Joseph drank his ration of lime juice quickly. It stung his throat and made his lips pucker forwards. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw one of the midshipmen spit his out.
"Joe, I need your help." He turned and found Mr. Lamb walking away, beckoning for Joseph to follow. He followed the carpenter all the way down to the hull of the ship.
He suddenly found himself ankle-deep in water. Joseph look down and all around. "Sir," he said worriedly, "What's all this water doing here?"
Mr. Lamb handed him a chisel and a hammer. "We sprung a leak." He looked over the side of the ship, running his hands along the wooden planks. "Don't know how, though. Makes no sense to me." He walked a little further. "It's a slow leak now, but it'll get worse, mark my words." There was a makeshift cork in the hole, and Mr. Lamb grabbed the hammer from Joseph, preparing to strike. "Be ready, Joe."
"Yes, sir." Joseph watched as the carpenter started hammering at the cork. Luckily it didn't worsen the leak, but stopped it completely.
Mr. Lamb sighed, relieved. "We'll have to fix this once we get to England. Third day at sea and we spring a leak," he muttered. "I tell ye, Joe, you mark this: this won't take another beating. This hole's going to open up again."
"Sir." Mr. Lamb sat down and he did the same. "Erm, sir, I want to thank you for treating me as one o' your own like you have, sir."
Mr. Lamb's brow furrowed. "I know what you've been through, Joe." A look of pity appeared in his eyes that reminded Joseph of Burt, the carpenter he had been apprentice to. "I spoke to one of your shipmates. He told me what a tyrant he was."
Joseph shifted uncomfortably; he didn't want to seem weak. "Well, there's nothing can be done now." His hand wandered absently to his chest.
"I know why you mutinied—you had to." He stood up and patted Joseph. "Captain Aubrey's not like that. He's a wonderful man and fair if anything."
Joseph waited until he could no longer hear Mr. Lamb's footsteps. Tentatively, he pulled off his shirt, and examined his chest and stomach. Traces of the bruises were still there, owing to the extremity of the beating. He lowered his head and rubbed his forehead. He missed Emeline. He loved her and he wanted to marry her. Perhaps when he returned from this voyage he would. He missed her warmth, her smile, and her touch. He wanted to raise his daughter—she was half his and deserved to know her father.
"Joe!" It was Will. He laughed. "What are you doing, going for a swim?"
Joseph quickly put his shirt back on and waded through the water until he reached the stepladder.
Will handed him a mug. "I got you some grog."
"Thanks, mate." He drank deeply from his mug and wiped his mouth on his already dirty sleeve.
"What were you doing?"
"Thinking," Joseph replied. Will nodded. After a long while, he said suddenly, "I'm not really married."
"How do you mean?" Will asked, puzzled. "You told me about her…erm…Emily, was it?"
"Emeline," he said, nodding. "I said we were, because we are, but—but we're not." Will scratched the back of his head, confused. "We haven't done it proper-like, in a church. You follow?"
"And? Why're you so bothered?" Will took another gulp of his grog. "You've a child—you're basically married anyway."
A pained expression crossed Joseph's face he admitted, "She's got another man. I saw him not a week ago outside our house." Anger mingled with his heartache when he demanded, "What's stopping her from marryin' him, eh? She's got a child, yeah, but she's lying to me, isn't she? Shouldn't be hard to lie to a priest."
Will looked uncomfortable and was very still. "Sorry, Joe. I wish there was something I could do." He took a few paces. "Er…supper, Joe."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm coming." There was no use in dwelling on things he couldn't do anything about.