Free Dangerous Waters by Jane Jackson Page A

deep breath. She couldn’t get off the ship. Nor could she remain in this cramped hutch for the entire voyage. Meeting the other passengers would be an ordeal. But at least there were only three of them. She touched the wooden case drawing comfort from its familiar shape.
    Scarred and scratched the once sharp edges were rounded now with age and use. Yet what it contained – knowledge handed down through generations – was priceless. And both William Quintrell and Uncle George had assured her that when she reached Jamaica there would opportunities for her to use what she had learned. But the ocean was so vast, the ship so small. And she was so horribly afraid.
    Drawing another deep breath she reached for the handkerchief tucked inside her cuff. She heard footsteps on the stairs and realized it was one of many sounds she would have to get used to. Wiping her eyes and nose she took off her hat and lay it on the nightstand. The best thing was to keep busy. Being occupied would leave her less time to brood, to miss all –
    A knock on her door made her jump violently.
    â€œMiss Dymond?”
    â€œYes?” Shock had tightened her throat so that the word emerged as a strangled hiss.
    â€œIs everything all right?”
    No. Phoebe swallowed hard. Rising from the bunk to her feet she steadied herself with one hand, used the other to make sure her face was free from tearstains, and spoke through the wood. “Yes, thank you.”
    â€œMiss Dymond, I have no wish to intrude on your privacy but nor do I have unlimited time.” His obvious impatience made Phoebe flinch. “I have just learned that I am to act as your guardian for the duration of the voyage. That being the case would our conversation not be more easily conducted – and more private – without a door between us?”
    Phoebe grasped the handle. The door remained shut. She was trapped. Terror seared her nerves. But as she opened her mouth to scream she was pulled forward, the handle wrenched from her hand as the door flew open outwards.
    Letting out a cry she stumbled against a tall figure, gasping as she felt warm breath on her face. Gripped by her upper arms she was set down on the bench seat with the table at her back and immediately released.
    Dizzy with relief and shock, deafened by her drumming heartbeat, Phoebe pressed both hands to her temples feeling utterly foolish. “How stupid of me. I’m sorry. I forgot about the door opening out –” As she glanced up the words dried on her tongue. This wasn’t the man she had seen on deck. “Wh – who are you?”
    His thick hair was the colour of clover honey and sprang back from his forehead in tousled waves. Beneath it his brows were drawn together in a frown. Without taking his eyes from hers he lowered himself onto the bench, deliberately putting distance between them.
    â€œCrossley. Jowan Crossley.”
    Phoebe’s thoughts tumbled in confusion. This was the man her uncle had asked – ? No, he hadn’t. Her uncle had asked the packet agent to inform the captain. Only the captain wasn’t aboard. And either the agent had been too busy to mention it or had simply forgotten. “You’rethe surgeon?” At his brief frowning nod she moistened her lips. Clearly he was as unwilling a party to the agreement as she was.
    â€œI’m sorry you have been put to such unnecessary inconvenience, Mr Crossley. My uncle made the arrangement with my best interests at heart. However, as you see I am not a child. I have been used to going about the town quite independently. With only three other passengers aboard I cannot think I shall require protection. As you pointed out, you have too little time already. And I do not need, nor do I want, anyone feeling responsible for me.”
    As the silence stretched and she waited for his reply she could feel her cheeks burning. “I intend no offence, Mr