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.She had been watching him, and now quickly looked away.He had not been able to stop thinking about her since the night they spent with Donny Ritchie.To sit with her in the salon, to stroll on the deck with her—each moment now took on a unique quality.He knew he could fall in love with her if he allowed himself to, but at the end of this voyage they would be going their separate ways."Pardon me, sir, a word if you please?"Neal looked up to see the First Officer with a grave expression on his face."What is it, Mister James?""I will have to ask you to go below now, sir.There's a bit of rough weather headed this way.""Rough weather? How bad?""Captain's expecting it will be as bad as it can get, sir.I suggest you secure those crates of yours.And if you can help the others in any way, I would appreciate it.Especially the young lady," Mister James added, nodding toward Hannah who was holding onto her bonnet as the wind tried to snatch it away.As Neal headed for the quarterdeck, sailors and deck hands were suddenly everywhere, running, shouting, climbing the rigging.Officers were ordering the immigrants to go below and, as Neal reached Hannah, he saw crewmen sealing the hatches to the steerage hold.The day grew dark, the wind brisk.Sailors had donned broad-rimmed hats and rubber Macintoshes as they wrestled with shrouds, lanyards and buntlines.The Merriwethers had already gone to their cabin to secure their possessions and themselves.Neal helped Hannah down the companionway, as the sea was growing choppy and walking was a challenge.Hannah went to her cabin, while Neal addressed the task of making sure his crates were properly stowed.As the Merriwethers secured their trunk, the Reverend said, "My spare glasses! They must have fallen from my pocket up on deck.I'll be right back.""Caleb, no!" Abigail hurried after him, trying to grab his arm."It's too dangerous.""If I break my glasses and don't have a spare set, I'll be of no use in Australia," he called back, gesturing for her to return to their cabin.But Abigail followed as her husband struggled up the steps of the companionway and, pushing up the hatch, emerged into a violent day.Deciding it would be reckless to search for his glasses, Caleb Merriwether started to close the hatch when he saw, sprawled on the deck, what looked like an unconscious sailor.Caleb could not be sure as the man was lying against a coil of ropes, seemed in fact to be just another coil."My goodness," he said to Abigail, who was behind him, "is that a man?""Caleb, please, come down!"The middle-aged missionary, whose hardest labor in recent years had been to weed his marigolds, took a quick measure of the scene—the low black clouds, the squall line driving toward the ship, the spray shooting up over the side—and made an instant decision.As he pulled himself topside, Abigail climbed after him, calling for him to come back.But the sailor would for certain be washed overboard, and no one else seemed to have noticed the fallen man.As Reverend Merriwether fought his way across the slippery deck, with the Caprica pitching and rolling, he prayed that the man was still alive.Had he fallen from a yardarm?At the companionway, with her hair flying in the wind, Abigail watched in horror as her husband stumbled to the stricken man, slip twice on the wet boards, and reach him as the ship gave a great lurch.She frantically searched for help, but the few sailors on deck were struggling with sheets and lines, and the roar of the wind drowned out her cries for help.Caleb fell two more times but he managed to seize the unconscious man—whose forehead was bleeding—by the collar of his rain slicker and struggle back, pulling him along the sodden deck as the rain grew torrential and higher spray came over the sides.Abigail's eyes were wide with terror as she was certain that, at any moment, the two men would be washed over the side.And then, to her astonishment, Caleb was at the companionway, drenched and pale, but holding onto the unconscious sailor.Together, the missionaries lowered the man down and carried him back to their cabin, where they tied him to a bunk and then held onto each other as the storm hit.Working quickly in his own cabin, Neal tied the last of his boxes and equipment to the lower bunk, securing them with ropes given to him by Mr.Simms.Hannah appeared in the doorway."Do you need help, Mr.Scott? I have but a trunk, and it is well secured.""You should not be here, Miss Conroy.These chemicals are very dangerous." He noticed that Hannah had removed her cumbersome crinoline so that her skirt hung straight down, giving her an alluring, more feminine shape."You said they were flammable.If you extinguish the lantern.?""They are more than flammable I'm afraid.The ether that is used in preparing the collodion can be explosive." Back in Boston, not far from Josiah Scott's law office, a photographer had been killed in his darkroom when a bottle of ether burst and the fumes were ignited by a candle.Stored properly and in a cool and stable place, such volatile photographer's solutions as potassium cyanide, ammonia and silver nitrate were not a hazard.But Neal had no idea how these liquids were going to react when tossed about in a storm."Then all the more need for an extra pair of hands," Hannah said, and she picked up a length of rope to help him fasten it around a box labeled FRAGILE SCIENTIFIC INSTRUMENTS.When all was secure, Neal tossed his jacket onto the upper bunk, and then a leather satchel.At that moment, the ship lurched and the satchel fell to the floor, snapping open, the contents spilling out.Hannah helped him retrieve the shaving brush, soap mug, handkerchiefs, combs.She picked up a small glass bottle and looked at it in the light from the lantern that swayed overhead.It was made of a lustrous emerald-green glass, shaped like a tear-drop with a long neck and sealed at the mouth with red wax.The bottle was flattened, like a hip flask, but miniature—only two inches long—and it was suspended at the end of a beautiful gold chain, as if it were meant to be worn like a necklace.Snapping the satchel shut, Neal tossed it onto the upper bunk and said, "That's everything! Now Mr.Simms said we should be tied to our bunks.Let's go to your cabin and I will secure you with a—" He stopped when he saw what Hannah held in her palm."This fell out of the bag," she said."It's lovely."His face darkened."Josiah Scott found it among the blankets that swaddled me in my cradle.""How extraordinary.""I believe it belonged to my mother, that she placed it in my blankets as a memento.I don't know what it is exactly.It probably contains the most expensive Parisian perfume money could buy.""Why would you say that?" Hannah said in surprise."Over the years I have speculated about the owner of that bottle, what she must have been like, what her motives were to leave it with me while depositing me on a stranger's doorstep [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]