John smiled at his wife’s interested, animated face. She had more colour in her cheeks now. “She is a delightful woman, and I am certain that she will love you, my darling. We have a reasonable-sized, wooden salt box house and a housekeeper to run it.” He planted a kiss on her nose and added, “My mother and your father have been writing to each other since my father died. They plotted our betrothal between them.”
Linnet couldn’t believe that her father had not mentioned this to her. “What is your mother’s name?” she asked curiously.
“Louise. She is a very brave and sweet lady, and I am sure you two will get on right away,” John told her confidently.
She sat thoughtfully. “My father did mention the name Louise when a letter came for him once, but I was impatient to go out riding and I just didn’t listen. I suppose after that, he didn’t bother to mention her letters to me again.”
Linnet looked so sad that John said kindly, “Well now, how many children listen when their parents talk of their friends’ news? I for one never know who has had what baby, or whose husband has what illness. I simply cannot keep up with all my mother’s friends and their doings, so why should you?” He quelled the thought that Linnet was far too self-absorbed to listen to anything not directly concerned with herself, but Linnet nodded in agreement.
“Anyway, it will be nice to have a Mamma. Do you think your mother will continue to run the house?”
John was reassuring, saying, “Well, as I told you, Mistress Plant is our housekeeper and she is an excellent organiser. She will run the house, but I am sure you could make any changes that you see fit. Mistress Plant and her husband, Ben, have been with us for some years now.”
She jolted. “John, I do not even know how old you are.”
He chuckled. “Twenty-six, and you are almost nineteen, exactly seven years my junior, the perfect age difference for a man and his wife!”
“Huh! I don’t know about that. Why, sir, it seems to me that you are almost old enough to be my father!”
Her teasing earned her a merciless tickling. When they both lay tangled up in the sheets, exhausted and laughing, she rolled over and said seriously, “I think I may be falling in love with you, and I want to tell you that I am glad that we married. I just wish that I could tell my father so.”
He cupped her face in his hands, murmuring softly, “I would have no other woman but you, my sweet. I love you so much already. Yet I find a little more to love about you each day that we spend together.”
He bent and kissed her mouth with tender passion. When he finally broke the kiss, he suggested that she begin writing a letter to her father, one that they could send back to England with The Tempest on her return voyage from Boston. He fetched ink and parchment so she could make a start.
The days resumed their familiar pattern. The stormy weather passed. Linnet felt invigorated and well again due to the bracing sea air. One day, while she was on deck, a huge grey and white bird settled upon a crosspiece. The sailors became excited; they said this bird was a lucky omen. They fetched nets for trawling fish, and she watched with fascination as the net was pulled in a short while later, laden with flapping silver fish. The fish writhed upon the open deck as the men started to salt them into barrels, leaving a small pile of writhing live fish to one side.
When the sailors moved back, the large sea bird flew down onto the deck and ate its fill. Linnet was thrilled to witness this special event; she spoke of little else for days. It also meant that their diet was supplemented with fresh fish. The chickens had long since been devoured, and the vegetable supply exhausted. The fish would be a welcome change to the ship’s rations of rice.
One afternoon, on a particularly blustery day, John left Linnet on deck with Pat for company as he spoke with Duncan. The sea that day was a steely grey; “white horses” crested the waves which buffeted the ships sides. Occasionally, the waves rose high and broke over the side. Linnet and Pat decided to play ball, one that Pat had made from wound-up rags tied with string. Linnet threw the ball for Pat to catch and it flew wide, far above his head. It rolled beyond him and settled at the edge of the ship. Laughingly, Pat careered after it. He’d just reached the ship’s side and was bending down to retrieve it when the ship dipped and a huge wave broke over him. Silently, he vanished, swept over the side, into the high sea. It was as if he had never been there at all.
So quickly did the accident happen that for a few seconds, Linnet stared frozen at the spot where the boy had stood. Then she screamed, hastening to the ship’s side, turning her head this way and that, frantically looking into the churning waters for any sign of her friend.
