Free Second on the Right by Elizabeth Los Page B

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