Artemis(109)

Renzi looked thoughtful. 'I am in two minds on the matter,' he said. 'On the one hand we have had the felicity of adding to the breadth of our intellects by our voyaging to the far side of the world — but I have to confess, on the other there is nothing in compass that appeals to my spirit more at this moment than the prospect of surcease, a cessation of striving, the quiet land at last. "In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid.'"

Kydd saw his friend's face take on an enigmatic cast, and suppressed his response. His eye noted the worn ropes and frayed canvas, then wandered over the vista of glittering blue sea ahead. Seven bells sounded distantly from the fo'c'sle, and they swung out on the futtock shrouds and descended to the deck.

'Only a few weeks, then, Isaac,' Kydd offered to the silent table.

'An' not a minute too soon,' Haynes grated. 'I got such a pain in me back 'n' legs after Cape Horn '11 take months ter shake orf.'

'An' you, Jeb?' Kydd asked Mullion. The loss of his shipmate was taking its toll: Mullion seemed to have lost all appetite. He looked up. His eyes were dull and there was an uncommon lethargy in his movements. 'Ter tell th' truth, I've had this headache comin' on, coupla days now.'

'You should be seein' the doc, get him to bleed ye,' Kydd said.

'What? That useless pinde tagger?' Crow huffed. 'Ain't seen hide nor hair o' the bugger since west o' the Horn.' He glanced at Mullion. 'An' I heard tell it's his loblolly what set them bones,' he added, 'an' him without a surgeon's mate an' all.' The surgeon's mate had missed the ship at Macao, but Kydd remembered the sharp-eyed young lad with the lame leg who had chosen to be a lowly loblolly boy rather than the rate of cook's mate to which he was entitled by his injury.

* * *

A lassitude seemed to be stealing down on the ship, a torpor that was more evident in some than others, bewildering in the general lift of spirits that went with a homeward course.

'Haaaands to make sail!' That would be Rowley wanting to spread the weather fore topsail stuns'l, of somewhat questionable benefit to speed, given that they were going large and the sail would almost certainly be blanketed by canvas on the main. As Kydd jumped to the bulwarks with the others of his watch for the brisk climb aloft, he noticed that one of them, Millais, a reliable Jerseyman, was not with them. Instead he was looking upward from the deck, anxiously clinging to one of the shrouds. Disturbed, Kydd dropped back down beside the man. 'Lay aloft, Millais,' he ordered, conscious that Rowley would be impatient with delay.

Millais stared back at Kydd. 'I - I can't—' he began, swayed, and then, before Kydd's disgusted eyes, vomited helplessly. Sick drunk at this hour? Millais crumpled to his knees and looked up piteously. 'I don' feel s' well, mate,' he croaked. The words were not slurred. Kydd felt a creeping fear and bent to help the man to his feet. Even at that distance he felt a raging heat radiating out from his body.

'Get aloft, you infernal rascals!' came Rowley's irritable bellow from the quarterdeck.

Kydd hurried aft and confronted Rowley. 'Sir, that man's got a fever.' He watched Rowley stiffen. It was the worst possible news. Kydd sensed a scurrying down the main hatch and guessed that the news was being spread even as they spoke.

'Sling his hammock in the gundeck forward and put him in it,' Rowley snapped. It was the only thing possible. Frigates did not have even the rudimentary sick berths of a larger ship. 'And tell the surgeon,' he added.

Kydd touched his hat and rattled down the ladderway. The sooner the surgeon could take strong measures the better for all. The musty gloom was tinged with apprehension: Kydd had never had occasion to visit the surgeon professionally, and like most healthy men, felt uneasy there.

He took off his hat and crossed the wardroom to the louvred door of the surgeon's cabin, knocking firmly. He was about to knock again when the door flew open, nearly hitting him. 'You?' said the surgeon, puzzled. Kydd stepped back in surprise: the surgeon was in his usual rumpled black, but it was stained and there was a rank, unpleasant odour about him.

Kydd collected himself, and reported, 'Sir, respects from Mr Rowley, an' he wishes you t' come - he thinks we have fever aboard.'

The surgeon looked at him and frowned. 'Pray inform milady, Jenkins, that she must persist in the measures or I will not hold myself responsible for the outcome.'

Blinking, Kydd said carefully, 'Sir, my name is not Jenkins. Could y' come now? Mr Rowley is very concerned.'

'No. You will tell Lady Bassett that I have done all I can. All! There is no hope - none. I grieve for you all. Goodnight.' The door slammed. Taken aback, Kydd hesitated.

Across the wardroom Party emerged from his cabin, wiping his face with a towel. 'What is it, Kydd?' he asked.

'Could be fever aboard, sir,' Kydd said respectfully. He felt ill at ease in officers' private territory.