Nine
At sunset the sky darkened with low, fraying cloud and, though rain spattered down upon the waters all around and the seas got up, the wind made only a little. The groundswell, however, was enough to strain the tow cable so that it parted and the slaver dropped quickly astern. To keep the lights of their tow in sight, the Themis was hove-to and every few hours set briefly before the wind to keep near the drifting slave ship.
Once he was assured that his lieutenants understood what was required of them, Hayden retired below to the warmth and cheer of the gunroom, for he and the ship’s guests had been invited to dine that evening.
Mr Percival and the two Spaniards sat among the regular officers and warrant officers who made up the gunroom’s complement. Mr Smosh, Dr Griffiths, Hawthorne and Archer were all scrubbed and buttons polished. Ransome, who also had a cabin letting on to this small rectangle, was officer of the watch and therefore on deck.
Mr Archer was the official host of this meal, as he was the senior officer in the gunroom, and he took up this duty with a will. Plying guests with food and drink appeared to be his principal responsibility and, at this task, he proved to be efficiency itself. All off-duty officers and guests were sufficiently jolly, Hayden observed.
Conversation had ranged widely and presently settled on the proper character for a sailor’s wife.
‘A large dowry, above all,’ Mr Hawthorne joked.
‘Nay, nay – she must be comely, so her husband shall never be tempted to stray,’ Mr Smosh argued.
‘What say you, Captain?’ Archer enquired.
‘I am the last man here to ask, Mr Archer,’ Hayden replied, with a surreptitious glance at Angel. ‘I have been love’s fool more often than I have shown wisdom in this particular matter.’
Hawthorne waved a finger in the air. ‘Any man who has not been a fool in love has never known the rapture and frenzy that overthrows reason. A man reasonable in love is but imbibing bread and water to slake his meagre appetite. He has not the devouring yearning that casts aside all pride to fill that unendurable void that has grown within.’
‘Hear! To fools in love,’ others echoed. Glasses were raised and a toast enthusiastically drunk.
Into the small moment of silence that followed, Mr Percival said softly, ‘I pity women; their passion can never be the equal of a man’s.’
‘Why, I should take the opposite side in such an argument, sir,’ Hawthorne informed the admiral’s secretary. ‘Women are but forced to conceal their passion, for such madness is thought unseemly in a woman.’
‘Mr Hawthorne is very correct,’ Angel interjected. His colour was high with wine and his words very carefully enunciated. ‘Why else do women flock to see Romeo and Juliet? It is to see a young woman’s passion unleashed without fear of censure. In their secret hearts they are all Juliets who dream one day of a marriage wherein their passion might be given its head—’
‘Like a wild mount between smooth thighs,’ Smosh added drunkenly, and all laughed that this had come from the mouth of a parson.
When this laughter died away, Percival turned to the young Spaniard, who was seated beside him. ‘Why, Angel, it would appear you are let into the secret thoughts of the fairer sex. How is it that you became their confidant?’
Angel looked somewhat uncomfortable at this question but then replied, ‘Unlike many men, Mr Percival, when women talk, I attend to their words rather than merely pretend to do so.’
The admiral’s secretary raised his brows a little, then turned to Hayden. ‘What think you, Captain?’ he asked. ‘Who has the greater passion? Young Romeos or their Juliets?’
‘I am not the pilot to have sounded the hearts of women, Mr Percival, nor do I have charts for those foreign waters. When I venture there I am but a poor sailor on a moonless night, the sea fathomless, shoals unmarked, storms and squalls unpredictable – in a few words, entirely out of my depth.’
Hawthorne turned suddenly serious. ‘It would appear you have more wisdom in these matters than you claim, Captain,’ the marine lieutenant observed.
‘The passion of Juliets is the greater,’ Angel asserted.
‘Even than your own manly young passion, Angel?’ Percival asked, his smile not well hidden.
Angel coloured. ‘I have not the experience to answer that yet.’
