Earl Interrupted

by Amanda Forester

  If Dare could dispatch Harcourt quickly, he could sail to America and find Emma. With any luck, she would not have yet spoken her vows to some ill-mannered American and then he could…

  “M’lord?” The warden narrowed his good eye at him. “Ye want to pay the fines on these bastards or no?”

  Dare plunked down the required coin. He had his crew.

  Thirty-one

  Dare stepped on board the Lady Kate and took a deep breath. The familiar aroma of tar, cordage, and sailcloth welcomed him. He might have been an earl on land, but he was a captain at sea. It was here that he was home.

  He glanced about with a nervous eye, for he had harbored a fear that Harcourt had done some mischief to his Lady Kate while she was anchored in the harbor. A quick tour of his flagship reassured him that no sabotage was in play.

  Dare strode down the single, continuous battery deck and mounted the armed quarterdeck. The bumboats had arrived with his new recruits, and he watched them with resignation.

  “Those are some rum-looking cullies, they are,” muttered Everett, shaking his head. “Some of them look like drunken lubbers.”

  “They are,” admitted Dare with a sigh.

  “Here we are, Cap’n!” shouted Davy Pricket. “Ready and willing to make you proud.”

  Dare acknowledged the man with a brief nod. The first test of this ramshackle crew would be to attempt to make sail.

  “Have we the water?” Dare asked his first mate.

  “Aye, and the stores, though it be but meager fare on short notice. I did secure seven chickens, but a goat was not to be had.”

  “Good man. And the cannonade and powder?”

  “Aye, fully stocked.”

  Dare stared out at the Isle of Wight where the Kestrel had been last seen. It was time to make sail. Dare paused for a moment, almost afraid to give the order. With the surly lot before him, he felt sure disaster was brewing. Still, one could not live a coward.

  “All hands to make sail,” he ordered. The call was repeated, and with some confusion over who was to do what, the men found their places, or were shoved into place by Tobias Stalk, who by sheer dint of height and girth had taken charge of the deck.

  “Away loft,” Dare called, and the men who knew what they were about raced up the shrouds with practiced skill. Those who were learning their craft took longer and were subjected to many a curse and jab for slowness.

  Dare nodded to Everett, and he continued to give the calls. “Trice up. Lay out!” The men worked to free the gaskets, the lines that held the sails furled to the yards.

  “Let fall. Sheet home. Hoist away. Watch the lines now! Look lively.”

  A commotion in the foretop caught their attention as Davy Pricket lost his footing on the upper topsail yard. To Dare’s horror, the man fell with a shriek, only to be caught by the ankle by an errant line and swung helplessly across the deck, screaming with all his might.

  “Grab him, men. No, not all of you. Look to the sheets. Hands to braces. Belay!” yelled Everett, running down to the deck to help the men rescue the howling lad who was hanging upside down, rotating slowly.

  Dare stood as still as a statue, his hand clasped tightly behind his back. The sails filled gently at first, then the wind took hold and the Lady Kate was under way.

  “We shall endeavor to improve that performance, Mr. Everett,” Dare commented without emotion.

  “Aye, though I doubt I shall ever be able to show my face in Portsmouth again,” moaned Everett.

  “You and me both,” muttered Dare.

  * * *

  Emma cracked open the door of her guest room and watched carefully for anyone who might be walking by. She needed help and prayed that support could be found. Finally, a maid strode up the stairs, a basket of linens in hand. Emma took a chance and stepped outside to speak with her.

  “Hello, I am looking for Mrs. Atwood. I wonder if she is in her room and if you could direct me to her?” Emma spoke in a hushed tone, fearful to be overheard by her stepbrother.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” replied the maid. She pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes as she balanced a basket of linens on her hip. “Mrs. Atwood left immediately after speaking with the gentleman downstairs.”

  Emma stared at the maid, unable to speak for a moment. “She…she left?”

