by Carola Dunn
"But we must rescue them!" she cried in agony. "Send a boat to release them!"
"I can't order my men onto a sinking ship, ma'am."
"Then I shall go! Will no one go with me?"
Marco moved to her side, followed at once by Andrew and Rowson.
"We can try, captain," said Andrew. "Will you have the other boat lowered and give us a couple of men to row us over? They can wait for us in the boat."
By the time the four of them climbed down into the captain's gig, held steady by a pair of sailors, the slaver captain and his three cronies were aboard the Destiny. Teresa looked up to see them staring down at her with puzzled faces.
The Snipe had drifted closer and they reached her side in no time. Teresa looked at the dangling rope ladder and cursed her skirts. With a defiant glance at Andrew, she picked up the hem and tucked it into the waistband, carefully leaving her pistols clear.
Andrew shook his head at her and grinned. "Considering the impropriety of this whole mad venture," he pointed out, "of what significance is a mere display of limbs?"
They clambered up to the deck. The ship was listing slightly though it seemed steady beneath their feet. They heard cries and groans from below, thumps and thuds as the imprisoned wretches tried desperately to break out.
"Marco, you and Rowson open this hatch," ordered Andrew. "Come, Teresa, let us see what we can do aft."
It was the work of a moment to undo the fastening on the aft hatch. Teresa thought her arms would come out of their sockets as she struggled to help Andrew lift it. Marco and Rowson rushed to help as a swarm of dark-skinned, half naked women and children burst up from the forward hold and milled about on the deck.
The aft hatch swung open and another dozen women staggered out. No one else appeared. Teresa peered down into the gloom, hearing shouts in deeper male voices.
Behind her Andrew cried, "Break loose the railings, the spars, any timber you can find. Throw it overboard and make them jump. It's the only hope. Teresa, wait!"
She was already half way down the stairs. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw rows of men lying shackled to the deck. They were packed close together like a hand of bananas, unable to move without knocking against each other. The smell was appalling and she thought she was going to vomit.
She braced herself. The cries ended in a terrified silence as she moved to the nearest slave and drew her pistols. She shot off his shackles. The report was deafening. As it echoed around, the man realised that he was still alive. He jumped to his feet and headed for the hatchway as Teresa reloaded and moved on.
Andrew was beside her, a pair of pistols in his hands. Eyes stinging from the smoke, she blinked at him and moved to the next, and the next, and the next.
The ship shuddered and listed a little further.
"She's going!" called Marco's scared voice. "Teresa, come up! Teresa!"
She moved to the next, shot, reloaded, moved on into the gloom.
Andrew ran back to her from the depth of the hold. "That’s the last. Come on!" he said urgently.
Too dazed to comprehend, she started to reload again. He picked her up, sped to the hatch and pushed her through. Marco and Rowson grabbed her arms and hauled, then turned to help Andrew.
The sailors had pulled several children into the captain's gig, but they had saved space for the rescuers. The boat was half way back to the Destiny when Teresa looked back to see the Snipe tilt over on her side and slide smoothly beneath the placid blue swells. The sea's gleaming surface was dotted with floating wood and bobbing heads. Among them crawled the boats from the Snipe and the Destiny.
Numb with shock and exhaustion, Teresa had to be lifted to the deck in a sling. Willing hands helped her aboard. She stood in a daze until Andrew, his face blackened by powder smoke, appeared over the side, picked her up once again, and carried her down to the cabin.
Between Kinsey, the cabin boy and the ship's cook, a hot bath was provided in short order. Teresa never remembered climbing into or out of it, but before she fell asleep in her cot she was aware of Muriel bending over her, tucking her in, her blue eyes wondering.
"You are a heroine!" she breathed.
Teresa slept till mid afternoon and woke ravenous. She sat up and said so. "I'm so hungry I could eat an ox, I vow!"
