Free Seasons of War 2-Book Bundle by Cheryl Cooper Page A

favourite subject of all.”
    “Then you must go. I’m not concerned for my safety, although I had my doubts trying to get out of the doctor’s hammock.” She gave a satisfied glance around the ship. “Just tell me, is there a quiet place where I may sit with Magpie and enjoy this fresh air?”
    “Aye, on the poop deck. You’ll find it quiet there this time of day. Unfortunately, it’s at the very back of the ship and it will mean more ladders to climb. The quarterdeck is closer, but if you’re caught loitering there, you’ll most likely be ordered to ‘shove off,’ as only officers and midshipmen may stroll there during their leisure hours. Shall I escort you to the poop deck before I go to class?”
    “Thank you, I’ll manage with Mr. Magpie.”
    Hobbling along the fo’c’sle deck with her walking cane, Emily drew no stares. The doctor’s straw hat hid her long, fair hair, and the baggy trousers and waist-length jacket Magpie had fashioned for her disguised her female form. She had supposed her blue silk shoes would be a dead giveaway, but no one seemed interested in her feet. Moreover, Gus had assured her that several of the men were new to the Isabelle , and thus many faces were still foreign to one another.
    As if reading her thoughts, Magpie piped up, “Ya’ll get away with it today, ma’am, but tonight at supper they’ll be askin’ me the name of the sailor I was walkin’ with at noon.”
    “Do you not get leisure time?”
    “Aye, but they don’t usually see the likes of Magpie up on the poop deck.”
    “In that case, let’s just sit here.”
    Emily and Magpie perched themselves upon two overturned barrels alongside the starboard railing of the ship’s waist, and there fell quiet to appreciate the scenes around them. The decks were teeming with sailors – toiling, talking, taking leisure – reminding Emily of a busy street in London minus the coiffed ladies in their bonnets and redingotes. High on the yardarms, the men stood precariously on their footropes, letting down the sails in preparation for their return to the sea. Those on the mast platforms watched the empty horizons for enemy sails. They were like birds in a mountain nest, isolated and free. She longed to be up there with them and determined she would be once her ankle and shoulder had healed.
    Following Magpie’s gaze out over the square, stone buildings in the dockyard and the low, mossy-green hills of Ireland Island, Emily noticed there was only one other ship in port beyond the Isabelle , a small two-masted vessel with an unusually bright red hull. HMS Amethyst and the three East India merchantmen, of which she’d overheard Dr. Braden speaking to Mr. Harding in the hospital earlier, must have departed, she thought. Emily had hoped to catch a glimpse of the Amethyst’s Captain Prickett and First Lieutenant Bridlington, as their manners and fondness for the Isabelle’s food had apparently provided Captain Moreland with a good amount of entertainment.
    Pulling her eyes away from the thickets of mangrove and hedges of oleander that lay beyond the naval buildings, Emily was surprised to find Magpie studying her face with interest, much as Captain Moreland and Fly Austen had the night of their interrogation. Quickly he looked away, furtively slipping a gilded object into his trousers pocket, and turning his attention to the stretch of new canvas that whispered above his head.
    “What is that you have there?” Emily asked, referring to her tantalizing glimpse of gold.
    “Aw, it ain’t nothing,” said Magpie, still looking at the sail. He pointed upwards. “Ain’t she a beauty, ma’am? I sewed her meself.”
    “Yes,” Emily said absently. It was her turn to study him. His eyes were almond-shaped, fringed with long black lashes, and his dark curls blew with abandon in the warm breeze. His little fingers were stained black and his leather shoes had lost their heels, but his trousers, shirt, and red necktie were all