On the gun deck, the off duty watch was mostly asleep but, as he was gathering his belongings, someone asked, “What are you doing?”
“I may have to go ashore with the captain so I’m getting my things together.”
He walked away towards the ladder, glanced behind him to be sure no one was watching and then ducked behind the bales where Lucy was hidden. Pulling out the bale silently was a difficult task and could not have been accomplished except for the creaking noises of a ship at sea which muffled the sound. Little by little he eased it out sufficiently for Lucy to squeeze through. She almost spoiled his caution by exclaiming when she saw him but he had been expecting something of the sort and clapped his hand over her mouth.
“Hush, Alannah, it’s me,” he whispered.
Chapter Fourteen
Lucy had been aware of his movements as he pulled the bale out. Terrified, she remained as still as a mouse until O’Rourke reached for her. Thankfully she crawled towards him, trying to ignore the pain in her cramped limbs, but she could not suppress a moan.
“Quiet, Alannah!”
“It hurts!”
O’Rourke took hold of her arms and then her legs and rubbed them hard. She had never felt such pins and needles before but she shut her teeth to stop herself making more noise. It was some minutes before she was able to rise to his feet with his help. They climbed up the ladder and crept along the deck to the poop. O’Rourke pushed her into her own cabin.
“What?”
He breathed into her ear, “This is the last place they’ll look for you if they bother to do so at all. They think you’ve gone overboard, so the search has been called off. I’m going to leave you now but I need you to get out of that dress and put on the clothes that are on the bunk.”
She groped behind her, touched them and said, “But these are men’s. I can’t wear them.”
“You have to. They’re looking for a woman and you’re the only one on board. There’s a wig there, put it on as well. If you turn your head to one side, with luck, you’ll pass for the captain. Do as I say, I haven’t got time to explain it to you.”
For a moment after he left her, Lucy stood still. She had often wondered what it would be like to run free, without being hampered by her petticoats. Now she had a chance to find out. She tore off her own clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor and standing naked except for her chemise. Retrieving the pocket containing the pearls and the miniatures of her parents, she knotted its strings tightly to her bodice, tugging hard so it would not come undone. Then she struggled into the captain’s clothes. They were too big and she had problems tying the front lacing, never having done such a thing before. She pulled it tight and turned back the sleeves of his jacket. She used the belt that O’Rourke had given her to hold everything close to her body. A short cloak hid most of the deficiencies. In daylight she would have been immediately recognised as an imposter but in the darkness she might escape as he had said. She braided her hair and tucked it into the wig. The shoes were far too large. She would come out of them before she walked more than two steps. Her own would have to do. At least they would not trip her up. Once she had finished, she sat down to wait for O’Rourke.
He was frantically busy. He relieved the sailor on watch and bid him bring the mate to the cabin. While he was gone, O’Rourke poured some more brandy down the captain’s throat. He unwrapped his bandages and frayed some of the stitches he had put into wound until they pulled apart. The flesh gaped open and the blood started to flow again.
“Look at this,” O’Rourke said to Madec when he came into the cabin. “The wounds have opened up and he’s bleeding again. It’s the movement of the ship. I was afraid this would happen so he’ll have to be taken ashore after all.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to take him back to Saint-Malo?” Madec asked.
“I doubt he’d make it. If I can’t stop the bleeding soon, he’ll die. He’s lost a lot of blood already and he has a better chance on land. Did he tell you what he had planned for this voyage?”
Madec nodded and O’Rourke continued, “I’ll see to him with Kerrien’s help, if we can land on Jersey. You take the ship and carry out his plans. He won’t thank you for waiting around if there are rich pickings to be had in the Channel. He’ll expect you to bring in a profit, even if he isn’t with you.”
Madec’s eyes were big with alarm but he nodded. “I’ll do what I can. Tell me what you need.”
“A stretcher, the skiff, Kerrien to guide us in, water and provisions. How soon before we close the shore?”
“An hour, not more.”
“Good. I’ll sew him up again and pack the wounds as well as I can. Bring the stretcher so I can ease him onto it and I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
O’Rourke had replaced the stitches and wrapped up the captain’s head again before the stretcher was brought. He placed across two chairs and the captain was laid on it. When the sailors offered to carry it up onto the deck, he stopped them.
“Leave him here for now. The less he’s out in the night air, the better. I need to truss him up so he won’t move until we’ve got him safely ashore. Go and get the skiff ready and rig the hoist.”
As soon as the men departed, O’Rourke eased Dupré to the floor, pulled him behind the elegant press that stood in a corner of the room and tied him up loosely. He made sure that he was still alive, got to his feet and hurried to Lucy’s cabin. He eased open the door and hissed to her,
“Quick. Follow me.”
Lucy stepped out into the corridor and he led her to the saloon.
“Sit there,” O’Rourke pointed to a seat at the table. As soon as she did so, he began winding bandages around her head, over the wig. When he was satisfied he seized the brandy bottle and poured it liberally over her clothes.
