Page 82 of Valour

Septimus threw his hands up. “Would you have me take them back up, then?”

Hester snarled and stepped closer, fisting her hands into the breast of his coat. “No.”

A memory flashed into her mind. That night in Havenport when he had tied her to the chair on the Intrepid and leant over her, his hands either side of her shoulders. And the words he had spoken then. I will sink the Valour.

She shoved him backwards. “I suppose you’re happy now?”

He scowled, fists clenched, jaw tight. “What on Earth do you mean?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You threatened this. You threatened to sink her, and now she is sinking. She is dying. I hear her screams.”

“You are raving. Why in God’s name would I be happy about any of this?”

“Hester, come. Fighting won’t help. Come and cool off,” Fliss said, laying a hand on Hester’s shoulder.

She shook it off. Could not bear Fliss touching her, could not bear the deep knife-wound to her heart that she felt whenever Fliss was around. “He is undermining me! He thinks women shouldn’t be on expeditions such as this. Shouldn’t make the decisions, shouldn’t captain a ship.”

Septimus bristled. “That’s not⁠—”

Hester drew her fist back and threw a punch towards his face. Septimus deflected it with a forearm and stepped back. “Get a hold of yourself, witch,” he hissed.

But Hester couldn’t quell the rising need to hurt something, anything. A red haze descended as she replayed those memories of his threats and his taunts and his accusations. Every muscle in her was tense, ready to fight.

“I hate you,” she bellowed as the deck arched.

“Make your mind up,” he muttered, turning back to the lifeboats.

Winston dragged her back, though she fought against him until he cried out, clutching his face where she’d hit him. She stopped and placed a hand on each side of his face, kissing his nose, and then sank into his arms, sobbing.

“Winston, I’m sorry,” she said between breaths of burning cold. “Make it better. My heart hurts. You always fix things for me.”

“I know,” he said, holding her close. “Come on, you need to be strong for the crew. Can you do that?”

Hester took a deep breath and nodded. She wiped away her tears, thankful again that her magic had dwindled to nothing and would not conjure a storm. She took the comfort that Winston offered, sinking into him, balling her fists in his coat, pressing her forehead into his chest. “It is only a matter of time now.”

October 27th 1915, Weddell Sea

“She’s going, boys,” Hester said, the ship shuddering around her, the darkness suffocating.

Winston and Rufus put their arms around her shoulders, and they walked from the companionway to the deck. The roar of brine rushing into the hull made her shiver, and they clambered over the broken deck planks, a sickening sensation leeching into her stomach. Some of the planks were pointing skywards, sticking out from the once-smooth deck like jagged shark teeth, pointing towards the blanket of stars that swept across the night sky.

They descended the ramp, Hester leading the way to the gathered crews milling about on the ice, the dogs barking, their breath clouding in the night air. Was it the last time she would be on board? It seemed likely.

“Get the tents up, and then we’ll discuss the plan that Peggy and I have drawn up,” Hester said. It was a numb sort of feeling. As though her thoughts had stopped moving.

“You will run the plan by me before you tell the men,” Septimus said, his arms folded.

“And women,” Fliss said, hands on her hips.

Septimus glowered. “Don’t remind me.”

Hester turned from Fliss. Couldn’t look her in the eye. Missed her worse than a lost limb. She turned to Septimus. “You haven’t asked very nicely, so…no,” Hester snapped, striding off to help pitch the first tent. She was aware of how she sounded. Childish. But then again, she didn’t care.

Septimus grabbed her arm, hauling her back, his fingers digging in. “Involve me in the decisions, witch.”

She relished the tight pain. Did not pull away. “Like you involved me in yours? When you had my lifeboats lowered to the ice?”

He snarled. “I did that because I deemed it urgent, and I didn’t know where you were. And because I thought—I thought we were a team.”