“Help! Help, for pity’s sake! Man overboard, help!”
Her frantic screams brought two seamen to her side and she waved at the restless sea, screaming, “Man overboard! For goodness’ sake, do something! Pat, oh, Pat!”
The sailors tied a rope to a bulkhead and threw the coil of rope over the side. Duncan Snow came and, quickly assessing the situation, told the men to lower a rowing boat. Duncan himself climbed down the loose rope to reach the small vessel, which bobbed about on the swelling sea. Linnet waited, her hand pressed to her mouth to prevent her screams escaping. John arrived, pulling his wife against him. “What on earth happened?” he asked.
“Oh, John, dear God, Pat was washed overboard. He just disappeared into the sea! If only I hadn’t thrown that stupid, stupid ball so high!” Her voice rose to a shriek.
John gave her a reassuring squeeze. “It was not your fault. This was an accident. What are they doing now?” he asked, gesturing to the sailors who were slapping each other on the back and laughing.
“Oh, dear Lord, let this mean they have found him,” she begged fervently, craning her neck to see over the side of the ship.
John pushed his way through the crowd. “Have they got him?” he asked a midshipman.
“Ay, look for thee self.” The sailor grinned, gesturing over the ship’s side.
John looked down. The small rowing boat was continually knocked against the side of the ship by the relentless sea. John could see Duncan struggling with Pat’s inert body. He appeared to be attempting to tie a rope around the boy’s waist and chest. He waved a signal up to the men, who began to haul the boy up by the rope. Eventually, they pulled the lad over the ship’s side and onto the deck. He lay there, unmoving. Linnet rushed forward and the men silently parted, letting her through. She dropped to her knees by the boy’s side and put her hand over his heart. It was beating very faintly.
“Quickly, John, get him to our cabin.”
She turned to the nearest sailor and shouted for him to help her husband. John swiftly picked the lad up, not requiring any help, the boy was so slight. Linnet hurried along at his side. Neither of them spared a thought for poor Duncan, who was climbing the rope to safety, but as he appeared on deck, he was cheered by everyone.
John placed Pat on their bed in the cabin. “Fetch another blanket, quickly. I must get these wet clothes off the boy.”
Linnet turned away to do as he bid but turned back quickly as she heard John utter an oath. “What the heck? But this is no boy! Come here,” he called his wife urgently. They both stared down at Pat. John had removed his wet shirt. It was obvious to them both that he was a she as an unmistakable pair of small but perfectly formed female breasts lay exposed to their sight.
They gazed at one another, shocked. “Good Lord, Patty and not Pat! You’d best be the one to fetch the blanket while I undress… her,” Linnet said.
After removing Pat’s trousers, they could both see the flat triangle of her sex that proved beyond doubt Pat was indeed a Patricia. John threw Linnet a blanket. “Wrap her in this, and when she is decent, I will rub some warmth into her limbs.”
She did as he asked and minutes later, after a vigorous rub down, Patty started moaning softly. Linnet pulled a clean nightgown from her trunk and pulled it over the girl’s head. Then they tucked her snugly into the bed and heaped covers over he
r. As they stood looking down at her, the door opened and Duncan strode in, wrapped in a blanket over his still soaking clothes. “How is the boy?” he asked immediately.
“You had better see for yourself,” said John drily, stepping away from the bed.
Duncan joined them and stared down. Silently, John lifted the covers, then parted the nightgown, revealing Patty’s bare chest and proof of her female identity.
“Good God! He is a girl? I cannot believe it!” Duncan was extremely shaken. “Are you sure?” he asked rhetorically.
“I changed her, and Pat is most definitely a Patty and a girl!” Linnet told him.
“My God, I just cannot believe it, a girl! How on earth has she managed to keep that secret in a ship full of men? God!” Duncan paled. “To think—” He stopped, shaking his head.
“To think—what?” John queried.
Duncan looked ashen as he replied, “The conditions that she lives in, surrounded by the roughest of men. The way I treat her! Poor girl, all those thrashings she endured at my hand.”
