own ship.
"Peace, my dear," said the old admiral, patting her arm. "If there was a fight, it is definitely over by now. When the boat gets here, we shall know what has occurred."
Orders were shouted as the sailors of the Coventry made fast the sails and sheets. Very soon, the longboat was beside them. A man scrambled up the side and saluted the admiral and commodore. Stephen and Rose knew him, Clayton from the Surprise. "If ye please, sirs, I've a message from Captain Aubrey," he gasped, out-of-breath. "The deed is done, sir, with some casualties. And I'm to fetch Mrs. Stirling right away."
"What?" The lady turned a ghastly greenish shade. "Is it Mr. Pullings? Was he hurt?"
"I don't know, ma'am. I'm only to fetch you and the doctor as well."
"The deed is done," repeated the admiral. "Does it mean that Pitt and Frederickson are taken into custody?"
"Forgive me, sir," Clayton said with another salute, "but the captain only said to tell ye that the deed was done. I know nothing of the particulars."
"Was there fighting?" asked Theo Bellows. "We've seen injured men being carried below."
"I believe so, sir, but I saw none of it." He had almost caught his breath. "And, please, sir, may I take the lady and the doctor now?"
"Who was hurt?" asked Rose sharply.
"I don't know, ma'am. I'd be sure to tell ye if I did."
"Let us go then right away," said Stephen. It was the first thing he had said.
"Now this is highly improper, not to mention a gross – " began Theo Bellows, but his father cut him off.
"No, son, let them go." Sam Bellows clasped Rose's hand in both of his. "Go now, my dear, and I shall be there very shortly."
She nodded without speaking and quickly embraced the old man and pressed a daughterly kiss upon his cheek. Before anyone could suggest the bosun's chair, however, she pulled herself over the side, drew her skirts up to her knees and clambered down, bare-legged, into the longboat. Stephen went after her with Clayton right behind her, and they set off for the Gallant just as he was leaping down into the boat. "He cannot be killed." Rose clutched Stephen's hand tightly. "He must be all right."
For his part, Stephen could say nothing and merely squeezed her hand in return. If there was anyone on Earth who could perform miracles by force of will, he thought Rose might be the one to do it. But not this time, he knew. Whatever had been done would not be undone, and their not yet knowing about it changed nothing. Jack had certainly not sent for her in such a rush to assure her that Tom was alive and well. No, if that had been the case, the message would have been to reassure her, not to bring her back without telling anyone why, without even reporting to the admiral.
If she was to face the worst, Stephen thought, he would stand beside her: there was little else he could do unless the man was merely injured with hope of recovery. In such a situation, they would send for the doctor in a hurry, not the lady. Perhaps Tom had been fatally wounded but was clinging to his last few breaths of life. Many times had Stephen seen dying patients remain alive long enough to bid final farewells to loved ones. It would explain the rush, and Jack would want Stephen there to look after the lady in her grief. What other reason could there be to hurry her over? He could not think of one. They did not need her to arrest Colonel Pitt. Perhaps they needed her to identify... some of the pirates? In that case, would Hawkes not be able to do it? For now Stephen knew that the man was Rose's brother and Flint's son. There was no reason to call her while Hawkes lived...
Another idea occurred to him with that random thought. What if it was not Tom at all who had been killed or fatally wounded?
His musings were abruptly ended when they reached the Gallant. Rose hardly waited for the men to grasp the manropes before she leapt up, skirts wrapped around herself, and climbed up the side with a dozen crewmen staring at her legs. Stephen followed as quickly as he could, and as he was helped over the side, he was immensely relieved to find Rose embracing Tom and kissing him.
The lieutenant was devoid of coat and hat, his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and even though his shirtfront and waistcoat were speckled with blood, his injuries appeared to be minor. On the other hand, he looked grim and seemed to be in pain. "Come with me," he said, taking her firmly by the arm and ushering her down below deck. Stephen followed silently feeling the icy wash of fear. By now, he expected the worst.
The decks had been cleared for battle, but now tables had been set to hold the injured and the dead. The area was brightly lit with lamps and crowded with men but strangely quiet. Like a church, Stephen thought, crowded but quiet with respect. One of the bodies, a pirate by his appearance, Stephen thought, had been shot between the eyes. I wager Captain Hawkes did that, he mused, thinking that both he and Rose had learned to shoot from their father.
