“Aye, sir,” the sailor replied. “The two of them are sharing the second cabin.”
“The two of them?” Pierce asked, perplexed.
“Aye. There’s the young miss, like we was told. And there’s the older lady that cannot see verra well.” The tar must have sensed that something was wrong, so he went on quickly. “They was both with yer man, sir, when we put in to shore. He set ‘em both in the dory, and we brought ‘em back. Something amiss, sir?”
“No. Did you hear a name for the older lady?”
The man scratched his beard. “The younger one called her…wait, she’ll come to me…I’ve a good head for names. Helen…or something like that.”
“Helena?”
“Aye, sir. That’s it.” The man nodded with certainty. “Helena, she called ‘er.”
*****
The cabin was no larger than a closet with a small hole high in the wall to let in air. Portia had placed her trunk of clothing—which now had to do for both of them—against the opposite wall, beside the door. A narrow cot provided the only place to sit or sleep. She had no complaints, though. They were on their way.
When she had sailed from England less than a year ago, she had shared a much larger cabin with the entire Higgins family. She and little Annie had shared a berth, as the sailors called it, and they had been snug enough. This would be a different journey, but one just as thrilling for her.
Helena was still clearly suffering from the effects of the medicines and had gratefully accepted Portia’s offer of the narrow bed. The floor and couple of blankets would be comfortable enough for herself. Besides, once they were safely out at sea, she planned to take Helena on the deck as much as possible. She had enjoyed the crossing last fall with Higgins family immensely, and she was determined that her mother enjoy this one.
There was a light tap on the door. Portia removed the blanket she’d been wearing around her shoulder ent to open it. A sailor stood in the passageway that she remembered was called the steerage. Behind him, the mainmast—looking like the trunk of some huge black tree—rose out of the floor and disappeared through the ceiling. There were rolled piles of canvas sails and huge coils of rope in the passageway, as well as fixtures of painted and rusted iron that she couldn’t identify, and the smell was dank and mysterious.
“Ye’re wanted in the captain’s quarters, miss.”
Portia glanced over her shoulder. Helena lay undisturbed. She considered changing out of her wet dress first, but decided against it. She was almost dry, anyway. And she needed to save what she had for her mother, just in case.
She slipped through the door and closed it behind her. “I’d hoped to speak to him when he had a minute to spare.”
“I’d say he’s ready for ye now,” the man replied, going ahead of her up the stairs.
Portia followed him on deck, and for couple of seconds she just had to lift her face to the morning sun and the wind and breath in the air. The deep blue of the sky, the wave crests of white foam, the spread of the sails above her made her feel like she had sprouted wings. She was ready to open her arms and take flight.
“Are ye coming, miss?”
She nodded to the couple of the sailors on deck who had paused in their work and were watching her, and then ran to catch up with her escort.
“What do you call your captain?” she asked, wanting to have an introduction ready.
The sailor went down another steep set of stairs to a narrow passage closer to the stern end of the ship.
“What should I call him?” she asked again in the dim passageway.
“Sir?” he responded with a shrug, knocking on the door.
She turned away slightly, speaking to herself in a low voice.
“Good day to you, sir.” She took a breath and tried again. “Good morning to you, sir.”
The sailor was openly grinning at her.
“Very kind of you…no…’tis truly a pleasure to meet…no, too strong.” She shook her head.
“Come in.”
Her escort opened the door, and then turned and simply disappeared back up the steep stairs. Looking in, Portia was surprised by the size of the cabin. It was quite large and took up the entire width of the ship’s stern. She had no time to dwell on the fine details, though, as a body suddenly appeared, effectively blocking the doorway.
Black boots. Buckskin breeches. White shirt. No vest. Only the sun burnished skin of a broad, muscular chest peeking through.
“Oh, no!” Portia’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Miss Edwards?” Pce said evenly. “Someone might think that you are not entirely happy to see me.”
Her heart was thudding so hard in her chest that Portia thought he had to hear it. Everyone on the entire ship had to be able to hear it. She tried to recover herself. “If someone is eavesdropping, then they should be severely reprimanded.”
“A ship is a difficult place to keep secrets,” he said, gesturing for her to enter.
“I shall take your word for it.” She did not move. “But what are you doing on board of this ship? Should you not be in Boston, seeing to your business? Or perhaps continuing to be a thorn in the side of Admiral Middleton and his men?”
Portia fought off the panic that was beginning to grip her. Maybe he didn’t know about Helena, she told herself.
“There must be a great many people,” she continued, “who need you in Boston.”
“But not you, I take it.” Pierce grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the cabin.
She entered with no struggle. Not that she had any choice. She cringed, however, when he slammed the door behind her. She decided then that he had to know about Helena. Portia didn’t dare look around at the spacious quarters or its stylish furnishings. She also chose not to insult him with small talk. She simply braced herself for the storm.
“I, on the other hand, have been very much looking forward to this visit.”
She had a hard time believing what he’d just said. “I would have been looking forward to it, too, if I only knew. ‘Tis just such a surprise.”
