“From someone my brothers said fears nothing?” she teased. “From what little I know of you, Mister Lewrie, I could not imagine there is anything in this life you fear.”
“I hide it damn well, just like everyone else does.”
“Such language in the presence of an impressionable young lady!” she gasped in mock distress. “Where will it all end? Tsk, tsk.”
“My ar . . .” he began to say, but stopped himself before he could utter his favorite expression. Even joshing with a girl had its limits, especially if he truly nettled her and it was reported.
“My arse on a bandbox?” She blushed, as though she had stepped over her own line and was abashed at her own daring. “Remember, Mister Lewrie, I have two rowdy brothers and have lived in the country around ordinary yeomen farmers all of my life. Could I have been allowed to speak freely when vexed, I might use the phrase myself, instead of just thinking it. I hope I have not shocked you, instead.”
“Not a bit of it,” Alan replied, grinning widely. “Let there be perfect freedom between us, Mistress Chiswick.”
“Then please call me Caroline.”
“Caroline, I shall. Could you wait here for a moment, though? I really must see to the helm and the ship for a moment.”
“Show me what you must see, I pray.”
At her injunction he led her down the deck from the weather rail to the binnacle box before the wheel to speak to the quartermaster.
“Evening, Tate.”
“Ev’nin’, sir. Ev’nin,’ miss,” the helmsman said, almost swallowing his quid of tobacco at the miraculous appearance of a pretty young lady on the deck. His assisting quartermaster’s mate, Weems as bosun of the watch, and one of the ship’s boys drifted closer to ogle her, the boy gazing up in snot-nosed wonder, earning a smoothing of his unruly hair from her gloved hand that turned him into an adoring worshiper.
“How’s her head?” Alan inquired.
“Sou’-sou’-west, ’alf south, sir,” Tate answered.
Three bells chimed from up forward.
“Mister Weems, I’d admire another cast of the log,” Alan ordered. “Turn the glass, boy.”
“Aye, zur,” the boy replied, fumbling with the half-hour glass on the binnacle, never tearing his eyes away from the pretty lady in the faint light from the compass box lanterns.
“How’s the helm, Tate? Any problem with those bronze guns aft, or do we need to shift some stores to lighten the bows?”
“Ah, seems harright, Mister Lewrie.” Tate turned to spit into the kid, and flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry, miss.”
“We grew tobacco in the Carolinas, Mister Tate.” She smiled. “In the backcountry where I was a girl, even the women wouldn’t turn their nose up to a chew now and then. My granny smoked a pipe,” she coyly confided.
“An’ me own, too, miss.” Tate, marveling at himself for daring to even open his mouth in the presence of an officer of the watch, grinned foolishly.
Alan looked up to check the set of the sails that shone like pale blue ghosts in the moonlight. There was nothing to complain of in their angle to the winds, and the commissioning pendant stood out in a lazy whip like a black worm on the sky, pointing perfectly abeam towards shore. The yard braces seemed taut enough to leave alone as well.
“So this is how you steer the ship,” Caroline said.
“Yes, with this wheel. Though it’s not always this easy. Sometimes it takes four or more men to manage the wheel when the sea and the wind kick up. When you want to go left, you put the helm to starboard.”
“That sounds backwards,” she said, shaking her head in confusion.
“Turning the wheel left turns the rudder so that its leading edge faces right, so it is backwards, in a way. You’d say helm alee to make her head up more into the wind.”
“You sailors are a contrary lot.” She laughed gently. “And you have to keep adjusting it as Tate is doing?”
“Yuss, miss,” Tate said, playing a spoke or two to either side as he spoke. “Back an’ forth, hever sa gentle like.”
“A wave will push her bows off course,” Alan explained. “You watch the compass bowl, the wind pendants, and the luff of the sails and the way the wind strikes them, the way the sea is coming at you and, on a clear night such as this, a star or constellation, as well.”
“It seems so complicated.”
