Magician’s Spell

Chapter Three

 

…....In the heat of the lower deck, without knowing what was happening, the doctor, his assistant and Johanna waited. Once the guns started firing it was a matter of minutes before the first casualties straggled in or were carried below. Johanna met the carnage without scruple, following orders or taking her own initiative to second guess where the support was most needed. She assumed the responsibility of the patient’s post-care, which involved not much more than seeing to their comfort, however it was panacea to the doctor’s hectic, overburdened agenda.

        During their curative work the din of the guns was an unceasing reminder of what was taking place one deck above. More disturbing than the oppressing atmosphere and the grisly bloodshed, was the sudden ceasing of those guns. This could portend one of two outcomes. Either the enemy ship had struck her colors and surrendered to Captain Monroe or Magician had been taken, and their lot was in the enemy’s hands.

        Johanna’s dread was well grounded for if she was discovered by the French to be a British a high ranking officer’s daughter they would receive a hefty ransom for her return. And, if the crew stood silent on her identity she, and Colette, would most certainly be molested. The silence was disrupted by the occasional rattle of the doctor’s tools, or the groan of the man under his care. Although they bent to their tasks, their patience begged to be satisfied.

        Wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand Johanna wavered in momentary contemplation of her fate. Smears of blood spotted her cheeks. She pushed her hair back with her raw, chapped hands. Stray strands, long since escaping the ribbon holding the ponytail at the nape of her neck, formed a halo around her face.

        Men recovering from wounds found solace in her tender care, her soft voice, and with this added illusion they began thinking of her as a guardian angel. Those who held with the superstition of women being bad luck aboard found their prejudice changing.

        In this dim lantern light of surgery a flushed Captain Monroe, coming straight from action, singled out this incongruity. Here in the bowels of his ship, in the epitome of everything male and about man, stood this vision; a woman who he felt had no part in the life of this vessel. Once again his orders had been disregarded and her assigned realm had been breeched. His step forward prompted Johanna to shrink back into the darker recesses, dropping her attention to the men under her care. Her retreat was unnecessary. Her presence may have momentarily distracted Hal, but his wounded men were his sole consideration.

        “What’s the butcher’s bill, Doctor?”

        “One dead.  Nine wounded, three severely, Captain.”

        “Thank God.” said Hal.  “Who did we loose?”

        “The quartermaster, Mr. Gurney.”

        “I am heartily sorry.  He was a good man.”

        Loss of life was an unfortunate variable, and as he knew his men well, having served with them for a number of years, their deaths were unkind.

        Stepping closer to James he leaned over the now vacant operating table.

        “Once again I am disobeyed. Was this your idea or hers?”

        James looked directly at Hal. “She suggested it, I concurred. Her logic was sound, she had experience and her nursing abilities have proven to be invaluable. Look at how the men have taken to her.”

        Whispering low so only the doctor might hear Monroe suggested, “It is not hard to fathom, Doctor. Any lady, particularly with her looks, would please these men. They’ve been at sea for a month.”

        “There’s more to it, Hal. It is uncanny. They believe she is possessed of mysterious powers; each man convinced his recovery was singularly due to this ‘miraculous’ care, if you will.”

        “Then I am all for it! Let them believe in their “angel”. I will expect to see them attending to their duties tomorrow.”

        Captain Monroe smiled, stepping away from the table and his conversation with Dr. Emrys. He made his way through the maze of wounded, checking on each individual’s progress and discussing their injuries.

        Johanna studied him from the dark corner of the surgery as he moved about, all six foot two inches, stooping to avoid the low beams. He was still dressed in the garments he wore into battle. His cravat had been loosened in the fray and the top buttons of his shirt and vest unfastened. Smudges of gunpowder covered the exposed parts of his body, and his clothing emitted its acrid smell. His brown hair, normally plaited in a neat queue, had come loose and was hanging around his face. This examination was abruptly ended when upon finishing with the last man he stood before her, directly meeting her eye.

        “Lady Cornehl,” he bowed his head. “Although I am displeased at this precarious attention to your safety, the doctor tells me your assistance to him and the men has been beneficial.” Sweeping a lock of hair behind his ear he continued, “Thank you.” Pivoting back to James he said, “Doctor,” and left sickbay.            

The

Apprentice

 

By

Debra Denson

belly he heard his mother’s grunt of effort and then the rush of water beneath him. In another moment she collapsed atop him. His position prohibited observation of the events around him, yet he heard the whoosh of arrows as they flew overhead or splashed harmlessly into the water.

      He grabbed his mother’s hand squeezing it hard, offering what comfort and consoling words he could for her valiant effort in saving their lives. The Indian’s cries grew distant. A report of a gun split the air, Eddy curled up in fear. There were a few angry retorts, and another shot zinged overhead. Shortly he heard the clattering of hooves and assumed the war party had been routed. He relaxed, no longer gasping air in great gulps. His heart ceased pounding in his ears, but the silence that followed strangled Eddy’s recovery.

