Sea Change Read Free

pregnant wife, and was pleased to see the lady progressing well. There was an initial bout of seasickness that sent Captain Denham into a panic, but some ginger tea and dry ship's biscuit helped both doctor and patient get their sea-legs.
    Charley and Mrs. Denham fell into the habit of a daily walk around the ship. There was not far to go on the brig, but Charley was sure taking the sea air as opposed to the miasmic atmosphere belowdecks would do them both good.
    "'Mornin' Doctor! 'Mornin' Mrs. Denham!" a sailor called from aloft. Charley shielded her eyes and waved up at Ryan. He'd been to sick bay earlier in the week for the rheumatism that plagued so many of the sailors, working as they did in a wet and cold environment. One of Charley's tasks while waiting for the Lady Jane to sail was to mix up plenty of the liniment she'd used with such efficacious results in Little Abbot. Some of the sailors swore by a cayenne pepper rub for their aches and pains, but Ryan said her preparation had given him relief and Charley heard the crew arguing at length over the best medical treatments they'd ever used.
    She wasn't an experienced traveler, but to her eye the crew appeared content, not sullen or subdued, and she overheard one say he liked being on a "hen-ship," because having the captain's wife aboard meant that in general there was better food and treatment for them than in an all-male company. And if Mrs. Denham--and Charley--had their vocabularies vastly expanded by contact with the sailors, they were polite enough not to remark upon it.
    The brig was like a little village of its own, Charley mused to herself as she paced the deck. There was the steward and the carpenter, the cook and the boatswain, the sailors and the family who were the officers and owners of the ship. Everyone had a task and everyone knew his place in this village.
    And Dr. Murray was a man of his word, for no communications came from the Caeneus to the Lady Jane exposing their fraudulent doctor.
    The weeks passed on the Atlantic crossing and Mrs. Denham grew large, her ungainly shape causing her to laugh at herself as she waddled through the daily walk around the ship.
    "This may be the last walk we take, Mrs. Denham," Charley said. "Your baby has dropped and I believe your child will make his arrival aboard ship rather than wait for Jamaica."
    She said this cheerfully, knowing from past experience that one of the most important tasks in dealing with a primagravida was calming her fear of the unknown.
    "Cook told me that if I was aboard the warships escorting us and the babe was born there, then he would be a 'son of the guns.'" Mrs. Denham chuckled and gestured at the mound preceding her on their walk. "I would rather be here, away from guns and fighting. Do not tell my husband though, Doctor, that the babe might come earlier than expected. He has enough on his mind, and he'll realize soon enough that his plans for the child to be born on land may not come to fruition."
    Today Mrs. Denham was wearing an emerald green wool dress that strained at the seams in front, but she dutifully wrapped herself in a heavy plaid shawl after her husband gently scolded her for risking herself in the sea breezes. Charley watched the way the aging Captain Denham treated his young wife, as if someone had handed him a rare treasure to guard. This was why he'd been so open to allowing Charley to barter passage on his ship in exchange for doctoring the crew and Elizabeth Denham. He cosseted her and pampered her as best he could in the middle of the ocean, and Mrs. Denham seemed genuinely fond of him.
    "Y'see, Doctor," she'd confided to Charley on one of their walks, "my sisters always told me I wasn't pretty enough to get a husband of my own. When Ronald came courting they were sure he wanted one of them, but he said he'd have no one but me, if you can fathom that!"
    Charley was not at all surprised, for despite eyes that were small and set close together, and a chin that had an