“Try it,” Alan urged. Before she could demur she was behind the wheel to the weather side, hands on two spokes, with Tate off to the lee side to lend his strength just in case and Alan at her side with his hands atop hers.
“It is harder to turn than I thought,” she said after a few minutes of effort, as Alan bubbled happily on about what a proper luff looked like. They let her steer by herself, letting her get the feel of it. A bow wave thudded gently and creamed down their larboard side, and the helm fell off, but she corrected, almost grunting with the effort to add a spoke or two to windward. She gave Alan a puff and a smile, but her hazel eyes were gleaming like golden nuggets in the binnacle lights.
“Gentlemen, I thank you for sparing the time for such a weakling to learn a thing or two, but you’d best take your ship back before I run it on the rocks or something,” she finally said, and suffered to be led away from the wheel to the nettings over the waist up forward.
“Did you enjoy that?” Alan asked, standing by her.
“Aye, I did, thank you.” She smiled. “Much more than the lecture I received today from Captain Treghues. What a strange man your captain is, so enamored of his own voice at one moment and so somber the next.”
“He has his moods,” Alan replied cryptically, noting that was perhaps the five hundredth time he had heard that said in Desperate.
“After months of this at a stretch, I can imagine that it could grow wearisome, but being at sea can be fun, too, can’t it, Alan?” she enthused, leaning forward over the waist and the gun deck. “The ocean is beautiful tonight with the moon on it. Like a blanket made of jewels.”
“Yes, it is pretty tonight,” Alan admitted as he half froze next to her. “There are many pretty days, and it can be exciting and fun, sometimes. But the sea’s a chimera. She can seem peaceful one minute and try to kill you the next. You always have to be on your guard.”
“The sea sounds much like life itself in that regard.”
“Such sagacity from one so young,” he chided her. “And such a cynical outlook. Chary as a burned child. Where will it end, tsk tsk?”
“Had I grown up in London with nothing more distressing in my life than balls and the theatre, it might seem so,” she replied, stiffening. He turned to study her face in the moonlight, and saw that the serious mien was upon her once more.
“I am sorry to have raised such a frown from you in the middle of your enjoyment, Caroline,” he said. “I’ve spoiled it for you; if I have, I regret it.”
“You’ve spoiled nothing, Alan,” she said, patting the back of his hand that rested on the railing. “You gave me back my brothers, got us aboard a ship and away from retribution of our Rebels, brought joy to my parents, and have provided me with a few precious moments of diversion. God knows I have needed some. You are pleasant company.”
“And so are you, Caroline. Very easy to be with,” he told her, realizing that it was so. There was no formality with her, as there was with many young women, no call for stilted triteness that passed for decent conversation. “I shall be sorry to reach Charleston tomorrow.”
“And you shall go back to the Indies from there?” she said in a softer voice.
“Yes. This Admiral de Grasse still has a French fleet of nearly thirty sail. He’ll not rest on his laurels until we’ve met him once more and beaten him.”
“I shall pray God for your safety every moment,” she promised. “But I expect there are more than a few young ladies who are already doing the same thing, eh?”
“Your prayers for me would be most welcome, Caroline,” Alan said, looking at her and seeing the hesitant nature of her
smile. That’s not teasing, that’s fishing for information, by God, he thought.
“This seafaring life leaves little room for young ladies, much to my regret,” he added quickly. “There is no one back in England. Even if there had been, I’ve not been back in nearly two years.”
“But there is the admiral’s relation, is there not? Surely, she is kindly disposed towards you, and you her, or you would not have fought to defend her honor.” She almost stammered this out, trying to appear nonchalant and only slightly interested.
“No one in her family could ever be enthused about the prospects of a two-a-penny midshipman.” He shrugged. “I believe she is in Jamaica now, back with her family. We exchange letters now and then, but . . .”
