True Treasure: Real - Life History Mystery by Lisa Grace

for the captain and would occasionally hear his voice drift past her on the wind, but he did not come near. He stayed on the upper deck, out of her view.
    She had hoped—she did not know what she hoped—yes, she did. He would find a way to change their fates. Find a way out of circumstance. She could not think of any that would not cost her honor. No one wanted a fallen woman, and it was not in her nature to be dishonorable. Yes, she had snuck out on her family to have this adventure. She justified it to herself by having been called to the King's service. It was her God given talent that had caused her to be called in the first place, and she couldn't help it was her misfortune to be born a woman. If she were a man, no second thought would be given to her work onboard. Someday she would have to stand before God for her sins, and this accounting kept her integrity in tact. Tea was brought to her while she sat on the deck and worked on her painting. All the men stayed clear and left her to her charcoals and her paints, except for the young cabin boy who was assigned to help her. She had the distinct feeling the men had been told to keep their distance.
    The cabin boy looked to be very young. “What is your name, boy?”
    “My name is Charles Hurley.”
    “How did you come to be in the employ of the Navy?”
    “It is a much better prospect than being left to the streets. I am an orphan, ma’am. A navy ship is much better than a whaler, slaver, or merchant. Cleaner, and the men don’t bugger you; they’re under orders not to.”
    Mary blushed. “Charles, I guess we do what we can with what God has given us.”
    “It could’ve been worse. I coulda’ been on one of those ships. I came down to the Royal ship yard docks on the right day.”
    “So you have the future you wanted.”
    Charles said proudly, “I am glad to be here, miss. Captain Graham is a respected captain, and the HMS Devonshire is one of the finest in the fleet. Seventy-four guns miss, can sink a brigade with one round. And fast, too. There are only two types of ships bigger in the whole fleet, but they are slow old tubs compared to her.” Charles lovingly patted the rail. “They can’t fly over the water like a Vengeur class can.”
    “You certainly seem to know your ships, Charles.”
    “Yes, miss,” Charles answered with pride.
    Later in the afternoon a small squall line appeared on the horizon moving onto the shore. As it neared it threatened the ship. With the help of the winds in her sails, she easily dodged it weaving between the various rain clouds.
    Mary drew a sketch of the squall line, and another of the surveyors doing their work on the deck.
    She had enough sketches to start painting and decided she would work on them in the privacy of her room. She worked on the turtle first. She worked in layers, doing a base color first, a grayish green, then built layer upon layer giving the skin complexity of color, depth, and texture. It would take a few days to complete. She must allow some of the colors to dry and set. Mary set the work aside and went on to work on the one that had been on her mind all day. The one of Bennett Graham. Human skin was the hardest to get correct. Again, you had to start with the undertones and build the skin. This one would not be for the King. This one would be her thank you to the captain for allowing her to remain on the ship.
    Later, a tray was sent to her room for her and Magdela’s dinner. Poor Magdela was still not up to eating. Late in the evening after Mary had bunked in for the night Magdela called out, “Doctor! I need a doctor!”
    Mary got out of her bed, then put on a robe over her night dress, “Oh Magdela!” Mary went over to her and felt her head. It was hot to the touch. This was more than sea sickness.
    Mary unlocked the door, and went out into the hall. No one was there. She did not want to wander the ship without an escort, and the only other room she knew to get to—was the captain’s.