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.He did little more than point out the surgeon before climbing back up to the companionway, leaving Merideth alone with the blood-splattered doctor and the wounded men.This area contained no windows and was ablaze with light from many candles.Large planks had been set on barrels to make a platform.On that flooring were tables and pallets where wounded men lay.Merideth watched as the surgeon, a large man with grizzled hair that stuck out in every direction, tightened a tourniquet around a sailor’s arm.Below the metal sleeve with its grisly-looking screw, nothing remained but a bloody stub.Merideth stared at it and her knees grew weak.Smells of blood and camphor filled the air, turning her stomach into a quivering knot.She must have made a sound, for the doctor shifted his attention from his patient to where she stood, back against the ladder rungs.“Don’t just stand there looking like death warmed over, girl.There’s work to be done.Fetch me that bottle.” He jutted his chin toward a corked container, and Merideth jumped to comply.She brought it toward him, careful to keep her eyes away from the man spread out on the table.“Now,” he ordered, “give me a swallow.” While the doctor’s hands stayed on his patient, Merideth tipped the bottle to his lips.He drank of the rum greedily, but shook his head when she offered him another drink.“They be needing it more than me,” he said, motioning toward the men lying on pallets.After that, Merideth had no choice but to move among the wounded, offering a drink here, a comforting word there.She packed cuts with lint and smeared grease over burns.And though she thought she’d be sick, she held down a man while the doctor pulled large splinters of wood from his leg.Merideth had no idea how long she’d been in the makeshift surgery when she straightened, rubbing the small of her back as she did.Work was not new to her.She did her share and more at Banistar Hall.Work that wouldn’t get done if she sat in the drawing room stitching all day.But she’d never been as tired as she was now.“Give yourself a break,” the doctor whose name she’d learned was Abner Pochet said.She’d also learned that his qualifications for the job of ship’s doctor included a deft hand with the saw, a strong stomach, and a smattering of apothecary knowledge.During quieter times aboard ship, he was a carpenter.“You’ve been at it longer than I,” Merideth countered, though she dearly wished to return to the captain’s cabin, bury her head neath the down pillow, and forget all that had happened in the past fortnight.But she was realistic enough to know that could never be.“Aye.” Abner scrubbed his hands down the leather apron covering his breeches, smearing it with more blood, then reached for the bottle of rum.He swallowed loudly.appreciatively.“But I be a burly man, and you but a slip of a lass.”Merideth couldn’t help the laughter that escaped.Abner had first told her that when she’d offered to hold down a tar whose leg was broken.She’d but looked at him, grabbed the sailor’s shoulders as gently and firmly as she could, and held on while Abner set the bone.The good “doctor” had repeated his comparison several times during the ensuing hours.each time Merideth helped with some task he deemed unsuitable for her.And each time his black eyes sparkled a bit more.“I’ve an idea,” he said now.“What if we both rest ourselves a spell?”“Do you think we should?” Merideth quickly scanned the hold with its cargo of wounded and dying.Abner’s gaze followed hers.“Won’t do any of them a speck of good if ye drop over, now will it?”“No.” Merideth tucked a loose curl behind her ear.“But I’m a far cry from dropping over.”“Maybe so.But I ain’t.Besides, that appears to be Tim with some victual.”Merideth turned to see the boy coming down the ladder balancing a tray on his hip.Rushing forward, she grabbed up the bucket he carried.“ ‘Tis some fresh water for ye,” he said.“And some gruel.Ain’t hot,” he added with a grimace.“Cap’n said no fires till we’re outa this mess.”“Out of it?” Merideth’s surprise was obvious.“I thought we were simply holding on until morning.” Keeping afloat until the British came aboard.That was certainly what she thought they were about.“Phew,” Tim snorted, and Abner rolled his eyes.“She doesn’t know the cap’n very well, does she?”“Actually I barely know him at all.and that’s fine with me, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything.From what I understand, we are sinking and have no mast to hold sail.It seems obvious our only choice is to surrender.” She was counting on it.She’d been working this long night away, knowing in her heart that the morrow would see her safe and sound upon an English vessel bound for home.Now Tim’s and Abner’s expressions—as if the two were privy to a wonderful secret—deflated her feelings of anticipation.“What is it? Why do you find the notion of surrendering so humorous?”The boy looked at the man, who merely shrugged.With a mim movement of his shoulders, Tim spoke.“Cap’n, he patched up the leak.Used a stretch of canvas and tied it on hisself.”“So what if we aren’t sinking.We’ve no way to move.”“We’re moving right now,” Tim countered.“Them Limeys gonna wake up at dawn and find us nowhere at all.Maybe they’ll think we just sunk under their noses.”“I
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