Archer waved a hand at the young Spaniard. ‘He knows so much of women though he has not known a woman.’
Hawthorne turned to Angel’s brother. ‘How is it, Don Miguel, that this slip of a youth claims such knowledge of a woman’s heart when he has not tasted the bitter wine that is love?’
‘He has observed my follies in this matter, Mr Hawthorne,’ Miguel replied. Of all present, he was clearly the farthest into his cup.
‘Ah.’ Hawthorne turned to Hayden. ‘Captain, you are playing the politician in this matter. Give us your uncensored opinion: has Angel still a girlish heart not yet grown to manhood? Is that his secret?’
Hayden turned his goblet slowly on the table, staring into its crimson depths. How to phrase it? ‘I do not think this is some affliction of youth, Mr Hawthorne. No, I think Angel is a Rosalind, with the wise, knowing heart of a woman secreted within the form of a young man.’
‘A woman’s heart wrapped in a tiger’s hide,’ Griffiths pronounced, and a toast was drunk to their young tiger.
Mr Percival yet maintained that the passion of men was greater but, in the way of conversations made slippery with wine, this one slid on to matters less serious.
It was late in the middle watch when Angel and Hayden helped a drunken and sleepy Miguel back to their shared cabin. The rolling of the ship on the long groundswell initiated a three-man trip-and-stagger that began Angel laughing and then Hayden as well. Several times Angel brushed against Hayden and, once, when the ship rolled, fell against him and lingered in that position just an instant longer than strictly necessary, pulling away with what Hayden imagined was reluctance.
Was this a young woman made bold by claret and the belief that her secret desire was hidden beneath a man’s clothing? Or was it a young man? Had Hayden imagined that Angel had pressed himself to him, for a second?
His own brain was a little addled by drink and the need for sleep, so his thoughts and feelings seemed to run in all directions at once.
They managed to get Miguel up the ladder by Angel pulling and Hayden pushing from behind.
At the door to Hayden’s cabin, the marine sentry let them in, poorly hiding a smirk. Because of the swell, the cots swung forth and back to an uncommon extreme – though in fact it was the ship that moved and the cot which stayed nearly stationary. Even so, getting the limp Miguel into his cot was all but an impossibility. He was both dead weight and lolling, so that he constantly slipped through one’s fingers. Twice they tried to manhandle him into his cot as it swung near but failed, all but dropping him to the floor. They then bent double with laughter and were forced to recover a little before a third attempt saw the job done.
With some difficulty they removed Miguel’s shoes and decided that he must sleep in his clothes, for undressing him in a swinging hammock was both exhausting and dangerous.
Angel put a hand on Hayden’s arm.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered, as though not wanting to disturb his brother. ‘I could never have managed alone.’
‘It was nothing. Sleep well, Angel.’
Hayden retreated beyond the partition and into his own half of the cabin, his heart beating from the effort of manhandling the limp Miguel, or from his growing hope that Angel was in fact a young woman.
Percival had put this thought in his head, and now Hayden could not force it out. With some effort, he mastered himself and went about his nightly preparations, though sounds that he took to be Angel undressing did try to draw his thoughts on to other paths.
It took but a few moments to perform his toilet and, when he emerged from the quarter gallery, he found Angel standing by his swinging hammock, holding the ropes that suspen
ded one end. His hair was down and neckcloth gone.
‘Does everyone know my secret?’ Angel whispered.
For a few seconds Hayden did not know what to say.
‘Mr Percival and myself. No one else …’ he replied just as quietly; there was a sentry stationed outside his cabin door. He walked closer, reaching up and taking hold of a beam so that Angel was not two feet distant.
‘Will he reveal it?’ Angel asked.
‘I do not believe he will.’
‘And you …?’
‘Your secrets are safe with me.’
But what was Angel’s secret? That he was a woman dressed as a man, or that he preferred men?
‘Rosalind, you called me …’
‘Because I have wondered if Angel was your real name – the name you were given at birth.’