"A lady ought to have a delicate appetite, and never to mention it," Lady Parr informed her. "I eat like a bird and so, I am happy to say, does Muriel. It is quite otherwise with gentlemen. Sir Archibald had an excellent appetite. I have decided, Miss Danville, to take you in hand. It will never do for you to present yourself to her Grace of Stafford until you have overcome certain odd notions of behaviour. I flatter myself that I am as able as anyone to teach you how to go on unexceptionably, though I daresay you will never be as pretty-behaved as Muriel. Muriel is exceptional."
"Yes, ma'am, and thank you, but I missed both breakfast and luncheon!"
"Kinsey, fetch some nourishment for Miss Danville. And you may tell Miss Muriel to come down. She has spent quite enough time with young Graylin for this afternoon."
The abigail went off and Teresa dressed. In a few minutes a knock at the door announced Willy, the cabin boy, bearing a tray. "Cap'n's compliments, miss," he said as he set it carefully on the table, "and there's over a hundred Africans been saved. I seen 'em, miss. They's up on deck, wi' a bit o' canvas rigged to keep the sun offn 'em. And I seen them slavers too, in irons in the brig. Summun told 'em it was you as saved them Blacks and they was cussing something awful!"
"That will do!" said Lady Parr severely, and Willy departed in haste.
Muriel came in while Teresa was eating. "Captain Fitch wants to see you on the quarter deck," she said, "if you are quite recovered. Oh, Miss Danville, you were splendid! I cannot imagine how you could be so brave. Why, it frightens me only to see their black faces at a distance."
Teresa looked at her in surprise. "They are people," she said gently. "I could not let them drown without trying to save them. If you will excuse me, ma'am, I shall go up to see the captain."
Captain Fitch wanted to know what she expected him to do with her protégés. Andrew leaned on the rail, grinning at her disconcerted expression.
"I'll impress a score or so of the men," the captain went on. "We've lost that many of the crew to Yellow Fever and such, and there's enough of the Blacks healthy. The rest, there's the women and children, and a lot of them sick."
"Then the first thing is to attempt to cure them," said Teresa. "After seeing the conditions they were kept in, I should say fresh air and decent food will be enough for most of them. However, I shall fetch my herbs and see whether I can help any of them. Perhaps the doctor could meet me there?"
As Teresa joined the ship's doctor amidships, she looked round at the rescued slaves. Some of the children were sufficiently recovered from their ordeal to run and play, and a number of the men were standing and stretching, or walking about. Others sat huddled or lay sprawling. She imagined they must enjoy simply having space to breathe.
When they saw her, many of them called out in incomprehensible words. A young girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, came towards her. She was clad only in a piece of white cloth tied above her breasts and hanging to mid thigh.
"They are blessing you, miss," she said in excellent English. "They know that without you they would be dead. I am Annie, miss, and I too bless you and thank you."
Teresa felt her cheeks grow hot and quickly asked, "How is it that you speak English?"
Annie explained that since she was a small child her mother had lived with a white man, who had treated her as a daughter. Both her mother and her adoptive father had died of some nameless tropical disease, and she had been sold to the slavers by the local chief.
She made herself useful interpreting as Teresa and the doctor moved among the others, cleaning and binding wounds, dosing fevers, washing inflamed eyes with herbs.
When they had seen all the sick, Teresa went to report to Captain Fitch. As she climbed
the steps to the quarter deck, she looked up to see Andrew watching her. She gave him a weary smile. "I think they will all survive," she said. "I must tell you how grateful I am that you went with me to the Snipe. Without your support I could have done nothing."
"Without your initiative, nothing would have been done, Miss Danville. I was prepared to take the Captain’s word that they could not be saved. There are times when a disregard for convention is estimable."
His voice was serious, and when Teresa looked for a teasing light in his eye, she read only admiration. She turned away to hide her flushed face.
Captain Fitch had decided to set his unwanted passengers ashore at Grand Turk, in the Caicos Islands, which they would pass close to in a few days. He assured Teresa that it had a healthful climate and that the men would certainly find work in the salt industry which flourished there. She had to agree that it would probably suit them better than England, had it been possible to convey them thither.