“I only ask because of the sisterly affection I feel towards you, and the gratitude for saving Gov and Burge at Yorktown,” she insisted, also shrugging most eloquently. “You’ll be off across the ocean soon, and we shall never see each other again. Is that not the way of life, that people meet and part so quickly? I and my family shall always hold you in our memories, but . . .”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Alan said, placing his hand over hers, and he was excited to feel her fingers spread to take hold of his. “Should you still feel the need of diverting moments, we could correspond. If you are willing, I shall ask your parents for permission to write you, and you may keep me informed as to Governour and Burgess, and how your father and mother keep. Why let aimless life dictate to us?”
“’Scuse me, Mister Lewrie, but the last cast o’ the log shows no change. Still adoin’ five an’ a half knots.”
“Thank you, Mister Weems,” Alan almost barked at him.
“If ya’d be wantin’ anything else, sir?” Weems went on. “Almost time to check the lookouts, an’ tour below decks with the master-at-arms.”
“Thank you, Weems, but that will be all for now. I shall join you shortly!” Alan said, biting his cheek to keep from screaming for the idiot to drop straight to hell.
“Aye, sir.”
Alan turned back to Caroline and was amazed to see that she was gazing straight ahead at the bows, one side of her mouth turned up in an attempt to keep from laughing out loud. Once Weems was aft by the wheel, she let go and began to shake with silent glee, and their eyes met in a shared amusement, but she did not let go of his hand; in fact, returned squeeze for squeeze.
“Did I sound half as ridiculous as I thought I did?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said frankly. “Pretty ridiculous.” But there was no harm in her critique, or at least Alan felt none. “People who can laugh at themselves are rare, Alan. You’re very refreshing.”
“Well, some people have more to laugh at than others,” he admitted easily. “Seriously, do you think your parents would mind if we wrote?”
“I think they would feel honored. As would I. If they did not approve, then I am the final judge, after all. I would hope we could always be friends and correspondents.”
“That sounds delightful to me,” Alan replied warmly. “Dammit, you are so easy to talk to. So easy to know.”
“I was just about to say the very same thing about you, Alan.” They stood there, hand in hand for long moments, staring at each other and smiling foolishly until she lowered her eyes and grew shy.
“Well, it must be getting late,” she said sadly.
As if in confirmation, four bells chimed from the belfry.
“And you must be freezing up here on deck. You should be snug in your bed,” Alan murmured, feeling the urge to tuck the both of them into the same narrow hanging cot and pull the blankets up to their necks.
“I must own to sleepiness, at last.”
“Nothing like being bored to make you sleep well.”
“Not bored at all!” she replied, her breath coming a bit quicker.
“Lots to do in the morning, packing up and getting ready to leave the ship. We’ll cross the bar just before noon, if the wind holds. Let me walk you aft and see you safely into the cabins.”
“I would appreciate that,” she said.
He led her arm in arm past the helm and the crew, who all took a sudden interest in the rigging, the rails, or the horizon as they passed—all but the ship’s boy, who snuffled and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, getting his last look at the awfully beautiful young lady who had touched him so gently, as no one else in his miserable, short life, as though she was a waking fantasy.
They stopped at the top of the ladder that led through the upper hatch to the cabins, stood holding hands for a moment longer, and leaned close together as the ship rolled on a slight surge. Of one mind, they stumbled together, and she raised those great eyes to meet his.
He bent forward and their lips brushed shyly, not too far forward, for she raised her face higher and met him. Her arms took his sleeves, and he put an arm about her waist with as much trepidation as if she were made of porcelain and would shatter at his touch. One of her gloved hands went to the back of his neck, then stroked his cheek, while the other kept a death grip on his arm. They shuffled forward a little more, pressing their lips together, cold lips and hot breath at first, then icy skin and warm lips, then breaking away; she because of the power of the feeling she felt, and Alan because he did not want her to feel ravished.
“Good night, Caroline,” he muttered huskily. “Sleep soundly.”
“Good night, Alan,” she whispered back, sliding her hand down to his for one last firm squeeze, then she was gone below into the dark.
