by Hawke, Jessa
“You mean- oh, no, that’s not something I’m able to manage. Men can’t repeat the end, at least, not that quickly. You mean you still want to do more than that?” He seemed a bit concerned.
“Well- no, I… I don’t have to.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I should think that would have been enough. I say, I am tired. We ought to try to sleep, don’t you think? Get a good rest and all that. When the rain lets up, we can carry on to the house.”
“I suppose so.” She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a terrible sinking feeling overcoming her. She had enjoyed the sex, though it was her first time. She’d been raised to think it something that was limited to marriage and that anything even close to resembling touch was sinful and shameful. She felt none of that. Something had been missing, though and she couldn’t put her finger on it. She never felt fully connected to the man who she was meant to wed.
When they’d redressed and were lying next to each other, her thoughts began to spin relentlessly. He hadn’t wanted to talk, only to sleep. They had wanted each other, that much was clear. But was there love involved as well? She’d wanted to believe there was.
Yet she couldn’t help but feel that she was teetering on the edge of a precipice. If she didn’t step back soon, she might fall.
Chapter 5: The Barbary Pirates
The Moroccan Coast
November 12, 1816
The winds and storms that forced Sarah and Edgar to seek shelter weren’t prevailing off the coast of Africa, as fortune would have it. The Duke of Norcastle would endure enough of that morning.
Commander Harrison Hargrove was awakened by the smell of bacon and black coffee prepared by his steward, Reeves. He thanked the man tersely, as was his custom, and tucked in. He felt the ship move beneath him, noting the sway and movement. All seemed normal enough. It’d be another ordinary day at sea, he assumed.
Hargrove anticipated a stop at Casablanca for water and supplies before the final leg around Portugal and Spain to England. He preferred life at sea, naturally enough. That was his everyday element. However, it would be a welcome relief to return home and put his mind at ease that the girl who’d caught his eye in Wyecombe had married. To no longer be tormented by thoughts of her would be finally give him some peace of mind, at the least. Time enough to put her out his mind.
He was brooding over these dark thoughts when a sharp rap at the door grabbed his attention. “Enter and report!” he called out.
“First Officer Woods’ compliments, Captain, your presence is requested on deck.” The man sounded breathless and excited. Something was definitely up.
“Thank you, I shall be there in a moment,” he replied, taking a last drink of his coffee. As he had done so many times before in similar circumstances, he wondered if it would be his last. The long war with Napoleon was over, but that didn’t mean things couldn’t change. In their time at sea, it was always possible England was fighting some new enemy.
When he’d gone topside, he immediately spied the issue. “How many are there total?” The first officer he noted was Mann, his Second Officer. The tall, dour man handed the spyglass over to the ship’s captain.
“Three of them, sir. We outgun them, as far as I can say, but their lot are fast. They appear to be in pursuit of that merchant ship.”
“Ours?” He suspected he knew the answer already.
“Aye, sir, she’s British all right.”
“Bloody Corsairs,” Hargrove muttered, but his officer shook his head. “No?”
“Begging your pardon, sir, I should reckon them to be Berber Pirates.”
“Aye, though they serve the same Ottoman masters. No matter. If they insist on testing their abilities against the British navy, we’ll cut them down to size.”
“Aye, sir,” Mann agreed. He was a pessimistic fellow, but utterly reliable. All of his men were. Hargrove had requested his top officers and received nearly all of them without a problem. He felt certain they’d perform well.
The ships came closer into range of the merchant. As the crew of The Duke of Norcastle watched helplessly, one of the pirates drew up alongside the merchant. A volley of cannon sounded and soon the merchant was forced to strike her colors.
“Mr. Woods!” The first mate had found the Captain and was standing alongside him. “Take us alongside that vessel leeward.” Woods relayed the order, which was soon carried out by the crew.
They soon closed the distance. As they neared, Hayward bellowed out, “Hard to port! Ready the cannon with grapeshot!”
