Miss Ridgeway's Privateer (Regency Belles & Beaux Book 3)

by Michele McGrath

  “How dare you!” she screamed.

  He shrugged. “Ladies have been known to attach knives or pistols to their legs. We always check these days. You’re lucky that you did not carry one.” He turned to the clergyman. “You are both to come with me.”

  “Where? Why?”

  “On board our ship the Constanze. This one will be taken in tow and it’s not safe for you to remain here in case the rope breaks. She has also taken some shots below the waterline and is leaking but we should be able to salvage her.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” Mr. Anselm suddenly said. “Where are Captain Hardie and his wife?”

  “Already aboard our ship. They know the reality and have acted sensibly. If you won’t come willingly, then you will be brought whether you like it or not. Captain’s orders are to be obeyed.”

  O’Rourke waved to some of his men who closed in around the clergyman.

  “Come,” O’Rourke said to Lucy, holding out his hand. She hesitated for a second and then realised she had little choice. A protesting Mr. Anselm had been picked up and tossed over a sailor’s shoulder. She did not wish to be treated the same fashion so she gave him her hand. Again she experienced the strange tingle she first felt in London. O’Rourke glanced at her sharply as if he also noticed something. Lucy did not have time to dwell any further on the sensation. O’Rourke led her down from the poop and over to the gunwales of the White Hart where a plank had been tied across the gap to the French ship. O’Rourke climbed onto the gunwale and stood there, steadying himself on the rigging. He held Lucy tightly and told her,

  “Hold onto me and walk forward. Don’t look down.”

  She shivered with fright but did as he said. A few steps later, O’Rourke jumped down and swung her to the deck of the Constanze. He took her hand again and led her below decks to a barred door. He stepped aside so one of the men following him could withdraw the bolts. Then drawing his pistol, he pointed it at the opening calling,

  “Stand away from the door or I’ll shoot!”

  As soon as there was sufficient space, O’Rourke put a hand on Lucy’s back and pushed her forward. Mr. Anselm was shoved in after her and the door was shut and bolted behind them. Suddenly arms went around Lucy and she found herself being hugged.

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh, my dear, are you all right?” asked Mrs. Hardie’s anxious voice. “Have those horrid men done anything to you?”

  “No, they only brought me here but where are we?”

  “This is part of the hold,” Captain Hardie said, “but they have strengthened the bulkheads to make the space secure, so we can’t get out. We’ve tried, even though there’s nowhere to go and there’s too many of them for us to fight.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” Lucy asked.

  “Mr. Barnes has a ball in his leg and there’s a couple of knife wounds. Lenny isn’t here and we don’t know what happened to him. He was still up on the mast when it was shot away, so we fear the worst.”

  “Oh, no! Poor man,” Lucy cried, horrified, remembering the kind sailor who escorted her in Portsmouth and told her all about his Bessie. She crossed her fingers tightly and hoped that he had survived.

  “What is to happen to us?” Mr. Anselm’s voice trembled.

  “People like you are usually held for ransom. The sailors will be conscripted into Boney’s navy or sent to a prison hulk. Wait and see. Be thankful that at least you’re still alive.”

  “Come with me, my dear.” Mrs. Hardie led Lucy further into the hold where there was a small space surrounded by bales of what seemed to be cloth. “Sit down. Be a while before we find out what’s happening, not that we can do anything about it in any case. Best to listen and say as little as possible. We can’t be a long way off shore and these privateers don’t hold their prisoners on board for long, or so I’ve been told. Too scared we’ll make the attempt to take over the ship.”

  “Will we?”

  “No, not unless they capture more people from another vessel and put them in here. We might try then. For now, there’s too many of them and not enough of us. No point in risking further injuries with such a small chance of success. We’ll have to hang on until the right opportunity arises.”

  Eventually they heard all sorts of strange noises, stamping, the capstan turning, the floor shaking and the sound of raised voices. Then the ship lurched and started to roll.

  “They’re towing the White Hart,” Captain Hardie said. “We must be nearer the coast than I realised for them to attempt that, with so many of our ships in the channel. Let’s hope the tow breaks and they have to run for it.”

