Windsong

by Valerie Sherwood

  ‘They have already decided my future,’ Carolina said moodily, ignoring this talk about chamber pots - she had more important things to think about just now! ‘Virginia,’ she said in a wistful voice, 'you don’t believe Rye sank the Ophelia, do you?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Virginia lightly. ‘But then I wasn’t asked. And now that they all know he’s Kells, they’ll believe anything!’

  That, Carolina thought bitterly, was indeed the upshot of it. Those who once would have given him the benefit of the doubt would believe anything of him now.

  ‘You had better eat something,’ advised Virginia. ‘Keep your strength up. Suppose they’ve caught him?’

  Carolina, whose gaze had been dismally focused on the Turkey carpet, now looked up. Virginia met her gaze calmly. She had steadied, had Virginia, now that the worst had happened. ‘I know how you feel,’ said Virginia with a rush of sympathy. ‘But I think you should come down.’

  Carolina did so. She looked at them all accusingly, feeling they were all her enemies. From the dining table they looked back at her: Fielding with concealed fury, Aunt Pet with indignation, her mother with resignation, and the younger children with wild curiosity.

  Most of the meal was spent curbing that curiosity as first Flo and then Della shot avid questions at their elders. Questions which were parried warily.

  ‘Carolina,’ said her mother, noting her daughter’s unhappy silence. ‘It’s not the end of the world, you know.’ She was speaking from down the long dining table which had now mercifully been cleared of most of its delights, which were being devoured by the servants in the kitchen as best they could - though even their stout appetites could not make much headway against such a hoard.

  ‘It’s the end of the world to me,’ Carolina said bitterly. She lifted her head and fixed Fielding with a hard look. ‘Rye was planning to pay off some of your debts as a parting gift,’ she said scathingly, ‘because you had set no objection to his marrying me. Did you know that?’

  Fielding only growled but he pushed his thin-sliced ham away from him as if he had suddenly lost his appetite. Carolina took a dainty bite of hers. She was in a vengeful mood and food was giving her strength. ‘He did not want you to lose this house,’ she added with a shrug.

  ‘Carolina,’ her mother said drily, ‘that will be enough of that.’

  Carolina turned to Aunt Pet. ‘I had asked Rye to give you a silver washbowl on my behalf, to go with your silver chamber pot. But now you won’t be receiving it.’

  Aunt Pet’s face flushed with indignation and something very like regret. She had always yearned for a silver washbowl and now - she turned upon Carolina.

  ‘It would be enough if he would just return my silver chamber pot!’ she announced waspishly, and both Della and Flo giggled so loudly that their mother commanded them to leave the table.

  ‘Now have you finished?’ She turned to Carolina ‘Not quite,’ said Carolina. ‘I had also planned, as soon as Rye and I were in residence in Essex, to arrange for you, Mother, to visit me. I realize it is an arduous journey to make alone, and - since he had come to Tortuga at your request, believing he must rescue me -I had thought that Sandy Randolph might come along to protect you along the way.’

  Fielding flung down his napkin with a curse and nearly overturned his chair as he stalked out of the room.

  ‘Carolina,’ said her mother in a voice of menace, ‘if you are hoping to be turned out of the house by this behaviour, you may as well disabuse yourself of the thought. You are going to stay right here where I can watch you. And tomorrow your father will seek out Ned Shackleford - ’

  ‘My father,' said Carolina heavily, ‘is already on his way to Tower Oaks. Not that I care about him either!’

  Aunt Pet choked but Letitia ignored her. She leant forward. ‘How did you learn about that?’ she demanded, and when Carolina did not answer, she turned upon Aunt Pet. ‘Did you tell her, Petula?’

  Red-faced, coughing, unable to speak. Aunt Pet shook her head. She was rewarded by being thumped on the back.

  When Aunt Pet was able to take a gasping breath again, Letitia turned her attention again to her daughter - after one quick glance at Virginia across the table. Virginia’s guilty knowledge showed in her eyes.

  ‘Carolina,’ her mother began with a sigh, ‘I had hoped for you never to know. It is true I went away with Sandy, it is true you are his daughter. But Fielding took me back, and Fielding has brought you up as his own.’