Her voice seemed to be coming from the bottom of some empty barrel. She became even more tense when he started pacing before her. His blue eyes never shifted from her face. She didn’t dare meet his gaze, however.
“So you left Admiral Middleton’s mansion yesterday with no difficulty?” His voice was low and dangerous and made the hair stand up on her neck.
“No difficulty…with the exception of having to set the place on fire. But ‘twas a very small fire, and they put it out before it spread anywhere. But that turned out to be a perfect distraction. So, with the exception of that, no difficulty at all.”
“And I assume there were no complications regarding Jack’s delivery of you to my men.”
“No. We made very good time, in fact. No complications at all…with the exception of having to hit Captain Turner over the head and leave him unconscious and bleeding on the beach.”
“You brought Captain Turner with you?”
“No! The captain simply showed up at the wrong place and at the wrong time, and there was no other way of dealing with him. If we hadn’t stopped him, he would have stopped us…well, stopped me, in any case. But I was able to handle Captain Turner, so there was no problem at all.”
He stopped his pacing, but he was too close to allow Portia any sense of comfort. “So, you’re telling me that what should been an easy departure became a nightmare, an obvious escape because…?” He paused, obviously waiting for her to fill the blanks.
“I attract troublesome men?” She stole a glance at him and was sorry she did. His expression was as cold as the ice on Long Wharf in February.
“You think this is all a joke, I take it.” His voice was rising, and his cheeks were becoming attractively ruddy. “I asked you to come in here so we could share a good laugh. You think this is all just for our entertainment.”
“No, I was telling the truth.” She couldn’t believe it, but he was almost shouting at
her. She’d never heard him even raise his voice before. “Everything happened as I said. And though I tend to speak a great deal when I get nervous, everything I just said was the truth. ‘Tis surely a miracle that I am here. Of course, that and the dedicated efforts of your groom and the sailors who rowed us…me to the ship. But in the end, I was able to make it here without any harm befalling anyone…except Captain Turner, of course.”
“I believe there is a certain groom who will be severely rebuked for not following my directions. And the same goes for those two sailors.”
“They didn’t do anything wrong,” she said quickly, defending the men. “All they did was follow your instructions. Whatever else you think they are guilty of…well, you should blame me. As you know I can be very persuasive when plans need a bit of adjusting. If there is punishment that is to be meted out—”
“Yes, punishment. As to your punishment, Miss Edwards, I have decided to place you in a dory and let you row back to shore.”
Portia tuned to him in shock. “That is rather drastic, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. I think I’m being quite generous. My first thought was to threw you and your mother overboard and let you swim back.”
“So you know,” she said quietly, unconsciously backing toward the door.
“How could I not know? Did you think you could take Helena Middleton all the way to Scotland without anyone on this ship noticing her?”
She nodded. “Jack and those sailors simply thought that she was just my servant. I could have used the same story on the ship’s captain if you hadn’t been aboard.”
“So now ‘tis my fault for ruining your plans,” Pierce snapped. He walked toward her, and she took another step back. “I am being the villain here for not allowing you to hoodwink more unsuspecting fools. I am an unfeeling rogue for suggesting that you should be punished for using me and my partner to abduct the daughter of an English Admiral. I am a heartless beast because I object to you putting my people and my livelihood in danger since Middleton will most assuredly send half the Royal Navy after us to retrieve his daughter.”
Portia’s back hit the door. There was no way she could go around him, and there was no where else to go.
“You are no villain, Mr. Pennington. And you are neither unfeeling nor heartless. I believe you are a compassionate soul who I was sure must have known what I intended to do when I told you I needed to secure passage.”
“Spare me, Portia,” he said hotly. “This is your last chance. Tell me one thing that I can believe—one thing that would convince me that you are a step above the lying, cheating, and self-serving person you appear to be.”
“Believe this…she is the only person I have in this world.” Portia blinked back her tears. “What would you do to save the only kin you have left? There is nothing in the world more important than family. Nothing. What I have done…what I am trying to do…I would do again!”
Portia turned her face when the tears finally spilled down her cheeks. She knew in her heart that he would not set them in a boat and make them row back to shore. She knew him well enough not to fear such threats. That was not what upset her now. He thought of her as a vile thing, vicious and low. That cut her deeply. That would be the scar she would carry forever.
“Return to your cabin, miss,” he said, turning away. “I shall send word once I’ve decided what to do with you.”
****
It was almost impossible not to reach for her, to take her in his arms and soothe her. And yet Pierce’s hands remained fisted at his sides as he watched Portia struggle with the door in her rush to get out.
She was truly a mess. She looked as if they’d made her swim alongside the dory instead of riding in it. Her hair was tangled and wild. Her dress was still wet and torn and sagging off her body. She could easily have been the victim of all the disasters she’d spoken of, rather than the instigator. Right now, her tears were leaving trails down her dirt-stained cheeks.
When Pierce could stand it no more, he started toward her, but Portia was finally able to yank the door open. He stopped and watched her go out the door. In a moment she had scrambled up the steep steps and disappeared.