A shake of the head. ‘No … I was christened Angelita but, like Rosalind, hid my true sex away, though she called herself Ganymede, not Angel.’
The two stood, face to face, hardly knowing what to say – Hayden uncertain if he could believe what he had heard.
‘If I had known that Mr Percival and yourself both knew my secret … I should have been more discreet about the passions of women.’
‘That secret is safe with me as well.’
‘Do you remember that Rosalind, dressed as Ganymede, helped Orlando fall out of love with another?’
‘Yes, but her intention was the opposite.’
‘That is so, but perhaps I might perform this same service, for I cannot bear to see you suffering.’
‘Has that been your intention?’
‘I – I do not know. I have been so confused. For all this time I am to be acting a man, yet I have so wanted to be a woman. To speak to you as a woman.’
‘I think you have been doing just that, but I have been too obtuse to know.’
The ship rolled and Angelita lost her footing, and just as Hayden put out a hand to steady her, she put a hand against his chest. And then she pressed her face into the hollow of his neck, her breath very short.
‘Does this feel strange?’ she asked.
‘To be honest, yes. A moment ago I was not absolutely certain you were a woman, and for a long time after you came aboard ship I believed you a young man. I confess I do not know quite what to think … or what to feel.’
Angelita stepped away from him now, and looked up into his face. ‘I hope you will be able to learn to see me as I am – a woman – though no one else must ever know.’
‘I swear, Angel, I will not tell a soul.’
‘I am Angelita … but you must never say it where any other can hear. Even my brother – for he must not know that I have revealed my secret to you. He would be very angry.’ She appeared to search for words, and did not meet his eye.
Outside, the wind moaned in the rigging and the seas hissed as they passed beneath.
‘Charles …?’ Angelita whispered. ‘I have lied to you – more than one.’
Hayden felt a certain dread run through him.
She appeared to gather her thoughts, or perhaps to decide if she should tell him this. ‘My father died a few years ago and, in time, my mother remarried. I tell you most honestly that my father was very wealthy. His estates, of course, would go to my brother, but not until he comes of age. This man my mother married, he has a son about Miguel’s age, but that family’s estates are small compared to my father’s. One night, my brother was out with his dearest and oldest friend, who was like a brother to him. They had been drinking and, on a lark, exchanged coats. As they walked home they were set upon by … I don’t know how you say … by bad men. His friend was killed, but Miguel was only thrown aside and left unharmed. It was Miguel’s belief that these men meant to murder him but, because of the darkness and the exchanged coats, killed his friend by mistake. They were not robbers, because they took nothing.’ She closed her eyes as though she could block out the very idea of someone attempting to murder her brother. ‘This man, my stepfather, worked upon my mother to have her agree to marry me to his son. If Miguel was dead – were dead – the way would be clear to have my father’s estates given to my husband. My mother would never believe that this man she married was so false, but Miguel and me … we had no doubt. We believed his life was in danger – Miguel’s life – and I was to be married to someone I despised. So we fled … upon the ship of a friend of my father’s, as I told you. We planned to go to our uncle – my father’s brother – who we believed would protect us until Miguel came into his inheritance; once the lands were his, they would be out of the grasp of my stepfather and his son.
We believed we were safe once we were at sea …’ Her voice had become dry and small so that he strained to hear the words. ‘But during a calm – not long after we sailed – the captains of the other frigates and some officials travelling to Vera Cruz came aboard our ship to dine. One of these officials we knew – he was an associate of my stepfather. He had been to our home many times and knew Miguel and me by sight. We thought he would reveal our identities immediately, but instead he said nothing. This we found confusing. If he did not intend to reveal who we were and have us returned to Spain, what did he intend? Would he demand money? Was he not such a good friend of our stepfather as we thought? Was it a coincidence that he was on that ship? Miguel believed that it was not and that he planned to have us murdered when we reached Vera Cruz. Once we both were dead, then my stepbrother could inherit my father’s estates. All that would be necessary would be for my mother to adopt him as her heir.
