mean “coming under the wind,” when (I later learned) it meant “coming into the lee.” I could not attempt to explain “seizing the weather gauge” in any language. And I knew nothing of the patois that reigned supreme among the denizens of the gundeck. I was on the verge of despair, when a quiet voice at my shoulder said in English—
“I believe I might prove of some assistance, madame?
My face flushed with effort, my ears ringing with a multitude of voices, I turned to glare at the man propped against the stone wall. And managed to utter not a word of acknowledgement or thanks, being overcome, of a sudden, with confusion and surprise.
He was too weak, I imagine, to sit upright without assistance, and his dark eyes glittered at me through half-opened lids. He wore breeches of a colour indeterminate in the dark, and a white linen shirt oddly at variance with the soiled garb of the men about him; his fine hands rested lighdy on his knees. It was the hands that drew my attention, after those first words of English; they had certainly never hauled a line, nor pulled this man upwards into the shrouds. He had recentfy shaved. His features were fine. There was a quirk of humour about the full lips, and strength in the cut of his chin. I must be staring at a French officer—inexplicably left to sicken and die among the ranks of his own men. But where was his uniform, or the marks of authority?
“You speak English,” I managed.
He bowed his head—a gesture of courtesy, the habit of a gentleman. “I might translate for your pen. There are niceties, there are forms, to a life at sea with which a lady like yourself could not be expected to be familiar….”
Niceties. Forms. How often had I heard those words? He might be my very brother Frank; he had been cut from the same mould. “Certainly you may assist me. I should be glad of the help. Are these your shipmates?”
“What few remain. Most of the Monoris crew are held at the large naval prison in Portsmouth—you know it?”
I nodded assent It was a fortification that dated from the Norman era; twenty generations of British prisoners might have rotted there.
“But your navy has had too much luck, and that prison is full of the French; and so we are sent here, along with others of different vessels, to await the exchange.”
“You are not a common seaman,” I said awkwardly, “and yet I do not observe the uniform of an officer.”
“We are all equal in defeat, modame,” he retorted gently. “But perhaps that is a French belief—the equal right of men to suffer arid die. When something more of value is at stake, however, we prove as selfish as the rest of the world!”
He smiled—a flash of white in that dim and awful room—and I felt a wave of giddiness rise from my feet to my cheeks. I could not help smiling back.
“You were writing to the sister of Jean-Philippe, I believe,” he resumed. “Something about the Stella luffing, and the wind being three points off the bow, and the Manon incapable of carrying royals.”
“Yes,” I stammered. “Luffing. Is that what vient au lof meant?”
His eyelids drifted lower, as though he would fade with weariness. “I would write to all of them myself,” he murmured, “but I can barely hold up my head. C 'est une fièvre de cheval…”
I rose and went to him in some anxiety. His forehead was clammy, his limbs trembling with the effort he had brought to bear on conversation. “You should lie down,” I said sternly. “You require rest.”
“A little water, if you please.”
I hesitated—Mr. Hill did not like cold water on a fevered stomach, believing it to cause retching; I fetched the man some lukewarm tea instead. He drank it without complaint, sighed, and closed his eyes again.
“Madame,” cried Jean-Philippe, the young seaman who had wished to write of luffing. “Madame, s4l vous plait—”
“Un moment.”
The Frenchman's eyes flicked open. “You are very good, with your paper and your broth. May I ask what is your name?”
“I am Miss Austen.”
“And I am Etienne LaForge,” he murmured. “You may call me ship's surgeon. It is as good a name as any for me. Has M'sieur Hill determined the nature of this illness?”
“Gaol fever.”
“Ah. It is as I suspected. Pray continue with your letters, mademoiselle, and I shall supply whatever words you deem necessary—”
I recommenced writing; and in a very little while,