  ‘He has always hated me!’ flashed Carolina.

  ‘All these years he has allowed you to live in his house,’ her mother continued inexorably. ‘Allowed you to wear his name. Would you shame him now?’

  ‘Only if he tries to force me into marriage with Ned Shackleford or some other choice of yours!’

  For a long time Letitia studied her. ‘I see you are going to be difficult,’ she said in a remarkable understatement. ‘But I think not too difficult.’

  Carolina, who had hoped to gain a reprieve with the barbs she had hurled at them, said coldly, ‘May I be excused?’

  ‘From the table, yes,’ her mother said, frowning. ‘But not by me if you say a word to Fielding about Sandy being your father - not ever!'

  Not for worlds would Carolina actually have done that but, perversely, she preferred her mother to think she would. Without a word, she flounced from the table. Virginia rolled her eyes.

  Carolina passed Fielding in the hall. He turned away and did not speak to her. He was heading back towards the dining room.

  Head high, Carolina gathered up the full skirts of the blue linen dress she had changed into after ridding herself of her wedding gown, and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Gradually the sounds of the house died away and Virginia came upstairs and joined her in her room. Virginia had a couple of white linen napkins over her arm and she was carrying a plate piled high with food - ham and Sally Lunn and big slices of wedding cake.

  ‘I thought you might be hungry,’ she declared cheerfully, ‘since you hardly touched your dinner downstairs. Mother thinks it best that I sleep in here with you tonight,’ she added.

  ‘She would!' exclaimed Carolina. ‘And no, I am not hungry! Mother has asked you to guard me, Virgie, to see that I do not escape. Admit it!’

  ‘Oh, I freely admit it.’ Virginia set the plate down on a little table and tossed the napkins down beside it. ‘Consider me your “constant companion”, I think was the way Mother put it.’

  Carolina regarded her sister darkly.

  Virginia returned that look blandly. ‘I was the last to come up,’ she stated. ‘I told Mother I wished to find a book to read in the library before retiring so I am the last to bed.’

  ‘What were they saying about me downstairs - if you chanced to hear?’

  ‘Oh, I chanced to hear. I didn’t go to the library for a book - I stayed outside the dining room door and eavesdropped shamelessly. They were saying that if Ned was agreeable to their plan, he could have you without a dowry - provided he would agree to a shipboard marriage ceremony performed by the captain of a ship of their choosing.’

  A ship of their choosing ... In spite of herself, Carolina shivered. A captain who would declare her married, whether or not she said ‘I do!’ And once emboldened by a shipboard wedding ceremony, however fraudulent, Ned would be hot to claim his marital rights. He was stronger than she was, he would overpower her.

  ‘They are determined for you to be gone to England,’ said Virginia. She sounded indifferent.

  ‘Oh, how can you be so calm about it?’ cried Carolina. ‘They are ruining my life!’

  Virginia shrugged and strolled to the window. ‘The fog is coming up from the river,’ she remarked casually.

  ‘The fog is always coming up this time of year when we get unseasonable weather with the promise of rain,’ Carolina declared heatedly. ‘What difference - ’ She stopped suddenly, intrigued by her sister’s mocking expression. ‘Virgie, what do you know that I don’t?’

  ‘Tha
t Rye Evistock is still here,’ Virginia said placidly. ‘He never left. I saw him distinctly - standing between two tree trunks, looking up at the house after the guests had gone.’

  ‘Virgie!’ Carolina scrambled up from the bed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because if you’d known, it might have affected your behaviour at dinner,’ her sister said sagely. ‘I wanted you to act completely natural - and you did!’ She chuckled. ‘I was sworn to secrecy as to your parentage after you left. And the huffy way you left the table made Mother certain that you had no immediate plans for escape. She told Aunt Pet so. She said it was not knowing where to turn that was making you insult everybody!’

