Free A Flower for the Queen: A Historical Novel by Caroline Vermalle, Ryan von Ruben

afternoon. Before the ship had been able to come about to pluck him from the water, he had been devoured by the pack of sharks that was a constant companion to the ship and which, till then, had been scavenging off the waste and scraps that were thrown into the sea.
    As the pancakes were served for dessert, Burnette apologised to the captain, giving the lack of sea legs as an excuse to retire.
    With venom leaking from every pore, Forster did not touch sugared morsels that were placed in front of him and watched as the young botanist departed. Masson was left isolated and alone at his end of the table, and he ate and sipped at his wine, hoping that the meal would end soon and wondering if he would have the strength, as Burnette had shown, to simply walk away.
    Reinhold Forster looked around belligerently, before his gaze finally settled on Masson, who bristled under the weight of the older man’s stare, waiting for the words that he was sure would come. Masson busied himself with the pancakes and tried to hide behind his goblet as he took draught of the French wine, thinking that it tasted unnaturally sweet on his palate.
    When Forster did open his mouth, he was cut off by a strangled groan that escaped from one of the young mid-shipmen, who then proceeded to be violently ill. But before Masson had time to react, he too was felled by agonising stomach cramps and in the chaos that ensued, almost the entire contingent of the captain’s table fell to retching and writhing.
    Those that could ran outside to get above decks so that they could be sick overboard whilst others, like Masson, were simply too stricken to move and fell to the floor, passing in and out of consciousness as sickness took hold of them and throttled them to the brink of endurance.

C HAPTER 11
    “Gentleman, place your bids for our next item, this fine set of chisels. As sharp as my wife’s tongue, but fortunately not as well used!”
    As Masson lay shivering in his hammock with fever, shouted bids, cheers of triumph and curses of disappointment all jammed his ears. Following the carpenter’s death, the Captain had ordered that all belongings of a non-personal nature should be set aside for auction, with the proceeds forwarded on to the man’s relatives along with his pay.
    Whilst most of the others had recovered almost immediately, Masson was alone in enduring the continuing effects of the mysterious affliction that had wreaked such havoc at the captain’s table. His nausea had given way to fits of colic, swollen and ulcerated gums and severe pains in his joints. Despite the best efforts of the ship’s surgeon, which included the application of blisters, tobacco enemas, bleedings and copious amounts of laudanum, Masson’s solitary suffering was almost without respite.
    As the ruckus from the auction mixed with his fevered sleep, Masson fell into a delirious nightmare, whereupon he heard a man’s pitiful cries for help. The ship had become utterly deserted and was completely still, and Masson fought against the pain in his belly as he staggered up the stairs to the upper deck, which was devoid of human presence.
    Other than the man’s dreadful cries, which had grown louder and more hysterical, the only sounds he heard were the flapping of the ship’s ensign, even though the sails hung slack on their rigging and there was no hint of the wind. Masson stumbled across the empty deck and looked over the railings just in time to see the carpenter being pulled beneath the surface in a thrash of pink foam.
    As his head disappeared beneath the waves, Masson heard his dying words above the violent splashing of the sharks’ bodies, “The flower! The flower!”
    In his dream, Masson remembered with horror that he had hidden the drawing of the Queen’s flower in his cabin but could not remember if he had retrieved it before Burnette’s arrival.
    Sickened at the sight of the carpenter and panicked at the thought of losing the only drawing of the flower, he