The curate’s face had whitened, despite the captain’s assurance but he said nothing more about the subject during the meal and the conversation turned to other topics. Captain Hardie answered questions, told stories and entertained his guests. He encouraged Lucy and Mr. Anselm to tell him about themselves. Lucy said simply that she was going to live with her grandmother following her father’s death and received the condolences of the others. Mr. Anselm was travelling on to Dublin after the ship had called into Cove. He was to visit a Bishop Mortimer there before travelling on to the parish of Dundalk to the north of the city. This was his first appointment and he was looking forward to making a real change to the lives of his parishioners. No one commented but Lucy thought privately that he was unlikely to succeed in his ambition. He had a too good opinion of himself and preferred to speak rather than to listen to other people.
When the captain was called away at the changing of the watch, the group left the table and broke up afterwards. Surprisingly, despite apprehension, strange smells and the movement of the waves, Lucy fell asleep on her hard bunk almost as soon as her eyes closed.
Chapter Five
Lucy did not stir until she heard the noises above her which told her that the sails were being trimmed to a new direction. A knock on her door heralded the arrival of the promised can of hot water. She got out of her bunk and used the head, not without some difficulty, for the ship seemed to be rising up and falling down in an alarming manner. She retreated to her cabin and made a brief toilette. Mrs. Hardie was right. It was difficult to be both clean and neat under these conditions. She washed her face and hands, brushed and plaited her hair and twisted it into a knob on top of her head, using most of the hairpins she possessed. I should have brought more, she thought, but how could I know I would need so many?
Mrs. Hardie was in the saloon at the back of the ship and there was bread, cheese and small ale on the table for Lucy to break her fast. Lucy only managed a few mouthfuls before she had to excuse herself and run out on deck. The food, although it was still fresh, having been loaded only yesterday, did not sit easily on her stomach with the strange motion. Mrs. Hardie laughed and told her later that, everyone suffered at first but, by the time they reached Ireland, she wouldn’t remember that she’d ever been seasick at all.
The weather had changed from the day before. All the sea fret had gone and the sun shone in a blue sky flecked with clouds. The ship scudded along under a press of canvas, cutting into the waves and leaving a long white trail behind her. When Lucy arrived, the captain greeted her and said,
“Three more hours and we’ll be into Portsmouth. That dot you can see on the horizon is the Isle of Wight. We’ve made good time during the night, for the wind came round and it’s blown us along. Just what we wanted — a nice quick voyage.”
“Would it be possible for me to go ashore when you reach Portsmouth?” Lucy asked. She had a need to walk on something solid which did not roll or bounce. She thought of a bath but decided it was too much trouble since she would only get dirty again straight away.
“Aye it would. We spend today and tomorrow morning there, loading and unloading. Quite a lot of cargo is waiting for us at Pompey. We’ll leave on the afternoon tide if the weather doesn’t turn nasty but it looks settled enough so we should be all right. I’ll send one of the lads with you so you don’t get lost. Pompey’s a big town if you’ve never been there before.”
Captain Hardie was as good as his word. As soon as the ship had anchored, Lucy was able to disembark in the small boat that ferried people and supplies to the mole.
“Be sure to be back at six bells for your dinner,” Mrs. Hardie shouted down to her, “and don’t wander away. Lenny will see nothing happens to you but this is a navy town and full of rogues. Do as he tells you and you won’t come to harm.”
Once she was on dry land, Lucy found that her head still swayed with the motion of the ship and her legs did not work as they should. Laughing Lenny drew her hand through his arm and told her to lean on him. Lucy did, although she felt awkward because she had never been so close to any young man before. Yet she knew that, if she had refused his offer, she would probably have fallen.
“Is it always like this when you get off a ship?” Lucy moaned.
“The first time you go to sea it is and sometimes afterwards. Then the feeling just goes. What do you want to do first, Miss?”
“Walk around until I’m more like myself.”