  “Yes, miss. She said the captain of the ship wanted to leave a day early and was only waiting for all the passengers. She had been waiting for someone but said she was no longer— Oh! Was that you, miss?”

  “I… Yes.”

  “If you be Miss St. James, then there’s a gentleman waiting for you in the common room.”

  Emma’s face must have gone pale, for the maid continued in a friendly manner.

  “You don’t want to meet with him?”

  “No, indeed. I must reach the ship without alerting him.” Emma had no choice but to take the girl into her confidence. “Is there a way you can help?”

  The maid looked sympathetic. “What is he? A jilted lover? A debt collector?”

  “Worse. An unwanted relation.”

  “Ah, those are the worst. Well now, I don’t know what I can do. That man’s been pacing about, watching the door like a hawk.”

  “Would five shillings help you think of something?”

  The maid gave her a wide grin, highlighting a spate of freckles across her upturned nose. A few moments later, Emma and the bright-haired maid were carrying her trunk down the side servants’ stairs and out the back door into the alleyway at the back of the inn. A shivery boy held the leads to a pony cart as he waited for the owner to return.

  “Here you go. Get in,” commanded the maid, and Emma shoved her large trunk into the cart and jumped in after it.

  “Hey! What’s you doing?” cried the boy.

  “You said you wanted to drive this,” replied the maid. “Now’s your chance. Take her down to the docks, to the Venture, and come back as quick as may be.”

  “What about ’im?” The boy pointed to the kitchen door and presumably the owner of the cart.

  “You know he likes to chat it up with Beatrice. He won’t be back out here for a while. You want to freeze or have a little fun?”

  The boy, who could not have been older than ten years, gave a wide grin and hopped up, giving a smart crack of the leads over the pony’s back. The cart jolted forward and they careened down the narrow alley. Emma clung to the pony cart with one hand and her case with the other, praying that she would not be flung from the open bed. They rounded the corner and whisked past the front of the inn just as a man wearing a greatcoat with multiple capes was backing out of the door. Was it Wynbrook? Maybe he could help. The man turned. Their eyes met.

  It was Eustace.

  “Hurry!” Emma called to the lad, her heart in her throat. It was an unnecessary rejoinder to the boy who was already urging the pony into a gallop as the cart skittered across the icy cobblestones. Emma’s heart pounded, though she was not sure whether from fear of being caught by Eustace or being overturned in a pony cart. By the time they reached the docks, she was just happy to be alive and able to jump down from the cart without injury.

  “The Venture is in the harbor. Step lively. I’ve got to get this back or I’ll get a whipping,” the boy cried with a wide grin.

  “Thank you!” called Emma, having just enough time to grab her trunk before the boy snapped the reins once more and was gone. She turned toward the harbor, freezing salt spray stinging her eyes. Ships of all shapes and sizes were anchored in the harbor. She wondered which one was the Venture and how she was to get to it.

  She walked along the sea wall, struggling with her large trunk. A group of women, laughing and talking, were walking toward her at a fast pace.

  “Excuse me,” Emma said to a woman with heavily rouged cheeks and a bright-yellow gown. “Could you tell me which of
these ships is the Venture and how I might get to it?”

  “Don’t know the names, my sweet,” she replied in a drawl. “But if ye want to get to a ship, ye got to take the bumboat.”

  “Bumboat?” asked Emma.

  The women all laughed at her confusion and made some remarks about the anatomy of sailors that were certainly not for maidenly ears.

  “It’s what the gigs are called what take folk to the ships in the harbor. You coming?” asked a young woman with short-cropped, black hair.

  Emma joined them, and they led her down to a dock, where gigs were rowed back and forth. One was just leaving, and the women all called out for it to hold and scrambled into the wooden boat, crowded with sailors, women, and even a few children. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, with the patrons who were there earlier protesting the addition of the women.

  “Make room! Make room!” demanded a sailor holding the oars. “You coming?” he asked Emma, beginning to push away from the dock.

  “Emma! Come back here at once!” Eustace was running down the dock after her.