“Duncan, you must not blame yourself,” Linnet retorted briskly. “As far as you knew, Patty was a lad!”
John looked up, nodding in agreement. Turning to Duncan, he put an arm around the man’s shoulders. “Duncan, you saved this girl’s life. Now go and get yourself dry. You’re a hero, man!”
John guided Duncan out of the room and called back from the doorway, “I will go and beg some hot soup from cook. If you have brandy, give her some of that. It might help warm her.”
Linnet found a bottle of brandy and, tenderly, she helped Patty to sit up. The girl took a sip or two and lay back down with a sigh, her eyes unopened.
Linnet, watching her, noticed a tear slide down the girl’s cheek. Gently, she stroked the girl’s forehead and murmured soothingly to her. How could they have been all been so blind? Patty’s delicate features were so obviously those of a girl. Her skin was so white, it looked translucent, the skin under her eyes shadowed, her small rosebud mouth set beneath a small straight nose. The grime that usually hid her small heart-shaped face had been effectively washed away by the dip in the sea.
She made a small sound of distress. Linnet spoke softly to her. “Patty, dear, please do not fret. You are safe now.” Slowly, Patty’s eyelids fluttered open, soft blue eyes gazed up at Linnet with misery. Tears filled them and trickled down her pale cheeks. “Hush, hush, it’s all right now,” Linnet soothed.
“How’s… I mean, what’ll I do now?” Patty’s thin voice asked in despair.
“I don’t understand,” said Linnet, frowning.
Patty started to speak but the effort set her coughing. Linnet fetched a cup of water and held it while she sipped. Then Patty lay back against the pillows before she said, “Tis plain, missus, now them knows I is a girl, they’ll put me ashore first chance they’ll get!”
Linnet had to concede that this could be the case. She looked at the piteous girl and thought quickly. “Patty, I am travelling without a maid to a strange new land, alone except for my husband. Would you do for me, perhaps? I could train you in the ways of a lady’s maid, and even write a reference as such. It would help me a great deal to have a lady’s maid again, I do assure you.” She looked hopefully at the sorry girl on her bed.
A small smile curved Patty’s pale lips. “’T would be nice,” she said nodding, “but I don’t know nuffin’ about dresses and stuff though.”
Linnet gave a small delighted laugh. “I will teach you, have no fear. Now, you need to rest. John has gone to find you some nourishment. We shall talk when you are feeling better.”
Then Linnet fussed around with the bed covers but had to turn away, lest Patty see the tears of pity that flooded her eyes.
Five days had passed since Patty’s dramatic recovery, and she had been moved into a small cabin around the corner of the passageway from Linnet’s and John’s. She was shy at first with them, but grew more confident with each day that passed. The first thing that changed was her name. Patty’s real name was Patsy and so she became that once more. Linnet turned out a couple of suitable dresses and undergarments for the girl, altering the size so that they would fit Patsy’s slighter build. Patsy showed herself to be quick and willing and was deft with a needle. Linnet discovered a great deal about the young girl from their long afternoons spent together in sewing. By now, the gradually decreasing pile of John shirts and their sleeves were sewn back together. Linnet had cursed herself for her destructive act with each shirt she mended, not to mention the discomfort she had suffered with her sore backside.
John, missing the afternoon siesta that he and Linnet had grown used to taking earlier in the voyage, was becoming increasingly amorous first thing in the morning. Linnet was not in the same frame of mind, preferring to sleep through the dawn. This caused some friction between the honeymooners, so that they spent less time together during the day. Patsy became devoted to Linnet and listened quietly to Linnet’s complaints without once uttering her own opinion. Lottie, Linnet’s previous maid, would have had no such reticence.
If Patsy thought privately that Linnet was an extremely spoilt young woman, she would never dream of putting that thought into words. She had by now told Linnet of her own sad past. Of how she came to be on board the ship as a ship’s cabin boy. To Linnet, the tale was a terrible one, but she could not truly relate to the hardships Patsy had faced. Her own world had been so far removed from the fear and deprivation that Patsy had suffered.
