A Preacher and His Wife

Chapter Five

The following day it became clear the lightness would not last. Though it was raining outside and I had always liked the sound of rain on a rooftop, the waters were rough, and I felt utterly atrocious the moment I stood.

I could feel the ship lurching forwards and then backwards and found my steps quite wrong. Grace was in the cabin when I woke, looking somewhat sullen. I suspected this was because she had not been able to have her morning tea with Mrs. Murphy given the rain.

I meant to wish her good morning, but I vomited instead.

"I will fetch a bucket." She sprinted for the door but then paused. "That is, if it is alright with you that I go to the crew's kitchen alone." She was not smirking, but I could see that she wanted to be.

I nodded and she was gone. She came back drenched from the rain, with a bucket and a damp cloth. She wiped my face and lay me back in bed and force-fed me something awful which I assumed was the tonic her father had packed for me.

She also cleaned up the mess I had made on the floor, running to and fro the kitchen a few more times to rinse the rag.

My sense of the hour was lost fairly quickly. I attempted to rise three or four times, but whenever I did, the sickness would come again, and soon I gave up entirely. Grace reprimanded me the third time I missed the bucket she had left beside the bed.

"Surely Mr. Moore, you've had enough practice now that your aim should be much improved."

I tried to sleep through it, but having already had a full night's rest, this was easier thought than done. At one point, Grace brought me supper though it was nasty and I could not bring myself to eat it. My wife did not seem to feel the rough waters in the same way I did, or perhaps she did, only she endured it with far more poise.

In the evening, I thought spending some time out on deck would help, seeing as the air was fresher and moving out there. This assumption was correct only there were many other poor bastards with the same idea. The sound of puking lessened any positive effect the fresh air would have had.

For the next few days, I kept to bed and Grace was always running. Sometimes she would accompany me out on deck for a few moments for the air. During this time, I saw that she had not only taken on the role of nurse to me but to many others on board as well.

It would seem Grace was the one to climb below several times per day to carry away the slop pails and dump them overboard. It was Grace who fetched water and damp cloths from the crew's kitchen when such things were needed. She had even taken to washing people's bedding when it grew too foul. It became clear to me that she had given up following my advice about being alone on deck. But I was far too ill and sleeping much too often to question her.

I also noticed something strange that happened whenever someone would call to her.

"Mrs. Moore?" they would say.

She at first did not respond, as if she had not heard them. They would call again and still, she would not seem to notice.

"Grace?" they would say finally.

Only then would she turn and tend to their request.

This cut me deep and my face must have shown my soreness for she paused when she saw me and apologized. "I am sorry Sir. It is sometimes hard to remember my name is changed."

I could not tell if she was speaking truthfully or not.

"She should 'ave been married to a sailor." The Scotsman laughed as he watched Grace scramble down below deck and back up repeatedly.