      Wriggling out from under the weight of his mother’s body Eddy observed the scene about him. At the opposite shore, now very near, a group of settlers stood waiting for the raft to reach them, armed with ropes and grappling hooks to grab the wayward craft. On the other side of the river, from where they escaped, there was a group of armed men who were examining the body of one of the Sauk Indians whose destiny had not been to escape.

      Eddy then turned his gaze on the woman who had saved his life. She laid on her side, one arm over her face, the other extended outward. Creeping to her side he lifted her arm. The words of reassurance remained unspoken as he looked into lifeless eyes.

      He reached forward and touched her gently. “Mom?” He asked tentatively. When there was no response he shook her by the shoulder, but there was no response. “Mommy…?”

      Taking her hand in his he pulled her toward him, repeating his anguished plea, desperate for an answer. With his gentle tug Margaret Frederick rolled from her side onto her stomach. The bright red feathers of a fletched arrow trailed her movement. It rose stiffly from her back, having pierced her heart.

 

Chapter One

 

Chapter Two

 

Chapter Three

 

Chapter Four

 

Chapter Five

 

Chapter Six

 

Chapter Seven

 

Chapter Eight

 

closing the distance quickly.

      Eddy found his forward motion halted abruptly. While his mother worked at loosening the large hunk of cable which anchored the raft to the shore he turned to gauge the time they had left. Not a hundred feet away a Sauk brave raise his bow and notch an arrow. Once again Eddy’s hand was taken and he was yanked onto the floating platform. He stumbled and fell. Remaining flat on his

        James turned his appreciative smile upon Johanna. “I do believe we are out of the thicket.”

        Johanna agreed to his take on the situation. She was smugly pleased at the captain’s purported contrition. On the other hand, she was puzzled at the mercurial change in his attitude.

        Captain Monroe had indeed been victorious, securing another prize in the process. The captured Volpone, under the command of Lt. Ruhl, was dispatched to England. A select crew from Magician manned the corvette, enough to handle the ship and keep their French prisoners under control.

        Overhauling Magician’s injuries was begun immediately, fortunately they were not severe. Though the morning began quite forcefully, by the first bell in the forenoon watch, despite the din of the repairs, life had settled back into its traditional routines, bringing a sense of peace with its familiarity.

        When she was excused from her duties in sickbay Johanna learned from one of the hands Colette would not leave the safety of the hold. Accompanying the sailor to the nether regions of the ship Johanna knelt by her side, taking the girl into her embrace. While she comforted Colette’s fear she suggested to their companion an exception be made to their allotted time above as a possible curative. Gently she raised the girl to her feet and taking her firmly by the hand she led her through the passageways of the ship. Taking this liberty to make a point was done with the best intentions, but with the worst sense of timing.

        Harold Monroe balanced on the starboard railing poised in the moment, taking in the cloudless sky and the endless horizon. Leaping up he traveled the warm air until his body split the green water. He dove deeply and, upon reaching the dive’s nadir, rose back to the surface breaking the liquid barrier. Shaking the water from his eyes he looked back at Magician checking her for any unnoted damage. He swam in closer, took a few laps around the boat and then climbed aboard. Usually the reliable Maddox would be waiting for him with a towel, or robe. However, on this day the man was oddly missing and so were the garments Hal left at the rail. Under his breath he cursed his steward’s inefficiency; all he had left were his shoes. Stepping into them he walked across the deck, intent on his cabin.

        It was at this moment Colette mounted the deck from below. Her fear was appeased by the apparent normal routine of the ship. As she scanned the horizon for another ship her gaze fell upon the captain, flagrante delicto. With a shriek Colette threw her apron up over her head and in backing down the ladder collided with her mistress. A similar yelp was elicited from Johanna when her hand was pinched under Colette’s shoe. Shaking her wounded fingers she leapt down and side-stepped out the girl’s path of retreat. In her haste, Collette missed her footing and fell ungracefully into a heap on the deck below. Quickly Johanna assessed the girl for any severe injuries, and found none. Returning to the ladder she ascended to an adequate height which would allow her own curiosity to be satisfied.

        Raising her head slightly above the hatchway she had a fleeting glance of the commander as he retreated to his quarters. Before her impulsive reaction surfaced, she ducked below out of sight. Sitting on the riser she lost the battle at containing her mirth and her laughter spilled forth. It was Colette’s puling from below which sobered her amusement. Coaxing her up from the floor Johanna led her back to their cabin, then closing the door behind them she instructed Colette to be seated. Restraining the emotions desperate for expression she reexamined the girl’s limbs for cuts or sprains. Once she ascertained her first diagnosis was correct she looked up into the girl’s face. Pushing the hair away from her eyes she received the faintest grin. It needed only that commiseration for Johanna’s suppressed emotion to bubble forth, joined in kind by the maid.

