‘It stings when you drip.’ Again that impossible hint of a laugh.
‘Sorry.’ She laid the cloth back in place, trying to ignore the indrawn hiss of breath. Then she sat down again, close to his head so he did not have to move to see where she was. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘More salt water, good for it.’ He had closed his eyes again.
‘I mean I am sorry for this. For breaking my promise, for doing this to you.’ She grabbed one of the cloths and blew her nose, furious with herself for showing her emotions. Nathan did not need tears and self-recrimination. He needed calm and sleep. She dipped a cloth in cold water and began to bathe his forehead.
‘You did what you thought was right. You didn’t ask me to get involved.’
‘But I knew I could rely on you,’ she admitted. ‘I doubt I’d have had the nerve to do it at all without knowing that.’ He seemed to have forgiven her—she could hardly believe it.
‘You trust me, then?’ Nathan’s eyelids parted to reveal a glimmer of deep blue.
‘With my life. ’
He murmured something else that she could not catch. But he had drifted off again.
At some point she must have dozed and slid down to curl up on the floor, Clemence realised, waking to find herself stiff and cramped. She rolled over and sat up, wincing at the discomfort in her jaw and the aches in her joints, blinking at the light coming in through the porthole. It was morning. The bunk above her was empty. ‘Nathan!’
‘Here.’ He came out of the privy cupboard, the sheet swathed round his hips.
Furious with relief and anxiety, Clemence scrambled to her feet, scolding like a fishwife. ‘What do you think you are doing? How do you expect to get better? Get back to bed this instant!’
Under his tan he was flushed and he was moving like an old man in the grip of arthritis, but Nathan made it to a chair and sat down. ‘There are some things a man cannot do lying on his front,’ he pointed out, ignoring her tsk! of exasperation. ‘And I need to keep moving.’
‘Why?’ Clemence demanded baldly, moving behind him to peer at the cloth.
‘Because I need to be on deck and I can’t navigate the ship flat on my stomach.’
‘Why have you got to be there? I’ll tell Captain McTiernan that you have a fever—which you have, don’t try and deny it—and are in no fit state to help him harry any shipping tomorrow. It is his fault. If the man wasn’t insane, he wouldn’t flog valuable officers.’
‘You’ll explain that to him, will you? And after he picks you up and drops you overboard for insolence, who is going to bandage my back and get me my breakfast?’
‘You should be lying down, resting. Please, Nathan.’
In answer he placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward, letting his forearms take the weight. ‘Like this, I am resting. I need to eat and drink and the fever will go down. If you bandage my back, the salve will work. Believe me, I know what I’m doing.’ He sounded as though he was hanging on to his patience by a thread, but she was too worried to heed that.
‘How do you know? You’ve never been flogged before, I’ve seen your back.’
‘But I’ve seen men flogged.’
Clemence backed away and sat down, hard, on his bunk. She found she was shaking her head.
‘Please will you bandage my back?’ he asked. ‘And bring me food and help me get back up on deck?’
‘Why should I?’ she whispered.
‘Because this is painful and I need the help? Because I’ll feel better for eating?’ he suggested. ‘Because if I’m on deck at least we’ll know what is going on? Because if I’m mobile there is some hope of getting those men below out of there?’
Clemence bit her lip. If he was lying down, he would be resting. Conventional wisdom said that you starved fevers. If he was not navigating, perhaps McTiernan would not make such a good job of hunting his prey.
‘Because you trust me?’ Nathan asked softly.
With my life. But not with head and not with my heart, oh, no. Not with those. ‘Very well.’ Clemence found the spare set of clean linen strips she had made to bind her own chest.
He sat up gingerly as she approached and raised his arms, making beads of sweat start on his forehead. But he sat still, with an effort she could feel vibrating through her fingers as she wrapped the bandages round, bringing a pass up over each shoulder to keep the strapping in place so she did not have to make them too tight.
‘Thank you.’ He leaned back on to his forearms. Clemence went in search of food, coffee and the strangely comforting bulk of Mr Street.