With passing of the eye, the storm once again struck with as much fury as it could muster, but already, its strength was waning. Sterling had been through far worse and the ‘Angel continued to prove her worth, as with bow to the winds, she confronted the high seas like an expert rider conquering a green mount. At one point, Doctor Reiley, no longer green, instead now an ominous shade of gray, made his way to Sterling whilst still on deck, but Reiley was once again shooed away with instructions to give something to Mistress Sterling to help her sleep.
It was not until the storm had all but died down to a steady rain, crew members already turned out and seeing to repairs, that Sterling felt a hand upon his shoulder. He turned, his second officer wishing him to go below and take some rest.
“Tis been a long day, Sir,” Mr. Hazzards said, the need to shout no longer necessary.
“Ye’ll wake me if the weather takes another turn,” Sterling said. The mere thought of closing his eyes seemed to give his brain the excuse to try and halt itself. His drenched greatcoat gave him the impression of baring down upon his wounded shoulder as if he were once again enslaved and set to work against his will carting cut stone for city walls.
“Aye Sir, of course.”
Sterling nodded and slowly made his way to his cabin but not without a word first with Andrew March and several words of praise to individuals in his path and the two young midshipmen. Soaked coattails wrapped about his unfeeling legs as he moved, nearly tripping him, as buckled shoes poured forth water with each step like a sponge squeezed out over a basin.
Symms greeted him at cabin door with word that Aurore had finally fallen asleep with the young child close by her side. A nod of thanks was all Sterling could afford as the weight of sodden clothes were eased from his body.
“Bring ye a brazier with some warm coals, shall I?” Symms said softly.
“Nay, tis not safe enough for such yet,” Sterling mumbled. “A drink will do me. A quilt. Dry stockings, a shirt, my old banyan.” It was over now, he was certain, as his body and mind began to give way to exhaustion. He tried to think back over the turmoil of the past two days, between weddings gone awry, the fire, now this… he stood patiently as the old steward helped him to change, already he was falling asleep on his feet. Slight groan stirred him awake as wound stung him despite Symms’ extreme caution.
“I’ll fetch the new doctor, best he have a look at that. I’ll string a hammock for ye as well, since the new mistress has taken to yer crib,” Symms said as Sterling, finally changed, pulled the quilt about his shoulders and took a seat at his desk. Glass of port was placed within easy reach then soon lifted for sampling. When Symms returned he found his captain, head propped upon forearms folded upon cleared desktop with empty glass secured within the crook of one elbow. Symms stopped Reiley from moving further into the captain’s quarters.
“You are going to leave him there?” Reiley asked the older man.
“Why not?” Symms said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “Will not be the first time he be sleeping at his desk…it certainly will not be the last.”
