Second on the Right (10 page)

Adrenaline surged. She sat up and screamed.
She had to get away. She had to warn the captain. In her attempt to
escape, her legs became entangled in sheets. She clawed at the bed,
kicking frantically to be free.

“Eileen.”

Something touched her shoulder. She shrieked.
She was breathing rapidly and grunting from her panic. She reached
the edge of the bed, but lost her balance and fell. She expected to
hit the floor, but was caught in someone’s arms.

“Eileen!”

Her senses returning, she realized she had
fallen out of the captain’s bed. Daylight streamed through the
windows. She looked up to find herself held by Captain Benedict.
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. Benedict
returned the embrace. He sat down on the bed. She tried to keep
still, but her body trembled uncontrollably. Unbidden thoughts of
what could have happened raced through her mind and she broke down
in sobs.

“Shh. It be all right, darlin’. Whatever he
was, he’s gone now. Thanks ta yer sharp eye and quick tongue, ye
got the crew ta move right quick. We found ye trapped in the corner
by that thing. He was—” Benedict stopped for a moment. “Somethin’
from yer body went in ta him, as if he were feeding. He disappeared
before me crew and I could capture him. I swear he looked like… ah,
but that can’t be.”

Eileen buried her face in his chest. Images
of those eyes haunted her. Twenty minutes had gone by before she
was able to talk to him. Breaking down in front of the captain was
nothing short of embarrassing. She could not meet his gaze.

With composure, she finally said, “I
apologize for my behavior. It won’t happen again.”

“Eileen,” Benedict said in a tender voice.
“Ye’ve nothing ta fear.”

She nodded. Her lips pressed in a firm line,
she stared at the floor.

Gripping her chin, he forced her to look at
him. “I do believe ye saved me life.”

For a brief moment, they looked at each other
in silence.

Benedict broke what connection there was
between them. “I best be getting’ back ta the helm.” He placed her
on his bed. “Rest. That be an order. Understood?”

She offered a slight smile and nodded.
“Captain?” she called quietly. His features softened when he looked
at her, causing Eileen to completely forget what she was going to
say. Within seconds, the captain’s expression changed to a
smirk.

“Rest,” he repeated firmly before leaving the
cabin.

"Captain, are you feeling all right?" she
asked, trying to downplay her concern.

Benedict gave a weak smile. "Aye. I'll be
fine,” he said quietly, waving her off. The skin under his eyes had
darkened. There were beads of sweat above his brow.

She nodded, but watched him carefully over
the next few days. Within a week, he wouldn’t eat. She sought out
the ship’s carpenter for help.

“He’s not eaten at all,” she explained. “He’s
ill.”

Anders sat back, looking at her thoughtfully.
Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he replied, “Follow yer gut, lass.
I think ye can manage without my help.”

She nodded. Turning to leave, she felt his
hand on her shoulder.

“Be sure ye come ta me if ye canno’ handle
him, aye?”

She smiled, spun around and hugged him
tightly. “Thank you,” Eileen whispered. She ran the stairs to the
upper deck, leaving him dazed in her wake.

That night, she asked, "Captain, are you
feeling all right?"

Again, he replied weakly, "Aye. I am fine."
His body language said otherwise.

Eileen nodded, feigning acceptance of his
answer. In her hammock, she remained awake. Staring at the ceiling,
she focused on the sounds coming from the captain that might alert
her to something serious.
Follow yer gut.
The words from
Anders echoed in her mind. Early in the morning, Captain Benedict
let out a groan and fell to the floor. Rolling out of her hammock
as fast as she could, Eileen scrambled to find her lantern and lit
it. Racing over to Benedict’s side, she put the light down on the
floor and placed her hands on either side of his face. She could
feel he had a fever and had broken into a sweat.

"Captain, are you all right?" she asked, this
time full of concern.

All he managed was a head shake before he
doubled over and groaned in pain. She wrapped her arms around his
back and chest and helped him back into bed in a seated position.
He tried to push her away. She knocked his hand down. Suspecting
what might be the problem, she began to ask him questions.

"Does your head hurt?" A nod.

"Does your stomach hurt?" A nod.

"Do your muscles ache?" Another nod.

"I'm going to unbutton your shirt and
examined your neck, chest, and back. Is that all right?" Again, a
nod.

