Captain England (Post 15)

The days passed thus, as my nausea pill supply dwindled and I became increasingly nervous. I hoped to God that I’d acquired my sea legs, since I didn’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t. I had some ginger in my chest for nausea, and I hoped it would give me some relief. It had worked when I’d suffered from morning sickness while pregnant with Sophie… in another life, it seemed.

My services as a “doctor” had been called on a few times: I’d used aloe and honey on a burn, basil on a rash; tea tree oil for lesions, fungus, and scabies; white willow bark for fevers, aches, and inflammations. While my remedies worked, in several instances I suspected I only eased the symptoms of a greater ill – syphilis. I lamented my lack of antibiotics, and wondered what kind of risk I’d be taking if I had the afflicted pirates eat moldy bread. I knew from my grandfather that it would be a pretty bad idea, as nasty stuff grew on the bread as well as penicillin. So I listened as several sailors described nasty chancres in places they would not reveal, and I could only sigh and tell them that my remedies could ease their discomfort, but would not cure them if it was the “great pox.”

I dreaded the day when a sailor would come to me with a gory wound or a partially detached limb. I would direct him to the carpenter, I suppose, after loading him up with rum.

As I tended to some of the men, I noticed that a few of them eyed me hungrily. Perhaps it was because I tended to their ailments in a gentle, motherly fashion. In any case, it made me nervous, and I could see that it made England nervous as well. He could punish a man for violating me, but short of staying with me at all times, he could not always prevent it from happening. He and Jameson both had warned the men of horrible punishments should one of them merely look at me askance, but there was no guarantee.

As a result, England insisted I learn how to fire a pistol, and that I carry both pistol and knife on my person. He showed me how to load it with two balls and swan shot from a horn that hung, along with my pistol, on a ribbon that slung across my chest. He told me to fire at close range, when the aggressor was just a couple yards away, to ensure that “he’d not live to see a good day afterwards.”

He also had me try my hand with a cutlass, showing me some basic thrusts, cuts and parries. I was a sorry sight, holding my weapons “like a girl.” England was a patient, if highly amused, teacher, and everywhere I looked I saw a pirate grinning from ear to ear, watching as I accidentally dropped the cutlass no fewer than five times. God help me should I ever need to use it.

“What do I do, when, er, you know…” I rubbed my arm uncomfortably. “When you finally… see a ship worth attacking?”

England smiled wryly. “Get yerself in the cabin and stay there ’til I say ye can come out.”

My anger flared. “Forget that!” I cried. “Give me something to do, to help. You know how much I hate going belowdecks, where I can’t see the horizon.”

Before England could retort, Jameson stepped in. “She could be of use to the gunner, Cap’n. He’s in need of a powder monkey.”

“I’m sorry, a what?” I asked, imagining a baboon with a powder compact.

The two men were silent for a moment, looking at each other. I was acutely aware of the power struggle between captain and quartermaster as they surveyed each other, a crackling tension in the air. Jameson wanted me to be useful, England wanted me to stay out of the way. England finally answered, “Ye’ll be running the cartridges to the guns on deck.”

“I will?” I wasn’t thrilled with the title, but it sounded like a job I could do.

Jameson took me to the master gunner, a man with a cleft palate called Griffith. He in turn showed me the gunpowder room, where the charges were made and kept ready. I was to help make the powder charges, which were hand-sewn bags of gunpowder. I had never sewn anything in my life, and said so to Griffith, who snorted with contempt. “Well, ye better learn, and quickly!” he growled at me. “If the bags ain’t sewn proper, the powder’ll leak and we’ll all of us be blown straight to hell!”

I was also to make sure each gun had enough charges during the heat of battle, so that the gunners would not be forced to use loose powder in the cannons – something that could cause a fire and, in worst case scenarios, explosions.

It was a chore a monkey could do, but I nervously wondered if I’d have the presence of mind to perform it when the time came.

It was a chore a monkey could do, but I nervously wondered if I’d have the presence of mind to perform it when the time came.

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