Lenny, a sailor in his early twenties, had a smiling face and a helpful manner. He was tall and broad, a fact that had caused the captain to choose him for this duty. He said he was pleased to be escorting a pretty young lady which was far better than loading cargo any day of the week. All his mates were envious of him. Answering Lucy’s questions, after her head had cleared a bit, he told her that he came from Portsmouth. He had been at sea since he turned eleven and hoped to be given his own ship one day or at least to become a mate. He escorted her along the harbour, showing her the ships at anchor or tied up at one of the walls. Lighters rowed to and fro across the open water, piled with goods or passengers. A barge had been tied to the side of the White Hart and a net of cargo was being let down into her, even as they watched.
“That boat’s off to Africa, after the slavers,” Lenny told her, pointing to a tall ship painted in red and black which was anchored in the channel. “She came in here before we left to go up to London so she must be almost ready to leave by now. She’ll be relieving one of the others which are on duty. There’s a squadron sailing around the coast of Africa, hoping to catch the ships that take the blacks across to the Caribbean. Nasty trade, but a lot of the lads moan about having to stop it when they’re in the taverns. They say it’s as hot as hell down there.”
Later on, Lenny pointed out a ship with three big masts, hoisting its sails and manoeuvring away from its buoy and out into the fairway.
“A silk trader from China. I’ve seen her before many a time, ever since I was a little nipper. Takes months to get there and months to get back, sometimes years if they’re unlucky, but they say it’s worth it. Their cargo sells for a lot of money.”
“Would you ever go on such a voyage?” Lucy asked.
“Me? No thank you. I like my home too much. London to Ireland and sometimes up to Scotland suits me fine. Mam wouldn’t want me to be away too long and there’s my girl waiting for me too.”
“Oh? Tell me about her.”
Lenny’s description of his Bessie caused Lucy’s eyes to widen. She was obviously a beauty, to Lenny anyway, and a loving person.
“A few more voyages and I’ll have enough money to marry her,” Lenny confided.
“I wish you every happiness,” Lucy replied heartily, a little envious of the unknown girl who had inspired such affection.
“Are you hungry yet, Miss Lucy?” Lenny asked her.
“Yes, I am.” Lucy suddenly felt ravenous for the first time since she had gone on board the ship.
“My aunty lives near here and she keeps a tavern. She’s a good cook so I usually visit her whenever I’m ashore.”
“And you brought me this way deliberately?” Lucy asked with a grin.
“Mrs Hardie thought you might be able to eat properly once you got on shore, so she told me to bring you here just in case. Some of the eating houses in this town I wouldn’t go near unless I wanted to be poisoned. Come along and meet my Auntie Nan.”
Lenny’s Auntie Nan proved to be a good cook, although of the plain and simple variety. Lucy dined on pea soup, made to the navy’s own recipe, scrambled eggs and a sweet pasty filled with apples and spices. It was the best meal she had eaten since she had left her cousin’s house. Replete and much happier as a result, Lucy thanked her hostess, a red-faced harassed woman who beamed at her compliments.
Then she set off with Lenny to return to the White Hart. This time Lenny took her to the more fashionable areas of Portsmouth but Lucy secretly thought them rather tame after Bond Street. She had no desire to lin
ger. They had turned down a narrow road which led to the harbour when Lucy saw two men coming towards her and thought she recognised one of them. Surely it couldn’t be? Not here in Portsmouth. It was really nothing more than his shape and the way he walked yet she wanted to be sure. Instinctively she hurried forward. The men were not walking at any great pace but they did not notice her approach until she cried out in delight,
“Mr. O’Rourke!”
They halted and she found herself staring into the same blue eyes she remembered so well, but this time their owner distinctly frowned at her. He bowed and said,
“You are mistaken, madam. That is not my name.”
“Oh!” Lucy stared at him. His face did not change, nor did he smile and his speech seemed different. All trace of his Irish accent had vanished and he had the affected voice of an upper class Englishman. She was suddenly unsure, even though she could not forget his eyes. Remembering the scar on his hand she looked down but found to her disappointment that he wore gloves. She hesitated wondering if she could ask him to remove them then realised such a request was impossible.
