“Then embrace the scandal fully by employing my diminutive of choice.” He takes a few tentative steps, wincing and rubbing his back. “You say the ghost rushed at me? I do not remember anything, but that would explain my fall. Is he still here? Can you ask him why he did so?”
“He is gone.”
“Hmm, that is poorly done. Attack a man from the back and then flee.” He raises his voice. “Out with you, sir. Do not hide your face. I demand recompense. Failing that, I would accept an explanation.”
I shake my head.
“Did it say anything?” he asks.
“No. It did make a rather strange noise when it rushed at you. A guttural sort of sound. It seemed a noise rather than a word. An exclamation of—”
I cut myself off, remembering what I’d thought just before the ghost attacked. That the boy knew Nicolas.
“Miranda?”
I turn away as if surveying the deck. “While ghosts are usually harmless, they can be angry, and they can misdirect their anger at anyone who comes within their sights.”
“So this ghost uttered a noise of anger as he attacked me. I would not expect him to utter a noise of joy.”
“Precisely. Now, as you have been injured, you should sit here and allow me to find and speak to this ghost.”
“I will do nothing of the sort. I do not fear further attacks. I understand that the anger is not directed at me, and the specter is blindly lashing out...”
He trails off and then peers at me. “You think otherwise.”
“Of course not.”
“Ah, I understand now. You saw the ghost of a man on a ship I once sailed, and you fear I know him. Fear that I am responsible for his demise? I am not a saint, chérie. I have dueled, though I insist on doing so with swords rather than pistols. I duel to first blood only, and I have never taken a life in such a manner. I have seen sailors die in raids. I have taken a life myself, in self-defence. However, the most likely scenario, if this ghost blames me, is a sadly more common one, where my own crewmates were injured, and I could not save them. I have lost four patients in such a manner. Three were beyond my help, and one was beyond my skill. I suspect this is such a case, and if so, then I appreciate the opportunity to allow the deceased to say his piece and blame me if he must.”
I do not say such deaths are not his fault. Nicolas strikes me as a man who would feel each medical “failure” deeply but would also realize he had done his best and lay blame, correctly, on the inadequate medical knowledge of his time.
“It is a boy,” I say.
His brows furrow. “A boy?”
“Of about fourteen.”
He relaxes. “Ah, then it is neither one of my former patients nor anyone I knew. There was only one cabin boy on our ship, and he escaped capture. He was spotted in Whitby after the captain was arrested, and a family hid him and got him safely from the town. He is working outside York, I hear, apprenticed to a wainwright.”
“Good,” I say.
“Excellent, really. He did not belong on a ship. He was a stowaway. I found him myself, shortly after I was pressed into service. I tried to persuade him to go to shore, but he insisted on staying, and the captain took him on. He will have a better life in trade.”
Nicolas starts for the ladder leading below. “This young man must be a local boy. I hope he was not drowned swimming to the ship. I know it must have provided ample temptation to the local children, but I did not ever see signs that they found their way aboard. There was one in particular who was most persistent. I do hope...”
He glances over. “The boy was not light haired, was he?”
I shake my head. “Dark haired.”
“Not the same boy, then.”
Nicolas opens a door and pokes his head through, only to laugh as he withdraws. “I am not certain why I did that, as I can hardly scout the way for you.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but yes, I ought to lead.”
I slide down the stairs. Nicolas left a lantern belowdecks, and I take that and light it. Then I hold it up and peer down the hall.
“Hello!” I call. “If you can hear me, young man, I wish to speak to you. I saw you above deck, and I know you are a spirit.”