Chapter 14
The doctor worked his own magic, applying pressure to the lines.
“Well, Doc?” Fidel asked him after a few silent minutes.
The doctor paused in his massages and set his hands on the bed beside Torvus. His gentle but keen eyes studied his patient. “I’ve opened all the lines that were shut, but they’re very drained.”
“How drained?”
The doctor lifted his eyes to Fidel. “Even a minute longer under such strain probably would have killed him.”
Fidel pursed his lips and examined his captain. “So we wait?”
“Yes,” the doctor confirmed as he pushed off from the bed. “He needs a great deal of rest.”
“Alright. Thanks, Doc.”
The doctor smiled at him as he rolled down his sleeves. “Don’t thank me yet. He’s going to have one hell of a headache when he wakes up. We might all regret that happening.” The doctor looked past Fidel and at me in my little spot beside the door. “You’re name’s Larkin, isn’t it?”
I shrank beneath his attention, but I bobbed my head. “Rose Larkin.”
The doctor beckoned to me. “Come over here, Miss Larkin.”
I reluctantly moved to the foot of the bed and studied Torvus’ pale face. “He’ll really be okay?”
“There’s nothing to show he won’t be,” the doctor assured me as he moved to my side. “You’d better stay here until he wakes up.”
I blinked at him. “Why?”
“I have a feeling he’s going to want a small thanks for risking his life getting you off that island,” Doc told me as he gave me a wink. “Just don’t wear him out too much.”
My mouth dropped open, and the doctor was still laughing as he made his exit. Ramaro scurried up onto the foot of the bed and rolled his eyes. “That old fool has too much fun with his job.”
My attention fell on Fidel. The first mate sat still and quiet at the side of his captain, his eyes focused on Torvus’ pale features. A lump formed in my throat. What could I say to such a man? I was the reason Torvus was in this condition.
Fidel was the first to speak. “The captain wouldn’t want you to wallow in self-pity.”
I started back and stared wide-eyed at him. “What’s that?”
He lifted his chin and turned to face me. “The captain would tell you to stop wasting your time on feeling sorry for him or yourself, and to do something useful.”
I winced and clasped my hands tightly together in front of me. “But what can I do that’s useful? I’m not a sailor.”
“What about a cook?”
I perked up at the suggestion. “I can do that.”
He nodded at my attire. “Change out of that and call me when you’re finished.”
I looked down at myself and furrowed my brow. “What else can I get into?”
Fidel strode over to the dresser and rummaged around before he drew out a shirt and pants. He offered them to me. “Try these. The belts are in the bottom drawer if the pants won’t fit.” He caught the agama’s attention. “Come with me. I want a full report of what happened on the island.”
I took the gifts, and the man and lizard slipped out of the cabin. My aching muscles meant I fumbled with the ragged shirt and the new clothes. I had replaced the ruined shirt with the new one when I paused and glanced at the bed. The patient’s eye was still closed.
I tiptoed over to the bed and set my hands on the edge. His face was slightly scrunched. The look didn’t suit his handsome features. I gingerly sat beside him and cupped his cheek in my hand. A loose tear ran down my own cheek and dropped onto the covers.
A song popped into my mind. A lullaby I hadn’t heard in a long time. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and a few whispered words floated out of my parted lips.
“Sleep, little babe. Rest your head upon the hay. Hush, little child. Listen to what I say. Let your dreams be filled with love. Let your heart let go of its care. Rest in the warmth of the sun. In the light where all hopes dare.”
I felt a strange reverberation in the air. My mouth opened as a faint light wrapped around Torvus. The brilliance caused me to choke on my words, and the light vanished.
A loud rap on the door made me freeze, and Ramaro’s voice floated through the wood. “Are you almost done in there?”
I jumped to my feet and tried to speak. My lips were too dry, but I whetted them and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Almost!”
I hurried on with the rest of my clothes, occasionally glancing over at Torvus. Was it just my hope, or did his face look a little less pale?
I opened the door a few short minutes later.
Fidel stood there, and Ramaro marched inside.
The lizard climbed onto the chair and made himself comfortable.
“About time. What were you doing in here? Having your way with him?” His attention fell on Torvus, and he squinted his eyes.
“Have you been having your way with him? He looks different.”
Fidel strode past me and up to the bed. I grasped my hands in front of me to stop them from shivering. “I didn’t do anything to him.” God, please tell me I didn’t kill him.
Fidel looked him over and shook his head.
“He’s slightly improved. That’s all.” He turned his focus to me and used an arm to gesture to the door.
“Now let me show you your new job.” I bit my lower lip and glanced at Torvus.
Fidel followed my gaze. “We won’t be going against Doc’s orders.
The captain probably won’t be awake for quite some time. ”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Has he. . .has he ever been this bad?”