He closed the door and leaned against it. In comparison with everything that he himself had been involved with today, how innocent were her actions! All she had done was give her own mother a taste of freedom. And, when one considered it, how similar were their impulses. Was her act of rebellion any less valid than his? Her motive was the right of a daughter to know her mother. Was his motive so noble?
He moved to the table that held a chart, that he stared at with unseeing eyes. What risk had she added to this voyage? If the Royal Navy were to come after them, it wouldn’t be for the reason of rescuing Helena Middleton, but rather to capture those responsible for attacking and burning the Gaspee.
Pierce knew there would be many inquiries. The act would be considered treason. It was truly an act of war—the first one conducted by the colonists. There were so many involved in the final raid on the ship—eight longboats had been the report. Leading them had been the most prominent men in the Rhode Island colony. His arrest, however, would bring the largest reward. They would love to put a rope around the neck of MacHeath.
Pierce knew he might never be able to come back here. His stay in Scotland might even bring its own difficulties. But none of that bothered him. Whatever life had in store, he would face it.
None of that bothered him anywhere near how much Portia’s actions troubled him.
He looked around the paneled captain’s quarters—at the row of windows at the stern of the ship, at the handsome upholstered sofa beneath it, at the finely carved sideboard and chairs. His gaze fell on the bed built into the port side of the chamber. After their intimacy last night, he’d thought of her surprise when she found him here. He’d been impatieher toout bringing her to this cabin, about rekindling what they’d shared. He wanted to see if it was as real as he’d imagined. If she was as sincere in her affections as she sounded and acted.
He had his answer today. There was no way to tell the truth from the lies…whatever the justification. She had not trusted him to understand. She’d used him, just as Emma had.
CHAPTER 20
Portia was blind to the sky and the sea and all the beauties of nature that had so arrested her before. She was unaware of the dozens of heads that turned toward her as she ran from the captain’s quarters in tears. She raced across the deck of the ship and down the ladder to steerage, stumbling the last steps to her cabin door.
Closing the door behind her, she ran a hand quickly down her face to wipe the tears. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she found Helena sitting up on the narrow berth.
“Portia?”
“Yes, mother.” Saying the word made her choke up again, and she took a couple of steadying breaths to battle her emotions.
“You just missed a very nice man who stopped by. His name was Thomas. He didn’t say his last name. He is the cook, apparently…and the surgeon, and the carpenter, and whatever else the ship’s master—a Captain Cameron—calls on him to do. A lovely man. He also made a point of telling me he is a free man, and that he has family in Philadelphia.”
“Did he just come by to say hello, Mother?”
“As a matter of fact, he wanted to know if we would care to have some breakfast brought up from the galley, or if we were going to take our meals with the owner, a Mr. Pennington, in the captain’s quarters.”
“I shall go and talk to Thomas in a little while. If you don’t mind, we might eat right here, or on deck when the weather is agreeable. It looks to be a lovely day.”
Helena stifled a yawn and gathered her knees up against her chest. She looked like a little girl. “I should be just as happy to stay here. I want to be with you. If I could only shake off this pounding headache. And I am so drowsy.” She rubbed her temples.
“I think I shall go down and get you something to eat. ‘Twill be good to have something in you
r stomach before you fall asleep again.”
“Wait.” Helena reached out. “I want to talk to you first.”
Portia used her damp sleeve to wipe the last of her tears and approached her mother, taking the extended hand in hers.
“You are freezing.” Helena’s hand moved up and touched the sleeve, the dress. “You are still wet! You must change at once. How are you going to take care of me if you become ill yourself?’
Portia’s spirits lifted when she noticed the smile on Helena’s face. “I never become ill.”
“I am very happy to hear that, for I am rarely well myself, these days. And I shall hold you to that. But I insist that you ngefirst.”
Portia obediently took a clean dress and underclothing out of the trunk and started to change in the cramped cabin. Helena’s gaze following Portia’s movements, though it was obvious that she could not see clearly.
“I was drifting in and out of sleep, but I thought I heard you being invited to go and meet the ship’s master?”
“Actually, ‘twas the owner, Mr. Pennington, who wished to see me.”
“And how was your visit?”
Portia pulled her wet shift over her head and began to put on a dry one as she searched for an answer. She wanted to be honest with her mother, but she did not want to frighten her about their position on board. Still, she knew that Helena might be faced with Pierce’s hostility at any moment. She wanted her mother to be prepared for that.
“’Twas due to Mr. Pennington’s generosity that I was able to secure this passage for us…or for me…he thought. He did not know that I was bringing you with me…and I could not tell him since I feared he would not agree to it. But he was not supposed to be on this ship, so I thought he might never find out the truth. But he is here…and he knows…and he is very angry with me.”
“Angry enough to send us back?” Helena asked, concern in her voice.
Portia held the clean dress against her chest. “’Twould be very difficult for him to do that, so I believe he shall tolerate our presence for the journey. I do not believe he will be as friendly to us as your Thomas.”
01 - Captured Dreams Page 23