  ‘Ha!’ said Carolina. But she looked at her older sister in amazement. Clearly there were depths to Virgie that she had not plumbed! Then her mind flitted back to Rye, out there somewhere in the fog. He had stayed, he was waiting for her! ‘I must go downstairs,’ she said. ‘He’ll be expecting me!’

  ‘Not just yet,’ counselled Virginia. ‘Let the fog thicken a bit. And put on your emeralds - it would be a pity to leave them behind! As you will have noted, I’m already wearing my travelling clothes.’

  ‘Oh, Virgie!’ Impulsively, Carolina hugged her. ‘You really are planning to go with me!’

  ‘Yes,’ Virginia said. ‘Under the circumstances, I think you might need someone. Now dress so you’ll be ready.’

  ‘I’ll go in what I’m wearing. I’ve plenty of clothes aboard the Sea Wolf - I mean the Sea Waif.’

  ‘Is that how you think we’ll be going?’ wondered Virginia curiously. ‘Because word arrived right after you went upstairs that the Sea Waif had sailed.’

  Carolina’s heart skipped a beat. ‘I don’t know how we’ll be going,’ she admitted. ‘And I don’t care, so long as it’s with Rye!’

  She had already adjusted the heavy emerald necklace around her neck, and the ear bobs were in place when a new and dreadful thought occurred to her.

  ‘Fielding will have locked the front door and like as not pocketed the key!’ she cried. ‘How will Rye get in?’ For she knew that her mother would have seen to the back doors, under the circumstances.

  ‘Through a downstairs window I found obligingly left unfastened,’ said a deep familiar voice behind her, and Carolina turned to see Rye standing in the doorway holding a naked blade in his hand.

  ‘Oh - Rye!’ Carolina’s whispered greeting had all the joyousness of a shout. She flew to him, threw her arms about him, and was welcomed there as he gave her a great hug.

  Behind her Virginia held up the scabbard that she had salvaged from the hall and brought to Carolina’s room earlier. "Twas I who left the window unfastened,’ she admitted modestly. ‘And - you might have a use for this?’ She proffered the scabbard.

  Rye flashed a smile at her as he detached Carolina’s arms from around his neck. He sheathed his sword, buckled it to his belt. ‘Aye, I do,’ he agreed. ‘And for a dozen such sisters-in-law, were I lucky enough to have them!’

  Virginia flushed with pleasure. ‘I saw you earlier, standing between the tree trunks. What puzzles me is that Burwell’s servant insisted you had been rowed away in a longboat.’

  ‘I was - but I got out upriver a ways and walked back.’

  ‘I thought you must have,’ Virginia said, smiling. ‘I’ve put Carolina’s pearls in this velvet bag.’ She held it up for their inspection. ‘I was afraid she’d go off and forget them.’

  ‘What would we do without you, Virgie?’ murmured Carolina.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Virginia replied composedly. ‘But you aren’t going to have to find out since I’m going with you!’

  Carolina turned to Rye. ‘We received word that the Sea Wolf had sailed,’ she told him anxiously.

  ‘But only for a short distance,’ said Rye. He laughed. ‘None cared to pursue her, to learn that! And by now she will have sailed back. The longboat left - but it has now returned. It’s waiting for us just beyond the landing.’

  Carolina’s silver eyes were flashing with joy. ‘Virgie,’ she cried. ‘Help me wrap up that food. We’ll bring it along - Rye must be starving!’

  ‘I thought he might be,’ was the tranquil response. ‘That’s why I brought the napkins!’

  PART TWO

  The Petticoat Buccaneer

  A thoughtful maid is she tonight,

  An age-old puzzle this . . .

  Can she who’s held her virtue light

  Distract him with a kiss?

  THE HIGH SEAS

  Spring 1689

  13

  The lean grey Sea Waif - looking more Wolf than Waif - cut the water like the reckless lady she was, heeling before the wind. On her swaying decks, beneath the clouds of billowing canvas, grey too against a black night sky radiantly sprinkled with stars, stood Rye and Carolina and Virginia.