        Further down the passageway Dr. Emrys paused as he tended to his patient, listening in disbelieving silence at the most incongruent sound ever heard aboard a man-of-war: feminine giggles. Returning to his treatment he smiled approvingly, mentally noting to satisfy his curiosity at a later date.           

 

 

 

Chapter Three

…….When it was their time, each actor was led into one of two curtained areas sectioned off for this purpose. Here they were outfitted in each of their costumes and fitted. With this volume of work to be done time traveled quickly; morning progressed into afternoon, afternoon into early evening. As the light began to fade outside and lamps were being lighted the three girls were relieved to find only two actors left to fit.

           While preparations were made for their final pair Emily paused a moment placing her hands at the sides of her back and stretching in an attempt to ease her strained muscles. She sighed and bent down to pick up a discarded petticoat from the floor. Upon rising she was startled to find the next appointment alone with her in the curtained space. A fleeting moment of recognition passed, although she had never met the man previously. Glancing down at the list made earlier she spied the name Gallagher. He was playing the part of Baptista, Katharina’s father.

         Since Trilby left to fetch the actor’s costumes Emily was compelled to wait in this confined space with a man whose brazen examination of her was his only communication. In an attempt to discourage, or at least ignore, this impolitic

behavior Emily commenced a self-assigned mission of tidying up. First she attended to the costumes from the previous fitting, either by neatly folding them, or placing them on makeshift hooks. When Trilby yet did not appear she leaned over a small writing table and industriously made notes, a bit more meticulous than necessary, nevertheless it allowed her to avoid contact with those searching eyes. Eventually her notes became doodles, her pathetic attempt to look busy was ineffective. The pressure of the silence grew and still no words were exchanged. Feigning a glance at the entryway she made a cursory examination of the man testing her patience.

         Emily guessed his age at about fifty. Clothed in soft duck trousers and a loose shirt, not tucked in, he was a contrast to the other popinjay’s who had been fitted today, not only in his dress, but in his demeanor as well. He was slightly taller than she, and unshaven, his face covered with stubble of gray, white and black hairs. He was bald except for a fringe on each sides of his head, contrasted with the profuse growth of long gray hair at the nape, which was pulled back into a queue. Compelled against her will, she met his grey eyes only momentarily, for the intensity she found there was too bewildering.

         Running her finger down the list of actors, as if it were the first time it was consulted she said, “You are…”

         “Gallagher.”

         “Very good, I apologize for the delay.” She turned, sidestepped around him and swept open the curtain, irritated at Trilby’s absence. Right in front of her stood the girl, a single costume in her hands.

         “Surely Mr. Gallagher has more than one costume change. Give me that.” She snatched the garment away from the girl. Before considering the consequence of her words she commanded, “Go back and check again, please. Perhaps they’ve been mixed up with another character’s.” Dropping the curtain she turned back into the room, only to realize her dilemma.

         “If you would be so kind, I prefer just Gallagher. No ‘mister’.” When she did not respond he said, “Perhaps we should start with that one.” He pointed at the costume in her hand.

         She looked down at the object in her hand, forgotten in her discomfort. The sudden movement of removing his shirt, provoked Emily to look up. Her cheeks colored instantly. He had overlooked the protocol, two dressers were required for a fitting. Pivoting around, she cleared her throat and concentrated on unfastening the garment in her hands. His only response was a deep, throaty chuckle.

         There was a rustle of movement and then he said, “You can turn around.” When she did not comply, he reached out and touched her shoulder. “It’s all right, I apologize for embarrassing you.”

         His hand rested on her shoulder a little longer than propriety allowed. She shrugged it off, her eyes cast downward, and claimed, “My modesty is not offended, sir, but you do go too far.”

         He reached out and grasped her wrist, forcing her to look at him. Indignantly she met his eye. Again that jolt of uncanny recognition.

         “Have we met before?” extracting her wrist from his grasp, unsettled by the sensation aroused by his touch.

         “No, I do not believe I have had the pleasure.” he answered, enigmatically.

         With her fingers already burned on a fellow named Ruhl, Emily was not flattered by this vulgar flirtation. She was decidedly disinclined, particularly with someone whose approach was blatant. Besides he was so, so...old.

             During the span of time in which they were alone together Gallagher had been vastly entertained. He knew precisely what assessment

Book Three

Prologue

1799

Northwest Territory

United States of America

 

        “Don’t look back, Eddy.”

