Adrift

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Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 12. Elena, you were right on track, as you will see. :) And Faeritales, your comments are always so insightful and kind. And to my other readers, I hope you're enjoying the tale!)

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Beth smelled it long before she saw it...blood, the scent of it so strong that a metallic taste coated the inside of her mouth. The state of grimly controlled panic among Hector’s men and the red trail they left in their wake as they brought him down into the galley of his ship told her something had gone terribly wrong.

“What happened? Hector!” She reached out to try and touch him but they pushed past her, nearly knocking her into the wall.

“He can’t ‘ear ye, miss,” answered a red-haired man trailing behind. “Got shot, he did. Passed out from loss o’ blood.”

Beth whirled on him. “Shot? By whom?”

He stopped and looked down at her, frustration on his face. “Not the time fer talk, is it? Ye gonna help us or ye goin’ ta natter on and let ‘im bleed all o’er ‘is bloomin’ boat?”

Her mouth gaped for a moment before she pulled herself together. “I’ll get on the phone and call 9-1-1! They’ll send out an air ambulance for him!”

She turned to run but the man grabbed her roughly by the upper arm and she jolted to a jarring halt. He shook his head vehemently, gripping her tightly. “He’d ne’er allow it. Look after our own, we do.”

She glared at him. “What, you think he’d rather die that end up having to explain to the ER docs what happened? Are you insane?!”

“A standin’ order, it be. He’d tell ye the same were he so able.”

Beth was tempted to continue arguing but from the look on his face, she knew that his resolve was unwavering and precious time was wasting. “Fine, then. Bring him over to the table,” she ordered, tugging her arm free and pushing her way through the throng to get a better look. They carefully laid him out on the long oak slab and she caught his head in the cradle of her hands before it hit the wood, instantly alarmed at the lack of colour in his face. Worse, though, was the stain that had turned the leg of his blue jeans crimson.

“I have first aid certification, but that’s not going to be enough here. I need someone with more extensive medical training. One of you go and see if maybe Marilyn will come...” her voice trailed off as the men looked at one another darkly.

“Who’d ye think did this?” came an angry voice from amongst the group. “We’ve naught but ourselves to take care of the cap’n.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, her voice quavering. No time to think about it now. She gently laid Hector’s head down on the table and scrubbed her hands over her face. Her heart was pounding and she felt nauseous. “Let me think. I need to see the damage...give me something to cut through his jeans.”

Almost before she’d finished putting voice to her request, there were four daggers of various, rather menacing lengths being passed towards her. She grabbed the nearest and holding the cuff of his pant leg, sliced up the outside of the garment until she reached the tourniquet. Not daring to remove it lest he bleed out, she delicately sliced around until she had the denim cut off and his leg beneath the bandana laid bare.

Shadows fell over her and Beth turned to see the men pressed up around her, trying to get a look at what she was doing. The very last thing she needed was an audience. “I need everyone except you...” she said, pointing at the man she’d spoken to on his way in, “...to clear out. Call one of your men back at the warehouse and tell him to bring Jen out here. Go! Hurry!” Reluctantly, the men began to leave, looking worriedly back at their leader. Jen, she hoped, would be able to help...she’d had medical training as a corpsman with the Navy that would far surpass Beth’s skills.

“Brought some supplies, miss,” said another Blackheart...Morris, if she remembered the name correctly. He put down a handful of gauze, instruments, packing cotton and a bottle of codeine onto the table by Hector’s head. “Pulled them from Doc’s store. Captain asked fer stuff before he went down. Might come in handy.”

“Yes, okay. Thank you...” she said distractedly, wiping away the blood from Hector’s leg with her hand. She could see it now, a clean and perfectly round puncture half way up his thigh. From the angle, it looked as though it had gone straight in towards the bone. Her stomach clenched at the thought that the shot might be lodged in his femur…she hoped that Jen would arrive quickly, she just wasn’t prepared to deal with something so severe.

She looked up into the face of the red head. “Mister...what’s your name?’

“Flaherty, miss,” he answered, tugging on his forelock in a gesture of bygone formality. “Mike Flaherty.”

