‘Yes, Mr Archer, by all means. Heave-to.’
The doctor came running up the nearby ladder.
‘The tow rope,’ Hayden replied when the doctor raised a single eyebrow. ‘It parted and scythed across the deck …’ He made a helpless gesture toward the girl lying on the hard planks.
‘Don Miguel,’ Griffiths said gently, ‘if you will allow me …?’
The Spaniard rose to his feet and made room for the doctor, whom Hayden was certain wanted out of the way any individual whose emotions might get the better of his reason. But Hayden himself was fighting an impulse to take Angelita in his arms. His throat had tightened to such a degree that he was afraid to speak, lest he reveal his feelings.
For a moment the doctor bent over her, feeling for a pulse at her throat.
‘Who saw this?’ the doctor asked of the men gathered around.
‘I did, Dr Griffiths,’ one of the hands answered. ‘Just out the corner of me eye, sir. Rope came in like a serpent, sir, and the end caught the young gentleman without warning. Like ’e’d been flogged by a Titan, sir. Don’t know ’ow it didn’t tear ’im in ’alf.’
Two hands appeared with a cot at that moment, and the surgeon, and Miguel and Hayden slid the still-limp girl on to the stretched canvas. Four seamen took it up, but Hayden knew she was light as a feather and one of them could easily have borne her.
He followed down the ladder and forward. As they reached the entrance to the sick-berth, the doctor leaned near to Hayden. ‘Keep his brother out here if you can, Captain.’
Hayden nodded.
‘Don Miguel?’ he said to the Spaniard. ‘We must remain out of the doctor’s way …’
Miguel nodded and, as the door to the sick-berth closed, set immediately to pacing across the deck like an expectant father awaiting the birth of a child. He did not look at Hayden, who was torn between his duty to his ship and his desire to stay near Angelita. Men were killed by ropes whipping back – strong men.
The motion of the ship changed as Archer ordered her hove-to. They would need to run another cable to the slaver, which was now adrift, but that could wait a little while. The two men paced the deck back and forth, the tension between them palpable, as though they awaited the doctor’s verdict as to which of them was the newborn’s father.
The doctor did not emerge for half of an hour and, when he did, he appeared very grave, if not indignant.
‘Angel has regained consciousness,’ the doctor told them, speaking quietly. ‘The ribs are terribly bruised and may be cracked. I cannot say. They are not displaced and I do not think they are broken. On top of this – despite the fact that I was assured otherwise – Angel has been revealed to be a young woman.’
‘I was sworn to secrecy, Doctor,’ Hayden explained quickly, ‘and dared not break my trust.’
Griffiths nodded. ‘No one owes me an explanation, but the men in the sick-berth are now sensible of it and you well know that they will not keep it dark.’
Hayden nodded.
‘I do not think the sick-berth the best place for a young woman, Captain,’ Griffiths went on.
‘Can she be moved to my cabin?’
‘With care, yes.’
‘May I see her, Doctor?’ Miguel asked.
‘You are her brother …?’ Griffiths sounded suddenly uncertain that anything he had been told about these castaways was true.
‘Yes. Yes, of course I am.’
The doctor nodded to Hayden. ‘She has asked to see the Captain first, and then you, sir.’
There was an awkward moment, and then Hayden let himself into the sick-berth. The men lying in their cots regarded him with uncommon interest, he thought. A blanket had been hung to give the sole female patient privacy, and Hayden found Angelita there, behind the screen, lying beneath a coverlet, her bare shoulders and arms exposed. Her face, blanched and bloodless, was drawn tight with pain, tiny lines appearing at the corners of her eyes and upon her usually smooth brow.
Hayden took the chair beside her cot, which swung gently back and forth.
‘The doctor tells me you will make a full recovery …’ he told her in Spanish, uncertain what to say.
She nodded and reached out. Hayden gently took her hand.
