Free Pirate's Wraith, The by Penelope Marzec Page A

pungent herbs and pieces of bark into a boiling pot of water. “As we’ve a lack of spoons, you’ll be stirring it with me knife.”
    “Is that the one you used for the amputations?” She covered her mouth as her stomach clenched.
    “I use the curved blade for amputations. It would be most awkward for stirring.”
    Feeling slightly relieved, she took the knife and plunged it into the water. “What happened to all the spoons?”
    “’Twas my hope to capture the essence of lightning. I borrowed spoons from all who would loan them to me and then I strung them along twine from one cathead to the other. I added another long piece of twine with spoons from the foremast to the bowsprint. I believed I could attract the lightning in that way.”
    “You’re lucky you didn’t get fried.”
    He gave her a quizzical look.
    “Electrocuted. Burned. Lightning kills people,” she explained.
    “Yes, I am aware there is danger, but I thought I could capture the power. Where the two pieces of twine met, I attached a large eyehook, the end of which I centered in a big glass jug.”
    “Lightning can’t be bottled.”
    The doctor centered a large bowl on his operating table and spread a layer of cloth inside it. “At any rate, when the lightning hit the ship, you appeared on the deck. Why were you not burned?”
    “I guess I got lucky. What happened to my cotton sweats?”
    “Sweats?”
    “My exercise outfit. My black pants and shirt. What did you do with them?”
    “You were ...” The doctor coughed and then whispered. “...naked, but unhurt. It is incomprehensible—unless ... the clothing protected you but was burned away.”
    Her cheeks grew hot. “Who saw me naked?”
    “Only the captain and I.” The doctor stilled her hand. “I will take that now.” He lifted the pot and poured the contents into the cloth-lined bowl. “As soon as this cools, you squeeze out all the liquid. Make sure to get out every last drop.”
    Lesley figured it would be best to keep her mouth shut about her origin. Otherwise, he would accuse her of being a witch just like the captain. Still, the lightning business intrigued her. After all, lightning hit her car as it spun—in 2011. The doctor deliberately attracted lightning in 1711—same calendar day, same place, same hour of the day as near as she could guess. Was it a coincidence? Did a logical explanation exist?
    Could she duplicate the circumstances and return home? She shivered. More than likely, if she tried to return she would kill herself in the attempt. Her lower lip trembled as she thought of all she had left back in 2011. If only she could send her sister one last text message.
    I <3 u. Kiss the kidlets 4 me. Send them 2 Harvard w/my blessings. Miss u 4 ever.
    Her throat ached as tears threatened and she struggled to hold them back.
    She thought about her missing sweats. They were manufactured in a way not invented yet in 1711. Maybe that’s why they vanished.
    Maybe.
    But the captain had seen her without a stitch and evidently enjoyed the view. A lot.
    But why was she here? Why wasn’t she killed in her journey through time?
    The doctor knelt at the side of a sailor who looked about seventeen, if that. The kid should be graduating from high school. Instead, he lay dying in this horrid ship from a gruesome wound. What would his poor mother do when she found out?
    “Ach, I hate to see these young fellows suffer,” the doctor sighed. “I had hoped the lightning held a healing power capable of curing their wounds.”
    She ground her teeth together. “What’s with all this fighting business? Why can’t it stop?” She briefly considered the fact that it might be better to die quickly in 1711 rather than to suffer through a life of terrible hardship.
    Dr. Gilroy placed two coins on each of the young sailor’s eyes. “The forces of darkness and the forces of light have been battling since the beginning of time.”
    Lesley fought the inclination to weep. She reminded herself