“Mike, then...get some blankets from the captain’s stateroom and cover him quickly. He’s going to go into shock soon.” Flaherty ran off and Beth resumed probing at the dark, bloody hole in Hector’s swollen thigh. As she touched it, he groaned and stirred, the pain obviously pulling him from the reprieve of unconsciousness.

“Shhh, Hector. Lay still, you’ll make it worse,” she said, smoothing her hand over his forehead, trying to calm him.

“Ye must remove the bullet, ‘Lizabeth,” he moaned, his eyes clenched shut against the torment of his injury. “Bleedin’ won’t stop ‘til the slug be gone.”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’m not equipped to deal with anything like this. I won’t dig around looking for a little piece of lead - God knows what other damage I’d do. Help is on the way, it’ll be okay. We’ll get you stabilized and then to a hospital.”

He grabbed at her hand, squeezing tightly enough that she winced in pain, and he stared up at her with eyes that were fraught with anguish. “Can’t wait fer help and sure as hell can’t be goin’ to the hospital. Get one of me men to do it, if need be, but it must be done now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beth argued, her pulse thudding with fear. “This kind of trauma needs a transfusion and surgery. If we don’t get you to an emergency room, you’re going to bleed to death. You’re already weak; don’t think for a second that I’ll let you to take stupid chances with your life.”

Flaherty had returned with the blankets but when he tried to spread them over top of his captain, Hector angrily pushed them away and tried to sit up, causing fresh blood to spill from the wound. “Master Flaherty,” he gasped out, his fists clenching in both rage and pain. “Remove Miss Swann from the galley and confine her to me stateroom. I haven’t the time to debate me orders.”

“No!” Beth yelled as Flaherty gently took her elbow. “Get off of me!” She twisted out of the man’s hold and flourishing the knife, gave him a look that warned of serious physical harm should he try again. “Hector, I won’t allow someone to slice into you like a butcher!”

“If yer not goin’ to do it, either of ye, gimme the cursed knife and I’ll cut it out meself!” Hector roared, his eyes wild and his teeth bared at them as he held out his trembling hand towards her.

“No! No...I’ll do it, okay?” Beth said, trying not to cry in sheer exasperation. It would be far worse to watch him try to do it himself or to trust him to someone with no medical training at all. “Lie back, then, and let me work.”

Flaherty looked at her dubiously but Hector’s face relaxed. “Leave her be, man. Ye can do this, ‘Lizabeth,” he groaned pleadingly, bracing himself by grabbing the edge of the table with both hands. “I promise ye I’ll be fine once it’s out.”

“It’s going to hurt,” she said with shaky trepidation, moving her palm beneath his leg to steady it for the incision. The blood slid from her hands in clots, squelching in her fingers, and she had to swallow hard not to gag at both the feel and the smell of it.

“Already hurts,” he answered, his voice fading once again. “Get on with it. Can’t be any worse than ‘tis now.”

Beth tightened her grip on his leg and steeled herself against the horror of cutting into living flesh as tears began to run down her cheeks. That was when she felt it, a hard little bump under his skin that slid against her palm. Her heart skipped a little...maybe crude exploratory surgery wouldn’t be necessary after all.

“I feel something on the back of your leg. The bullet must have glanced off the bone. Roll over on your side, just a little. Mike – help him, please.”

Flaherty grabbed hold of his captain’s shoulder and pulled him over so he was resting on his hip. Hector wrapped his hand around his crewman’s forearm tightly enough that his knuckles were white, but both men remained stoic and silent.

Beth leaned down and ran her hands over his flank, finding the lump once more. Taking a deep breath, she slowly sunk the tip of the dagger through Hector’s skin and felt it hit something solid. Cutting a small slit over top of the swelling, she turned the tip of the knife and more from feel than sight, began to draw the clump of lead closer to the surface.

