glistening like bowling balls�and Michael called out, �Not easy from a moving boat, is it?�
She looked over. She had a broad face with high cheekbones and arched brows. �It's never easy,� she said. �I don't even know why I try.�
With one hand on the rail for balance�the sea was fairly calm, but the boat still rolled on the swells�Michael strolled over.
�You must be the photographer we've been waiting for,� she said.
�I am.� He was starting to feel like the class problem. �And you must be the doctor who got here ahead of time.�
�Yeah, well, when you're coming from the Midwest, you make the connections you can.�
They introduced themselves, and Michael glanced at her camera. �You're using film,� he said.
�I've had this camera for ten years, and I've used it maybe twice. What's wrong with film?�
�Right now, it'll be okay. But when the polar weather really hits,you can run into some problems. Film cracks pretty easily in extreme cold.�
She looked at the camera in her hand as if it had betrayed her. �I only brought it �cause my mom and my sister said I had to bring back pictures.� Then she brightened. �Maybe I can just borrow some of yours. They'll never know.�
�Help yourself.�
The sea lions bleated, then ducked their heads back under the waves.
�You work for the National Science Foundation?� Michael asked.
�I do now,� she said. �I've got a ton of medical-school loans to pay off.�
Michael guessed that she couldn't have been out of med school more than five or six years.
�Plus, the hospital I work for in Chicago is under active investigation by about six different agencies. I thought it might be a good time to get away.�
�To the Antarctic?� Michael was already making mental notes, thinking she'd be a great character in the Eco-Travel piece.
�You know what they pay for anybody crazy enough to sign up for a six-month stint?� A gust of wind suddenly kicked up, blowing the braids of her hair, some of them streaked with a hint of blond, back over her shoulders. �I can tell you this�it sure beats working in the ER. In fact, I heard about this gig from a friend there, who did it himself about a year ago.�
�And he lived to tell the tale?�
�He said it changed his life.�
�Is that what you're looking to do?� Michael said. �Change your life?�
She pulled back a bit, and paused. �No, I'm pretty happy with my life so far.� But she looked at him a bit warily. �You sure seem curious.�
�Sorry,� he said, �bad habit. It goes with the job.�
�Photographer?�
�I'm a writer, too, I'm afraid.�
�Okay, then�at least I know what I'm up against. But let's take it slow. We've got a whole lot of time, I think, to get acquainted.�
�You're right,� he said, thinking to himself that his interviewingtechnique might have gotten a bit rusty. �Why don't we just go back to the photo tips and start over?�
He quickly ran down a few pointers for her on taking photographs at sea, especially in the peculiar light so far south, then headed back to his cabin. Take your time, he reminded himself, let your subjects open up on their own. At the door to his cabin, he remembered that he'd been told to dress appropriately for dinner, and he knew he'd have to dig out his least wrinkled flannel shirt, slip it under the mattress, and lie down on it for a while.
��� CHAPTER SIX
June 20, 1854, 6 p.m.
IT WOULD HAVE BEEN an altogether typical night for Sinclair Archibald Copley, lieutenant in the 17th Lancers, had it not concluded in such an unforeseen way.
It began about six, with several rounds of �cart� in the barracks, at which Sinclair lost the sum of twenty pounds. His father, the fourth Earl of Hawton, would not be pleased at another request for funds�he had sworn, after buying Sinclair
She looked over. She had a broad face with high cheekbones and arched brows. �It's never easy,� she said. �I don't even know why I try.�
With one hand on the rail for balance�the sea was fairly calm, but the boat still rolled on the swells�Michael strolled over.
�You must be the photographer we've been waiting for,� she said.
�I am.� He was starting to feel like the class problem. �And you must be the doctor who got here ahead of time.�
�Yeah, well, when you're coming from the Midwest, you make the connections you can.�
They introduced themselves, and Michael glanced at her camera. �You're using film,� he said.
�I've had this camera for ten years, and I've used it maybe twice. What's wrong with film?�
�Right now, it'll be okay. But when the polar weather really hits,you can run into some problems. Film cracks pretty easily in extreme cold.�
She looked at the camera in her hand as if it had betrayed her. �I only brought it �cause my mom and my sister said I had to bring back pictures.� Then she brightened. �Maybe I can just borrow some of yours. They'll never know.�
�Help yourself.�
The sea lions bleated, then ducked their heads back under the waves.
�You work for the National Science Foundation?� Michael asked.
�I do now,� she said. �I've got a ton of medical-school loans to pay off.�
Michael guessed that she couldn't have been out of med school more than five or six years.
�Plus, the hospital I work for in Chicago is under active investigation by about six different agencies. I thought it might be a good time to get away.�
�To the Antarctic?� Michael was already making mental notes, thinking she'd be a great character in the Eco-Travel piece.
�You know what they pay for anybody crazy enough to sign up for a six-month stint?� A gust of wind suddenly kicked up, blowing the braids of her hair, some of them streaked with a hint of blond, back over her shoulders. �I can tell you this�it sure beats working in the ER. In fact, I heard about this gig from a friend there, who did it himself about a year ago.�
�And he lived to tell the tale?�
�He said it changed his life.�
�Is that what you're looking to do?� Michael said. �Change your life?�
She pulled back a bit, and paused. �No, I'm pretty happy with my life so far.� But she looked at him a bit warily. �You sure seem curious.�
�Sorry,� he said, �bad habit. It goes with the job.�
�Photographer?�
�I'm a writer, too, I'm afraid.�
�Okay, then�at least I know what I'm up against. But let's take it slow. We've got a whole lot of time, I think, to get acquainted.�
�You're right,� he said, thinking to himself that his interviewingtechnique might have gotten a bit rusty. �Why don't we just go back to the photo tips and start over?�
He quickly ran down a few pointers for her on taking photographs at sea, especially in the peculiar light so far south, then headed back to his cabin. Take your time, he reminded himself, let your subjects open up on their own. At the door to his cabin, he remembered that he'd been told to dress appropriately for dinner, and he knew he'd have to dig out his least wrinkled flannel shirt, slip it under the mattress, and lie down on it for a while.
��� CHAPTER SIX
June 20, 1854, 6 p.m.
IT WOULD HAVE BEEN an altogether typical night for Sinclair Archibald Copley, lieutenant in the 17th Lancers, had it not concluded in such an unforeseen way.
It began about six, with several rounds of �cart� in the barracks, at which Sinclair lost the sum of twenty pounds. His father, the fourth Earl of Hawton, would not be pleased at another request for funds�he had sworn, after buying Sinclair
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