There was Hawkes himself, sitting on one of the tables, bloodied, wounded in several places, unnaturally pale, but alive and in no danger of expiring, Stephen saw. He would need to be stitched sooner rather than later and had lost enough blood, but he looked ghastly and took no notice of his own wounds. What could have happened to make such a man look thus?
"No," Rose whimpered, pushing her way through the men, and Stephen followed. On one of the tables lay the tiny toy soldier. Christopher Stirling's breathing was labored and his hair was caked with blood. "No," she wailed, clutching Tom's arm, which held her firmly.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," murmured the Gallant's surgeon in the surreal silence. The man licked his lips, seemingly uncertain of what to say. "His skull is fractured, but he is certainly feeling no pain. There's nothing we can do. I am very sorry."
"No!" she screamed, tearing free of Tom's arm and throwing herself upon the body of her child. "No! Christopher!" She buried her face against his little neck, embracing his slim form. "No! No! It cannot be!" Her wild eyes flew about over the men and found captain Hawkes. "You were to keep him safe! You promised! You gave your word! David!"
He nodded at her, his face grey. "I'm sorry, Rose."
"No! David! Tom – damn you! Damn you all! You men! And-and-and – your wars and battles, killing infants..." She wailed in acute grief, a long keening sound of pain as if rough pieces were being torn from her soul. Gathering the boy's limp body, she cradled him in his arms, a child far too small, too young to have been put in harm's way.
The officers and men stood around helplessly as she wailed. It was horribly, horribly painful to see her embracing the lifeless body of her child, to hear her heart breaking and the madness wrenching consciousness and perception from her. No one looked at her and there was no sound except those that she made and the breathing of the eight-year-old boy whose life was slipping away.
"No! He is just a baby! He cannot be killed! He is just an infant in this world! The goddess would not be so cruel to take him from me as well!"
"Clear this deck," Hawkes finally muttered, and one of his lieutenants bellowed the order for the men began to disperse. The man himself sat watching with tears wetting his face. He looked at Tom, hoping that there would be some way to comfort the poor distraught Rose who would never be the same, would never recover from this blow.
"Let me examine him."
Rose stopped dead, stopped breathing even, and turned her red, tear-streaked face to her friend. "Stephen," she whispered with a sob. "Stephen..."
"Stand back and give me more light. All the lamps now." Professional, serious, he took off his coat and began to methodically roll up his sleeves. "Tom, take Mrs. Stirling to the captain's cabin and see that she drinks two glasses of red wine."
"You can't be serious," cried Rose. "Not for anything would I leave now."
"You will if you want me to try to save the boy's life." He raised a brow at Tom. "Do as I say, Mr. Pullings. Two glasses of wine. She won't sleep, but see that she is comfortable, for she has been ill."
"Come along now, Rose," said Tom gently, taking her by the arm. "Let the doctor do his work."
"Stephen, is there a chance?" she begged, looking wretched and afraid to hope.
"Go with Tom and drink the wine," he ordered. "I can make no judgment now and can say nothing with certainty. I shall let you know as soon as I may."
"Please, please," she sobbed. "Stephen, please..."
"Come now, Rose," said Tom, leading her half by force and half by coaxing. Somehow, he managed to convey her through the ship to Captain Hawkes's cabin. By the time the steward had brought out a decanter of rich red wine and some glasses along with a plate of cold meats and cheeses, poor Rose was silent and cold, her face a mess of sticky, dried tears. Heartsick, he knew. When he told her to sit, she did so, but when she took the glass of wine, she just held it, staring off into nothingness.
"Drink that wine, love," he said gently. "For you must do as the doctor says."
At mention of Stephen, she looked at him and more tears trembled at the corners of her eyes. She took an awkward gulp of the wine. "Will he…" she whispered. "Will he cure him? Can he?"
"He's the finest of physicians, you know that," he replied. "He'll do his best."
With a sigh, she nodded and looked down. A terrible silence fell between them, and Tom wondered what he could do to offer some comfort. He remembered their first kiss, how he had held her when she had been vulnerable and helpless. First he set down his glass. "Come here, now." He drew her over to him, guiding her, and then he lifted her onto his lap. "Rest here," he commanded, wrapping his arm around her and easing her against him. With a sigh, she settled against him and rested her head against his shoulder. Her glass she clasped in both her hands and she sighed and closed her eyes.