“What?” she gasped, pushing his hands away.
“You’re going to pretend to be the injured captain, so you have to smell as if you’ve been drinking. When the others come, you’re supposed to be unconscious so don’t make a sound or you’ll give us away.”
He made her lie down on the stretcher, wrapped her in sailcloth and tied the whole bundle with ropes. He put a fine linen kerchief spread out over her face.
“Can you breathe?”
“It’s difficult.”
He loosened the cloth and said, “It’s not for long. Once we’re off the ship, you can push it away. Quiet now. I’m going to call them.”
He shouted and Lucy started trembling. She heard movement in the room and she was lifted up. The swaying motion as the sailors carried her made her giddy but she tried not to think about it. She counted the men’s steps to take her mind off her nausea and for a wonder it worked. A cold wind flapped the cloth over her face making her realise that they were out on the deck. Lucy heard sounds above her as the stretcher was set down.
A voice gave sharp orders which she did not understand. A hand slid into her coverings and she froze in fright until she recognised O’Rourke’s voice speaking in French,
“Il est vivant.”
He disappeared and Lucy felt herself swayed up into the air and dropping again. Hands caught the stretcher and she was put down on a wildly shaking boat. More voices spoke, the boat steadied and the motion became more bearable. The kerchief was pulled from her face as a finger pressed her lips to keep her silent.
Lucy looked up into a sky from which the stars were fading at the approach of dawn. The air smelt of salt with a tang of wood smoke. Above her head the sail flapped, driving the boat forward. A man shouted and suddenly she saw a white wave rolling past the stern. The boat changed course several times and then the kerchief was flung over her face again, blotting out the world.
A rasping sound, voices calling, a sudden lurch to one side. What was happening? Another lurch and the skiff grated onto the shingle. Hands fumbled at the stretcher’s fastenings. She was swayed up and down. Spray sprinkled the cloth concealing her face. Shuffling steps sounded among the stones and then the stret
cher was set down. It was uncomfortable, but she bit her lip so she made no noise. Voices spoke again and then she heard footsteps fading away. The cloth was whipped off and O’Rourke bent over her, a knife in his hand. He cut the ropes, peeled back the sailcloth and helped her up. She swayed, unable to balance, so he sat her on a rock.
“I’m going to fetch a few things from the boat and then we must leave before Kerrien returns. He’s gone to bring a friend of his to help us.” He plunged down the shore and collected a couple of bundles which he dumped at her feet. Then he shouldered one and gave her the other. “Hurry, he won’t be away long.”
He took her arm and supporting her, pulled her forward over the rocks. Her shoes were not meant for such work and soon enough the stitches burst and the leather split. She stopped with a cry but he forced her on.
“He’ll find us if we stay here. We must keep going.”
“I don’t think I can. My feet are bleeding.”
“Only a little longer.”
Afterwards, Lucy was not sure how she managed to continue but, as the sun rose over the horizon, they found a path leading up onto the cliffs. At the top, O’Rourke looked around and led her to a thicket of bushes where he allowed her to sit down. He dropped his bundles beside her and said,
“Stay here. If anyone comes, crawl underneath those branches. No one will be able to find you there.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see what Kerrien’s doing.”
No one came, so Lucy had no need to hide. The time passed slowly and she found herself jumping at sounds, which turned out to be nothing more than the wind or the cry of a hungry bird. Shuffling feet on the path below her made her scramble towards the bushes until O’Rourke cried,
“It’s me.”
“What’s happened? You’ve been so long.”
“Kerrien’s taken the skiff and sailed away.”
“He didn’t search for us?”
“He came back with his friend and they both did for a while. They found the stretcher and the sailcloth. I don’t know what they thought about that. I expected Kerrien to come this way but he only stood and talked to the other man. Then the two of them pushed the skiff into the water. Kerrien got in, raised the sail and left.”
“What about the other man?”
“He went back the way that he came. He climbed up the cliffs and headed west. I doubt he’ll raise an alarm. Kerrien’s a local so he wouldn’t want anyone to know he’s been here. A stray word in the wrong place could get him captured next time and he’ll have a price on his head just as we all do in this trade. He probably told his friend to watch out for us, but that he had to leave to catch up with the Matou. So we’re safe for a while.”
“What do we do next? I don’t think I can go much further.”
“You’ll have to. If you stay out on these cliffs at this time of year, you’ll die of cold. Come on, I’ll help you.”
Together they stumbled over the grass, tripping over bushes, going up and down hills. The journey seemed forever to Lucy, unused to walking long distances and certainly not over rough country. Water squelched between her toes. She had to discard her broken shoes and stones hurt her feet. As the day wore on she needed to rest more often. O’Rourke was practically carrying her by the time they approached what he told her was their destination, a farmstead he called Les Crux. She sank to the ground thankfully while he rummaged in his pack and pulled out a small bottle.
