Sibylla and the Privateer

by Marina Oliver

  “Be easy. I do not think our pirates are so much to be feared. They were Frenchmen. They carried us with them for a long time, but I was not allowed to see Sibylla. Then they made for their home port, somewhere along the Normandy coast, and we were taken overland for some distance to a town called Avranches and imprisoned at the house of the pirate captain. After a few days I made my escape, and thinking my best chance of reaching England lay via the islands, I hired a boat to come here. Luckily I still had a ring I was able to sell. Then, when I was making enquiries here, I heard your name mentioned.

  “Gerard, it is providential. We can go and rescue Sibylla now if you will come with me. I feared it would be weeks before I could find help and go back for her. Heaven knows what that devil will do to her in the meantime. Will you come with me?”

  “Of course,” Gerard said impatiently. “There is no time to tell you how despicable you are, leading Sibylla into this.”

  “I regret it as much as you, but it would not have happened if your father had allowed us to marry.”

  “That is a matter for dispute. Pray allow me to think.”

  Randolph looked at him, a faint smile on his lips. After a few moments, Gerard looked up.

  “I have certain business here which it is imperative I finish or I will have to return. I do not wish the need for that. Can we leave in about three hours?”

  “I thought you would wish to rush off immediately.”

  Gerard ignored this. “Where can I meet you?”

  Randolph named the tavern where the boatmen waited. With a nod Gerard agreed then dismissed him saying he had much to do.

  * * * *

  Randolph made his way slowly back to the harbor, content with his success, and spent the time drinking until Gerard came to join him. Then they collected the boatmen and went down to the quay. They soon made the boat ready and cast off. After an uneventful journey, they reached St. Malo in the middle of the night. Randolph declared there was no possibility of going on that night, and Gerard agreed they could both do with a few hours of sleep, as he had slept ill on the boat.

  Randolph smiled at that. During the time Gerard had been sleeping, he had managed to extract some papers from his pockets, and secrete them in his own. He was convinced these papers would provide him with the proof he needed to destroy Gerard, but he had as yet, no opportunity for examining them. So he led Gerard to an inn where he roused a reluctant landlord and secured two rooms.

  He stayed up perusing the documents for a long time. They were in cipher, one he knew imperfectly, so he had much difficulty in reading them. However, he could understand sufficient to be sure there was evidence here that would condemn not only Gerard, but many people on the island, for some of the names he found tallied with those he had been given as Gerard’s associates.

  Satisfied, he at last blew out the candle and slept until an impatient Gerard came to rouse him in the morning.

  “What are you thinking of?” Gerard demanded. “We must make all speed to Sibylla.”

  Randolph yawned. “Patience, my friend. I have had two nights in that accursed boat, remember, and a few hours’ delay will not matter. The luck I had in finding you has saved many days, if not weeks of lost time.”

  They had breakfast before Randolph announced he needed to settle with the owner of the boat, as the man was waiting to complete his journey to Dinan and had only been persuaded to wait over the rest of the night at St. Malo with great difficulty.

  “The truth is, my dear Gerard, I need to borrow from you in order to satisfy them. They argued about bringing back two passengers when we had only arranged for one journey, to take me to Jersey. I understand they meant to fish on the way back, and they demand recompense. I was too tired to argue with them last night.”

  “How much do they want?” Gerard asked wearily, pulling out his purse.

  Randolph had hoped the full purse would be tossed to him, but Gerard had too many memories of Randolph’s frequent sponging on him in the past to be so liberal. Randolph named as large a sum as he dared, and though Gerard raised his eyebrows, he did not question it, but counted out the coins and handed them over.

  “I will be as quick as I can,” Randolph promised, and left the inn, while Gerard sat and waited impatiently. With this windfall safely in his own purse, Randolph made his way to the harbor, but he had no expectation of finding his Dinan boatmen for the full amount had been paid to them before they left to continue on their way the previous night.

  Now he hoped to find a boat and crew willing to transport him, with Gerard captive, to England. He tried innumerable captains, and was directed to try many of the taverns around the harbor, but all to no avail. No one was prepared to undertake the journey.

  “Too far,” he was told repeatedly, or he was asked impossibly high amounts for the journey. Eventually he gave up, resolving to try his luck at another town, and decided he would have to return to Gerard if the latter was not to become suspicious.

  Gerard was merely angry, and berated Randolph soundly for the waste of time.

  “I could not find the wretched men–they were not at the tavern where we had agreed to meet. I had to search a long time for them.”

  “I am somewhat surprised you bothered. In the old days you would have thanked your good fortune and disappeared yourself as rapidly as possible,” Gerard flung at him. Randolph’s fists clenched, but he firmly repressed the desire to hit Gerard and turned away.

  “Let us start, and not waste more time arguing. I propose we cut across the headland to Cancale, a little port on the Bay St. Michel, and hire a boat there to take us across the bay. It will be faster than riding inland to Avranches. Agreed we need to hasten.”

  Gerard regarded him coldly. “I have paid the landlord, so there is nought to delay us.”

  They left the inn, Gerard having discovered where the best horses could be found. He led the way there silently. Soon they were mounted, and rode away from the town, across the hills separating that part from the Bay St. Michel.

