Dangerous Waters by Jane Jackson

Author:Jane Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Accent Press
Published: 2012-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Jowan dropped suture needle and scissors into the bowl and passed them to Grigg.

“That’s some ’andsome job, Doctor,” the seaman perched on the stool gazed at the neat row of stitches on his brawny forearm.

Jowan bit back a smile. “Thank you, Sykes.”

“He’s the last of ’em, Doctor,” Grigg announced. “Want me to bandage him up?”

Flexing his shoulders, Jowan nodded. He needed fresh air. As the sick bay opened directly off the fo’c’sle he had swiftly grown used to the thick fug of stale stew, damp wool and unwashed bodies. But several days of wet weather meant he’d had to take sick call below deck. This morning alone he’d drained an abscess and stitched two bad cuts by lantern-light. Though this was not the cause of the tension encircling his skull like an iron band he needed to get out of the cramped and foetid space. Perhaps looking out at the vast expanse of ocean would help him find fresh perspective on a situation that was causing him too many sleepless nights.

“Here, you got any of that there stuff Miss Dymond put on Jenkins’s stump?” Sykes asked. “Healed him up a treat, it did. And he never had none of that green muck coming out. Not like poor Janner. Poor bugger stank like a midden. Afore your time that was, doctor.”

As Grigg glanced at his superior, his brows rising, Jowan shrugged and nodded. Though sailors were reputedly the most superstitious bunch of men regarding anything to do with women and the sea, Providence’s crew had taken Phoebe Dymond and her remedies to their hearts. He didn’t blame them. How could he resent something that made his job so much easier? Yet sometimes – when he recalled the long years of work and study – it was hard not to.

She could not match his knowledge of anatomy or the required balance of humours, tones and acidity. Yet her success in preventing putrefaction of wounds put his efforts to shame. A man would have boasted, demanding acknowledgement and praise before sharing. She had willingly given him whatever he needed. He had never met anyone like her. Nor would he, for she was unique. And it was his duty to deliver her to a man she had not met, did not know, and who might not value her as she deserved.

“I’m going topside, Grigg.” Opening the door into the mess he almost collided with Romulus Downey who was hovering on the threshold apparently waiting for him.

“Might I have a word, doctor?”

Resisting the temptation to put him off Jowan forced a brief smile. “Certainly. Are you not well?”

“I’m fine, thank you. I wish to speak with you concerning –” Glancing round the empty mess he pointed at the closed door of Matcham’s cabin from behind which issued loud rhythmic snores, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Do you think we might find somewhere more private? It’s important we are not overheard.”

“If the master is not in the saloon we could – “

“He is on deck.

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