“Good,” he said. “This is the smallest dose I have. She can take this for another week or two, and then we’ll see about taking her off completely.”
A weight I didn’t know I had been carrying lifted off my shoulders. My sister would soon be free of this drug’s hold and we could go back to our lives. “And your supply hasn’t run out?”
“I’ll have enough until we dock in Bermuda.” He gave me a warm, rare smile. “You did well today. I realize that helping me to set that broken arm was hard, especially seeing that young lad in so much distress, but you didn’t let that get in the way of doing your job. You are really making a difference here.”
I felt a surge of pride ripple through me. I had lived up to the demands of a tough situation.
“Everyone seems to be in rather good health at the moment, so for the next few days, I could use your help counting and cataloging my supplies.”
He reached across his desk and handed me two large iron skeleton keys. I raised my eyebrows in question.
“One key is to the surgery, and the other opens the medicine stores. Keep them safe. You can let yourself in and count our stock while I do the rounds tomorrow.”
I nodded, looking forward to an easier few days ahead of me. I wondered how Dr. Carson did it every day.
“This is such hard work,” I said. “I’m curious. What made you leave Wales to take this position?”
“My accent is as strong as that, is it?”
“Yes,” I said, chuckling.
His expression grew serious. “As a young man my politics got me into trouble. I was inspired by the work of John Stuart Mill, a champion of the individual over the power of the state. Some thought my ideas were dangerous. I was charged with sedition. Trumped-up charges. Sedition is high treason, punishable with death. I had no choice but to flee.”
I wasn’t familiar with John Stuart Mill, but I recognized the similarities in mine and Dr. Carson’s circumstances and murmured my condolences.
“That’s why I’m here, a ship’s surgeon, instead of in my little cottage in Wales doing the work I love, caring for the miners, and helping them with their unionizing. The irony is, I now strongly disagree with Mill’s thinking.”
“How so?”
“He’s a great defender of British imperialism, sees Britain as a benevolent despot civilizing barbaric peoples. I’ve seen enough of the world to know that’s not true. It’s just a convenient argument for empire building.”
It was a perspective I had not heard before, and it resonated with me, somehow. “Why don’t you renounce Mill and return to Wales?” If only it was that simple for me too, I thought. I would do it, for Hari and me, and return home in a flash.
“Not now.” Dr. Carson shook his head. “The men need me. I couldn’t leave them.”
Dr. Carson’s comments left me pensive, and I took the long way back to my cabin to think them through. He was a man who had put the well-being of others ahead of his own needs. I had never truly encountered anyone like that. I thought of Charles, Lady Persephone, and Sir Richard, all people who saw others as useful tools, as pawns in the game of career building.
Down on the third deck, I passed the area roped off for the exclusive use of the future colonial brides. Even en route to a purportedly better life, they were cloistered without freedom of movement. I scanned their pale faces looking for Sarah, and I found her. I waved, and she came over to greet me.
“Miss Charlotte, ’tis fine to see you again.” She moved slowly and I could see her eyes and neck were puffy, as they had been at her last checkup with Dr. Carson.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“I think this little one must be past due. If I could figure out how to move it along, I would.”
“In the meantime, getting some air and sun is a good idea.”
Sarah sighed deeply. “The air is full of soot here, but there’s nothing else for us. The Burks never let us do anything. We never get to hear what’s going on, and we are all so very, very bored.” She gestured to a small group of women around her, who were looking at us curiously. “She’s a proper nurse,” Sarah told them loudly.
“No, no,” I protested. “I’m just helping Dr. Carson during his rounds with the crew. He needs an extra set of hands, that’s all.”
“Nonsense. You’re a regular Nurse Nightingale,” Sarah said. “Let me introduce you to some of my friends. This is a not-so-famous Florence, Florence Wilson.”
A dark-haired woman about my age and wearing a clean but worn day gown stepped up to the rope cordon and shook my hand.
“I’m Charlotte Harding,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“A pleasure. Thank you for helping Sarah,” Florence said. “We’re all so excited about the baby, and we want the birth to be as smooth as possible.”
Florence was clearly a gentlewoman like me, and I wondered at her circumstances but felt it improper to ask.
“And this is Emma Lazenby,” Sarah said, turning to a particularly young woman. She was dressed in a plain grey cotton dress with a flared skirt that flowed to the tops of black ankle boots, the uniform of the working poor.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Emma,” I said. “Where are you from?”
“Lancashire,” she said with a strong accent. “I worked in the cotton mills, but I was a milkmaid afore that.”
Around her neck was what I guessed was her prized possession, a small, white cameo necklace, held in place by a black velvet ribbon. I noticed Emma’s unmarked skin, and I knew that milkmaids were renowned for their clear complexions. The thought reminded me of what John Crossman had said about cowpox preventing smallpox.
“How are you faring on the journey so far?” I asked
