Free Miss Whittier Makes a List by Carla Kelly Page B

her head, suddenly shy, and quite caught up by his blue eyes. “ No — no, sir, I think not, ” she stammered. “ I think I should make amends with Cookie. ” She slipped do wn the gangway until she was stan ding on the main deck again. “ Do you suppose if I peel a lot of potatoes, he will overlook the fact that I startled him into spilling your porridge all over the deck? ”
    “ By God, Miss Whittier , you are a trial, ” he murmured . “ I wonder if your parents will want you back, given the choice. Tell Trist to poach me some eggs instead. ”
    She hurried back to the galley, her heart pounding, where Cookie ignored her elabor ately. On her tremulous request, Trist, with much wringing of hands and little moans, coaxed two eggs into a reluctant poach and charred the toast. Making herself as small as possible, she sat on the deck by a mound of potatoes and began to pee l. Trist finally hurried forward with the captain ’ s late breakfast, a large mug of coffee featured prominently. Cookie sat down and mopped his face. With a shaking hand, he pointed to the pile.
    “ Keep peeling! ”
    Hannah was still peeling potatoes an hour later when the bosun’s whistles twitt ered and the gun deck filled with seamen. Cookie, his rheumy eyes eager now, put down his knife and motioned her to the doorway. “ There you are, missy, ” he gestured, his voice expansive. “ Our reason for being. ”
    As she watched, interested, the confusion of sailors resolved into separate crews standing beside each gun. The gunpo rt s were opened, and Mr. Lansing stood in the center of the deck, his watch in his hand. She looked up through the cut-out deck to see Captain Spark on the quarterdeck with Mr. Futtrell, his second officer.
    “ Mr. Lansing, ” he roared in that penetrating voice. “ A complete exercise, right down to the sand. And if you ’ re fast enough, by God, we ’ ll blow up a few kegs. ”
    The crews cheered and were silenced quickly by a sharp word from Mr. Lansing. While one crew member spread sand on the deck, another ran to fill a tub with water. A third stuck long wicks of slow-burning matches in the tub, while another readied the swab.
    Hannah turned inquiring eyes on the cook, who stood beside her. “ Sand? ” she asked.
    “ For the blood on the deck, ” he replied, and laughed with some relish when she shuddered. “ You ’ d be amazed how slippery it can get. ”
    Small boys darted among the crews. She looked at the cook again.
    “ Powder monkeys, miss, ” he explained. “ They get the powder forward from the magazine and hurry it back to the crews .”
    “ They ’ re so young! ” she exclaimed in dismay.
    The cook only shrugged. “ Better than sweeping chimneys in Lunnon, I always say. ”
    “ I suppose, ” she whispered, her eyes on the crews. She saw Adam Winslow by one of the po rt guns. He looked at her and grinned. “ I hope thee does not enjoy murder and death too much, Adam Winslow, ” she murmured under her breath.
    The exercise began with a sharp command from the captain. “ Broadsides first, Mr. Lansing, then let them practice aiming and shooting as the guns bear. ”
    In a fever of motion, the crews went through the exercises in silence, which ended with the gun elevated, the lanyard pulled and someone screaming, “ Boom! ” She knew it was only a drill, but as she watched from the companionway, Hannah felt a ripple of fear down her back, and recalled Mr. Lansing ’ s quiet words of last night. It was only a matter of time before the guns spoke in earnest.
    The crews drilled the better part of the morning, exercising the guns faster and faster until the men were drenched in sweat that dropped onto the deck, turning the san d dark. She wanted to go up on deck, where the air was fresh, but that would mean navigating across the gun deck, with the men working so feverishly. Hannah remained where she was.
    She was joined by Andrew Lease, who nodded to her and leaned against the