  It was not far to Cancale, a little town on the western shores of the bay. They dropped down into it at midday, and both were ready to stop for dinner before crossing the bay, which was wide at this point.

  As they were eating, they made some attempt to talk, but Gerard was still furiously angry with his companion, while Randolph was for much of the time lost in his own thoughts. When Randolph suggested he would go and hire a boat, Gerard was by this time so irritated with him he agreed, and let him depart. Very quickly Randolph was back, smiling in triumph.

  “I have hired a small boat the two of us can handle,” he announced.

  Gerard looked at him in astonishment. “How will the owner recover it?”

  “Do not be a defeatist! After we have rescued Sibylla we will bring it back ourselves. Then we can make our way to Jersey, which is likely to be the safest way of getting back to England.”

  Gerard looked unconvinced.

  “Besides, think what an advantage it will be to be able to take Sibylla off in a boat of our own. Far better than having to rely on hiring one, at some ungodly hour, or getting horses and being pursued by that devilish pirate, who has some fleet horses, for I saw them myself.”

  “Very well, but I think I had best escort Sibylla home myself. To make for Jersey might not be the quickest way.”

  “I can escort her. I still intend to marry her.”

  “Not if I have aught to say in the matter!” Gerard burst out.

  “Oh, come! She will be ruined if I do not. You wish that for her?”

  Gerard regarded him levelly. “Mayhap that would be better than marriage with you.”

  “You delay! This can be argued later. Come.”

  He turned and led the way onto the waterfront. There were few people about, and no one on the small jetty Randolph stepped down to. He wa
lked along slowly then stopped by a small boat.

  “This is it, get in.”

  Gerard cast a professional eye over the boat, and was satisfied. It looked well equipped and in good condition. He leapt down, and Randolph followed. Both of them busied themselves casting off and setting the sails. They had sailed similar boats together many times in their youth, and now fell automatically into the routine they had used then. Soon they had the sails up, and sped away from Cancale.

  Chapter Nine

  Josselin had no difficulty in finding a boat the next morning. He made all the arrangements, and then went back to the inn to rouse Sibylla. After they had breakfast, they went to the harbor. She admired the ancient little town set firmly on its island and walled about. When Josselin handed her down into the boat he had hired, she exclaimed with amusement, for he had somehow obtained cushions, and they were spread out on the deck in the bows.

  “There is but a tiny cabin, little more than a galley,” he told her, “and no bunks, but I promised you sleep if you wished it.”

  “I am not anxious to sleep at the moment,” she told him, and looking at her, he could see she had indeed revived well from the grueling two days of hard riding to which he had subjected her.

  “You are blooming,” he agreed.

  “I am but thankful I need not face another horse for a while,” she retorted, and they all laughed, for the men had heard this exchange as they clambered into the boat. It was a perfect spring day, with a warm sun and steady breezes, so they made good time and reached St. Helier in the middle of the afternoon. Josselin arranged for a private sitting room at an inn near the harbor, and then sent the men off to make enquiries, with orders to report back at hourly intervals. The time passed slowly for Sibylla, for Josselin had gone to make his own enquiries. At the end of the first hour when they met to report progress, no one had found any signs of Gerard, though Josselin’s messenger, starting a day earlier, had just landed and joined the party. Then, just before the second hour was up, one of the men came in with an air of triumph, and told Sibylla he had the address of the friends her brother was staying with, a couple named Dawson.

  “Is he still there?” she asked excitedly, and the man replied that as far as his informant knew, he had been seen the previous day.

  Sibylla waited impatiently for Josselin to return, and when he heard the news he told the men to relax for an hour or so until he returned.

  “It is a very short distance. Can you walk? Your ankle seems to be giving you little trouble now.”

  “Yes, I can walk without pain if I am careful.” He led her out of the inn and along a few narrow streets until they stopped outside an imposing looking house.

  Josselin knocked, and asked for the owner. They were shown into the same room where Randolph had earlier met Gerard, and soon a middle aged, plump gentleman came to them.

  “What can I do for you, my lord?” he asked, having been given Josselin’s name.

  “I believe a Mr. Hurst, from Devon, is staying with you,” Josselin said.

  “He was,” the man replied.

  “Was?” Sibylla cried out. “Pray, when did he leave?”

  “May I introduce Mr. Hurst’s sister, Mistress Sibylla Hurst?” Josselin interposed. “She has been staying in Brittany, and heard her brother was here. As we had planned to visit the islands, we wished to call on him. Have we missed him?”

  “I am afraid so. He left only a short while since, explaining that sudden business called him to France.”

  “France?” Sibylla repeated in puzzlement.

  “Yes, but he gave no details. Allow me to send for Mistress Dawson. She will be delighted to meet you.”

  Without waiting for a reply he left the room. Sibylla turned in distress to Josselin.

  “What is happening? We cannot stay! We must search for him!”

  “Hush, my dear. We must stay and try to discover as much as we can, who came to see him, or how this ‘sudden business’ was told to him. Be patient.”