  “Won’t help us, though, if that happens,” another voice objected, “we’re on the wrong ship.”

  “If a Britisher finds the White Hart with the rope dangling they’ll know what happened and where we’re likely to be. They’ll tell the owners and enquiries will be made.”

  “Much good that’ll do us,” someone muttered.

  At that moment they heard the bolts on the door being drawn again. Then O’Rourke’s voice called out,

  “Where are the injured sailors?”

  “What do you want them for?”

  “To tend to their wounds. Bring them out.”

  “No bloody Irish traitor’s going to touch me,” one man cried out. Even in the dimness Lucy could see a large dark patch across his shoulders. She suddenly realised that O’Rourke’s voice had changed back to the same accent he had used in London.

  “I’m a doctor,” O’Rourke said, “and I’ll help you if I can. It’s no use to either of us if you bleed to death, but choose for yourself. Stay there or come here, it’s all the same to me.”

  The man was pushed forward to the doorway and Captain Hardie said,

  “Do as he tells you, Harry. If this man is a doctor, you need him to fix you up. Bring Mr. Barnes and Tom forward as well,” he ordered.

  The other two men were half carried to several French sailors who took them away.

  “My captain also wants to see the ship’s master and the two women,” O’Rourke added. “The rest of you stand back.”

  “Dirty traitor!” The words rang in the sudden silence.

  “England’s not my country and Fat George’s no king of mine. Stand back, I say, and don’t give me a reason to shoot you. Captain, no harm will come to you and the women if you come with me, my word on it.”

  “And what’s a renegade’s word worth?” the same voice yelled.

  “Shut up!” Captain Hardie roared. “Have some sense, man. Now is not the time to insult a man with a pistol in his hand.”

  He pushed his way out of the door and turned, waiting until his wife and Lucy joined him. When the door was slammed and bolted again, O’Rourke said,

  “You and the ladies walk ahead and climb up to the next deck, Captain. Head aft to the saloon. These sailors will follow you so don’t try any tricks.”

  “Where are you going to?”

  “To look after the injured, as I said. Your three and a few of our own. I’ll join you when I’ve finished.”

  In the light of the lantern, Lucy could see the captain shrug.

  “No point in playing games if there’s nowhere to run.”

  He marched forward. Lucy followed after the captain’s wife, her thoughts in a whirl. What was going to happen next? Why did the strange captain send for them? What did O’Rourke mean when he said England wasn’t his country? Ireland was part of England, surely? She couldn’t decide whether she was still attracted to him of if during the upset of the day, she had learned to hate him.

  Obediently they climbed the stairs and marched aft. The light was better here, due to several hanging lanterns. Lucy could see that the passageway was both wider and smoother than the one on the White Hart. They came to a door at the end, with a knob of polished brass that gleamed in the lantern light. Captain Hardie wrapped at the panel.

  “Entrez!”

  The room that met Lucy’s eyes took her by surprise. Panelli
ng and rich furniture, a carpet under foot and curtains hanging beside the huge stern window made up the furnishings. A man was sitting at the table, with a pile of papers under his hand. He was the same one Lucy had seen with a sword on the deck of the White Hart. He rose to his feet, gave a small bow and waved them to the seats facing him.

  “Sit… please.”

  The French captain sat back in his seat, reached down into one of the drawers of his desk and withdrew a bottle and three glasses. He looked at Mrs. Hardie.

  “Du vin, madame?” he asked, making as if to pour her a glass.

  For a moment, it seemed as if Mrs Hardie would refuse then she sighed and nodded.

  “Mademoiselle?”

  “What is it?”

  “Red wine,” Mrs. Hardie replied. “The French drink a lot of it.”

  “I’ve never tasted wine.”

  “A little won’t harm you. It’s warming.”

  Mrs. Hardie put her finger onto another glass, indicating a small amount. The captain poured up to the mark and handed it to Lucy. The glass was a fine one but the drink tasted harsh as she sipped. She gasped as the liquid carved a path of fire down inside her. When she looked up she realised that both Mrs. Hardie and the captain were observing her with amusement. Neither of them apparently had any difficulty in swallowing this vile potion.

