by Dilly Court
She took the paper, staring at the print until it danced about in front of her eyes like tadpoles. 'I've never been further than Gravesend.'
'My dear girl. This then is your chance to travel. And while you are gone, I will use my contacts within the police to discover if there is any evidence that Walter was involved in piracy. From what you told me, I doubt that they could prove anything, but you never know.' He brushed an unruly lock of mouse-brown hair back from his forehead. 'Now, I really need a drink.' He staggered to the door and opened it. 'Let yourself out, Miss May. I'll see you on your return from Rotterdam.'
'Rotterdam?' Caddie's eyes opened wide. 'You can't go there.'
Rosina continued to pull garments out of the clothes press in her room, tossing them onto her bed in a brightly coloured heap. 'I have no choice. Roland Rivers is the only person who knows the truth about the ring, and he alone can clear Walter's name.'
'But, Rosie, we ain't got no money. How are you going to get there?'
'I don't know how I'm going to get there, not yet anyway. But things are desperate, Caddie. I'm going to the pawnbroker's shop to see what I can get for my clothes and anything else we have that is of the slightest value.'
'Your lovely clothes,' Caddie said, eyeing the growing pile sadly. 'You was always turned out like you was fresh out of a bandbox. I can't bear to think of you going about like a drudge.'
Rosina tossed a pillowcase to her. 'You don't understand. We'll lose the house as well if I don't do something quickly. Now don't argue, there's a good girl, Caddie. Put everything in the pillowcase while I go down to the parlour and see what I can find there.' She went to the chest of drawers and emptied her jewellery box. The only items of any value were the silver bracelet that Sukey had given her for her last birthday and Walter's gold breastpin. She fingered the locket at her throat, but it contained her most precious possession – the medallion – her only tangible link with Will. She would rather die than part with it. With a heartfelt sigh, she handed the bracelet and breastpin to Caddie, followed by her musical box and Dorcas, her beautiful doll with the wax face and glossy silk hair.
An hour later, Caddie returned from the pawnbroker's shop in the High Street with a purse that felt reassuringly heavy. It was not a fortune but there was enough for Rosina to leave Caddie with money for food and other necessities, and what was left would go towards Rosina's fare to Rotterdam. After a tearful parting with Caddie and the children, Rosina set off in the direction of Albion Wharf. If anyone could help her then Captain Morgan was her man. He had been her father's apprentice many years ago and was now master of the River Pearl, trading to Rotterdam with general cargo and returning with spices for Travers's grinding mill. After a brief respite between showers, the sky had darkened again and there were rumblings of thunder in the distance. Undeterred, she quickened her pace, passing through the white haze of flour dust on Crown Mill Wharf and sidestepping the barrels of beer that were being unloaded from a lighter. She kept her fingers crossed, scanning the water for a sign of Captain Morgan's barge as she came to Albion Wharf: she could have cried with relief when she saw that it was tied up alongside. It seemed as though she was just in time, as the last of the cargo was being lowered into the hold.
She could see him standing on deck. Captain Morgan was an unmistakeable figure, with his flame-red mop of hair barely concealed by his peaked cap, and his thick red beard standing out proud against the dark blue of his pea jacket. She cupped her hands round her lips. 'Captain Morgan. Ahoy there!'
He turned his head, saw her and grinned. 'Rosie! Well now, this is a surprise. Come aboard, lass.'
She hitched up her skirt and climbed nimbly down the wooden ladder to the deck.
'I heard about your father,' Captain Morgan said, tugging at his beard and frowning. 'Bad business, my dear. How is he going on?'
'He's quite poorly, sir. He had to leave London for the country. Doctor's orders.'
'I'm sorry to hear that. But what can I do for you, missy? I don't suppose you come a-visiting me on the River Pearl just to pass the time of day.'
'I need your help, Captain. Please hear me out before you say no to what I have to ask you.'
He listened attentively, tweaking and pulling at his beard until it stuck out in small spikes. When she had finished he shook his head. 'I don't know, Rosie. I'm not sure what your dad would make of this. A sailing barge is no place for a young woman such as you.'
'I promise that I won't get in the way. I was practically raised on a barge, Captain. I can make myself useful.'
'Can you cook, lass?'
'Well, er – no.'
'Can you trim a sail or steer a straight course?'
'No, but I could learn. My pa never let me do anything except watch him and Artie, but I'm sure I could pick it up as I went along.'
He threw back his head and laughed, calling to his mate who was busy stowing the last of the crates and closing the hatches. 'D'you hear that, Barney? Miss Rosie thinks she can become a sailor in one easy lesson.'
Barney uttered a hoot of laughter and continued with what he was doing.
'Don't pay him no mind,' Captain Morgan said in a low voice. 'He's a bit simple is Barney, but he's a good deck hand and can handle a barge like one of the best.'
