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The Captain was pulling through, it had been a hard few weeks but he seemed to be getting better with the aid of his loyal Steward, Thomas Jopson and the work of Doctor Alexander MacDonald. They worked as a team in secret tending to Crozier while keeping the crew from knowing the extent of his illness. For once it was quiet and calm, his body wasn’t fighting against itself to fight his addiction.
Thomas did not allow himself to relax, after years of painful experience, the worst of it had yet to come and there was still no telling if he would live or die. The Steward felt like his heart was made of lead and exhaustion an endless state. But it was nothing compared to Francis, who surely must have felt (and even looked) like he had been rammed by an ice breaker himself. For that, the young man refused to pity himself, he had volunteered for the position.
His bloodshot seaglass eyes looked wary at the only light flooding the cabin. He would need to change the candle soon and he knew they were running out of them as quickly as they were running out of food. But he had to have faith. Faith in the expedition, faith in the men, faith in his Captain. Jopson cherished Crozier more than the man may ever know. He was the father he had wished he had growing up. The Captain had become his paternal figure, his father at sea, seeing fit to take him under his wing when Thomas was just a ships boy. For that, he would lay himself on the line for the man, follow him to the ends of the earth.
Jopson tried not to dwell on the bad. He couldn’t afford to but he worried that if slept for too long or took a moment to himself, Francis would pass before his eyes.
Like she did, he only went to ask for a cup of milk from the neighbor to help him make porridge, it was all she could keep down anymore, besides the thimble full of laudanum he allowed only once a day…
He hadn’t even realized he was crying until the touch of a wet nose started him from his memory. Jopson was quick to dab at his rosy cheeks with a greasy, worn handkerchief with one hand, while setting the other on to the soft fur to the other creature loyal to Crozier, the sweet oafish Newfie named Neptune. The rather sizable hound looked up at the Steward sweetly with the saddest brown eyes, a bit of drool dripping from his mouth. Neptune could charm just about any man on board.
“I’m sorry, old boy. He’ll be with us soon, I promise.” He felt silly, comforting a dog but Jopson felt better, speaking the words out loud. Neptune responded with the softest of whines, as if he was being considerate for the sleeping man, before resting his saddened face on the young man’s thigh. Even though Thomas would normally protest, citing he would have to clean the drool stains from his own clothing, he allowed it for he needed it just as much as the Newfie. They sat together for a while, Jopson lazily petting the dog and Neptune warily watching his master, until the sick man startled himself awake.
“T-Thomas.” Crozier rasped, tugging at his sheets and eyes cracked, looking for him. Jopson sighed of relief, even if he was miserable his Captain was still breathing.
“I’m here, Captain.” The young man smiled and went back to work.