Emma blotted her eyes with a much-abused handkerchief. She had heard the talk that she was beautiful, but no one would think so now. She was not someone who could cry without her face telling the tale. Her eyes swelled up and her nose turned red and ran, making her look like a victim of influenza.
Emma pushed herself off the bed and tried to calm herself. She needed to believe things would work out for the best, but the evidence at present was not in her favor. Her father had died, leaving her alone in the world. Her stepbrother wanted to send her to an asylum. And then, just when she had been ready to accept a proposal of marriage, Darington was taken away from her too. It all seemed so futile. Why open her heart up again if it was only to be broken?
A lump formed in her throat and she wiped her eyes again with her much-abused handkerchief. She feared she might dissolve into tears once more when Sally skulked into the room. With a glance, Emma realized she was not the only one feeling out of sorts.
“Sally? Are you well?”
Sally slumped down on a chair by the window and turned to her with sad eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want to go to America. I don’t want to be on a ship.”
Emma was not terribly surprised by this confession. “You certainly do not have to do anything you do not wish. I understand if you do not wish to leave England.” She could not fault the girl for not wishing to be banished with her. “I can travel alone with my chaperone, I’m sure.”
“But what of me?” cried Sally. “I want to be a lady’s maid for a fancy, rich lady and live in a nice house. I thought you was a fancy lady, but it turns out I was wrong.”
This outburst was so outside the bounds of what would be considered an appropriate utterance for a lady’s maid, Emma was taken aback and found herself without words to reply.
“I need a good reference so I can get a position with some fancy lady,” continued Sally with a pout. “I want you to write one for me before you leave.”
Emma felt strongly that the position of lady’s maid was not quite in keeping with Sally’s natural skills and abilities, whatever those might be. “Perhaps you should think of employment outside of service,” she suggested.
Sally’s eyes flashed. “You ain’t going to write me a letter?”
“I do not think you are well suited to the position of a lady’s maid and I do not wish to sign my name to something that is untrue. However, I will provide you with your remaining wages plus some extra, with which you can return home and look for other positions.” Emma fished a generous sum out of her reticule. She had been saving her meager pin money for a long time, and though it left her with less than was entirely comfortable for her journey, she wished to be more than fair to Sally.
Now that she had caught up with her designated chaperone, she could survive on what little she had left until she met her future husband. Of course it meant she no longer had funds to return if she wished, but she would deal with that problem if it came. She certainly could not send Sally away empty-handed.
“Here you are.” Emma handed Sally the generous sum. “That should provide enough for you to return to your parents and start over with whatever you should wish to do.”
Sally took the money but stared at it with a glower. No thanks emerged from her lips. “It’s cold out there. I’ll freeze trying to get back home.” She spoke with a sob.
“I did not realize you had been uncommonly cold. Let me see what I have to make you more comfortable.” Emma turned to rummage through her traveling chest. Sally already had a wool cloak and heavy wool gloves with a cotton liner. Still, everyone was cold traveling in January and Sally seemed more sensitive than most. “Would an extra muffler do for you?” she asked, turning back around with a scarf in hand.
“No. No, I just want to go.” Sally edged to the door. “I just want to be done with the whole mad lot of you.”
“Well then! I do wish you the best.”
Sally said nothing more but dashed out the door, slamming it behind her. Emma sighed and sank back down to the bed, feeling heavy with the tremendous events of the past few days. She had lost her home, her maid, her chance to wed her true love.
Emma took a deep breath and then another. She had to remind herself that this was exactly her plan all along. Nothing had changed.
Except her arranged fiancé was not the sea captain she wished to marry.
Emma took another breath and forced herself to her feet. She had chosen her fate, made the arrangements. It was time to face whatever her life would be. She squared her shoulders and held her head high. She would at least meet her chaperone with dignity, even if her heart was breaking.
She walked down the wooden stairs of the old Portsmouth inn, worn smooth over the years. She gave the name of her chaperone to a harried maid and was informed that the good lady was in a private dining room and was expecting her company.
Emma followed the directions through the smoke-filled common room to a door on the other side. She paused a moment, her hand on the latch, trying to steel her nerves.
“Please give my apologies to Lord Langley,” came a familiar voice on the other side of the door. “But I fear Miss St. James is in no condition to marry anyone.”
Emma clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. It was Eustace. He had found her.
“Lord Langley will be greatly disappointed,” responded a female voice Emma could only assume was her chaperone. “I cannot fathom why anyone would attempt to arrange a marriage to the grandson of the earl to a girl who is, as you say, quite mad.”
“Yes, I quite agree, it was ill-fated from the start. I only just found out about the plot and set out immediately. I felt it my duty to set things right.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I do appreciate your scruples.”
Emma’s heart beat so loud in her chest she feared it would be overheard. She backed away quietly, fearful the door would open at any second and Eustace would find her. She turned and strode back through the common room, smoke swirling around her.
She retreated to her room and bolted the door. She put a hand to her chest, forcing herself to think logically. She needed to talk to her chaperone and somehow convince her that Eustace was the one who was mentally unstable.