Hector uttered not a sound, but the muscles in his leg jerked and more blood flowed from the new puncture site as she pushed in. She rubbed her wrist across her eyes, clearing away the tears so she could see properly as she went. Both the hilt of her rudimentary scalpel and her fingers became slick with blood, and she finally abandoned the knife, letting it drop to the floor beside her. Instead, she dug in and found the edge of the distorted bullet with her long fingernails. Beth tugged at it, flinching as pain-filled curses finally spilled from Hector’s lips to meet her efforts. With one final sucking gouge it popped free and the misshapen clump tumbled against the table with a faintly tinny sound.

Almost immediately, the blood slowed to a trickle and Hector’s limbs went slack with relief. She tentatively untied the knot of the blood-soaked bandana and was reassured to see that there was no sudden surge in the flow from the incision.

A thousand thoughts swirled through Beth’s brain as she grabbed a roll of gauze and started wrapping it tightly around his thigh…she should have sterilized the blade, she should have washed the wound with clean water, she should have given him the codeine before she rummaged around for the bullet…should have waited for Jenn…should have tried to stitch the skin closed. Her gorge began to rise and her head spun.

She suddenly abandoned her efforts and ran to the head, heedless of the way her t-shirt flapped around her thighs and exposed her to anyone who cared enough to look. Collapsing on her knees in front of the toilet, Beth heaved up the contents of her stomach into the bowl as the reality of what happened caught up with her.

Staggering to her feet, she struck by the starkness of her bloody prints against the white porcelain rim. She’d held Hector’s life in her hands and might still lose him – who knew how much harm she might have wrought? The galley wasn’t exactly an operating theatre and the risk of infection had to be unbelievably high. What had she been thinking? But he hadn’t really given her a choice and the truth was that in the end, she was incapable of refusing him anything. She just prayed that the decision didn’t cost both of them dearly.

The nightmare that had begun with the discovery of the wreck was quickly spiralling out of control, and she hated the feeling of helplessness that surrounded her. She’d brought chaos to her life and to Hector’s, and all for the sake of whatever trash or treasure was hidden in the remains at the bottom of the Gulf. Very little about the retrieval operation seemed to matter now, certainly not in light of what had very nearly been taken from her. A sudden burning rush of anger had Beth wanting the old woman dead for daring to attack the man that she…

Beth inhaled deeply and turned on the cold water tap in the sink, hastily scrubbing the gore as best she could from her hands and arms. Looking in the mirror and dabbing away the blood that had been smeared across her cheeks and nose, she saw that her face was drawn and pale. She had to pull herself together and get back to Hector, needed to make sure he was being cared for properly. Quickly she rinsed her mouth with water and gave her teeth a quick brush to rid herself of the putrid taste on her tongue.

Almost as an afterthought, she stopped and grabbed Hector’s drawstring pants from the floor where they’d been discarded the night prior...best not to put on another free show for Flaherty, even if the trousers were a good six inches too long when she pulled them on. She hurried back to the galley, sighing with tremulous relief to see that Jen had arrived and was bent over the table, her wet blonde ponytail bobbing as she peeled back the gauze to take a look at Hector’s leg.

Jen frowned when she straightened up again, startling a bit when she noticed Beth standing beside her. “Is he going to be okay?” asked Beth, running a hand over Hector’s bare calf. She needed to touch him, needed to make sure he really was alright despite her meagre medical efforts. He gazed back at her with weary blue eyes, trying to reassure her with a slight smile.

“When did this happen?” asked Jen, ignoring Beth’s question and pulling a blood pressure cuff from an emergency medical bag they usually stowed on the Penzance. She wrapped it around Hector’s arm and rapidly squeezed the little air pump as they talked.

“About an hour ago…is that right, Mike?” She looked to him for confirmation and he nodded.

Jen’s face registered shock at the answer, and she shook her head in disbelief when she read the pressure gauge. “How close was the gun when it was fired?” she went on, stripping off the cuff and then picking up Hector’s wrist so she could check his pulse.

“Ten feet,” he said guardedly, his voice hoarse. “Perhaps a bit less.”

Jen let go of Hector’s arm and stood regarding at him critically for a moment. Suddenly she turned and caught Beth’s arm, pulling her along as she walked away from the table. “We need to talk,” she murmured to Beth in a low voice. The words caused panic to spike sharply in Beth’s chest. Maybe he was in even worse shape than she’d thought.