Something to be said for gawky women, Alan thought, his head in a spin from the warmth and the intense passion that had come on him of a sudden. Her faint scent was still in his nostrils, so fresh and clean and light, his bare hand was still warm from her grip, and he savored the feel of her long body drawn so close to his, wanted to go back and crush her to him and take her true measure. He had not felt like that in a long time, had never felt that overpowering rush to the brain that went with the rush to the groin he was used to. He could not put a name to it, for it was not in his experience, but it was something more than dumb lust.
Did I feel like that with Lucy Beauman? he wondered. I think I did, but that was months ago, and she’s not here, nor will I see her anytime soon. God, don’t tell me I’m swooning for the mort! She’s not got two shillings to rub together, and most like never shall. No future for me with a girl with no prospects. Still, she’s so sweet!
He shuddered with more than winter chill as he thought of how shy he had behaved with her, knowing it was not part of his nature to be so backward with women. Even allowing for the fact that he could not take her below and bed her, could not have at her on deck where there was no privacy, could still feel Governour’s sharp eyes on the back of his neck, could picture being caught in mid-ravish by Captain Treghues, and had not the slightest intention of ever being in the same hemisphere with her after leaving Charleston, he could not explain it.
Next afternoon, the evacuation fleet reached Charleston, and there was a long bustle to clear all the passengers off the ship. The Chiswicks were among the last to debark, with Mr. Chiswick seeming sprier than in past, as though eager to get ashore and see his sons, or take his pleasures in the larger city. Treghues was hovering around them, but Alan did get to say his good-byes before they were hoisted over the side and into a waiting boat with their belongings. Caroline was fetching in a blue velvet gown, her hair tied back loosely and her eyes shining.
“Mistress Chiswick, allow me to say how delighted I was that I could enjoy your company aboard the Desperate these two days past,” Treghues said, doffing his hat to her. He had turned out in his best coat, had shaved closely, and was immaculate from head to toe, fit to appear at the Admiralty or the palace. “All my best wishes go with you and your parents for better fortune in future.”
“Thank you, Captain Treghues,” Caroline replied.
“I would appreciate your informing me of your progress,” Treghues went on, almost squirming with unfami
liar embarrassment as his crew bustled about to assist her into the bosun’s chair. “As I told you and your father at supper last night, there may be much I could do to alleviate your distress, perhaps aid in finding your brothers suitable commissions in the regular forces. Governour, pardon my familiarity at using his Christian name, ha-ha, your elder brother sounds like a proper Tartar, the sort we need in a good regiment. And your second brother, Burgess, if he has, as you said, any interest in the Sea Service, there is always the possibility of a berth as a marine lieutenant.”
“We would appreciate any interest you could take in us, Captain,” Caroline replied. “I cannot speak for my brothers. After Yorktown, I do not know how enamored they are of a continued military career. And truthfully, we do not know where we shall light if the rebellion has any more successes.”
“I could write and keep in touch,” Treghues suggested. “And, in the meantime, allow me to present you with this, a token only, you know, but every little bit helps, ha-ha.”
Treghues was trying to press a small purse of money on her, and Caroline was blushing with embarrassment as well.
“I could not accept such a gift, sir,” she said directly, though not eager to pass up free guineas, not in their straitened financial condition. “I wish you had made offer to my father. He is head of our house still, sir. And as to writing to us, that is also his decision, and I am governed by my father’s will.”
“As a God-fearing girl should be, in faith,” Treghues agreed, booming too loud and firm. “I commend your spirit, Mistress Chiswick, but please believe that I lay no conditions on the acceptance of such a paltry gift, but only do it from a heart . . . a sense of admiration of your plucky . . . er, spirit in the face of adversity.”
God, I almost feel sorry for the artless bugger, Alan thought grinning in silent amusement. It’s a wonder there’s a Treghues alive if that’s the way they court their women. He couldn’t get fucked in a buttock shop!
“What conditions could you lay, sir?” Caroline asked archly, getting a little vexed and anxious to be in the boat with her father, who could be heard grumbling about something already.
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