She went down to the cabin to dress for dinner. After all the adventure of the day, she was ruefully aware of a ridiculous feeling of excitement when she remembered that she was to wear her new gown.
She watched Kinsey help Lady Parr and Muriel into their finery and arrange their hair. The first thing she must do when she arrived in London, she decided, was to find a competent abigail. There was clearly a definite art to it, far beyond the services Josefa had rendered her, which had amounted to little more than mending and laundry. Muriel, whose blond ringlets had been sadly disarranged by the breeze during her visit on deck, emerged from Kinsey's clever hands fit to grace a ballroom.
Then it was Teresa's turn. She held her breath as the sprigged muslin slipped down over her shoulders. It fitted perfectly. Kinsey took the captain's tiny mirror off its hook and held it tilted while Teresa twisted and turned, trying to see herself in her new finery.
At last she gave up, laughing. "I shall have to take it on trust," she said, then added with unwonted shyness, "Do you think you can do anything with my hair?"
Kinsey sat her down at the table. Muriel obligingly sat opposite holding the mirror while the ebony tide was loosed from its bounds and brushed vigorously.
"It's beautiful," Muriel assured her, "but you will have to cut it shorter to be à la mode."
"Not a bit of it," Kinsey said. "We'll take the most of it and wind it up on top of your head, miss. Add a bit of height, like. Then this that's left, it'll lie over your shoulder like so. We'll put a curling paper in it tonight and 'twill drape even better tomorrow, but isn't that fine as fivepence right now, Miss Muriel?"
"Charming!"
Lady Parr raised her quizzing glass. "Astonishing! I'd not have thought Miss Danville could look half so well. I wore my hair thus in my youth. It was the quite the fashion then, and Sir Archibald admired it exceedingly. Of course, my hair was golden." She studied Teresa's raven locks, sighed, and rose to lead the way to the wardroom.
* * * *
Andrew rose and bowed as Lady Parr swept into the wardroom. Even when, as now, dressed in puce rather than white, she bore a startling resemblance to a ship in full sail. His betrothed followed, as usual a figure of quiet elegance in pale blue. Behind her came Teresa. He frankly stared.
Her skin was darkened in contrast to the white muslin. The ruffles and bows that flattered Muriel's slender shape emphasized the wrong portions of her fuller figure and even though the way she wore her hair made her appear taller, she looked plump. Somehow, in that simple gown that would not be out of place in any drawing room in London, she managed to look more foreign than ever.
She glanced at him anxiously. He could not tell her that her own old clothes suited her far better. "You look every inch a lady," he said, with the utmost sincerity.
It was not precisely what she had hoped for, but at least he no longer thought her dressed like a hoyden. She told herself she was satisfied.
"You're complete to a shade!" exclaimed Marco, who had learned any amount of useful slang from Andrew.
Captain Fitch had clearly never noticed anything amiss with Miss Danville's appearance and was at a loss to understand the present interest therein. He had matters of more moment to discuss. To Lady Parr's obvious irritation, since she would have preferred to ignore the subject, he proceeded to congratulate himself upon the successful pursuit and capture of the Snipe. He had talked to the slaver captain, Harrison, a very unpleasant sort of fellow who flew into a passion when he learned that his slaves had been rescued. He would certainly be transported for his part in the infamous trade; indeed, he might even be hanged for murder since a number of the unfortunate Africans had drowned.
"He would not tell me who financed the voyage," the captain continued. "Certainly it was not his own ship, or he'd never have scuttled her. There are gentlemen in England still who put up the funds for scoundrels like Harrison, and it is generally impossible to prove their complicity."
"I suppose it is still a profitable trade then," observed Andrew.
"Aye, and will be until the Americans and the French agree to cooperate," growled the captain. "The British Navy cannot stop American ships, and the French never punish their citizens when we catch them."
Lady Parr managed to turn the conversation to the infamous behaviour of the French and the Americans in general, both of them given to revolutions that quite cut up everyone's peace. Teresa and Andrew between them managed to silence Marco when he attempted to inform her that Costa Rica, and indeed all of Central America, was on the verge of its own revolution. Teresa did not care to give her ladyship any more ammunition against her. She already had plenty.