  “Yes!” She jumped into the boat, trunk and all, to the shouts and curses of the people in the boat. She ended up crammed in between two of the women as they all used her trunk as a seat. The man pushed off and Emma struggled to maintain her balance as the small gig bounced in the waves, splashing everyone with freezing spray.

  “Stop! Come back here at once!” yelled Eustace, panting at the end of the dock.

  “No more room! Wait for the next one!” called the sailor, and the two-man crew set to the oars, rowing out into the harbor.

  “Emma! Emma, you come back, or I swear, you shall be sorry!” yelled Eustace.

  “She don’t want you no more!” shouted one of the women.

  “You ain’t nothing to her no more!” shouted another, along with a variety of insults and uproarious laughter from the women.

  Eustace sputtered and cursed and paced on the dock. Had it not been for the freezing water, Emma was convinced he would have jumped in after her.

  “There now,” reassured the woman in the bright yellow on her right, patting her shoulder. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  Emma took a shaky breath. “Thank you. I…I cannot fall into his control.”

  “No, not a prig like him. Right flash cove,” said the woman with cropped hair on her left. If Emma didn’t understand everything she said, at least it sounded sympathetic.

  “I am trying to reach the Venture,” she said to the men at the oars.

  “Outta luck there, missy. She sailed out an hour ago,” replied the sailor at the oars.

  “The ship left?” Emma once again felt she was sinking. She took a stuttered breath. She knew that she was not supposed to contact Dare, but these were desperate times. “Could you take me to the Lady Kate instead?”

  “The Lady Kate just set sail herself. Made a mess of it,” he added with a laugh.

  Emma’s heart beat loudly in her ears. What was she going to do now? She could not return to the dock. Though she could no longer hear him, she could still see the dark figure of Eustace Ludlow pacing the dock.

  “Aww, now, don’t be upset. Was your man on one of those ships?” asked the woman with black hair.

  “He… Well, yes.” Emma’s heart felt heavy at the thought that Dare was gone. “I am not sure what I am to do next.”

  “Come with us!” declared the woman in yellow. “A face like yers could make a fortune.”

  “Awww, no,” argued her companion. “Can’t you see she ain’t no light-skirt?”

  “Excuse me, miss,” said a man in the bow of the gig with a weatherworn face and white, straggly hair sticking out of a blue cap. “Seems you’re a bit distressed.”

  “Yes, I have missed my friends who have sailed on the Venture, and now I am not sure what to do.” Emma forced herself to smile. “Forgive me for burdening you with my troubles, sir.”

  “I am Captain Grimes, happy to be of service to such a fine lady as yourself. Why, I warrant I could get you to the Venture.”

  “You could? But how?”

  “Ah, she be a large ship. I got me a smaller frigate. No doubt I could catch up with them before the sun sets. They do it all the time. Takes them bigger ships a while to navigate out of the harbor.”

  “Does it?” Hope crept up. “I do greatly appreciate the offer, but…forgive me, Captain, but you are unknown to me. I fear protocol is not on our side.”

  “I understand, understand completely. Wouldn’t want me own daughters to run off with some strange sea captain. Wouldn’t be right—no, not right at all. I only offered because I thought I could be of service.”

  “He might be able to help,” whispered the woman beside her with the cropped hair.

  “Or make you his doxy,” countered the woman in yellow.

  “Too old,” argued her friend.

  “Them’s the worst. They can be a randy lot, them old salts.”

  “Awww, he looks nice. I’d go wi’ him.”

  “You’d go wi’ anyone.”

  Emma considered what other options she might have, but her choices were few. She could begin a new occupation with the women beside her or remain in the boat and meet Eustace when she returned to the dock. He was so angry she feared she might not live to see the asylum. No, she could not do either of those.

  “Did you say we could meet with the Venture before nightfall?” she called to Captain Grimes.

