He paused for a moment, biting his lip, and then ventured, "Your name is not Kate, is it, Ma’am?"
"Did he take my name in vain then, or with just the usual swear-word or two?"
The midshipman grinned. "Well, that clears it up then, Ma'am, he did know it was you. He was talking to Dr. Llewellyn all right, that’s how I heard your name. The captain said to rescue you again, and I believe he meant sooner rather than later."
"Then it's even worse than I feared. I feel you must have misunderstood his orders. Drop me over the side, maybe. Push my head under water, perhaps. Turn me into shark bait—definitely possible too. But rescue me? No, no, I will not believe that."
Mr. Murray looked grief-stricken, and the crew was getting restless. The frigate was drawing nearer by the minute, and was now close enough to make out the men on the decks. From there, Kate could see the quarterdeck, and the captain. She waved.
"Please, Ma'am," Murray said and reached for her.
She pushed his hand away. "Leave off, I tell you. That man will say 'I told you so,' and 'What is it now, Madam?' and claim he rescued me again. To tell you the truth, I can't fault him a bit, nor can I bear the idea."
Kate had Sir Edward’s tone down quite well, and more than the crew were laughing by then. Mr. Murray couldn’t help himself. He tried to clear his throat and laugh at the same time.
The frigate was within shouting range now. Sir Edward let out such a bellow of orders that the crewmen grabbed a hold on Kate and pulled her into the boat with no ceremony and even fewer manners. Luckily, Mr. Murray caught her journals on her way down, so she didn't resist and didn't say a word at first. She did manage to pull her skirts down to a modest level, but knew her blouse would be soaking wet and maybe a little too revealing.
She said indignantly, “I suppose if you’re going to insist.”
"Ma'am?" Mr. Murray said.
She leaned closer to him and tried to speak low enough so not many more could hear. "Don't tell him what I said, will you? About pushing me under or throwing me over, and definitely don’t mention sharks. I don’t want you giving him ideas."
"Ma'am?" he said again, and this time, Mr. Murray looked at her strangely.
She straightened her petticoats, and then took her journals from him. "Thank you for your trouble, Mr. Murray. I don't mean to be difficult, it's just in my nature, being neither saint or mermaid."
He gave her a slight salute and was not very adept at hiding his grin or his curiosity. By the time they reached the ship, the other sailors had started rigging a rope and wood-slat sling chair for her to be lifted aboard. But Kate was in no mood for pampering now.
She handed Mr. Murray the journals again and said, "Please hold these a moment, sir." Then she slipped on her boots, tucked the back tail of her skirt into her front waistband to make her skirt form more-useful pantaloons. She took the books in one arm and climbed the rope ladder like any good sailor with a burden.
On the deck, the captain was there waiting. She didn't think he looked as mad as maybe he should have. She couldn't help her own smile, because she was glad to see him and didn't care who knew it. Even Captain Sir Edward Lindsay.
Especially Edward Lindsay. Her smile got wider, but his did not show at all. Perhaps she had misinterpreted his expression. Or maybe it was just a sour stomach, she thought, and started flipping through her medicinal journal.
"We meet again," he said, with a slight touch to his hat in an informal salute.
It was worse than she thought. He was annoyed already, and she hadn't even opened her mouth. Kate's head tilted to the side as she studied him a moment. He was as good as she remembered, but he looked better in his own environment on the ship than in a drawing room or at the dinner table. The sea suited him.
She said, "Are you following me?"
The last syllable lilted up high and soft with her teatime accent. She knew it was annoying, but it was also habit, and it would just have to do.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The breeze picked up and she shivered, but then noticed that she was not properly concealed in her little Spanish peasant blouse. She folded her arms around herself.
"Do you have a blanket, sir? I seem to have a bit of a chill."
He motioned, and someone draped a thick wool tartan around her shoulders. It smelled of wet hemp, stale cigar, and something worse she didn't care to contemplate for much longer.