“Okay, just give me a minute,” said Beth, gently separating herself from the sombre-looking woman to return to Hector’s side.
She slid her hand into his and he squeezed her fingers gently in response. His colour was certainly better and she chose to take it as a good sign. Only a small amount of blood had leaked through the bandages on his leg and his body was no longer rigid with pain.

“How are you doing?” she asked quietly, very much aware that both Mike and Jen were watching them intently. She glared pointedly at them and both had the good graces to look abashed before they moved off. Beth looked back down at Hector and felt a lump forming in her throat.

“Don’t be getting’ yerself worked up again,” he chastised gruffly, the look in his eyes far warmer than his words. “Weren’t so terrible a thing as we thought. Already stopped bleedin’. ” He pulled on her hand, bringing her down close enough for his lips to brush her cheek. “Ye saved me life, girl,” he whispered against her skin. “Me own angel, ye be.”

“It seemed only polite; after all, you did the same for me,” Beth teased sadly as she rested her forehead against his. “Hector…where is Marilyn?”

A shadow seemed to move over his face and for a moment, he looked far older than his years. “Took ‘er own life.”

“If she hadn’t,” Beth whispered fiercely, gripping his hand more tightly as her cheeks flushed hot, “I’d have killed her myself for what she did.”

Something sparked deep in his eyes, an acknowledgement of what she was really saying. She desperately wanted to kiss him then and likely would have if Jen hadn’t hissed at her impatiently, reminding them that there were still other people close by.

“Beth! Now!”

Beth gave her a cold sideways glance and then looked back at Hector. She didn’t want to leave him alone but Jen was starting to fidget, she was so anxious to talk. “I’ll be right back,” she promised. He nodded and closed his eyes, letting her go. Her hand felt empty without his as she walked over to where Jen waited for her.

“Come on, then.” Beth beckoned Jen to follow her and they made their way to the deckhouse.

Rain still splattered against the windows of the little room and there was no end to the sheet of dark clouds outside. Beth dropped down onto one of the benches next to the table still covered in Hector’s navigational charts, running her hands back through her hair with a heavy sigh. It took her a moment to realize that Jen had not joined her, but had instead chosen to stand over her with a stern look on her brow and with her arms crossed tightly in front of her. The attitude pissed Beth off immediately – it had been many years since she’d felt the need for a mother and she certainly wasn’t looking for a substitute in Jen Lowrey.

“You’re into some weird shit here, Beth Swann,” Jen blurted abruptly.

Beth laughed bitterly. “Believe me, I know. Is there more to your lecture or is that the extent of the public service announcement from the Department of the Obvious?”

From her expression, Beth could tell that it had it finally occurred to Jen that she was very close to crossing a line with her employer. She unhooked her arms and instead bit nervously at a fingernail, looking at Beth as if considering how best to approach her. “I’m sorry...I had no right to speak to you that way. But I’m just a little freaked out here.”

Beth was normally a very patient person when it came to those who worked for her, but Jen’s cryptic behaviour was getting on her already frayed nerves. “You need to get to the point here, Jen. With Hector hurt...”

Jen’s eyes widened and she sat down suddenly, leaning forward over the table towards Beth. “That’s just it, though. He’s not very hurt, at least not anymore.”

Beth narrowed her eyes at her. “What the hell are you talking about? I just got done digging a bullet out of someone’s leg with a knife and let me tell you, he looked pretty damned messed up to me!”

That stopped Jen cold. “You just got done doing what?”

Beth related the story so far as she knew it, timeline and all. She skipped the part about Marilyn killing herself, though. That mess was a tough enough thing to get her head around, never mind trying to explain it to someone else.

Jen rubbed at her temple, shaking her head as Beth finished telling her about the incident. “If it was anyone else, Beth, I’d think I was being fed some kind of line. But the truth is this – the wound that I just looked at is several days old.”

Beth’s head snapped up. “You’re wrong,” she said, bewildered. “You saw the blood for yourself...it’s all over the place! His men brought him over right after it happened!”