  Having no language in common, they all sat in an uneasy silence until O’Rourke returned. As soon as he came through the door Captain Hardie grunted, “What has happened to my men?”

  “How are they?” Mrs. Hardie asked before his question was even answered.

  “The man called Harry has a long gash across his back which I have stitched. He is comfortable enough for now. A bullet went through the fleshy part of Barnes’ leg and came out on the other side. I have cleaned it as best I can and applied a poultice to draw out the dirt. If the wound heals cleanly he should be able to use it again. If not, then it must be cut off.”

  “What about Tom?” Mrs. Hardie looked hard at him.

  “The third man? A chest wound and deep. I have done what I can but I am not sure he will survive. He has lost a lot of blood.”

  Mrs. Hardie swung around to face the French captain. “Murderer!” she cried and would have risen but her husband put his hand on her shoulder pressing her back down into her chair. The captain had obviously understood her words and hissed a reply. O’Rourke translated.

  “My captain says that our countries are enemies and this is the fortune of war. He regrets the plight of this man but we too have injuries. It’s not his intention to kill unnecessarily but in battle people are wounded and sometimes die. With luck, all your men will live. It is possible, certainly.”

  “Lenny, is there any word of Lenny?” Mrs. Hardie asked.

  “Who is Lenny?”

  Captain Hardie explained and O’Rourke shook his head.

  “No one has mentioned him to me. If he was not in the hold with you and his body wasn’t found on the deck, we must presume he fell into the sea. If he can swim, he may have survived. We were close to the land when your mast was hit. Let’s hope so. We’ll enquire when we get to Saint-Malo. Someone will have seen him if he reached the shore.”

  The French captain spoke again.

  “My captain wants you to know who we are. This is Capitaine Auguste Rollin of his Imperial Majesty’s privateer Constanze. I am Patrick O’Rourke his ship’s surgeon and the only man aboard who speaks English. Capitaine Rollin speaks only French and a little German. He has several questions to ask you so he wants me to translate for him.”

  “We are not obliged to tell him anything that might harm our country.” Captain Hardie stared defiantly at him.

  “He understands but we are only interested in information which can be used to set you at liberty once again.” O’Rourke smiled. “First of all tell us your names.”

  Captain Hardie said, “Captain James Hardie of the brig White Hart. My wife, Annie, and my passenger Miss Ridgeway.”

  Another murmur.

  “Captaine Rollin regrets the necessity of keeping your men confined until we reach port but I am sure you will understand the necessity. There has been enough fighting for one day.”

  Captain Rollin held up a couple of papers on the desk.

  “He wishes to ask you about the manifest of the White Hart which he has just been reading. There are several items listed as being aboard in London but which are not on the ship now. Where are they?”

  “If you look at the papers you will find we loaded and unloaded twice since London, once at Portsmouth and later in Plymouth.”

  “So the rest of the cargo was intended for Cove?”

  “Part to Cove, some for Dublin.”

  “No doubt your owners are insured against loss?”

  “Loss at sea, yes, piracy no. We have always been able to outrun our enemies until now.”

  “Understandable if somewhat imprudent. Your vessel is fast but we are faster. We would have overtaken you even without hitting the mast. Fortune was with us earlier and has saved us some time and you more injuries.”

  “You have captured my ship and cargo,” Captain Hardie said, “No doubt you have ways of disposing of both of them. We’re your prisoners and I would like to know what your intentions are towards all of us.”

  O’Rourke conferred with the French captain and then he answered,

  “We usually transfer all the wounded to the local convent where the nuns devote themselves to the care of the sick. You, Captain, and the ladies will be quartered ashore until you can be ransomed. We will give you the necessary facilities to communicate with your employers or your families and hope for your speedy return to your own country. Your men will be offered the chance to serve the Emperor. If they decide to do so, they will be well paid.”

  “And if they refuse?”

  “Prison until such time as an exchange of prisoners has been arranged.”

  “Why were we sent for?” Mrs. Hardie said, asking the question that had been puzzling Lucy.

  “Captain Rollin wishes to put a cabin at your disposal, you and the young lady. He does not think it is fitting that you should be kept in the hold with the other prisoners.”