‘Do not listen to my brother,’ she managed. Hayden could see that each word was like a little knife in her side. ‘I am not a child and I will make my own choices, now. He is not my father, nor has he reached his majority – we were born the same hour … and I was born first. He has no say over my life.’
Hayden was not quite certain how to answer this, and instead observed, ‘It hurts you to speak?’
She nodded. ‘But I do not want you to break off with me … because of my brother.’ A tear squeezed out from the corner of her eye and ran crookedly down her cheek.
‘Miguel and I will have to reach an understanding, then.’
She pressed his hand. ‘Do not give in to him.’
‘I am more concerned, at this moment, about you and your recovery. That is the most important thing.’
‘I am young. My body will heal … but young hearts … they are fragile.’
‘I know,’ Hayden replied, with more feeling than he intended. ‘We are going to remove you to my cabin. I fear it will cause pain, but this is a sailors’ sick-berth and no place for a woman.’
‘I do not care about the pain – I want to be in your cabin.’
‘Then we will move you as soon as the doctor allows. Your brother awaits outside.’
‘Send him in.’ She gave Hayden’s hand a squeeze and tried to smile.
Hayden went out, ignoring the stares. Beyond the door, Miguel hovered, his anger replaced by anxiety.
‘She is asking for you, Don Miguel.’
He went in without a word, or even a nod.
The surgeon waited there, looking askance at Hayden.
‘I do apologize, Doctor,’ Hayden declared, ‘it was, as I said, a matter of keeping my word.’
‘It is your prerogative as captain to reveal or not to reveal whatever you wish to your officers. We are all, however, going to feel a little foolish, having been taken in by Angel’s act.’
‘You were the only one who suspected … you and one other.’
‘A small compensation. You are quite certain, then, that their story is true and they are to be trusted?’
‘Miguel …? I cannot say. Angelita, yes, I trust her.’
The doctor looked at him, a little cynically, perhaps. ‘Then she had a reasonable explanation for disguising herself as a man?’
‘I believe so.’
The doctor considered this. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I cannot think how we shall keep it secret now.’
Hayden agreed, but only nodded.
‘I should see to my patient, Captain …’ Griffiths cocked his head toward the sick-berth.
‘And I to my ship.’
In a moment Hayden was back on deck, where Archer had the hands in a long line, passing a new rope up from the cable tier on to the quarterdeck. The slaver drifted downwind and this meant moving the Themis to a position where a messenger line could be carried over by cutter. Archer appeared to have everything well in hand and Hayden stood by, quietly observing, and largely approving the manner in which this was all managed.
While he watched, Miguel appeared a few yards distant and made his way on to the captain’s private few yards of deck.
‘Don Miguel,’ Hayden greeted him solemnly.
‘Captain.’ For a moment Miguel stood silently. ‘I must thank you, Captain Hayden, for saving me from injury, if not worse. I wish, however, that you had saved my sister in my place.’
‘Had I only known she was there …’
‘Or had I known … This is your ship, Captain, and I am in your debt. But I appeal to your sense of honour and to the genuine affection I believe you hold for my sister. She was born and has lived in the highest society in my country. Everyone expects her to make a brilliant marriage, to a man from one of the
best families. I understand that you are an exceptional officer with a very promising future, but … do you really think it fair to take her from her family and friends, from her country, to dwell where? In England? – a sea captain’s wife, left always waiting and wondering, and suffering near-constant anxiety? Will this be a happy life for her? She is very young and has not carefully considered what that future would mean. All she sees is a handsome and charming captain – a man who saved her life and to whom she is utterly grateful. And I must remind you, Captain, that my sister and I belong to the Church of Rome, and you do not. Will you change your religion for her?’
‘An officer in His Majesty’s Navy must belong to the Church of England,’ Hayden said quickly.