“A few times,” Fidel confirmed as he folded his arms over his chest.
“I’d like to hear about them.”
A faint smile curled his lips up. “Then I’ll do so in the galley, or Cook could tell you. He’s been with the captain longer than I have. Come with me.”
I hesitated, but Ramaro puffed out his chest. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
I smiled and stroked his head. “Thanks, Ramaro.”
He shook his head and glared at me. “I’m not your pet!”
I grinned down at him. “But you are my friend.”
A faint blush tinged his tan cheeks, and he let out a cough. “Yes, well, get on out of here and see if Cook could use a hand.”
I followed Fidel out of the cabin, but I nearly ran back in. My reappearance was met with cold glares. More than one sailor stared a little too long at my throat. I scooted close to Fidel, so much so that I nearly stomped on his heels.
If he noticed the looks, he didn’t mention it, but just led me down the stairs into the belly of the ship.
The hold was much like that on the Huracan, with storage, sleeping quarters, and a galley off the main, wide corridor.
The cafeteria was as spartan as I imagined it, with plain tables and long benches on either side.
A short counter separated the cooking area from the seats.
A heavy stove stood against the hull wall, and barrels upon barrels were stacked along the same planks.
I was surprised to smell herbs and saw that they hung from the rafters above a small man.
He was hunched over the stove in front of an open door. A small fire crackled inside the box, and he fed a few tiny sticks to the eager flames. The man wore an apron over his front, and his long, graying, red hair was tied in a tail down his back.
Fidel led me up to the counter and tapped his knuckles on the surface. “Cook, we have a helper for you.”
The man shut the door and stood, where he turned to face us. He was about sixty with a short red mustache and some of the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. They compared well even to Torvus. His cheeks were ruddy from the heat and his stomach was a little larger than the other sailors.
He stomped over to the other side of the counter and clasped his hands behind himself. His bright eyes looked me over. “So this is the woman aboard, aye? I can see why the captain would want her aboard, even with the curse they bring.”
My face drooped. “Curse?”
“Do you think you can use her, Cook? It might make the men feel better about her aboard,” Fidel suggested.
Cook chuckled. “You mean it might make them less mad at her for almost getting the captain killed, right?” I winced, and his gentle eyes fell on me.
“No need to look so guilty about it, miss. The captain would’ve done the same for anyone.
You just happened to be the one the vines grabbed and yanked overboard. ”
I rubbed my arm. “Lucky me. . .”
The cook returned his attention to Fidel.
“I could use her help.” He lifted his large hands.
They were covered in calluses and the joints were swollen.
“These old fingers of mine don’t move like they used to.
She’d probably be faster at the chopping than I, and the men can stop their bellyaching about choking on the vegetables. ”
“We could do away with the vegetables,” Fidel suggested.
Cook stuck out his stomach and grinned. “Nope.” He stepped aside and caught my eye. “Come along now, Miss-?”
“Larkin, but you can call me Rose,” I told him as I slipped into the kitchen.
“And you can call me Cook. Everybody else does,” he replied as he turned to Fidel. “You get along now and let us get to cooking.”
There was a smile on Fidel’s lips as he bowed his head and slipped out of the galley. The cook hitched up his britches and sauntered over to the stove. “You ever worked on board a ship, Rose?”
“Never. I’ve never even cooked for anyone else but Tim and me.”
He hefted a huge pot out from a lower shelf and set it on the stove. “Who’s Tim?”
My heart twanged a little. “He’s my brother.”
Cook turned to me and brushed his hands. “And how’d he like your cooking?”
A faint smile slipped onto my lips. “He complained, but he always licked his plate clean.”
“Ya can’t ask for a better compliment than that,” Cook pointed out as he nodded at the kitchen. “This’ll be where you work. There are a few supplies deeper in the hold, but most of that is special stuff like brandy and some extra salt.”
I admired the stove, and a faint heat already flowed off the metal. “How did you keep the fire going during all these, um, troubles?”
He pounded the bottom of his fist against the wall of the stove. “This stove is nailed to the floor, and its walls are as thick as my arm. Then there’s the magic.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What magic?”
His eyes shone as he admired the kitchen.
“Ships used to burn up when they came upon a squall, and the cook wasn’t smart enough to blow out the fire.
Then somebody had the brilliant idea to use magic to contain it.
Witches and wizards conjured up their spells and did just that, and they used the same spells to keep the food from going bad.
” He opened the round wooden lid of a nearby barrel and revealed a mess of apples.
“These things used to go bad after a month. Now they keep for two, and then some, but the scalawags keep stealing them for the crow’s nest.”
I looked around us. “So where do you want me to start?”
He nodded at the apples. “Start by cutting those up. We’ll make some pies to celebrate getting out of that trouble.”
“How many? A dozen?”
He grinned. “That, and then ten times more.”