The Whaler's Treasure

Chapter Two, Scene 1

Grey light filtered through the curtains in Mrs. Haggart's second best guest room, enough to wake Beth in her uncomfortable place in the chair, but not enough to see clearly.

In the weak light of morning she listened to the snores of the two injured men and tried to quiet the questions that tormented her all night. No respectable woman nursed men alone at night; Janice had the right about that much. Beth suspected Mrs. Haggart only asked her to do it because Beth had no reputation worth salvaging. The old woman craved a night's sleep after two weeks of nursing. The captain paid the woman well for it, but Beth knew it exhausted her. At least she spared Beth some coin for her help.

When did I give up on myself? When did I allow folks to tell me my reputation wasn't worth tuppence? I deserve better. Gran told her that in any case.

She glanced over when Mr. Farley tried to turn over, groaned at the pain in his leg, and fell back. He didn't wake up. The ship's cooper had told her he was the "cask maker and all around carpenter," during a quiet moment when the pain was at bay and the laudanum had not yet taken hold. He spoke of the wife and children who waited for him in Nantucket and treated Beth with respect. The other man, Clarke, had not.

The rising sun warmed Beth's face. She stood in the window for long moments watching Speyness come into focus bit by bit. She turned her thoughts to other sun rises, the morning rays moving down the western hills in the Braes of Glenlivet when her mother still lived and her Da still tended his father's sheep. It may be a universe away, but the place lodged in her heart.

"Stop yer dreaming woman and give me some meds!" Clarke's glittering eyes had even less warmth than his voice.

"You must eat something first, Mr. Clarke."

"Nasty one you are. As mean as you are wanton."

A gasp choked back any reply she might have made.

The man snarled at her again. "Sitting up with two men all night, in your chair like a tease. Hard woman you are."

"Hard I may be Mr. Clarke, but I don't deserve your bile. Your own captain ordered we cut back the laudanum you get. Take your anger up with him."

"Robert damned Thorpe don't care nothin' about his men. Keeps the best of our takings to hisself, locked up in 'is cabin. He probably hopes I die here so that's one less share to dole out. Greedy bastard." He spat, but lying on his back as he was, his spittle hit his own face.

Beth grabbed a soft towel and wiped the disgusting mess off. "Try not to injure yourself while I fetch your porridge," she said, treating him to her fiercest frown.

"Ignore Clarke. He only likes what he can harpoon," said the other man.

Beth turned to the kind man and put an arm under his shoulders, helping him to sit, propped up against the bed. She smiled down at him. "I expect you're hungry as well."

"Thank you Miss Gordon. Porridge will suit fine," Farley said.

"I'll send the stable hand up to help you with your personal needs as well," she said directing all her attention toward Farley.

When she stepped out the door, she heard Clarke shout, "Hey, ain't you goin' to help me sit up? You leaving me here to suffer?"

Hurrying to the kitchen, she found Mrs. Haggart looking rested and porridge bubbling in the pot.

"How are our patients," the woman asked.

"Farley is peaceful and well. Clarke could choke on his own venom."

Mrs. Haggart stiffened. "Was he disrespectful? Beth I'm sorry I—"

Beth raise a hand to still the woman. "He's a horrid man but an injured man. We're paid to nurse him, not to put up with his nonsense. I left him flat on his back."

Mrs. Haggart's lips twitched, hiding a grin, when she called out the kitchen door to the stable hand to see to the men and the chamber pot. She came in to put a bowl of steaming porridge in front of Beth.

"I'll fetch them breakfast when Sam is done, don't you fret. You did your duty, and I'm grateful for the rest."

Beth finished up moments after her employer climbed the stairs. A knock on the door surprised her before she could leave. She opened it to find one of the two men from the tavern, the younger one, she thought.

He gave her a cheeky grin and an entirely inappropriate appraisal. "Matt Thorpe at your service, Miss. I'm here to see our men."

"Then you best get to it," she snapped "and stop your ogling. I don't need it, and it does your consequence no good."

She stood aside and he passed her with a cocky salute, chuckling up the stairs.

A sudden need for clean air and sunshine over took her. Beth left and turned away from her stepmother's tavern toward the hills above Speyness.

I won't let any man make me ashamed. Not today, not any day. I don't deserve it.