  He had time for no more, for Mistress Dawson swept into the room and greeted them effusively. She was followed by her husband and a maid carrying a tray of wine and cakes. They had to endure an hour of polite conversation, but discovered very little except that a man had called on Gerard early that afternoon, and Gerard had departed unexpectedly some time later.

  Puzzled, but impressed by Josselin’s quiet air of authority, Mr. Dawson sent for the servant who admitted the visitor, and allowed Josselin to question him. The description sounded very like Randolph.

  Firmly refusing an invitation to supper and an offer of lodgings they left, and despite her anxiety, Sibylla burst into giggles as soon as they were safely out of sight round a corner of the street.

  “Now what?” Josselin asked in amusement as she stopped and leant against a wall, convulsed with laughter.

  “Her face!” Sibylla spluttered. “I could see her disapproving looks, and her almost uncontrollable desire to discover what I was doing alone with you! Most unconventional! I’ll swear it was only your title that restrained her from demanding an explanation.”

  Josselin laughed. “What do you think she would have done if we had told her the truth—that I am a wicked privateer, and am holding you for ransom?”

  Sibylla looked helplessly at him. “She would never have believed us! She would have thought we were mad, and most likely have had us locked up!”

  Still laughing, Josselin tucked her hand under his arm, as they made their way back to the inn.

  * * * *

  Once there, Josselin called for food, saying he wished to leave as soon as possible. The men ate hurriedly, and then went ahead to the harbor. When Josselin and Sibylla arrived there, they were able to report that the boat from Dinan had called that morning, and would leave again a few hours.

  They set out but it was almost dark now and Sibylla soon found she was shivering. Since there was no possibility of sleeping in the tiny cabin, she wrapped her cloak around herself as tightly as she could, and sat on the cushions. Josselin sat beside her, and the other men sat and talked quietly until they decided it was time for sleep. They rolled themselves in their cloaks and lay down on the deck. Their snores soon showed they were not aware of the discomfort, and Sibylla looked enviously at them.

  Suddenly she felt Josselin stir at her side. She looked around at him. His face was visible in the moonlight.

  “Sibylla,” he whispered, “turn around. I want you to lie in my arms, and then my cloak will keep you warm and you will be comfortable enough to sleep.”

  She began to protest nervously, but he gently placed his fingers over her lips, then lifted her so that she could curl up and lean against him, cradled in his arms while he sat against the side of the boat. She found it astonishingly comfortable, and the warmth of his body, with his arms and his cloak around her, enabled her to drift into sleep. He looked down at her, and when he was certain she slept, gently bent to kiss her cheek.

  As they sailed into St. Malo he roused her. She sat up, then realized how she had spent the night and looked wide eyed at him. He simply nodded, and began to prepare to land. She tidied herself as best she could, and they were soon on shore and breakfasting at a nearby inn.

  “I cannot imagine how Randolph has persuaded your brother to accompany him, or where they may be heading,” Josselin said. “We may have to ride to Dinan to discover it, but we will make some enquiries here first, around the harbor. Someone may have seen the boat.”

  St. Malo was only a small town, and while two of the men went down to the harbor, others tried the inns. This time they had almost immediate news of their quarry, and one of the men returned to say that two men answering to the descriptions they had given had hired horses to ride to Cancale.

  “Cancale? Why does he go there? It is even smaller than St. Malo.”

  �
��Where is it?” Sibylla asked, and Josselin explained.

  “We will set out at once. Follow us when the rest of the men come back.”

  He took Sibylla out, and they hired horses from the same stable. They rode fast when the country allowed speed, and reached Cancale before the others could catch up with them. As they rode along by the quay, they saw a knot of people standing by one of the jetties. Josselin reined in.

  “That looks interesting,” he remarked, and moved over towards them.

  In the centre of the group was a fisherman, gesticulating wildly, and talking rapidly to the sympathetic audience. He was using the local patois, and Sibylla understood only a few words. Josselin moved closer and the fisherman suddenly saw them. He switched into French, and began to explain to these newcomers.

  “Sir, and lady, I have been robbed! I, a humble, God fearing man who harms no one, I have been robbed. Those villains,” he threw an arm in the direction of the sea, “they have robbed me of my boat, my most precious possession, my livelihood! How can I go home and tell my wife, and my poor innocent children, that their Papa can no longer bring them food, or provide them with clothing?”

  Josselin’s lips twitched. “Which villains? Did you see them?” he asked, stemming the flow of rhetoric.

  “Assuredly, and I ran, I ran like the wind to rescue my little boat! I would have leapt into the sea to fetch her back, only I cannot swim, and already they were sailing fast away. Ah, yes, my boat, she is a fast one,” he said, pride in his boat for a moment overcoming his fury at the loss of her.

  “What did they look like, these men?”

  “Oh, I did not take much notice. They were both tall, one was dark, and one fair, that is all I could tell.”

  “Which way were they going, could you guess?”

  “They seem to have been making for the Mount itself, but they were no pilgrims, not they! Fugitives in search of sanctuary more like. Aye, that explains it. I can think of no other reason anyone would want to cross the bay at this time.”

  “Can we not get another boat and follow?” Sibylla put in.