Then the captain started giving orders. "Mr. Tyler, see to some quarters for our guest. Mr. Murray, mind your business with that boat, we must be off. Tow it; we’ll bring it up later. I do not want to tarry here. Dr. Llewellyn, some spirits if you please, double ration."
Kate started to edge away. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she didn't want to be in the way.
"Madam, I would offer you dinner in my cabin with my officers tonight," he said.
She blinked at him for a moment. "Why don't you call me Kate like everyone else?"
"I do not know you that well, and it is not proper."
"Hmm," she added, and didn't know what else to say. Suddenly she noticed they had made sail and were heading out to sea. "Where are we going, can't you take me ashore?"
"Not here, that is Spain, in case you were not aware. In short, you seem to be our guest for a while."
"But I have— I don't want to—"
"This is a ship in His Majesty's service, Madam, not your personal conveyance. I have business to attend and you have already caused our delay. We will discuss your own business later, if you please."
"I did not cause your delay, I suspect you snuck in to get fresh water and perhaps some supplies, same as me. You didn't hear me call out for help, because I didn’t do so. And even if I were marooned, a gentleman wouldn't remind me. Oh, is that man eating an apple? Is that a barrel of apples you have there?"
A seaman walked past, in fact; eating an apple as he haphazardly helped some other crewmen roll the barrel by. Rations were usually tightly controlled on a ship, and a seaman didn’t eat in front of his captain or the guests. At least without offering some.
Sir Edward glared at her a moment. "Did anyone ever tell you that you are the most aggravating woman that ever walked on deck or quay?"
"Not to my face."
Strangled-off noises came from a few men nearby.
“Be off,” Sir Edward barked.
The sounds stopped abruptly, and crewmen got on about their business.
Sir Edward took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly before he said, "I must bid you good day for now, Madam, Kate, Miss Senlis. I have my duty to attend."
She meant to say something, but her stomach growled. Kate felt like jumping over the side.
He called after, "Mr. Murray, when you are done there, see to the comfort of our guest."
"Aye, Captain," the midshipman said.
Mr. Murray stood by her side a moment, then swung his arm to show the direction. "This way, Ma'am. I believe we now have quarters near enough prepared, and I think I can round up some food."
She leaned over to whisper, "If you really wanted to make me happy, you’d give me an apple.”
He obliged, even shining it on his sleeve.
She leaned close again and whispered, “I'll wager that you're wishing you had left me behind after all, Mr. Murray."
He chuckled. "That would be a wager you would lose, Ma'am. I would not have missed this for the world.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 25 - Mattie Little
Kate slept through the dinner hour, and was surprised that no one came to wake her. She didn't regret her absence for she felt the familiar nausea of seasickness. It didn't seem to matter how many years she had spent at sea, even a day on shore and then back to ship brought the malady on once again. The one saving grace was that she didn't retch, only felt on the brink all of the while.
It was dark when she struggled from the hammock in the cramped quarters. A small porthole was cracked open to let in the sea air and the sound of the wav
es lapping at the sides of the ship. It wasn't a smooth sea. The big waves rolled smoothly enough, but it made walking a bit of a challenge.
Kate staggered to the porthole and looked out at the dark horizon, which always seemed to calm her stomach. But she could not see out very well. She tried to push the small vent open further, but it barely budged. Still, so near the porthole, the air was more refreshing. It helped her to wake up. By the moon, Kate guessed it was before midnight, but not by much. Then she heard the ship's bell. It was well past time, and she frowned.
Too much time on land, she decided. “I have lost accuracy in my figuring by sight.”
She gathered the blanket around herself and left the cabin in her bare feet. The wood felt rough, but it gave her confidence in the familiar. On deck, a Marine was slumped over, close to sleeping on duty. Another was sucking at a plug of tobacco and spitting in a slow rhythm. The sound and the smell made her stomach lurch. She swallowed back the bitterness that came up in her throat.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have eaten all three apples at once, she thought.
