Free The Secret Mandarin by Sara Sheridan

was no one to reply.
    There was still a long way to travel. Even by the time we had reached the Cape of Africa we had not yet covered half the miles. It felt as if I had spent a whole year at sea. When we encountered the storm it scared me more than I expected. Thankfully, my voyage home through these waters had been uneventful, the variety of weather limited. This time the sea reared mountainously and we were closeted below decks. The petty officer escorted us to the hold. The ship was keeling so hard that it was difficult to remain on the wooden bench, though it was bolted to the floor.
    ‘You will not lock us in,’ I begged.
    The officer did not answer me. He directed his comments to Robert.
    ‘Stay below decks,’ he said. ‘It is safer. Some will be swept away in this.’
    Then he fastened his greatcoat and left.
    We were below for hours as the weather raged. The winds were high, the water towering exactly as it had the day the Regatta went down. Robert paced up and down, worried only about his Ward’s cases, while every tiny creak had my heart pounding as I waited for the ship to split in two. Thistime would I be lucky enough to be driven towards the shore or would I be swept further south to the open ocean? Robert hardly noticed my anxiety, such was his concern for his plants. He muttered under his breath about the ropes holding the canvas covers he had fitted in place. He worried about how low the temperature might drop or if the cases would flood. He had no sense of our mortal danger at all. From time to time a sodden deckhand passed and sent up another man to relieve him.
    At last, after several hours, Robert could not bear the uncertainty. Despite the petty officer’s warning he pulled on his coat and went to check the damage. The ship pitched and rolled. The storm had not abated. I thought longingly of home. Not London, but my childhood home. I admit, it crossed my mind that should Robert be swept away I would return there. When he did come back I could see he had properly realised our peril. He was drenched to the skin, his pink flesh icy and a cut on his leg.
    ‘One case has smashed,’ he reported, indicating the bloody slit. He must have fallen against the broken glass. ‘The one with the bougainvillea,’ he said absentmindedly, for the plants were less important to him now he had seen the height of the storm.
    At that moment there was a loud crash above us as some part of the rigging came free on deck. I screamed, my whole body taut, waiting for the force of the water to smash everything and toss us away. Robert placed a hand on each of my shoulders and shook me.
    ‘Stay calm, Mary,’ he directed sharply.
    At first I could not speak for terror. Then I found my voice.
    ‘This is how it happened before,’ I said, trying to explain, ‘the ship split. That noise…’
    Robert cut me off. ‘Your panic serves no one.’
    ‘Those who have not been stung will not fear a bee the same as those who have,’ I retorted.
    He really was hardly human sometimes.
    Robert took his handkerchief from his pocket and bound his wound. He took a draught from his hip flask and offered it to me. I shook my head.
    ‘Go on, Mary. It will help,’ he said.
    I took it but did not thank him. The man was unbearable but his brandy warmed me. I could feel myself flush.
    ‘I know you want sympathy. But my sympathy will do you no good, Mary. We have to do our best if Captain Barraclough does not succeed in riding the storm. If we will die, we will die.’
    I snorted, handing back his flask. The brandy instantly made me drowsy. I have never been one for spirits on an empty stomach and now I sank down on my knees. Low to the boards I was rocked by the movement of the ship without fearing I might fall, and, despite all my apprehensions, the lateness of the hour prevailed, exhaustion overtook me and I drifted fretfully to sleep.
    When I awoke the ship was steady and Robert was gone.
    ‘We are safe,’ I breathed and climbed the