      It was too late.  Eddy Frederic had dropped his mother’s hand and turned a step back, unable remain ignorant of his father’s fate. He stood on a rise, a short distance away from their homestead. Below him the cabin, in which he had been born and spent the last ten years of his life, was aflame. Although he was more than a furlong away, he could hear the hoots from the Indians as they celebrated their victory over another settler who had invaded their territory; their bright red hair, standing up straight from the bald heads, and the attached feathers waving in the wind. While he watched his father darted from behind the barn bent on joining his fleeing family. Eddy raised his hand, but the words he was just about to call aloud remained unsaid as his father fell – not fifty feet from the split rail fence surrounding their property. A well-aimed tomahawk had brought him down.

      Although horrified at the sight, Eddy’s first reaction was to race to his father’s aide, but his mother’s hand grabbed his and forced him to turn away from the horror happening below. Tears streamed down his face, as his mother led him on a race for their lives. The silence of the forest was only disturbed by the crack of twigs under their shoes, or thwack of a branch as it was pushed out of the way and returned to its original position. Onward his mother led him until the terrain became familiar. She was heading for the settlement on the east side of the river.

      Their concentration was so bent upon their destination that neither mother, nor son, heard the harsh disruption of the same party of Sauk braves thrashing through the trees behind them.  As they breeched the edge of the timberline Eddy dared a glance behind, catching sight of a single brave, who in turn, raised his arm and shouted. No doubt a call that their prey had been sighted. There were more homesteads here, perhaps offering shelter, or defense. But as his mother raced along the path and then the road leading to the river not one sole roused themselves to assist the fleeing pair. As Eddy looked up the river, he spied the ferry which would take them across to the safety of the town. The braves, now unhindered by trees, galloped across the open land,

he was receiving from Miss Petranella and how unflattering. He laughed aloud, unable to contain his amazement at this unexpected attraction. The touch on her shoulder was designed to seek an explanation. What he hadn’t expected was the emotional cadeaux accompanying it.

             Gallagher was a powerful man, not ostensibly implied by his physical demeanor. He measured in only at five foot, eleven inches. He had massive shoulders, a bit of a potbelly and dreadfully skinny legs. It wasn’t his frame that was intimidating, it was his disposition.

             At one time he had been legendary in the well-heeled social circles of London. There were those who remembered his uncanny abilities, but most were relieved to forget. Gallagher was clairvoyant. It was no deception; he determined a person’s innermost thoughts through meticulous observation of gestures, tone of voice, spoken and unspoken words. This exploitation of his talent proved to be a grave disappointment because of the contradictions of human nature. Initially his insight was exciting, some called it droll, but the palpable nature of his revelations was soon taken as indecent and uncivilized, especially when he offered no apology for invading their privacy. Gallagher was labeled as conceited, callous and branded a charlatan; shunned by the society which invited him in.

             A wiser man departed those wearisome circumstances in search of an occupation which would make viable use of his abilities. He explored many, but none satisfied, until he discovered acting; unequalled for the study of human motivation and frailty. The very essence of this genre was to welcome the outcast. It was here he discovered anonymity, disguising his mystical nature in the roles he assumed.

             Nevertheless, rumors persisted. Although he privately enjoyed this plebeian unease in his mysterious abilities, a profound technique for reading events which had yet to happen remained his secret. This phenomenon manifested itself only with physical contact. The imprecise nature caused him to dismiss it initially, but when perception became reality he accepted his unique gift and honed it to an acute awareness.

             There was much he already knew about Emily; gained by unremarkable methods. Overhearing the details of her kidnapping, he was intrigued. Ordinarily such a naïve, idealist would hold no interest, yet when she did intrude upon his routine, he sensed an unexplained connection. Touching her revealed a startling incongruity which caused him to reevaluate the girl at his side.

             Biting back her frustration Emily sighed inwardly, perhaps it was that she was merely tired. She looked over at the actor, who studied the ceiling, whistling an unfamiliar tune. She laughed and when he dropped his glance to her, he lifted his brows in expectation. Huffing in anger, she turned just as the curtain was opened by Trilby. Assuming a taciturn attitude she began.

             Fitting required an intimate interaction and Gallagher made no attempt to hide his enjoyment, both from her touch and her apparent displeasure. When the last pin was placed, without any attempt at civility, Emily delivered final instructions to Trilby and left the room.

             Considering the challenge before him, of winning this most reluctant young lady Gallagher laughed heartily. This unexpected action caused a disconcerted Trilby to stab him with a pin.

             The yelp of pain rising from the fitting room triggered a sardonic smile from Emily. Passing a hand through her hair she was disturbed by the degree of relief she felt having been liberated from that man’s presence. She wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her apron and examined her task list. The assignment was complete. She glanced toward Fiammetta’s office to find the indomitable one with her hands on her hips, the briefest of smiles curving her lips; a small reward for a job well done.