The ship slowly began to come about. The pirate was quicker, turning and raking the side of The Duke with shot. Fortunately, the ship’s sides were too solid, the distance too far, and the cannonballs bounced off harmlessly.
Hargrove laughed. “Bad luck for you, my lads. Mann, relay to the gunner that we’re to hold our fire. I want to come up right alongside.”
They did as he bid, and soon they were close enough to the pirate that they could see the other men on deck. The pirates lifted rifles and took aim at the crew of The Duke.
“Fire!” Hargrove ordered. The grapeshot blasted the deck, fairly sweeping the pirates clean off their feet. The carnage complete, the British ship passed her by. The pirate ship was largely undamaged, her vast majority of her crew lay dead, unable to sail her.
That was enough for the third, more distant ship. As The Duke rounded towards her, they watched it come about, turning tail and fleeing. That only left the pirate ship trying to plunder the merchant.
“Break off. Let her go,” Hargrove ordered, allowing the third ship to escape. “We need to rescue the merchant.”
They turned to face the remaining ship. The enemy spotted them and fired a chaser, soaring high and tearing through The Duke’s sails. The ship was forced to slow. A glance and a nod from the Captain and Woods was giving the order to strike the most damage sail and replace it as fast as possible.
Still they moved forward and eventually came within cannon’s reach of the pirate’s starboard side. The pirate was running out her guns as The Duke showed her own side.
“Show her British resolve, Woods,” Hargrove demanded. The cannons fired. As they hit their mark, the pirate’s guns were largely obliterated, her exposed side battered by the shot.
“Come alongside,” the captain ordered. They did so and brought out grappling hooks. The ship that had been the boarder was now becoming the boarded.
Pirates from Tripoli and Algiers hurried to meet Hargrove’s men with pistols and blades drawn. They surged across the deck and Hargrove found himself forced to shoot a man in the chest. Another set upon him with his blade and very nearly killed him where he stood. A last minute instinct to duck saved his life, and he drew out his own sword to do battle.
They exchanged blows for a time, steel clashing against steel. He forced the man back and weighed his next actions when a sudden blast from his own ship felled the man and many of the other pirates about them.
Hargroves’ marines were reloading as the pirates tried to gather their bearings. The carefully coordinated shots quickly overwhelmed and cowed the remaining pirates, leaving only a few casualties on Hargove’s side.
One, unfortunately, lay at his feet. He knelt down to turn the man over. Second Officer Mann had been shot between the eyes.
“Blast,” he murmured. “A good man lost. Too many this voyage.” Woods was by his side once more, his sword wet with blood. He’d led the charge onto the pirate ship.
“Mann’s dead?”
“Afraid so.”
“Carter, Brown, and Davies fell as well. There are about a dozen losses,” Woods explained. As he spoke, he looked to his own right arm, where a tuft of cloth was sticking out awkwardly. The coat began to grow wet. “Damn. Shot in the arm.”
“Have the surgeon see to it. Now, Woods, no dawdling!” he insisted when it appeared that Woods was going to try to object. “Third Officer Hanson will fulfill your duties while you’re taken care of. Off with you now.
”
“Aye sir.”
Hargrove and his men carefully crossed from their ship to the pirate ship, then on to the merchant ship. There they found the majority of sailors for the merchant still alive and immensely grateful for their rescue. When Hargrove found the captain, the man quickly saluted, and then vigorously shook his hand. “We owe you our lives, sir, very much so.”
“Nothing of the sort,” Hargrove said dismissively. “Doing our duty, nothing more.”
“None-the-less, I will mention your actions in my dispatches. When I’m back to England, your name and the name of your ship will be celebrated. You may well count on it!”
Though his sailors cheered this news, Hargrove felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Fame was the last thing he wanted, but it appeared that it would soon be unavoidable.
Chapter 6: The Hero’s Return
Wyecombe, England
December 1, 1816
The town of Wyecombe was swarming on this genuinely winter morning as Beth, Jane, Louisa, and Sarah took a coach into town.