'Please, Captain. I know I'm asking a lot, but will you take me to Rotterdam? I can pay my way.' She took the purse from her reticule and held it out to him. 'Take it all, but please say yes.'
He stared at her for a moment and then he pushed her hand away. 'Keep your money, lass. You look as though you need every penny of it. It's against me better judgement, but if it's as important as you say it is, then I'll take you.'
Rosina could hardly believe her ears. She had been prepared to go down on her knees if necessary. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. 'Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you so much.'
His face was as red as his beard and he made a huffing sound as he disentangled her arms from round his neck. 'Now, now. There's no need to thank me. I owe your dad a lot; I just hope he won't be too angry with me when he finds out what I've done.'
'He won't. He'll be ever so grateful, as am I.'
'There's just one thing though. We have to sail on the tide and that is now. There's no time for you to go home and pack up all your folderols and furbelows, and all the things that you young ladies hold so dear.'
Having just pawned everything except the clothes she stood up in, Rosina could brush that objection aside without a qualm, but she must let Caddie know what was happening. 'That is quite all right, but I have to send a message home to say that I am bound for Holland on the River Pearl.'
'Barney. Come here, lad.' Captain Morgan's voice boomed out across the wharf, and was eerily followed by a crack of thunder.
Rosina felt as though God had just spoken, and judging by the terrified look on Barney's face as he came lolloping across the deck towards them, he must have felt the same.
'Find a boy to take a message to Black Eagle Wharf.' Captain Morgan put his hand in his pocket and took out a penny. 'Give him this and Miss Rosina will tell you what to say.'
Barney stared at the penny in the palm of his hand and scratched his head. 'Take a message to Black Eagle Wharf? I can remember that, I think.'
Rosina patted him on the shoulder. 'He must go to Captain May's house. Anyone on the wharf will know which one it is. He is to tell Caddie that Miss Rosina has got a berth on the River Pearl bound for Rotterdam.'
He repeated the message slowly, enunciating each syllable, and when Rosina congratulated him on his good memory, he blushed and giggled. He leapt for the ladder and clambered up it repeating the words over and over again. He disappeared onto the wharf and came back a couple of minutes later grinning widely. 'Done it, master.'
'Cast off, Barney.' Captain Morgan went to the stern and took hold of the tiller. 'I hope you're a good sailor, lass. There's little or no privacy on board, or comfort for a seasick passenger come to that.'
Rosina sat dow
n on a hatch cover. 'I'll be perfectly all right, Captain. Don't worry about me. I've never been seasick in my life.'
This bold statement held true while they were sailing downriver, but once they were away from the mouth of the Thames and sailing across open sea, Rosina began to feel decidedly queasy. There was only one small cabin on deck, with two narrow bunks for the master and the mate. Captain Morgan had decided at the outset that he and Barney would sleep on deck, and Rosina could have the cabin to herself. She protested at first, thinking it unfair, but during the cold night on the North Sea she was glad to snuggle down between the rough blankets with a pillow at her head. Next morning when she awakened, the storm had followed them and the barge was bobbing about on what seemed to her to be enormous waves. She found that someone had thoughtfully provided her with a bucket, and she kept to her bunk all day while she suffered the miseries of seasickness.
By the time they reached Rotterdam she had found her sea legs, as Captain Morgan put it, and was beginning to enjoy the voyage now that the sun had come out and the sea was calm. When they docked in the busy port she realised that she was now on her own and would have to find the offices of Rivers and Son. Without a word of Dutch, or any other foreign language, she felt very much alone and vulnerable. Her clothes were travel-stained and crumpled and she had not had a proper wash since they left London. She glanced ruefully down at her grey cotton skirt and the soiled cuffs of her once-white blouse. She had had to put her hair up without the aid of a mirror, and she could feel strands tickling the back of her neck and sticking to her forehead in the heat. But she must put all the vanities aside and concentrate on the business in hand. Walter's fate was far more important than her appearance and she simply had to find Roland.
To her intense relief, Captain Morgan sent Barney with her, declaring that no young lady in his care was going to wander around on her own in a foreign port. Barney may not have been the sharpest knife in the box, but no one challenged her when she was with the big fellow who had a lantern jaw and fists like York hams. They were not to know that his simian appearance hid the softest and sweetest nature, as Rosina had found out during their days at sea. The warehouses and offices were all clearly named and they walked side by side, dodging the horse-drawn traffic and pedestrians alike until they found, more by accident than anything else, the offices of Rivers and Son.
Rosina left Barney waiting for her outside, and patting her hair in place, she went into the office. She asked for Mr Roland Rivers, and for a horrible moment she thought that the clerk behind the desk had not understood, but after a moment's hesitation he smiled and spoke to her in English. 'Mr Rivers is not here, miss.'
'But I must see him. I've come all the way from London to find him. I simply must see him.'
'Not here, miss.'
'But he will come here soon?'
