Page 16 of Lizzie’s Spirit

On the deck of the Dromedary , Darcy watched the boy, Raimundo, climb the rigging as the ship tacked a point off south by southwest. A further eight guineas, in addition to Miss Bennet’s five, secured the girl’s release from the convent.

Her father took most of the gold for himself, placing two guineas in the pocket of the priest’s robe and passing another to the nuns.

Darcy held the boy’s paltry contribution in a purse to be returned to him once they arrived at Rio de Janeiro.

A fisherman, he had saved everything to secure his bride—but for the avaricious father, that was not enough; he preferred the indulgence of the church to securing the happiness of his daughter.

Darcy was disgusted by the affair, but he would move on.

For him, eight guineas was a minor amount, but for Miss Bennet, five guineas was a substantial sum—yet she had willingly given it up to assist a stranger, a Catholic no less, with whom she had no connection.

Her charity, her rectitude, was all that was admirable.

“Raimundo’s a monkey, isn’t he?” Captain Pritchard came to stand next to Darcy. “If all my crew could climb like him, I could sail with half their number. Could I tempt him to stay on for the voyage to New Holland?”

“My apologies, Captain, but he was promised release at Rio de Janeiro—I gave my word. His betrothed journeys on the Hindostan , under the care of Miss Bennet.”

“Lovely lady, Miss Bennet. Her performance on the guitar is magnificent. I’ve never heard the like before. I would prefer, perhaps, an English tune such as Robin Adair , but her voice is quite compelling, whatever the language. ”

“She has a natural gift, indeed.” Thank the Lord, Darcy mused, that such a gem was not forced to marry dross such as Mr. Collins.

“How long to Brazil, sir? This part of the voyage is not unpleasant but still feels tedious, even if we have not experienced any of the gales and heavy seas that rendered the voyage to Madeira so uncomfortable. It’s a far longer journey? ”

“We should make landfall come the end of July, by my reckoning; it’s now the 5th.

We’ll arrive some eleven weeks from St. Helen’s Roads, whereas Funchal was some four weeks from the same.

Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, but the fore-topsail isn’t properly set and requires trimming.

” The captain turned to the Officer of the Watch to correct the issue.

Darcy gazed ahead to where the Hindostan set the pace in the light wind.

He hoped to glimpse chestnut curls promenading on the quarterdeck or poop.

“Captain Pritchard, Colonel O’Connell, and Mr. Carter have come aboard. Shall I fetch Mr. Arnold and bring the gentlemen to your cabin?” On the affirmative, the midshipman brought the men to Captain Pasco’s day cabin, where he sat at his table. He waved to his guests that they should be seated.

“Gentlemen, thank you for attending me. I believe there is a problem with the wives of the regiment?”

“Indeed, sir,” responded the colonel, “on the Dromedary there’s much discord, not unusual for such a long journey as ours, but I fear, over time, the discontent will grow worse.”

“Please refresh my memory. What is our disposition of women?”

Mr. Arnold looked at his notebook. “At St. Helens, four and fifty women embarked the Dromedary and seven and ninety women the Hindostan …”

“Begging your pardon, Mr. Arnold,” interrupted Mr. Carter, the naval surgeon of the Dromedary , “two women have died since on the Dromedary . One from a flux, which she had prior to boarding, though she hid it well; and the other, Mrs. Murray—wife of a private—during childbirth.”

“I stand corrected, Captain. There are two and fifty women on the Dromedary, which brings the total in the convoy to one hundred and forty-nine. Of these, there may be some ten with child, though the true number is uncertain and likely to change during the journey.”

“And the discord, of what do we speak?”

Mr. Carter spoke up. “Mrs. Murray, who died during birthing, was popular. Hers was a difficult travail and I was called to assist.” He looked around the table.

“But I’m a naval surgeon, not a midwife.

And none of the other women could tend to her.

The travail was long and painful, and, in the end, she succumbed to fatigue and despair with the child unborn.

I examined her afterwards, and the babe didn’t lie right.

Perhaps it could have been turned, but I didn’t know how. ”

“Surely such an occurrence isn’t unusual. Tragic perhaps, but the life of mother and child is our Lord’s to dispose of, after all,” replied Captain Pasco, frowning as he could not see where this discussion was leading.

“Indeed, but the women blame Mr. Carter, as surgeon, for the death. They are afraid each could suffer the same fate.” Colonel O’Connell rolled his eyes.