Jen held her palms up in front of her. “Whoa, don’t kill the messenger here, boss. I’m just telling you what I saw. Humour me for a minute and I’ll explain myself, okay?”

“You’re welcome to try,” said Beth, wondering what on earth Jen might have been smoking that to have her so clearly delusional.

“Okay, from the amount of blood on the stairs and table, it looks like it was a femoral artery that was hit. Whether the calibre of the weapon was small or large – and in this case, the entry wound didn’t look big – if it hits an artery, the victim is in big trouble. Usually you’d have only ten minutes to get them emergency medical attention before it would be too late.”

“It must not have been an artery, then...” Beth started to insist, but Jen motioned for her to stop.

“Let me finish and then you can resume jumping all over me for giving a crap, alright?” she said testily.

It was Beth’s turn to feel sheepish. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

“Let’s assume it wasn’t an artery, if you like. Even so, any foreign object travelling through the body at that velocity and fired from so close is going to cause significant tissue damage. Swelling, pain and eventually deep bruising would result. The loss of blood causes pressure to drop and pulse to speed up. And just between you and me, playing doctor and plunging a knife into mutilated muscle is usually contraindicated. If nothing else, it would cause more bleeding and maybe even nerve damage.”

Beth was scared now. She should have listened to her head and insisted on calling emergency. “I didn’t know...but when the bullet came out, the bleeding almost stopped. And he isn’t in so much pain anymore.”

“I believe you...I saw the dressing you put on. I also saw what was underneath it when I came in.” Jen’s eyes weren’t so much analytical as puzzled now.

“Tell me,” Beth said apprehensively.

“Beth,” said Jen, taking her hand. “There is bruising on his leg that shouldn’t be there for a couple of days. The swelling is almost gone, his blood pressure is perfectly normal and his pulse is strong and steady. And the entrance wound itself is dark and pitted, but it’s barely leaking either fluid or blood. Like I told you, it looks as though it’s been healing for a few days already.”

Beth grimaced wryly and pulled her hand away. “That makes no sense. It just happened.”

“I can’t explain it, but at this rate he’ll be up and walking on it after one or two days instead of the two weeks it would take someone else. I’ve never heard of hyper-accelerated healing like this. So far as I know, it simply isn’t possible. It’s like something out of legend.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this,” Beth said slowly. “Shouldn’t I be glad that he has some kind of heightened immune system that kept him going?”

Jen shrugged. “I don’t know what it means. I was sure when I got here that he was running some kind of con on you, but you saw the injury for yourself and that’s pretty damned hard to fake.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Beth tried to decide if she was frightened or not. It was perplexing, that was certain, but it wasn’t sinister. She watched the second hand on the wall clock circle the face slowly, her mind searching for possible explanations. Maybe she should just be grateful that for whatever reason, Hector hadn’t been injured as badly as it first appeared. And that he wouldn’t need weeks to get better.

“Not to change the subject or anything,” Jen finally said quietly, “but what is it with you and this guy?”

The directness of the words startled her and Beth felt her cheeks turning red. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh please!” Jen huffed, rolling her eyes. “The way you two were touching one another, the soft and intimate conversation, the way you looked at him...people only act that way about someone they’ve...you know...”

Beth stood and glared down at the other woman. “I can’t see how that’s any of your business, Jen. And we’re not good enough friends for you to be asking those kinds of questions about my personal life, one way or the other.”

Jen gasped in understanding. “Oh my God! It’s not just a physical thing, is it? You love him!”

Beth’s mouth fell open for a moment before she snapped it shut, wheeling and stalking away. She wasn’t comfortable sharing intimate details with another woman, even one she’d known for a couple of years. In fact, Beth never had felt entirely secure with female companionship, likely the result of having grown up in the almost exclusive company of men. Besides, it felt wrong to impart something so personal, to confirm her feelings to Jen before she had even told Hector. It just wouldn’t be fair, not after he’d opened his heart to her.

“Beth! Hey, I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to upset you. Come on...”

Jen’s voice faded as Beth rushed through the hall and back towards to the galley. As badly as she’d wanted Jen to come and help, all she wanted now was for her to leave. Her presence was an intrusion that Beth couldn’t face right now. She had to focus on Hector.