“I beg your pardon. You remind me of someone I met in London a month ago,” she stammered, her face scarlet with embarrassment.
“I rarely go to London and I haven’t been there for at least five years. The gentleman you met was a most fortunate fellow; I only wish I was he. I assure you if I had met you before, I should not have forgotten.” He turned to Lenny. “You are with this young lady?” Lenny nodded. “Can I assist you in any way?”
Lenny touched his forehead. “No, sir, thanking you very much.”
“Well, good day to you then.” With another bow, the stranger strode off down the street with his companion.
Patrick tried to remain relaxed although he had experienced a great shock. He thought furiously. Of course he remembered her; he had never forgotten her face. What was her name? Lucy? What was she doing in Portsmouth? At any other time he would have been delighted to see her but she had almost upset his deception. Taylor was a suspicious man at the best of times, a useful trait in his occupation.
“Who was that girl?” Taylor asked when they had walked out of earshot.
“I have no idea, I only wish I did. Young ladies don’t often run after me like that. It’s a pity I’m sailing today or I might have taken the trouble to find out and gone calling.” He patted his pocket. “Can’t take the time or the risk with what I’m carrying.”
“I’m glad you think that. Others don’t.”
“That’s why you deal with me and not with them, isn’t it?”
Taylor nodded. “That and the money you pay me. The less danger the better; I’m a prudent man. You don’t get drunk and word has it that you don’t frequent the nunneries, so you’re less likely to open your mouth unwisely. I don’t fancy being strung up for treason, even in your company. Another year and I can leave this game for good. I’ll set myself up with a nice little business somewhere a long way from the sea.”
“With a wife who cooks well and a quiver full of children no doubt.” Patrick laughed. “Maybe I’ll come and visit you, when you’re old and stout and turned respectable.”
“I’d kill you if you try it. Too dangerous for both of us. I want no questions asked and I’ll forget I ever knew you. You do the same if you’re wise. People have long memories and some can remember faces even after years have passed.”
“I won’t then. I’ve enough enemies who want to shoot me without adding you to the collection. Let’s do what we have to do now and the day we get out will come sooner for both of us.”
“You shouldn’t go bang up to strange men in the street, Miss Lucy. You could get into terrible trouble acting like that,” Lenny protested as soon as he could.
“I know, but I thought I knew him. If it wasn’t him, then he has a double. I’ve wanted to see him again for ages.”
“Well, it wasn’t him, so let’s get back to the ship now. The tide will be turning and it’s an easier row out to the mooring if we go at slack water.”
“Will you take me ashore again tomorrow, if I promise not to do anything silly ever again?” Lucy asked.
“I will, if Captain Hardie lets me,” Lenny agreed.
The next morning, however, it was raining hard. Watching the raindrops bounce off the deck, Lucy decided that she did not want to risk a soaking and having to dry her clothes or wear them wet. It was boring to do nothing, so she was relieved when the ship left on the afternoon tide with a fair wind blowing them in the right direction. Captain Hardie told her that he hoped to make Plymouth late the following day.
“That is our last stop before Cove,” he said. “We won’t be there long, I hope, unless the wind changes. We’ve made good speed so far.”
Lucy was denied her usual spot on deck, due to the inclement weather. So she spent some of her time in the saloon, trying to read a book of sermons Mr. Anselm had left on the table. She did not find it very interesting and kept getting distracted. She found herself thinking over her encounter of the previous day. Had there been a spark of recognition in the young man’s eyes when he turned to face her, or had she imagined it? No, it must not have been him, she thought, or surely he would have admitted it. What reason could he have for not acknowledging me? I have never done him any harm.
When she could not bear her thoughts any longer, she left the stern cabin and stood on deck under the overhang of the poop. It was not a very comfortable refuge. The wind often blew great streamers of rain in her direction and the old boat cloak which Mrs. Hardie had lent her was soon dripping. It was a difficult, uncomfortable day and Lucy was glad when it was over. She went early to bed and not even her disappointment kept her from falling asleep.