  “Have you sitting down with your friends to supper.” The man gave her a creased smile, rows of wrinkles forming around his mouth. He did seem a kindly man. It may be unorthodox, but given her current predicament, it was her best choice.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Captain Grimes. I do hope we can overtake the Venture as quick as can be.” She was certain Darington would be angry to see her in such circumstances, but she was stuck taking her chances with Captain Grimes.

  Thirty-two

  Dare shrugged off the inauspicious start and focused on catching his quarry. They rounded the Isle of Wight and sailed into the channel. Far on the horizon were two ships. One of them had to be the Kestrel.

  He took a bearing and set his course. Attacking a merchant vessel flying an American flag was against maritime law. He would face charges unless he could prove his claim that the captain was the traitor Harcourt—something that would be difficult.

  No matter. Dare would face Harcourt and deal with the consequences later. There was no other option. If he had to break every naval law and become the basest of pirates, he would do it.

  Dare walked to the worn wood railing of the quarterdeck. At least he had the Lady Kate. He had never captained a ship in which he had more confidence. She was fast, sure, and surprisingly strong. She could be a bit temperamental if not treated right, but for those who knew their craft, the Lady Kate was the best ship a captain could want.

  “Let them fly. Full sheets to the wind,” Darington commanded.

  “Stiff wind,” commented his first mate, giving voice to his concerns.

  “You doubt my powers of observation, Mr. Everett?” Dare gave him a cold look.

  “Nay, Cap’n. Full sheets to the wind!” called the first mate. The cries were taken up and the top sails unfurled without further incident.

  The Lady Kate crested and fell as she sliced through the waves. Dare held his ground as the ship creaked loudly and tilted hard to the port side. A few of the crew looked at each other as they grabbed the railing, and Dare felt more than one pair of eyes on him, silently asking if he was trying to kill them within a league of the shore.

  Dare ignored them. He knew what his Kate could do.

  He lifted a glass and swept the horizon for a glimpse of his quarry and narrowed in on a speck on the horizon. Determination soared. He was close to ending Harcourt’s reign of terror. Even pushing their speed,
night would fall before they caught up with the Kestrel. That could be beneficial, since Harcourt would not be able to identify the Lady Kate in the darkness and be warned that Dare was on the hunt. This time, Dare had the upper hand.

  The shouts and guffaws of some of his unruly men caught his attention, and he glared at the men in question. They were staring at another ship that had emerged from the harbor into the channel. This was not the conduct he appreciated in a controlled crew. He turned back to the horizon but was distracted by shouts of, “Get her! Don’t let her go! I’ll take you, sweetheart.”

  Dare raised an eyebrow to Everett, who explained. “Apparently there is a commotion aboard the Rooster. A woman is being chased across decks.”

  Finally, out of sheer curiosity, Dare turned his glass to the Rooster behind them. He focused on the form of a woman, struggling in the arms of a sailor.

  Dare’s blood ran to ice.

  It was Emma St. James.

  * * *

  “Let’s get to know each other better.”

  Emma perched on a chair in Captain Grimes’s quarters. Warning bells rang through her mind, but since they were heading out to sea, there was precious little she could do about it now.

  “Please make yourself at ease.” The captain smiled at her in a manner that was decidedly unkind. Emma feared she had made a horrible mistake.

  “I would like to return to my ship, if you please,” said Emma firmly.

  “Ah, now, a prime article like you? You’ll be much happier here wi’ me.”

  “No! I must insist that you either help me reach my ship, or return me to the shore. Let me be clear: I do not wish for your advances.” Emma’s heart beat in her throat.

  “Ah, now, I know I got some years on me, but once you get to know me, you’ll like me better.” The captain moved his chair closer and put a hand on her knee, slowly sliding it up her thigh and squeezing.

  Emma stared at the man’s hand on her thigh, too shocked and scared to move. Silently, she prayed as the man leaned closer, the smell of whiskey on his breath. She had always believed that the Lord was with her, that he would save her. She had always tried to do the right thing. And look what it got her. She was trapped on a strange boat, with some lecherous captain, and none of it was fair.