  Shrouded by a white blanket of fog, the longboat had waited for them. Through that fog, across the lawns of Level Green the two girls had run, skirts hitched up, with Rye bounding along beside them. A quick smothered greeting, the girls were lifted into the boat, the buccaneers bent their broad backs to the rowing, and the longboat had made its silent way down to the river’s mouth with hardly the splash of an oar to mark its passage. Rendezvous with the ship had been made near the mouth of the York. There the fog had lifted and the rakish Sea Waif had spread her canvas wings and flown them across the smooth surface of the Chesapeake.

  Now they were beating their way into the open sea aided by a stiff breeze. And their captain, who had tossed aside his satin coat and stood in shirt and trousers smiling down upon the gleaming fair hair of the girl he might have lost this day, had ordered a keg of ale to be broached for all hands.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ Virginia was marvelling as they stood, the three of them, along the portside railing. ‘I can’t believe we’re really on our way! I kept thinking something would go wrong.’ Since so much had, in her life!

  Carolina, leaning against the broad chest of her buccaneer, letting her hair blow and feeling the cambric of his white shirt smooth against her face, gave her sister an affectionate look. ‘We’re for England, Virgie - nothing can stop us now!’

  God willing, she would be right, thought the tall captain at her side. Thought it ruefully, for there was much that could ‘stop’ a ship on the ocean sea: storms; floating wreckage that loomed out of the dark and stove in the most seaworthy hull; English warships that might desire to send a boarding party, some member of whom might chance to recognize the famous Captain Kells and remember that there was a hue and cry for his arrest in Williamsburg; Spain’s Vera Cruz galleons with their mighty fore and aftercastles and captains thirsting for his blood - and he short-handed and with a woman aboard he would not risk . . . But God willing there would be none of these. The Vera Cruz galleons would cruise the Caribbean where they belonged, the British warships would be off on other business, the storm gods would hold back their lightning bolts and still their winds to let a man for whom women had never been lucky before pass by with his lady.

  ‘Aye, we’re for England,’ he agreed in his deep resonant voice.

  ‘And you won’t try first to find the ship that was passed off as the Sea Wolf or the man who said he was Kells?’ Carolina asked anxiously.

  Not with you aboard, he might have answered, and it would have been the truth for he would not risk her. But he chose to amend the statement. ‘Not with so much treasure aboard,’ he said briefly. ‘I’ve taken much of mine to England already, but the men haven’t and they’re eager to set foot on English soil as rich men - and then straighten out whatever’s gone wrong here.’

  ‘You’re not planning to come back here?’ she breathed, afraid for him.

  ‘Not for a time at least,’ he told her soothingly. And that too was the truth, for a hurried conference with his officers and crew had reached agreement all round that they would sail to England first and then later rendezvous and sail back to the Caribbean and wipe the seas clean of whoever h
ad dared to impersonate them. For other survivors of the Ophelia’s sinking had reached Yorktown and their stories had made it clear to these buccaneers that their names were known and being used along with their captain’s and the ship’s.

  Just why this was being done was not so readily apparent for a ship must make port somewhere, it must be careened and its hull scraped to keep it seaworthy - and there were too many men scattered throughout the Caribbean, buccaneers and others, who knew the lean Sea Wolf by sight and would not easily mistake another ship for her, many men who knew her captain and would never dream of mistaking him! The sun-darkened faces of the Sea Wolfs officers and crew had darkened still further at the thought of other men attempting to steal their names and commit crimes under those names, but all had agreed: home and family first, and stash their treasure. Then back to sea and straighten out the mess they’d left behind them.

  Carolina, forgetful of the fact that if Rye failed to return and straighten things out, the pardon he had been at such pains to secure would be worthless, leaned against him, happy and content. Once in England she’d find ways to keep him there, she promised herself.

  Their first night together on board ship was glorious - a wondrous reunion of few words but murmured endearments, of blissful touchings and caressings and tender sighs for they had been so near, so very near to being wrested apart forever. The magic of that reunion engulfed them both and made questions unnecessary.

  But . . . now that she had him safe, now that he was back with her again, there was something troubling her.

  And that second night, lying back luxuriously in the great cabin, still basking in the glow of a silken joining that had been all she would ever desire of heaven, she asked him about it.