He needed to be somewhere restful where she could tend to him; leaving him lying on the table in the dining area like a slab of meat was totally unacceptable. If what Jen had told her about his condition was true, he could certainly be moved to more comfortable quarters.

“You! Flaherty!” she barked as she stormed through the door, pointing her finger at the man still keeping a steadfast vigil at his captain’s side.

“Aye, miss!” Mike snapped to attention. Hector gingerly eased himself up on one elbow, looking between his man and Beth with bemusement.

“The captain needs to be moved,” she said, her hands going to her hips. “I want you to get a couple of the other men so we can get him into his stateroom without hurting him any worse. Now. Please,” she belatedly added.

“Get right on it,” he answered briskly, zipping up his jacket against the storm. “Anythin’ else?”

Jen stepped into the room, her expression downcast. “Can you also please tell Mr. Pintel that I’m ready to return to shore?” she asked with a subdued tone. “I think I can be of more use elsewhere.”

Before leaving, the man looked at Hector, who indicated his approval with a nod. Once Mike had gone, an awkward silence filled the room. “Perhaps I’ll go back and wait in the deckhouse,” said Jen, gathering up the emergency supplies into the black satchel she’d brought. “Do you want me to let Tony know what has happened?”

“That’s okay,” said Beth, starting to feel bad about the way she’d shouted at Jen. “I’ll give him a call myself later. You can tell him, though, that he doesn’t have to wait for me. If the weather clears, you should resume the recovery efforts.”

She stepped a bit closer and reached out to touch Jen’s shoulder. “Please be careful. If anything unusual or suspicious happens, I want you all out of there. There’s nothing in that ship worth getting hurt over. Do you understand?”

Jen searched her face and gave her a forgiving smile. “Don’t worry about us; we’ll be fine. We’ve a floating biker armada protecting us, remember?”

“Thank you for coming out so quickly, and especially in this weather.” Beth was glad that they were able to smooth things out, but she still very much wanted Jen off the ship and back to the warehouse.

“If you can think of anything you need, give us a call,” Jen said, pulling on her rain gear just as Pintel hollered down the stairs at them.

“Hey! Tell the yella haired dolly bird that I’m ready ta go!”

Jen laughed. “It would appear that my transport has arrived. See you later, Beth. Take good care of your man, okay?” She tripped up the stairs and the door leading out to the deck slammed shut behind her. Finally alone, Beth sighed with relief.

She grabbed up one of the blankets that Mike had brought earlier, rolling it into a makeshift pillow. Hector watched her walk towards him, raising an eyebrow at her. “Yer man? Is that how I’m to be known now?”

She slid the blanket onto the table and he lowered his head upon it. “Do you object to the title?” she asked, casting an eye over the smears of blood that covered the stairs, the furniture and Hector himself. It was a terrifying sight and yet here he was with her, despite it all.

“Wonderin’, I was, if I had any title left at all. Watchin’ ye give orders caused me think that perhaps you’d turned mutineer and taken o’er,” he replied with a wink.

“You needn’t worry about that, my Captain,” she said with a grin, drawing strands of damp hair away from his face. “I saw it as more of a first mate role, keeping things going while you were otherwise occupied. Every captain needs a mate, right?”

“Jus’ so long as ye remember yer place,” he said archly, leaning further back into the blanket and closing his eyes again. “Might have to resort to discipline to remind ye from time to time.”

“Promises, promises,” she whispered, leaning down to press her cheek to his forehead. Her bottom lip quivered slightly and she bit it, determined not to go to pieces in front of him. Although the fact that his sense of humour had returned was reassuring, the incident had doubtlessly drained him, and Beth looked impatiently at the clock, wondering what was keeping Mike and the others.

She straightened, looking down at his injured thigh. It was tempting for a moment to see if what Jenn had said about the wound was true. The steps she heard aboveboard, though, told her that Hector’s men had replied to her summons. Time enough for untangling the mystery later; for now, she was content to play nursemaid and get him cleaned up so he could rest and recover.