The ship did not leave for another day. She had to find a way to speak to her chaperone alone and enlist her help to sail away without alerting Eustace. It would be a difficult thing to manage, but the alternative was the asylum.
Emma would not surrender easily.
* * *
“The Kestrel—where is it heading?” asked Dare in a tone that was more a demand than a question.
“The Kestrel, ye say, my lord?” asked the harbormaster, removing his cap and scratching his gray head. “Sailed out not long ago. Not sure where she was heading. Can see her there bearing for the Isle of Wight. She’ll be turning into the Channel soon.” He pointed to the black outline of a ship.
“Thank you!” Dare kept the ship in sight as he strode down the sea wall. He could not lose Harcourt now. He passed the Venture, the ship Emma would be taking to America. Despite his great hurry, he slowed his step to give the ship a good look. It was a sturdy brig and would see Emma safely to the New World.
To his surprise, the sails unfurled and the ship began to move slowly from the harbor. The captain must have decided to leave early. It was a good thing he had brought Emma to her chaperone in time. Wasn’t it?
Dare’s gut clenched as he watched the ship slowly sail out of the harbor. He scanned the rail, looking for her. Would she stand and watch the shore drift away? Would she see him and wave? A fresh wave of agony washed over him as he watched the ship leave, taking away the light of his life. He could not even see her one last time.
He wished to chase her and beg her not to leave, but to be with him was to put her at risk. The thought of her being hurt made his blood a molten fire even as he shivered from the cold. No, Emma coul
d not be anywhere near him.
He must let her go.
He turned his collar up against the bitter wind and continued down the sea wall, keeping the outline of the Kestrel in sight.
He was not sure how many of his crew would be available. He had requested they not leave town, though he had no way to ensure they did not go home. Even if he could not find them all, he would make do with what he had.
“Cap’n Dare!” said a cheery voice, a jarring dissonance from Dare’s dark thoughts.
Dare turned to face his first mate. “Everett, you are well met.”
“I am much surprised to see you.” The young man pushed back his dark hair.
“Why should you be surprised?” Dare frowned.
“Because you gave us all extended shore leave.” Everett tilted his head to the side. “Your orders were to leave the ship and see our families. ’Course, I have no family so—”
“I gave no such command,” said Dare, his apprehension rising.
“But…” Everett stared at him wide-eyed. “Got your letter two days ago, commanding us all to go home to our families. Said not to return within two months or you’d never sail with us again. It had your seal.”
“Damnation!” Dare swore a string of curses. He did not typically give vent to emotion, but considering the day he was having, he allowed the indulgence. After keeping himself in check around polite company for months, it was a relief to express his feelings to one who would not take offense. “My signet ring was stolen. I never sent that letter.”
“I am sorry, Cap’n. I was fooled. I knew it was not your hand, but it had your seal, so I thought it was dictated.”
Dare shook his head. “Not your fault. Everett, we need to sail. Today.”
The man smiled as if Dare had said a joke, but the smile faded when he realized Dare was serious. “But we got no provisions, no crew.”
“There must be some sailors left in Portsmouth.”
Everett shook his head. “A few, maybe, but no good ones. The Royal Navy just sailed out, and they pressed every able sailor from eight to eighty into service. It’s mighty thin ’round these parts.”
“Round up the bad ones then, and get ammunition over food.”
“Oh, our ammunition’s full and loaded. The Lady Kate is never caught unawares.” The man gave him a sly smile.
“Good. I’ll round up the men. You get the provisions. We leave as soon as may be. See that ship?” Dare pointed to the shrinking form of the Kestrel. “That’s our quarry. Take a reading on it and mark its course.”
“What?” Everett stared at him aghast.
“Everett, we are going after Captain Harcourt.”
“Harcourt the traitor? But is he not dead?”
“No. But he will be.”
Thirty
Dare soon found that Everett had not been exaggerating when he told him that there were no sailors to be found. It was January, the time when many a ship wintered in the harbor and many a sailor rested by his hearth. Of course, there were always a hardy few who sailed, but with the departure of the navy with a full complement of impressed sailors and the interference from Captain Harcourt, Dare was thin on able seamen.
Dare had no doubt it was Harcourt who had deprived him of his crew. He wondered if Harcourt knew Dare had finally figured out who he was. Had Harcourt sent the crew away because he knew Dare was coming for him?
No, Dare reasoned, Everett said they had been dismissed a few days ago, before Dare knew Harcourt was alive. Harcourt had simply been causing trouble and ensuring that if Dare ever did suspect him, a quick chase would not be possible. If Harcourt was unaware Dare was coming for him, Dare might finally have an advantage, slim though it may be.
He glanced at the silhouette of the Kestrel, getting smaller every minute. He needed to hurry. After checking all the main pubs, a few gambling dens, and even asking about at a local church, Dare had had little luck finding eligible men. He was told by one lonely barmaid that the press gang had rounded up every able seaman not in jail.
So Dare headed to the jail. He was desperate. He could not come so close to apprehending the man who murdered his father only to remain in port because he did not have enough hands to make pursuit.