‘Then you would ask her to convert to your religion – at risk of her mortal soul? Think of all these things. You are more experienced than she, Captain Hayden. Ask yourself if this is really what is best for my sister? That is all I ask of you.’ Miguel gave a curt bow, and went quickly below, leaving Hayden standing upon the quarterdeck, feeling as though he had somehow made commitments without ever meaning to do so, and yet the thought of Miguel taking Angelita away from him filled him with a terrible dismay. Above all things, he could not allow that.
Thirteen
Gould and Wickham found Hayden using the gunroom table to prosecute the war on his most hated enemy – paperwork. He had commandeered this space while his own cabin had been turned into a hospital chamber.
‘We have books for Angel … Doña Angelita,’ Wickham began, proffering a small stack of volumes.
‘That is very kind of you. Leave them on the table and I will see she receives them … and promise not to forget to inform her who it was that sent them.’
The books were stacked carefully, clear of Hayden’s papers. Angelita had become the ship’s ‘pet’ since her true sex had been revealed – not that Angel had not been before. Archer would not allow the deck over the captain’s cabin to be holystoned in the morning when it might disturb her rest; the hands on the quarterdeck and the helmsmen were constantly hushed. Even the poor lookouts were required to call down to the deck as quietly as possible while still being heard. Little ‘treats’ were provided by the cook (who apparently had some foods squirrelled away that no one knew about). The gunroom officers sent both food and drink and yet more reading material.
Angelita was the talk of the ship, and at least half the men aboard assured everyone who would listen that they had suspected – or even known – from the day she had come aboard but had said nothing for fear of ridicule. The reason that everyone had sought out Angel’s company now seemed perfectly obvious and her charm easily explained. Angel Campillo was a comely young woman!
Neither of the midshipmen showed any sign of leaving, so Hayden put down his quill.
‘Is there something more?’ he enquired.
Gould glanced at Wickham, silently electing him spokesman. ‘We were wondering, sir, if you would like to join our syndicate?’
‘And what syndicate would this be, Mr Wickham?’
‘A group of us, sir, have decided to put our profits – or, in some cases, a portion of the profits – from the slaver toward buying the freedom of some of the slaves, sir – preferably a family, if one exists.’
‘I see. And what will become of this family once you have purchased their freedom?’
‘Well, sir –’ Gould took up the case – ‘we have discussed it at some length, sir, and decided that sending them back to their homes in Africa would likely see them again fall into the hands of slavers. We do not want that, sir, so we thought it best that we write to the abolitionists in England and America and ask if they would find a position for them in either country.’
‘What kind of “position”, Mr Gould, if I may ask?’
‘I am quite certain they could be taught a trade, sir, or they might go into service. I do not really know, sir. We thought the abolitionist societies would be best able to make such a decision.’
‘It is a noble idea, Mr Gould, and I am for it in principle, with the slight reservation that I fear what will become of them, cast ashore in a foreign land where they speak no English. But as I do not wish to profit from the sale of slaves myself, and have no better design for what to do with my money, you may count me in … for my full share.’
‘That is very handsome of you, sir!’
‘It is a small good set against a very great evil, but it is all I can do without becoming a criminal, which I am not prepared to do.’
Hayden went back to his paperwork for yet another hour but, as the ship’s bell signalled eight bells – ship’s noon – he scribbled some instructions for his writer and collected all his stores lists, mess lists and so on into a box and tucked it under his arm.
Very quickly he made his way up to his cabin, where Angelita rested. The cabin had been divided into three by canvas screens – Angelita to larboard, Miguel on the centre line and Hayden to starboard.
As it was now rather impossible for them to pursue their affair, due to Angelita’s injuries, a kind of peace had settled between the three – Miguel and Hayden both more concerned for Angelita’s well-being than for their disagreement.
Miguel perched on the long bench beneath the open gallery windows, through which the trade came freely in. He looked up as Hayden entered, nodded and went back to his book. He was happy to chaperone from beyond the screen, it seemed.