The wakeful Marine only nodded as she passed, but he nudged the other. That one started and his musket clattered to the deck. The first one grunted and turned away. Kate walked toward the bow of the ship, pausing on occasion to steady herself on the rail.
She knew she was not alone here. Even at night, there were things to be done on a ship. A sail corner had worked itself free and was flapping gently in the breeze. A yawning sailor passed her on his way to fix it. If he noticed her there, he didn’t show it.
“You seem no worse from the wear,” someone said from behind.
Kate stubbed her toe on a bucket at the unexpected voice so close. The bucket rolled lazily across the deck, then back and forth with the waves. The man picked it up.
"Sorry to startle you. I don’t suppose you remember me?"
“I remember plenty of things, why wouldn’t I remember you? Being rude and being forgetful are too very different things. You’re the surgeon.”
“I stand corrected,” he said, and bowed. “Mauritius Llewellyn, Esquire and surgeon, you are correct."
She said, “Been to Mauritius, very pretty there, except for the Dutch, they ate all the birds. Llewellyn, that’s Welsh.”
He smiled, “So true, for all the good it does me. I have never been to Wales. I was born in London, but my family left for the West Indies when I was only a small boy. My father had debts you see, and he put us all into indenture there on a plantation. Your finger there, I should see to it, I think.”
Kate glanced down at the darkening fingernail, and then slipped her hand under the blanket and out of sight. "It's just a bruise. I had a problem with a boulder on the beach.”
He was still smiling. “Tell me what happened.”
“Tell us both, but make it some other time,” Sir Edward said from behind them. “It is late, Dr. Llewellyn. Madam, er, Miss, you should be in your cabin.”
Dr. Llewellyn made his retreat with a slight bow.
The captain escorted her back to the cabin, and inside, opened the small porthole as far as it could go. He didn’t seem to find that it needed any effort at all, and Kate went up to study the hinges. Perhaps it was just a captain’s prerogative, she thought.
“You are feeling better?” he said.
“Yes. I seemed to have slept through your dinner.”
“The surgeon informs me that you were probably very tired, and I should not have expected you for dinner tonight. Since you are feeling better, I will expect you at table tomorrow with my officers.”
Before she could answer, he tipped his hat and left her.
* * * * *
At dinnertime the next day, the captain’s cabin door was already standing opened when Kate got there. The Marine on guard waved her inside, but no one else was there yet.
“I am early?” she said.
The captain shook his head. “I told the others to wait. I thought we might discuss intrigue while we had a moment alone.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“Discuss you and your recent movements, more specifically,” he added.
“But you said intrigue. Do you mean spying? Why would you think I was involved in any of that sort?”
Kate knew it was a fine line, for Louis had been involved, though not against England. She knew that now, though she had suspected different in prison. And anything she had done to help him was personal, not political, and none of Sir Edward’s business anyway.
He said, “There is the fact that you took the Wilde out on that useless excursion. The only possible reason would have been to make a rendezvous.”
“A rendezvous with who? Or is it whom? I really should learn proper English. But it’s a foolish notion anyway. Meet me at this latitude and longitude at this particular time, ignoring possible storms, imposing blockades, and the fact that we might be infringing on both French and Spanish territorial waters. Who in their right might would wait, bobbing about on the waves, and just wave how-do if a British ship happens to find you?”
She leaned closer then, “You know, there is a blockade.”
Of course, this is more or less exactly what had happened. She could see on his face that he realized it too, but she felt very warm this close to him, and it distracted her from her next thought.
She leaned back and said stubbornly, “If I am a spy, sir, I am not a very good one. Besides, it was not my idea to take her out.”
“The Earl? The Marquis? His mysterious friend? Are you saying the Earl and his guests are involved then?”
“Why don’t you ask Ambrose Standish? It was his idea to take her out. Never mind, he’ll probably deny it. Again.”