“Drink this.”
She swallowed and fire ran through her body although she found the taste disgusting. She was unable to speak for a few moments. When the shock left her, she gasped and burst into tears. O’Rourke knelt beside her and stripped her stocking from her foot. Then he rubbed something into her skin before turning to the other foot.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Your feet are blistered. The cottage of my friend is just over that rise. Once you’re there you can stay with them for a while and rest. But you can’t go there dressed as a man; old Katarin would have a fit. Time you became a woman again.”
“But I left everything behind me on the ship.”
“You did, I didn’t.” He opened the bundle she had been carrying and dropped the contents onto her knee. “I took these out of your trunk. Get out of those clothes you’re wearing and put these on.”
Lucy examined the clothes. “You’ve brought me an evening dress, a silk shawl and shoes, nothing else!”
O’Rourke shrugged. “I don’t know anything about women’s fashions. Just put them on, there’s a good girl.”
“I can’t. Not with you watching me.”
“If I was your husband you would quick enough.”
“Well, you’re not my husband!”
“No, more’s the pity but we’re wasting time. Someone could come along this path at any minute. I’ll turn my back and you get changed. Will that do?”
“No peeking.”
“As if I would!”
O’Rourke turned and walked away but he saw no reason not to turn around occasionally. He’d always thought Lucy was pretty but he could see she had a good figure too. Once she was in Ireland, he would be unlikely to see her ever again. For a moment he wondered what would have happened if he had met her before he had fled from home and had been in a position to court her. Would he have married her? A picture of him kissing her came into his mind. Then he thrust the thought away. Those things were a dream, best left in the past where they belonged. What quixotic impulse had made him promise to help her and then to rescue her? He could never go back to Saint-Malo. Kerrien would report what he had seen on the beach and Dupré would be found by now. The captain would kill him for his betrayal and Rollin would no longer protect him. Every man’s hand would be against him and he would not survive for long. He shrugged. The decision had been instant and he could not say he was sorry. He had known so many changes in his life, another one did not matter.
Lucy was annoyed that O’Rourke had managed to pick her least favourite gown, a dowdy black silk. It had a modest cut appropriate to her mourning but was not flattering to a young girl. If she had to choose something to bring with her, she would have picked the amber walking dress and for a few moments she wondered who would wear it now.
“Hurry up,” O’Rourke growled, “or do I assist you?”
“Don’t you dare! Stay where you are.”
She rose to her feet, undid the belt and pulled off the captain’s jacket and shirt. She cast the frock over her head and struggled with the tight sleeves. Then she realised she could not reach the fastenings at the back by herself. She reached under her skirt and untied the string of the captain’s breeches, letting them drop and stepping out of them before calling to O’Rourke,
“Help me please.”
He turned with a quizzical look on his face.
“Are you sure you want me to?”
“I wouldn’t ask you if I could manage on my own,” she replied tartly. “You’ve brought me a gown with a set of buttons which I can’t reach. My maid used to fasten them for me but she’s not here. You’ll have to do it otherwise I’ll be half naked.”
He grinned. “No problem to me, but Mère Katarin wouldn’t like it. What do I have to do?”
He came forward and she turned away from him, holding her dress around her as best she could.
“There’s a line of buttons on one side and a set of little loops on the other. Start at the top and put the buttons through the hoops.”
She swept her hair up and stood still, waiting as he fumbled at her neck. He muttered soft curses then he said,
“Got it! That’s the first one. Why do women wear such silly things? My fingers are too big for these holes…”
His hand fell onto her bare back and Lucy felt another shock run through her. She trembled and he pulled her against him. He nuzzled her skin. Then he seized her shoulders and turned her in his arms. Lucy looked up into his eyes and smiled. His lips came down on hers and left her breathless; it w
as so different from the captain’s kiss. This time she had no wish to pull away. Her hands stole up to hold him close while he slipped his own inside the dress and caressed her.
Chapter Fifteen
They lay down on the ground. O’Rourke pulled her dress from her shoulders, exposing her breasts and stroking them. He bent down to kiss them and then suddenly froze. What stopped him from going further, he could not afterwards say. Lucy made no move to push him off as she had, so drastically, with the captain. She was smiling, her eyes shining. O’Rourke stood up, trembling.
“I can’t do this to you, Lucy.”
“Don’t you want me?”
“Of course I do! What man wouldn’t? But if I take you now, no one else would ever want you again. I’ve nothing to offer you, no home, little money and a price on my head. I’m a fugitive but, if I can get you to Ireland, there’s no reason why you should become one too. You’ll be safe there.”
“I’m not sure if I want to be safe without you.”
“You’ll have to be. I won’t take you with me.”
“Where will you go?”
He shrugged. “Not to Saint-Malo. Dupré will kill me if he lives. I’ll find somewhere else. Now get up and cover yourself, for the love of God. You’d tempt the angels in Heaven, Alannah, so you would!”
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