It was late the next day when the White Hart crept into Plymouth Sound, tacking across the water. The mate, Mr. Barnes, told her the wind had changed and was becoming foul.
“With luck, we’ll get in tonight but if it backs any more, we’ll have to anchor up until it goes around again.”
This indeed proved to be their fate and the great mounds of chain rattled down onto the seabed to hold the brig firm against the tug of the tide. It was a bumpy anchorage with little protection. This time, however, Lucy found that the motion of the ship did not upset her quite as much as it had when she first came aboard. She was able to eat her supper and converse with the others. She made her toilette and climbed into her bunk with more skill than she would have believed possible a day or so ago.
A clanking and shouting woke her up and, throwing her boat cloak over her shoulders, she hurried up on deck to find out what was happening. Bars had been thrust into the openings of the great capstan and several of the sailors circled around, pushing hard against them. The piles of green chain rose from the sea and disappeared into the gaping chain-locker.
“There you are,” Captain Hardie said. “We can go into the harbour now, once the anchor is up. Stay and watch. Plymouth and Devonport Dockyard will be fine sights to see on a morning like this.”
Indeed they were, for the sun was shining and the sky was again blue. Ships came out of the port while others including the White Hart went in. Plymouth from the water seemed to be a smaller city than Portsmouth but Lucy had no chance to visit it. Immediately the brig made fast to a buoy, lighters came round the side and goods were transferred swiftly and efficiently. The whole operation was finished before the tide turned again so the brig was able to make her way back out of the harbour on the ebb. Lucy watched Plymouth receding with a certain amount of pleasure. Not long now. The next stop would be Cove where her journey would end.
All went well and they made good speed until they were almost opposite Falmouth. Then the wind died away completely and the ship was left to wallow in the waves, the sails flapping despondently. The motion was different and it drove Lucy back to her pile of ropes.
“Keep your eyes on the horizon and you’ll feel more the thing,” Mr. Barnes told her. “There’ll be a breeze before long, don’t you worry. Then we
’ll be on our way again.”
“How do you know there’ll be wind?” Lucy asked.
“Look up at those clouds up there.” He pointed out swirls of white against the blue. “Those are mares’ tails those are. When you see them, it’s a sure sign that there’s wind coming. It’ll be with us before nightfall, unless I miss my guess.”
Mr. Barnes was proved right. An offshore breeze began to blow just as the last of the daylight was fading. The sails filled and the waves started to dance under the prow of the brig. The familiar ship noises started to sound again. Happy to be moving, Lucy made her way below to the saloon for the evening meal.
“If this wind strengthens,” Captain Hardie said, “we should be in Cove by this time tomorrow. I wager you’ll be glad enough to see the end of this voyage.”
“I certainly shall,” the curate, Mr. Anselm replied. “Although unfortunately I have another day aboard before we reach Dublin.” He had spent most of his time below in his cabin or the saloon, rarely venturing up on deck. Lucy realised she had not seen him except at meals, when he had eaten very little. A dull companion, she thought, and obviously not a good sailor. She felt rather proud that she had managed better than he had in a difficult situation.
“I’ve enjoyed the voyage,” Lucy said, surprising herself, “once I found my balance. It’s all so new and so many things happen at once. I like seeing different places although I never thought I would.”
Captain Hardie and his wife laughed. “We’ll make a sailor of you yet, young lady. Tell me when you want to venture on the sea again.”
Captain Hardie’s estimate that they would reach Ireland the next day went unfulfilled. When Lucy came on deck in the morning, it was to find that the brig had been blown in a south easterly direction. The wind was strong and the waves were choppy. Both Captain Hardie and Mr. Barnes looked concerned, glancing at the sails and shouting orders. Sailors stationed at the ropes kept pulling them tighter as the helm was put over and the ship changed tack. Lucy overheard the captain and the mate discussing what to do.
Miss Ridgeway's Privateer (Regency Belles & Beaux Book 3) Page 5