The Admiral's Wife

Chapter Four

This week's art work: Tall ship in Storm

April 1805,

At sea—Atlantic Ocean

William regained consciousness for just long enough to come to the realization that he was not dead.

Although this in and of itself was good news, he was not able to ascertain the extent of his injuries. He could not judge where he was, nor could he remember much of the events that had brought him to this juncture.

He tried to open his eyes, but they would not obey the command to do so. He tried to speak, but the only sound that issued from his throat was an unintelligible rasp. He could vaguely hear shuffling and the hushed and whispering voices of men somewhere nearby. When he made an attempt to force his body into a sitting position, the immense pain he experienced caused him to immediately re-submerse himself into the darkness of oblivion.

He stayed there for another day and a half.

When next consciousness found him, it was to find a familiar face hovering just above his own. This time he had been able to open his eyes, so things must be improving. Nathan Briggs, his young and usually enthusiastic First Lieutenant looked down at him, deep concern mirrored in his eyes.

"Captain, by God, you're awake!"

William tried to respond in the affirmative, but once again he only seemed to be able to produce a grating rasp from somewhere within the vicinity of his voice box.

Briggs turned and barked an order, "Bring water!" The twelve-year-old, Mid-Shipman Harlow, immediately rushed over with a ladle of fresh water. Briggs slid a hand under William's neck and lifted his head up just enough to allow him to take a drink from the pewter utensil.

The water burned a wretched trail onto his tongue and down to his throat. He coughed violently. This caused an immense pain in his head. He quickly laid back down and closed his eyes for a few moments allowing the pain to recede. Blast!

When next he tried, he found he had a voice, harsh though it was. "What the hell happened Briggs, and where in the hell are we?"

Briggs' dirty face held a look of great relief, for he had no doubt fully expected his superior officer to recede back into black and was overjoyed to see that this was not the case.

"Help me sit up will you Lieutenant!" Briggs immediately assisted William into a sitting position all the while steadying him as he wobbled slightly to and fro. William's head continued to spin for a moment before settling. He touched a hand to his forehead and felt the rather large swash of bandaging encircling his head.

For the first time, he could survey his surroundings. The gentle swaying and creaking of timbers told him they were still aboard ship. After a quick assessment of his environment he knew they were in the hold of the Sirius. He allowed his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness, the only light that filtered in was through the ventilation grates on the floor of the deck above. It was damp and hot, and the smell of unwashed men and sweat assailed his nostrils. Around him stood his officers and a spattering of crew members, the looks on their faces a mixture of relief, concern and uncertainty. He cocked an eyebrow at them and instantly winced. Damn, even that pained him! They responded by saluting him, and retreated, all but Briggs, who thankfully still held on to him and was quite possibly the only thing that kept him from keeling over.

Briggs offered him another drink from the ladle and this time the water didn't burn as badly, so he took several large swallows. He was parched, but William knew better then to overdo it. His belly felt very empty and the water was causing it to protest dramatically. He didn't want to provoke any vomiting. "Better lay me back down Lieutenant, and you can tell why we are in the hold of my ship! My memory seems a bit off."