He opened his mouth, but closed it without a word. Then he watched her face for signs of deceit. Surely something must show for such a blatant lie . . . probable lie . . . possible lie.
She added, “I don’t mean to be critical of your ruling class, sir, for I know how much your aristocracy thinks of itself, but your Earl is an idiot. The Marquis is a fop and his friend or cousin, or whatever he calls himself, is as scary a man as I ever have met.”
“You know nothing of their activities?”
He sounded doubtful, then remembered some semblance of manners and offered her a seat. She didn’t take it.
“I know they were drunk most of the time,” she said. ”I know the Earl will die a fat man with brandy on his breath and gout in his big toe. And the Marquis will be buried in one grave over. As for their mutual friend, of him I know nothing at all. He made sure of that, and I prefer it that way. His eyes were as cold as the water around the Cape, and he carried enough hardware to be a force unto himself.”
“Deflections. You claim such innocence, but what about your code name? What do you spies call it? Your alias?”
He said it with such conviction that Kate thought he must have really given it some thought. That it was completely wrong was more disturbing that the notion that he’d been thinking of her at all.
Her eyebrow went up, just the one. “Alias?”
“The sailor called you Mattie Little. It was Mr. Whayles, and he has known you a long time, I take it.”
"Yes, he was the first man I knew on the Wilde. I mean besides my father. I helped him sew a sail then, and ever since, he has never let me mend another, now that you mention it."
Kate was then lost in the thinking, trying to remember if she ever had, in fact.
Sir Edward sat down and leaned back in the chair to study her. She could see the confusion there. He said quietly, "Mattie Little. Is that your real name or is it the other? Is this all a ruse, a disguise to hide your intrigue?”
She stared at him a moment, her heart thumping so hard that surely he must have heard it. She swallowed hard and said lowly too, "My real name? Whatever do you mean?"
"You speak French, yet you deny it."
"I don't—"
"I have heard you," he said, then flinched for he said it too loudly.
She hesitated . . . "When?"
Sir Edward knew he was turning red. He straightened his back in the hopes that it would help him regain his composure. How could he tell her that she had been sleeping whenever she spoke it—there on his ship the very first time, and again when the Wilde was adrift—and that he had been witness both times?
"Answer the question," he said just as lowly.
"My name, my real name, is Katherine Eleanor Senlis. But don’t call me that, I won’t know that it’s me. Katherine is my mother’s name. And why would you ask such a thing?"
"I have my reasons," he said and leaned back again.
Kate thought he looked like he very much wanted to sigh, but would explode before he let that much emotion escape.
She said, “If you want me to speak with you any longer, you will tell me something more about why you are asking."
He sighed. "Intrigue, as I said.”
“You think I’m a spy because I supposedly speak French and took a voyage with a few Frenchmen, who weren’t my idea, by the way. Oh, and I pinched the French chef’s herbs or two. Whatever else do you have brewing there in your mind, sir? Whatever it is, I can already tell that it’s wrong. Is that why you don’t trust me?"
Then she stopped—hands on her hips—waiting for his response.
* * * * *
"Pinched herbs? I have no idea— No, that is— There are other things."
Her head tilted to the side as she watched him, but she looked more confused than worried or afraid. And she didn’t look devious, but that could be part of her worth as a spy. Sir Edward knew that he should be careful, but he didn’t have that tingling at the back of his neck that signaled danger now. He felt that he was still in safe waters here.
Her hand dropped down to her sides as she heavily sighed. She said, "My father's name was Samuel Matteson Senlis," she said. "My grandfather's name was Samuel too. Samuel Gregory Benedict Senlis, III, of all things."
"Are you avoiding the subject?" he said.
"Samuel, my grandfather, was also a ship's captain. When my father first came aboard at the ripe old age of ten, they called him Mattie, for Matteson, to avoid being confused with my grandfather who was Samuel too."
The Wilde Flower Saga: A Contrary Wind (Historical Adventure Series) Page 26