“The women of the regiment will suffer all manner of hardship with their men when deployed on a march, but this sea journey has them quite discomforted. Many are Indian and not accustomed to voyages such as this, particularly the gyrations of the vessel and cramped quarters below deck. They have their allotted exercise on the upper deck, but…” Enough was said. Who could understand such women?

“You requested this meeting, gentlemen, because you have a solution with which I may not agree. Is that so?”

“You’ve the right of it, commodore,” said Captain Pritchard.

“Let the women who are enceinte and their husbands transfer to the Hindostan , with an equal number returned to the Dromedary . The regiment believe they’ll be well treated here.

Anyways, better than aboard the Dromedary, where they no longer trust Mr. Carter, through no fault of his, I must add. ”

“And what magic does the Hindostan possess that your vessel does not?” Captain Pasco was irritated.

When did women’s business, and that of the regiment, become his concern?

He looked to Mr. Arnold, his surgeon. “Ah, I begin to understand. The magicienne, I believe, is Miss Bennet—am I not correct? Did she not deliver Sgt. Monogan’s child? ”

“Miss Bennet, a moment of your time, if I may?” Elizabeth was standing on the poop, enjoying a refreshing breeze, cooling the heat of the tropical sun.

“Certainly, Mr. Arnold. The children are well occupied; I’m at your disposal.”

Mr. Arnold looked momentarily discomforted. “It’s well known below decks the service you did for Sgt. Monogan’s wife. Their infant son thrives, much to your kind attention and care.”

“’Tis only what anyone would do. I assure you I’ve done naught out of the ordinary.”

“I would disagree,” responded Mr. Arnold emphatically, “but now you’ve a reputation, favourable of course, for the care of the women of the regiment.

Particularly those who are increasing. Many face pain and discomfort during this time; some may require counselling if they have no women acquaintances with whom they can confide; others, perhaps, require intervention to turn the child if it lies wrong or medical intervention if there’s a serious disease of the womb, or a fallen womb, or the child has died. ”

“But I know nothing of such things,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “ You are the physician; surely it’s up to you to assist them. ”

“No, I am neither physician nor midwife. I’m a naval surgeon, good for cutting limbs and removing musket balls and wood splinters. If I were involved, both woman and child would surely die under my hand.”

“What do you want, Mr. Arnold? My first duty is to Mrs. Bent; I’m tasked with caring for her children. They paid for my passage—I cannot neglect that responsibility.”

“Of course, Miss Bennet, they are your primary concern.”

A strange tone underlay Mr. Arnold’s voice.

Normally his demeanour bordered on the arrogant and condescending.

Now, he could hardly hold her eye: “There’s a request coming from Colonel O’Connell.

” He paused, then continued hesitantly: “Only… if you so wish it, could you agree for the women of the regiment—those with child—to visit with you, say for a fixed hour during the day? Perhaps after breakfast. Naturally, I would seek permission from Mr. Bent and Captain Pasco for your attending them.”

Elizabeth recalled her letter to her aunt and her assisting Harshita.

Then , she believed that God was guiding her.

But her experience in Madeira, her need to rescue Isabella from the horrors of the nunnery, had discomforted her greatly—had God sent her to that church at precisely the right time to save the poor girl?

But surely, He did not need to work through the agency of a young gentlewoman such as herself.

“Mr. Arnold, you ask much of me. Think what I must consider: my respectability for associating with those below decks; my capacity to assist the women—I do not wish to provide false advice; my position aboard this vessel—I have no authority, neither military nor naval; I’m full young and a woman—would they respect me?

I know not.” Elizabeth turned away from the surgeon; nausea threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of dealing thus with the women of the regiment.

She hurried back to her cabin. Mercifully, the children were still with Hannah and little William in the Great Cabin.

She was alone, left to ponder Mr. Arnold’s request.

“Mr. Arnold, I would speak with you and Captain Pasco.”

Shortly, with the two gentlemen in attendance, Elizabeth accepted the chair offered. She seated herself before the captain’s desk, straightened her woollen day dress, and, once settled, spoke with as much authority as she could muster. Would her courage rise if they should argue against her?

“Let me be direct. Mr. Arnold spoke to me yesterday of holding, shall we say, visits with the regimental wives. In principle, I’m not averse to such.”