She carefully unbuttoned his shirt, trying
not to cause him additional pain. She picked up the lantern and
held it close to his body. With her other hand, she ran her fingers
across and down his chest, over his back and finally around his
neck. Her fingers skimmed a portion of his neck. Using the light,
she saw a rash on his skin.

Eileen lowered the lantern and helped
Benedict to lie down. Sitting back on her calves, her eyes fell to
the floor as she processed the clues before her: little to no
appetite, fatigue, fever, aches, headache, and a rash. Although the
symptoms could have been a number of things, considering where they
were and who Benedict was, the most logical conclusion was that he
had contracted Hepatitis B. She knew there was no cure available,
but could do her best to alleviate his symptoms by making him
comfortable. Her main goals were to manage the fever and keep him
hydrated.

"Captain, you have Hepatitis—. You have a
virus, I mean, that is, you are very ill. I have had medical
training, some experience as a physician. I can help you through
it, but it will be rough," she softly spoke to him in a reassuring
voice. Before he could protest, Benedict passed out.

Taking the opportunity, Eileen rushed out of
the captain's quarters in search of supplies and assistance. Going
below deck, she grabbed two glass bottles. She filled one to the
brim with water, the other with grog. Locating Smythe, she led him
to the captain's quarters. Once inside, she explained the
situation.

"We need to make port!" she said in a hushed,
but urgent tone.

"Beggin' yer pardon, miss, but th' captin' is
who gives th' orders," he replied.

"I understand that, but the captain is in no
condition to give any orders. If we don't make it to port, he could
very well die. You need to do as I say and do it now!" She said
this with such conviction, her eyes burning brightly that the first
mate agreed, turned, and left the cabin quickly. A few moments
later, she could feel the subtle movements of the
Mistral
Thief
as it headed in a new direction.

Placing her supplies on the table, Eileen
filled a basin with water. She poured some grog into a goblet.
Not as good as ice water, but it will have to do.
She took
hold of the bottom corner of her shirt and ripped off a piece. She
dipped it in the water and gently wiped it across Benedict's
forehead.

“Captain.” Worried when he didn’t respond,
she changed tactics. “Robert?”

Benedict opened his eyes and smiled weakly.
She held a cup to his lips, allowing him to take as much as he
desired. “Eileen,” he started to say before falling asleep.

For the next week, Eileen remained vigilant,
ensuring his recovery.

After two weeks of care, Captain Benedict
showed a great deal of improvement. With the assistance of his
first mate, he could sit at the table and eat a decent meal. As the
hours crept by, his energy began to return. He bathed and changed
into clean clothes, then walked out onto the deck for some fresh
cool air. With a yawn and a stretch, he forced himself to stand up
tall. Crewmen nodded. They appeared relieved to see their captain
up and looking well.

Some time passed before Benedict joined
Smythe up at the helm. The first mate provided details on the
events that had taken place in the past two weeks. "Cap'in, Miss
Davis, she knew ye was ill. She took care o' ye."

The captain stood still, staring at the
horizon, not wanting to make eye contact with his first mate. He
didn’t want Smythe to be able to read what was in his heart. She
had taken care of him. A slight smile crept over his lips at the
thought.

"Cap'in…she took command o' the ship. Made
port weeks ago. Took on fresh supplies. She was—” he continued.

"Amazin'," Benedict finished. Then, clearing
his throat, he asked, "Where is she now?"

"In yer quarters, restin'," Smythe
replied.

Eventually, the storm came. Glancing at the
sky, Benedict felt the winds changing, saw the clouds growing dark.
He could feel the tempest coming.

"Batten down th' hatches! Man th' sails!"
Benedict barked out orders and the crew scrambled to make the ship
ready.

Eileen walked up to him. "What's wrong?" she
asked.

"There be a storm a brewin'," he said with a
grim voice, surveying the ocean as it churned around the ship.

Out of the corner of his eye, Benedict
noticed her creased brow, a slight frown hinting at her lips. He
was concerned as well. The storm he had hoped for so long had now
arrived. He regretted having wished for it and for plotting to push
the woman who had been his savior overboard. Benedict didn’t want
to lose Eileen. She had breathed new life into his old soul. She
was more treasure to him than any amount of gold or precious
stones.

More treasure than he could imagine.
The witch had been right after all. He knew his time with Eileen
was coming to an end.

Eileen turned to Benedict and took hold of
his hand.

"Captain."

He continued to look out over the sea.