The clerk shrugged his shoulders.
'I will wait for him,' Rosina said firmly. Having come all this way, and after suffering the rigours of the journey on a vessel unequipped for carrying passengers, she could have wept with frustration. But she was not going to give in now. The memory of Walter being escorted to the cells was uppermost in her mind. She popped her head outside the door and told Barney to return to the ship. She would find her own way back, as soon as she had spoken to Mr Rivers.
She waited all morning. The clerk gave her a cup of water, and he offered her a piece of red-skinned cheese and a slice of dark rye bread, which was part of his own midday meal. She smiled and thanked him as she accepted the water, but she could not take his lunch as it seemed little enough to keep a man going all day.
She sat back against the wooden settle and watched the hands of the clock as they moved slowly – too slowly for her liking. The minutes dragged into hours and by late afternoon she was beginning to think that Roland would never put in an appearance, when the door opened and he strolled in as if he had not a care in the world. He walked past her, and then he stopped short, turning his head to stare at her. 'Miss May?'
She leapt to her feet, smoothing her crumpled skirts and wishing that she did not look such a terrible mess. Roland was so smartly dressed that it only made her feel worse. 'Mr Rivers, I . . .' She swayed on her feet, overtaken by a wave of dizziness. She had not eaten anything since the previous night, and she felt herself falling, only to be scooped off her feet and laid down on the settle. Something cold and wet was trickling down her face. She opened her eyes to find Roland staring anxiously at her while he bathed her forehead with a handkerchief dipped in a cup of water.
'Miss May. It really is you. What on earth are you doing here?' He helped her to a sitting position. 'No, don't waste your energy on explanations until you feel better.'
Searching desperately for the right words, she clutched his arm. 'Mr Rivers, I need your help. I must speak to you in private.' His features were going in and out of focus: she felt sick and dizzy, and she rested her forehead against his shoulder. 'I'm sorry. I don't feel so well.'
'When did you last eat? Never mind; don't bother answering, my dear. Save your strength.' Roland stood up, issuing a command to the desk clerk in fluent Dutch.
The clerk muttered a reply and hurried out into the street.
'I've sent for a carriage. My father keeps a company house in the town. I don't think there is anything wrong with you that a hot bath and a good meal will not put right.'
'Thank you,' Rosina murmured weakly.
'Is there anyone I should notify as to your whereabouts? You cannot have come here alone.'
'Could you send a message to Captain Morgan of the sailing barge, River Pearl? He brought me to Holland, and he will be concerned as to my safety.'
Roland patted her hand. 'Consider it done, and you yourself need not worry. There will be no repeat of my shameful conduct in Cremorne Gardens, and my housekeeper will look after you.'
A wave of exhaustion washed over her and she closed her eyes with a sigh of relief. Her reputation was the last thing on her mind. She had already decided to do whatever Roland required of her in order to secure his promise to return to London. No sacrifice would be too great if it bought Walter's release from jail. She drifted into a dreamlike state and was barely conscious when someone lifted her into a carriage for a rather bumpy ride over cobbled streets. The next thing she knew, Roland was helping her up a flight of stone steps into a tall, narrow house in the middle of a terrace. Despite its unimposing frontage, the interior took Rosina's breath away. An elegant staircase swept upwards from the grand entrance hall and the air was fragranced with lavender.
A tall raw-boned woman wearing a starched white cap and a black bombazine dress came bustling along the hallway to greet them.
'This is our housekeeper, Mrs Hopper,' Roland said in a matter-of-fact voice, as if it were quite normal to bring a dishevelled and exhausted young woman into his abode. He whispered a few words in her ear and the housekeeper nodded in response. Roland turned to Rosina with a smile. 'Mrs Hopper will look after you, my dear. We will talk later, when you are feeling more the thing.'
'Good day, ma'am,' Rosina murmured, eyeing her nervously. She was surprised and relieved when Mrs Hopper answered her with a cockney twang in her voice.
'Come with me, miss. You look like something the cat brought in. We'll run you a nice hot bath and find you some clean duds.'
Half an hour later, after a luxurious wallow in a deep tub filled with hot water, and having had her hair washed by Mrs Hopper with a sweet-smelling liquid soap, Rosina was wrapped in a bath sheet and sitting at a dressing table in a bedroom at the top of the house. Mrs Hopper handed her a hairbrush and comb. 'Here, ducks. You'd best see to your hair while I find you a clean frock. I'm afraid your clothes are only fit for the ragbag.'
Slowly, as if still dreaming, Rosina tugged the comb through her wet, tangled hair. She could see Mrs Hopper reflected in the mirror as she opened a rosewood armoire and was riffling through a rail of garments, taking out one elegant gown after another and then putting them back.
'I'm truly grateful for all your kindness, ma'am. But my old clothes will do. I don't want to put you to any further trouble, and I cannot take your clothes.'