Patsy had been born in the area of Battersea, a small village outside London. Her father had died when she was three, and her mother decided to take in washing for local folk. They lived contentedly enough, until their local undertaker, who had frequently used her mother’s laundry services over the years, was widowed. After a very short period of mourning, he began to court Patsy’s mother, Rose, still an attractive woman of twenty-nine. They were married, and Rose and her daughter moved in with the undertaker, Jonas Briggs.
Patsy hated his house and the workshop, which was always full of coffins and, of course, dead bodies. The smell of embalming fluids that Jonas used permeated every nook and cranny of the establishment. When Patsy was twelve, Jonas decided she could earn her keep and help him in his trade. She was horrified and argued with her stepfather and her mother, who took her husband’s part. The outcome of this family argument was that Jonas decided to take her down to the workshop for a thrashing but, instead of delivering the expected beating, Jonas had raped poor Patsy. Upstairs, her mother, hearing screams from what she thought of as her ungrateful daughter, ignored poor Patsy’s cries and pleas for help. The following day, Patsy had tried to tell her mother what Jonas had done to her but her mother, not wishing to believe such a dreadful thing, had slapped her daughter’s face and screamed at her to get out.
Jonas had come up to see what the commotion was about, and when confronted, he denied all, accusing Patsy of being evil and of lying just so she would not have to work. He took Patsy downstairs for yet another promised thrashing, but once again he raped her, laughing and jeering at her attempts to tell her mother the truth. He even insisted he had the right to use her whenever he wished—after all, he told her, she should be grateful that he had provided for her and her mother. Unable to contemplate a future of continual rape, Patsy had run away.
She had found an empty cart, and the driver, having that day sold his goods at the London market, was willing to allow her to ride in the back of the empty wagon. She travelled from cart to cart until she reached the coast. Patsy had a vague idea that she could get work in a tavern. With this in mind, she had turned herself into a boy and Pat was born, with the help of clothes stolen at the sea shore from a lad who splashed naked in the surf with his friends.
That night, she had trawled the sea front taverns, asking for work. When a burly sailor and his mate overheard her talking to the innkeeper, they had grabbed hold of her arm and told her they knew of a tavern that needed a likely lad; just such a one as he. Hauling Pat along
between them, they plied her with rum until she could no longer stand. Then they took her aboard their ship, flinging her into a hold with other poor wretches who had been unwittingly press-ganged that night. When Pat came to, they were far out at sea. She then discovered that she was to be the new cabin boy on board The Tempest, and here she had remained, her secret successfully hidden beneath the layers of dirt and ragged clothing until now.
Duncan Snow was devastated by guilt when John recounted the tale told to him via Linnet. Duncan had gone to see Patsy and tried to make his apologies, but Patsy would have none of it. As far as she was concerned, Duncan had always treated her fairly and well and, above all, he had saved her life.
Life aboard The Tempest settled back down again. Linnet started to notice that Patsy would often disappear at odd times during the day. One evening after dinner, when she and John were returning to their cabin, Linnet remembered that Patsy had taken her nightgown to sew it, since it had been missing several buttons all due to John’s rather impatient lovemaking. She tapped at Patsy’s cabin door and, receiving no reply, turned the door knob. The door was unlocked, and Linnet saw straight away upon entering the tiny cabin that it was empty.
John, who had continued along to their own cabin, wondered why his wife had not yet joined him and went back to look for her. Linnet was just closing Patsy’s cabin door. She held a lighted lantern in her hand. “Patsy is not in her room,” she told John. “I am going to look for her, I won’t be very long.”
She turned away from him but was hauled back. John took the lantern from her. “No,” he told her, shaking his head, “you are certainly not wandering around the ship alone, and most certainly not at night. I have told you before, it’s not safe. Patsy will be fine. She has spent the last three and a half years aboard ship, she knows The Tempest. Have no fear, she will be safe. Now come to bed.” He kept a firm grip on Linnet’s arm as he towed her towards their cabin.
Her Match, Her Mate, Her Master Page 11