Angelita lay in her cot, eyes closed, an open book pressed, pages down, upon her breast. Hayden was about to attempt a silent retreat when her eyes opened and she smiled. Her colour was better that day, he thought – perhaps a little too high – and her forehead was thinly glossed with sweat.
‘Are you fevered, my dear?’ he enquired, and took the chair beside her.
‘No. It is just this oppressive heat. The doctor assures me that my injuries heal as they should and have not gone septic, for which I thank God hourly.’ She had refused tincture of opium after one encounter with it, assuring the surgeon that she would rather endure the pain than feel that way again.
‘Griffiths knows what he is about and, of course, faith is the physic of the gods.’
She reached out and put her hand on Hayden’s arm in the most familiar way, as though they had a perfect understanding, an understanding that had grown up between them over some months rather than mere days. Although he thought he should find this disquieting, in fact he instead found it rather comforting. He was well aware that some of his officers worried that they were about to witness another scenario, such as had occurred with the Bourdages, but Hayden did not believe Angelita to be scheming. She and her brother were penniless and very far from family or any connexions who might offer them aid, and in that situation a convenient marriage or even a betrothal that could later be broken off would be most useful but, despite this, Hayden felt certain this was not in her mind, even in the smallest degree.
It had always been his belief that bad marriages came from couples rushing into nuptials before they had come to know each other’s character – of course, this desire to wait had cost him Henrietta, so clearly circumspection in such matters could also lead to things going horribly wrong.
He felt, therefore, utterly in conflict with himself; his hopes pitted against his natural reticence in such matters. One hour he would think he was acting foolishly and he should make Angelita aware that he thought they were moving too quickly, and then he would think, no, there is always risk in matters of the heart. There is ever the chance that things will not come out well, no matter how cautiously one approaches such matters.
‘You look trouble?’ Angelita said.
‘“Troubled”, do you mean?’
‘Yes. Troubled, my poor Charles.’ She grimaced then, holding her breath tightly. And the spasm passed.
‘It is just the slave ship … It follows me about like a difficult decision that I wish not to make.’
‘The law, the expectations of your crew … these are at odds with your own fe
elings about slavery.’
‘Yes. I feel I can do nothing, that, in fact, I am being forced to support an institution which I detest.’
‘You must make your peace with this, Charles. It is beyond your strength to make it different. To reprimand yourself constantly … this will change nothing.’
‘You are right, but it is so much easier said than accomplished – at least, in my case.’
She squeezed his arm. ‘It is because you have such a good heart. That is what I thought from the moment we met. You have a good, pure heart.’
But I am such a coward, Hayden thought. I would more readily face cannon fire than risk bruising a girl’s feelings.
They were silent a moment. And then Angelita said softly, ‘Are you having some regrets about what has occurred between us? Tell me if that is so …’ Her eyes glistened suddenly, and the smallest tear trembled in the corner of one eye.
‘Regrets? No. I have none. I do worry that it has all happened quickly and we have not thought it through. Your brother has pointed out, correctly, that we are of different religions.’
‘But I do not care,’ she whispered. ‘I do not believe that God judges us by the church in which we worship but by our deeds. I will become a member of any church you name if it will allow us to marry.’
The very words ‘to marry’ struck him like a spark in the pan. At once he felt utter apprehension and … joy. How could that be?
‘I think I have frightened you, my dear Charles, with this word. I shall never say it again or broach this subject. It is now to you. If you do not speak of it again, then neither shall I. And I will understand. I do not wish you to enter into such a covenant with me if you have any doubts.’
‘On deck!’ came the call down through the open skylight. ‘Land, Mr Ransome! Land ho!’
Hayden rose quickly and kissed Angelita on the cheek. ‘You are my mermaid, discovered in the deep sea, sent to me by Poseidon. When the gods send you a mermaid …’ He smiled at her, and shrugged
Squeezing her hand, he hurried out, feeling small and cowardly and, at the same instant, an almost serene happiness.
Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead Page 11