The carriage was a new purchase, provided by Sarah’s fiancé as a gift. Though she was grateful to Edgar, she had to admit she missed the long walks with her sisters. Still, in these hard times, it was far less safe to walk unaccompanied, and the carriage did keep out the chill.
“I still can’t believe you met the man,” Jane gushed, staring out of the frosty glass and across the snow-crested fields. “How exciting it must have been! Was he very tall? I should imagine it so.”
“You imagine too much, I think,” Sarah teased, drawing a frown from her sister. “Oh, don’t be cross. He was of ordinary build, perhaps more muscular than some, quite tan. A handsome face and dark features.”
This description cheered Jane some. She’d been quite down since their neighbor Jon had perished from consumption along with two of his three siblings. They’d been carried off while recovering from malnutrition, creating deaths that were even more tragic.
“Do you think he’s married? I suppose he is,” Louisa suggested quietly.
“I didn’t see a wedding band upon his finger.” Sarah noted, and then added, “I should say I wasn’t looking. But I don’t recall seeing such a thing.”
“Oooh, I bet you want to kiss him, don’t you?” Beth cried before tickling Sarah. She’d been of a playful mood lately, and the tickling was her latest game. Sarah played along, tickling her littlest sister and making her break into peals of giggles. Pretending to be annoyed, Jane gave an exaggerated sigh and demanded the two stop.
Once they’d settled down, Sarah said, “Now Beth, that would be very bad form, wouldn’t it? I am engaged to sweet Edgar and well you know it.”
Beth folded her arms. “I don’t like him. He’s boring.”
Sarah gasped in mock outrage. “Boring? Dear, he’s been nothing but kind to you.”
“He’s boring. Commander Harrison William Hargrove is much more interesting to me. Maybe I’ll marry him!” Beth suggested. The idea of little Beth marrying broke the three girls up and she protested loudly, “I might! When I’m bigger, of course.”
“Of course.” Sarah agreed. “If you’re very good and well-behaved, you may meet a very nice man when you’re older. But I fear you shall find the good Commander to be frightfully boring by then.”
Jane looked even more irritated at these suggestions and rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop indulging her fantasies. It’s embarrassing.”
Louisa folded her own hands and placed them primly in her lap. “Must we go to Aunt Mary’s first? I should rather we went to the docks on our own.”
“It would be more proper,” Sarah reminded her. The town was coming into sight as the carriage rattled along. She knew there was only a small copse of trees before they were on the outskirts.
“You’ve been allowed to go by yourself, though. You said as much,” Louisa reminded her.
“I suppose that’s so. However, I am much older than you all are, and as you’ll recall, I did have my own problems that day. It was quite fortunate that the Commander stepped in as he did most gallantly.”
“I should like to have my own adventure, I think,” Louisa suggested. Jane quickly chimed in as well.
“It’s not fair that you have all the fun, Sarah. Just because you’re older.”
“Now that is quite enough. No more of this and don’t think to try dear old Aunt Mary.”
The coach reached Aunt Mary’s door and the driver helped the girls step down and into the road. Their Aunt greeted them and, after they’d warmed up with a hot beverage, asked if they were all ready to go to the docks to greet the heroes of The Duke of Norcastle.
“Yes! Finally!” Beth declared, popping off her sofa seat as though she were on a spring. When given a sharp look, she looked down and added, “That is, I believe we are quite ready to go.”
“Very good. The entire town shall be waiting to see them. There are outsiders from Colchester and London crowding the docks, I’ve been warned, so don’t go getting separated. You’ll be so kind as to stay close to me and avoid being jostled and bustled about or doing the same to others. Is that quite clear?
“Yes, Aunt,” the girls all said together, excluding Sarah. Her engagement had changed her relationship to her Aunt and, to some extent, to her sisters as well. It was as though she were already a married and grown, she felt, as though something profound had changed within her. It was the passing of childhood, or at least the wistful memory of such days.