  “Thank you, for myself I prefer to remain with my husband and my friends,” Mrs. Hardie said defiantly, staring at the French captain.

  O’Rourke raised his eyebrows and translated both her statement and the reply.

  “Your husband can stay with you if he gives his parole not to escape or to assist his men to run away. We will find separate accommodation for Miss Ridgeway. Captain, do you agree to give us your word?”

  Captain Hardie was frowning, but his wife pulled at his arm and he looked into her pleading eyes. He turned to the French captain and muttered, “Yes.”

  “Miss Ridgeway, you were travelling to Cove not to Dublin. Does your grandmother live in County Cork?” O’Rourke asked Lucy

  Lucy could feel herself colouring and stared defiantly at him. “Why should I tell you any more, Mr. O’Rourke? My family history can be of no possible interest to you.”

  “On the contrary, it may lead to your early release,” he replied, to her surprise.

  “Tell him, Lucy. What good does it do to keep silent? Your family will have to find out what has happened to you as soon as possible.” Mrs. Hardie said. “You can’t stay in France forever.”

  I wonder if they would care. They don’t know me so they can’t have any feelings for me. I have left one trouble behind and fallen into another, Lucy thought but she replied. “My family live near Kinsale. My grandfather was General Sir Walter Ridgeway and my grandmother is Lady Mary Ridgeway. I’m going to live with her and my uncle.” There was a certain arrested look on O’Rourke’s face when she had finished but he only said,

  “I’ll arrange for you to be given facilities to contact your relatives.”

  Captain Hardie asked, “There was another passenger aboard our ship, a Mr. Anselm. What of him?”

  “The clergyman
?”

  Captain Hardie nodded.

  “Church of England?”

  “I believe so.”

  “His church can ransom him if they choose.” O’Rourke grinned. “They rarely do, pleading poverty and asking for a dispensation on the grounds of serving God, despite the fact they’re rich enough. Occasionally we respond to their plea and arrange to exchange such a clergyman for one of our own people. Let’s hope that Mr. Anselm will be able to resume his journey soon.”

  Though she was loath to admit it, Lucy was pleased to swap the hold of the Constanze for a cabin when their interview had ended. The only real difference was that she was locked in and denied the chance to come up on deck if the motion of the ship made this desirable. Determined not to think about that possibility, she stretched out on the bunk, shut her eyes and allowed herself to sway with the waves rather than fight against the sensation. Later on she could not believe that she had slept. Once she had awoken, time dragged and it seemed interminable until she was let out for supper. She had no light or facilities for tidying her appearance, so she felt unkempt as she walked through the door of the saloon. The Hardies, Captain Rollin and O’Rourke were already there. All the men stood up when she entered and the French captain said something to her.

  “My captain apologises for the necessity of locking you in your cabin earlier. If you would like to come with me now, I will show you where you can wash your hands.”

  He did not wait for her answer, but turned and walked towards another door, which had been concealed in the panelling. It led into a cubicle much larger than her own space but with the same narrow bunk. A looking glass hung on one wall, an ivory backed hairbrush and comb were held in a rack and there was a pan of water in a holder. A towel lay on the bunk.

  “Please use anything you need,” O’Rourke said and left her alone.

  Glad of the opportunity to make herself cleaner, Lucy set to work. When she came out, she looked considerably better. She could not help noticing that the French captain’s eyes followed her all the way from the door until she took her seat at the table. He continued to look at her throughout the uncomfortable meal. The food was better than that she had eaten on the White Hart although some of the flavours were strange to her. The conversation proved difficult for several reasons. A member of the company could not speak English and both Captain and Mrs. Hardie did not want to talk to O’Rourke. There were long uneasy silences. Whenever Lucy looked in his direction, she found Captain Rollin watching her, an odd expression on his face. Once he addressed her through O’Rourke, asking her about the things she liked to do. Rather surprised, she told him that she enjoyed dancing and talking with her friends. As she said it, she realised how childish it sounded but the captain seemed satisfied and did not address her again. O’Rourke tried to maintain a discussion about ships and the sea, but, faced with the stolid indifference of the Hardies, his efforts did not meet with success. Lucy was glad when the awkward supper ended.