Teresa's lessons in deportment began on the morrow. Lady Parr commandeered the wardroom between the hours of nine and one, pointing out to the unfortunate officers that they might very well go to their cabins or on deck.
Here Teresa paraded up and down in front of her ladyship's eagle eye until her carefree stride was reduced to a dainty step. Soon she could walk arm in arm with Muriel without pulling her along. She learned to curtsy gracefully, and to adjust the depth of her curtsy to the rank, called out by Lady Parr, of the person to whom she was supposedly being presented. She had some difficulty in distinguishing between the deference due to the King or Queen and that due the Prince Regent.
"Not that you will meet the King, of course, for he is quite mad by now. Duke!" Her ladyship frowned in thought as Teresa produced a creditable ducal curtsy. "I daresay you will not go so low to the Duke of Stafford as he is your uncle, at least once he has acknowledged you. Viscount! No, no, girl, that is deep enough for an earl, or even a marquis."
Muriel helped her practise conversing in a soft voice upon unexceptionable topics such as the weather. Lady Parr had nothing but praise for her low, musical voice. Her laugh, however, was sadly deprecated and proved impossible to remedy. The only alternative Teresa managed to produce was a horrid titter, which she herself refused to consider acceptable.
"We cannot expect perfection," sighed Lady Parr. "You will have to confine yourself to smiling, Miss Danville. Sir Archibald did not approve of females laughing, so that will do very well. Your teeth are good, I am glad to see."
Another failure was the art of fluttering fan and eyelashes: Teresa simply could not take it seriously enough to concentrate. In fact, the effort invariably called forth that unfortunate laugh.
The lessons were interrupted twice a day when Teresa made her rounds of the ex-slaves, attending to their ills. Andrew was openly admiring of both her compassion and her medical skills. On the second day Muriel asked permission to help, and though she was ill at ease, continued to join her thereafter. Teresa had to respect the effort she was making to overcome her timidity. In spite of her jealousy, suppressed with difficulty, and Lady Parr's constant comparisons to her detriment, she found herself growing fond of Andrew's future wife.
She also felt a growing attachment to Annie. The girl was always cheerful and ready to help. When the Destiny anchored off Grand Turk and the boats started ferr
ying the Africans ashore, Teresa made up her mind to ask Annie to stay with her as her abigail.
Annie accepted joyfully. Despite Lady Parr's distaste at sharing the cabin with a savage, when it was overfull already, a pallet was made up for her on the floor. Kinsey took the girl under her wing at once, and Muriel donated a couple of her mourning dresses to make her some decent clothes. Clad demurely in grey, Annie was miraculously transformed from savage to maidservant, and under Kinsey's kindly tutelage she began to learn an abigail's skills.
Marco was also taking lessons. His intellectual curiosity unbounded, he had persuaded Captain Fitch to teach him the science of navigation. At all hours of the day and night, he could be seen wielding sextant, astrolabe and chronometer, consulting the Nautical Almanac, or bending over Admiralty charts with dividers in hand.
Teresa's course of instruction continued meanwhile with the rules of behaviour in Polite Society. "A young lady never dances more than twice with any gentleman at the same ball, and must not waltz until given permission by one of the patronesses of Almack's."
"I am not likely to break that rule, ma'am," laughed Teresa, "for I have no notion how to waltz."
Nor, it seemed, did she know how to dance the cotillion, or the quadrille, or any English country dances. Andrew and Muriel were enlisted, and Marco reluctantly joined in the lessons to make up the numbers. With the wardroom table cleared to one side there was just space enough to learn the steps as long as they moved with great care. Since their only music was Lady Parr's tuneless hum, it would in any case have been impossible to infuse any spirit into the exercise.
To supplement the list of possible subjects of polite conversation, there was a list of unmentionables. This included religion, politics, prize fighting and most parts of the body. Certain works of literature, such as poetry and the latest novels, were acceptable in moderation.
"Do you read, Miss Danville?" enquired her ladyship.