When they all had bundled so warmly that Beth insisted she looked more like a penguin than a little girl, they each stepped back out into the cold and began the walk toward the water’s edge. Were they not so close, they would have called for the carriage. However, Aunt Mary thought it was an unnecessary bother given that the horse and carriage had been stabled. “We are all fit and most of us young. We shall find our own way by foot,” she insisted. “There we will meet your young Edgar, dear.”
The closer they came to the docks as they descended down the hill, the more crowded the street and sidewalk became. Such a small village was never meant to accommodate so many people. But it had been some time since England had enjoyed a naval hero. Hargrove was no Admiral Nelson, but the accounts of his bravery and seamanship by the newspapers had sparked the public imagination. Everyone seemed to want get a look for themselves.
Beth mentioned as much. “I mean, why would people come from so far away? It’s just a ship.”
“And he’s just a hero, dear,” Aunt Mary reminded her. “By being there when the ship arrives, they’ll feel as if they too were part of the excitement. It’s something to write in one’s diary. You will do so when we returned.” She nearly slipped on the snow and Louisa and Sarah caught her before she could fall. “Oh my. Thank you dears. That reminds me; you, Jane, and Louisa will note this in your own diaries this evening. Is that understood?”
“Oh, must we?” Beth objected. “Writing is hard.”
“You must. No argument.”
“I see. What must I write, then?”
Her aunt sighed with exasperation. “So many questions, girl! I should think you would note what you saw, how you felt, what you experienced. It will be of great interest to your older self I shouldn’t wonder. Ah! Now that’s a sight Wyecombe isn’t used to seeing every day.”
Aunt Mary’s observation was an understatement. A swarm of humanity had gathered at the modest dockside, overflowing into the neighboring streets. The Duke had just arrived, it appeared, and the sailors were busily going about their tasks.
Soon enough, though, the gangplank went down and the captain and his officers began to descend to the wild cheers of the crowd. A band began to play and confetti was thrown into the air.
“Can you see him? Can you see him, Sarah? Oh, I can’t see anything at all!” Jane complained. Beth also tugged on her dress.
Jane was too big for her to help, so Sarah lifted Beth up so she could see a little. “I can’t hold you for long, Beth.” Aunt Mary looked on dis
approvingly but Sarah ignored her.
“Ooh, there he is. Oh look, one of the officers has a thing on his arm. He must have been wounded.”
Sarah spotted him in the same moment. “Yes, I recall him.”
“Recall?” Aunt Mary sounded surprised. Of course, she’d never told Aunt Mary of her adventure that day. She thought quickly and had an answer at the ready.
“Yes, I think they mentioned an officer being wounded by the pirates. That must be him, Aunt.”
“Of course.” Mollified, her aunt glanced around the crowd. “Your Edgar must be here somewhere. I fear I don’t see him.”
“It’s quite a crowd. I shouldn’t wonder. If you wish to return with the girls, I can wait and look for him myself.”
Aunt Mary raised an eyebrow at his suggestion, so she amended her thoughts. “That is, perhaps Jane or Louisa could wait with me.”
“Yes, that’s reasonable. Louisa will wait. But if you don’t spy him shortly, you must both return to the house.”
They waited for a time as the mayor gave a speech and the captain and his crew received brief accolades. She could see even from her distant position that Commander Hargrove was uncomfortable with the attention. Perhaps he would prefer to be back in his ship, far at sea. She could understand that sentiment. All she’d ever wanted to do was travel, and to have a life in which that was all one did would be a dream. His eyes seemed from time to time to scan the crowd, looking for someone. Was it family? A young beauty? She wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latter. There was something undeniably appealing about him, about his cool manner when he was around his men. That was to be expected, she supposed. He was a captain, so it stood to reason he’d have developed such a presence over time.
When she realized she was staring, she turned away. No one would have noted it, but she felt immodestly embarrassed all the same. Her first loyalty was to Edgar, after all. Staring at any man but he was quite rude.
Yet, as her mind turned to Edgar once more, she found there was a tightness in her stomach as she did so. It wasn’t nervousness. It was something else altogether, something unnerving. There was fear.