‘We dreaded our arrival in Vera Cruz, but we did not comprehend the true danger. One evening we went forward to the … where the injured sleep …’
‘The sick-berth?’
‘Yes. We went there to visit a young officer who had befriended us and had the bad luck to be injured in a fall. The collision occurred while we were there. Lamps were thrown down upon the deck and shattered so that all was dark. There was a great panic, for the ship began immediately to sink. The few men in the sick-berth were borne out. Two crewmen who appeared to be helping told us to stay out of the way and wait but then, as soon as the sick-berth was empty, they turned on us with knives. We were taken by surprise, but I had a pocket pistol secreted in my jacket and shot one as he attacked me. That was his blood on my clothing. The second ran off. We made our way to the deck. There the captain put us into the boat, but Miguel was frantic with fear. You must understand – there had now been two times of men trying to kill him. There was no way to know who aboard had been sent to murder us or how many they might be. Every man aboard seemed like a threat, so Miguel … he forced this man to cling to the ropes and cut us free, setting our boat adrift with only we two in it. The coxswain was hauled back aboard.’ She covered her eyes and Hayden saw tears slip between her fingers.
‘Men might have made it into the boat and been saved if not for us … What Miguel did was very wrong.’ Her voice disappeared then and Hayden could hear her attempting to find it again. ‘Miguel keeps saying we might have been murdered or the boat swamped by frightened sailors …’ A long, shuddering breath. ‘I think he will do anything to live – to keep us alive. He is so frightened.’ She turned a little and looked up at Hayden, her eyes glistening. ‘Would a court convict him? Has he broken a law?’
‘I do not know Spanish law. If he were a sailor, certainly he would be court-martialled and found guilty … But he is not a sailor so I do not know what would be done …’
‘If no one survived the wreck, then no one knows but Miguel and me … and now you.’
‘I wish you had not told me,’ Hayden whispered.
‘I did not want there to be lies between us. I wanted only truth.’
‘That truth might force me to tell lies … to those to whom I am duty bound to tell the truth.’
‘I – I am sorry if I have put you in a difficult place.’
‘Do not apologize. You were right – better we have truth between us.’ Hayden’s thoughts seemed to be mired in
fog. ‘How long until Miguel comes of age?’
‘One year and one half.’
‘Not so long … You do have an uncle in Vera Cruz?’
‘Yes, of course. The brother of my father.’
‘And you trust him?’
‘With our lives … As I do you, Charles.’
The words of Mr Hawthorne came to him then: ‘the male romantic myth is rescuing the damsel in distress’. Madame Adair, who lived in fear of the guillotine, Madame Bourdage and the exquisite Heloise. And now Angelita. He did not think of himself as having this tendency, but his recent history would seem to prove otherwise.
What is the difference between a hero and a fool? A fool wears motley …
Hayden could not help but wonder if he was being taken for a fool again.
The ship’s bell tolled somewhere deep in the wind.
‘I fear I am becoming a terrible burden to you …’ Angelita whispered.
‘No. You have suffered terrible misfortune, but luck is like that, I have found. It will run bad for a time and then all will be well. We must weather the gales and make the most of fair winds.’
‘I fear that God has turned against me …’
Hayden did not say that he thought all the gods were unaware of her existence, and his as well. ‘I do not believe that God could turn against someone such as you.’
Hayden paused a moment. ‘You have done a very brave thing to escape this situation, to cross an ocean.’
‘It did not seem brave … it was desperate. But here we are and now I have telled you all my secrets.’ Angelita touched his arm. ‘Sleep well, Charles.’
And with that she retreated quickly behind her screen.
For a long time Hayden stood, his hand upon a deck beam, the ship rolling beneath him and his mind reeling. Percival had not been lying. There was a woman living in his cabin – a comely and charming young lady!
Ever since Angel and Miguel had stepped aboard he had been dreaming that a woman came to him in the night, as though somehow his senses had known but his waking mind did not believe it.
Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead Page 8