Free My Bonny Light Horseman by L.A. Meyer Page B

wings, then put down a wash of yellow water-color. As I wait for that to dry so that I can paint the colorful details over it without blurring, I slip out the little disk from my vest and begin on the Doctor's portrait.
    Using the pencil, I draw the outline of his face. He is sunk in his work and is completely oblivious to what I am doing. It will not be hard to get a good resemblance, I'm thinking, as he has a prominent nose with a slight hook at the bridge, thin lips, deep-set eyes, thick brows ... yes, Mr. Peet, I will keep the overall composition of the piece in mind from the start... When you are an artist, you carry the instructions and admonitions of everyone you ever studied under right with you when you are working. It's like they're looking over your shoulder and going tsk, tsk! and shaking their heads sadly if you mess up. Mr. Peet at the Lawson Peabody was the one who started me on this path, and I thank him for it.
    Back to the butterfly. Black now for those spots ... oops, not dark enough. There! Got it! Let that dry and now back to the portrait of Dr. Sebastian.
    And so the afternoon goes.

    Later, when I am relieved of my duties in the lab, I take my painting tools with me and go down to the Gun Deck and seat myself at the long table since no officers are there yet. Private Kent takes up station behind me at the door to my room. I could go out on deck to take some air and maybe see Davy again, but I want to finish this ... and I want Jared to cool his heels a bit, too.
    All right, wet brush, dip in color, and get to work.

    I am bent over my task as Joseph Jared comes into the room. I see him out of the corner of my eye, but I say nothing as I continue to work on the miniature. I had painted in the Doctor's basic features before, so now I'm finishing the rest from memory—his high white collar, short-cropped dark hair, pince-nez hanging from a cord pinned to his lapel, and resting on his upraised hand, his precious Lepidoptera Danaeus plexippus.
    Jared sits down at the table across from me. He, too, says nothing. A steward comes in the room and Jared gestures to him, and soon a glass of wine is placed before him, and then another in front of me.
    "If this is an apology, Mr. Jared," I say, lifting the glass, "then I accept it." But I don't yet take a sip.
    He still says nothing, but just looks at me intently.
    "When first I met you on the Wolverine, Joseph, you were standing a watch for one of your common seamen while he was ill. Do you remember that? You were Captain of the Top and I remarked on the fact that you did not have to assume the man's duty and you replied that you have to stand up for your men and for your mates. Do you expect any less from me?"
    The corners of his eyes crinkle up as he smiles and taps my glass with his, our eyes still locked. "Well said, Puss." He takes a drink and so do I. "So I may consider myself forgiven?"
    "Yes, you may," I say and put my eyes back on my work. I am almost done ... some highlights in the hair, there ... his jacket a little blacker. Now to fix that hand.
    "It seems that the good Doctor is to be immortalized in paint," says Joseph, craning his neck to see. "It's very good, Jacky, I must say."
    "Thank you, Joseph, but pray do not tell him of it, as I mean for it to be a surprise, to thank him for his kindness to me."
    Stewards come in bearing the tablecloth and dishes so I rise to go to my room, gathering up my materials, knowing that the men must set up for the officers' dinner. Lamps are being lit and I notice that Private Kent has seen to it that my lamp is also lit.
    "Till later, Mr. Jared. Thank you for your company."
    He nods and stands as I turn to go into my room. On my way I pat the Marine on his red sleeve and say softly, "Thank you, Billy."
    Once in there, noting once again the oh-so-dim light, I decide that I cannot spend another whole evening in this gloom—no books, not enough light to work on paintings, no company. Well, I may not be able to do