Dare spoke briefly to the warden at the local jail. They had about thirty men who had been arrested and convicted for one offense or another, mostly fighting, assault, or disorderly conduct. They were serving out their time, for none could afford the fine. These were not the seamen Dare would choose to man his ship, for he had seen the effects of poor seamanship and wanted nothing to do with it, but these were desperate times.
He walked into the jailhouse, the acrid smell of misery and human waste bringing back memories of being forced into Fleet prison. His boots scuffed down the stone staircase into the dank, cold darkness. The haunting memories of panic and desperation slithered through him. Walking farther into the bowels of the jail was like ripping the scab off his memory and watching the wound bleed.
The cells were mere alcoves in the stone wall, barely big enough for a cot or two and a bucket. Shaggy heads of dirty men lifted as he walked by.
“How do, gov’nor?” said one man who despite the several days’ growth of beard on his face obviously had attempted to keep his personal hygiene as best as could be done. The man leaned on the iron bars of his cage and regarded Dare with desperate eyes.
Dare gave the man a nod. “Looking for sailors.”
“Well then, you’re in luck, yes you are. For we’re sailors. I’m Davy Pricket, at yer service, sir.” The man gave a rather gallant bow for his circumstances. He was a wiry man who shifted from foot to foot, unable to stay still. Behind him in the dim cell, two other men stood, a balding man with two missing front teeth and a shorter man with wide shoulders.
“What was your crime?” asked Dare.
“Ah, I was caught in the right place at the wrong time.” The man swayed from side to side like a caged animal.
“He got caught by a pretty face,” smirked the toothless man behind him. “And her husband took offense.”
“Alas, I was not aware of the husband until too late.”
“Weren’t aware the cuckold was coming home, ye mean.”
“Aye, for I would have chosen a more opportune time for our tryst if I’d known.”
“You do say the damnedest things. But you started the biggest brawl I ever saw, I’ll give you that.” The old sailor spat on the floor through the hole in his teeth.
“What experience have you?” Dare asked Pricket.
“Well, I’ve sailed since I was a wee lad. Able seaman, I am. Been to Australia and back.” The man winked and Dare wondered what crime he had committed to be banished to the penal colony of Australia.
“And you two?” Dare addressed the men behind Pricket.
“I’ve been a sailor all my life,” said the older one. “Tom Bean is my name. And my friend is Tobias Stalk.”
“And you are a sailor as well, Mr. Stalk?”
“I’ve been many things,” said Tobias Stalk with a deep, reverberating voice. And then he stood up.
Dare suddenly realized Tobias Stalk was not a short man with wide shoulders but a tall man with shoulders to match the rest of his large frame. The man had to hunch over, for the height of the cell could not accommodate his size. He stepped forward to the iron bars, forcing Dare, who was a tall man in his own right, to look up at him. The man had to be over seven feet tall.
“Even a sailor?” Dare was doubtful. Could this man even fit belowdecks? He would forever be hitting his head. And how could he possibly fit into one hammock?
“Aye, sir. They pay me two men’s wages and give me two men’s portions, and I do the work of three.”
“I see,” said Dare, deciding to move the conversation along. “I am Captain Lord Darington. I am looking for sailing men who can fight
well. The target I am pursuing is a difficult one and will test the mettle of my crew to the utmost.” Dare walked up and down the jail corridor, inspecting the sad state of the men locked inside. The men were a sorry lot, but he hoped they would serve. Besides, given his current mission, it was probably best not to take his own crew. He would hate to make an honest man an accomplice in his crime, for Dare intended to engage Harcourt at sea, no matter what flag he flew.
“Captain Darington the Pirate Earl who returned rich as Midas?” asked Davy Pricket.
Darington had always bristled at the title. There was always a thin line between a privateer and a pirate. Standing in the jailhouse of Portsmouth, Dare realized he was about to cross it. To attack a ship without a letter of marque was piracy. To take down Harcourt, he would become a pirate.
“I will pay to release all who will serve, but I will demand absolute obedience to my orders. I served in the navy and I run my ship like it. Know that before you sign. I will push you to perform better than your best. And this mission is personal. If any of you want to keep your hands clean, you best stay where you are. I’ll not lie to you. I may not follow all the dictates of this great empire. In fact, I intend not to.”
“What’s the man mean?” asked Bean.
“It means he will treat us harsh but fair and he plans to do something illegal,” said Pricket, rubbing his hands together.
“Smuggling?” asked one man, licking his lips with glee.
“Worse,” replied Dare in a grim tone. “Who’s with me?”
All the men, about thirty in all, volunteered.
“We leave immediately,” said Dare and went to find the warden.
“Ye want these scurvy dogs, do ye?” The grizzled warden gave him a sharp look with his one good eye when Dare presented him with the news.
“I am in immediate need for hands on my ship. I cannot wait.”
“Ye must be hell-bent desperate if ye want these blackhearts. I’d rather sail with the bashi-bazouk than these louts.”
The warden’s comparison of the men he was freeing to mercenary Turks known for their savage brutality did not bode well. Dare would not have done it, except for the dire circumstances in which he found himself.
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