The Sea and the Sand

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘By God!’ Toby could hardly believe his ears. ‘But what about the French and the British? The French in particular regard the western Mediterranean as their own sea. And the British regard themselves as the arbitrators of all the oceans. Will they stand idly by?’ Decatur’s smile was grim ‘From various conversations I held with British naval officers, certainly, while I was in England, I have a notion they will be very happy to see that nest of cutthroats disposed of, however much they may protest. They regret that their own Parliament has not seen fit to act against the Barbary pirates before now. Anyway, I intend to carry out my order, no matter who protests. Will you sail with me?’

  ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure.’

  ‘Then rendezvous with the remainder of my squadron off New York within a fortnight. We must make haste. You must make more haste than any, Toby. The Dey’s ships are ranging up and down the coast of Portugal, seeking American shipping on the route from Gibraltar to Europe.’

  ‘You mean Felicity could be in danger?’

  ‘Pray to God that she is not. But the sooner we settle this matter, the better. Were she to be taken by Mohammed ben Idris, well … I prefer not to think about it. Haste Toby. We must make haste.’

  CHAPTER 12

  The Atlantic, Lisbon and Algiers — 1815

  Felicity stood on the afterdeck of the brig Dolphin, feeling the wind ruffle her hair, flick the hem of her skirt, looking at the sea and the sky, and the horizon. Captain Carruthers had said they were just five hundred miles off the coast of Portugal; if the wind held they would be in Lisbon in two days.

  Five hundred miles off the coast of Portugal! What memories that brought back. If she looked to the south, she could expect to see the two American frigates making a parallel course; to the north, the other ships of the convoy. But the sea was empty today. If she looked at the sky, she could expect to see great black clouds scudding out of the south-west to assail them; but the skies were blue today. And if she closed her eyes, she could hear Mrs Flemming chattering. But she was the only female passenger on board Dolphin.

  Most of all, if she looked to the south-east, she could see the long, low hull of the Algerian raider coming over the horizon, and wished to scream. Fourteen years, and it all seemed like yesterday. But the south-eastern horizon was also empty.

  She wondered if she would ever be able to forget that day, and what had happened afterwards, or treat it as nothing more than a bad dream. That was wishful thinking. One cannot forget four years of one’s life. Yet in Toby’s arms, or surrounded by the security of the farm, it had nearly been possible. Not here.

  But that had been the main reason for undertaking this voyage at all, certainly for leaving before Toby could arrange things like travelling companions and agents to meet her. For nearly ten years now she had been content to be simply his wife, and the mother of his children. After the horrors of her Moorish captivity she had wanted nothing more, and it had been a delightful bonus that he had wanted her to take the lead in their lovemaking, to eradicate the last of her guilt and allow her to indulge her passion. Even two years before, when the strangers had appeared at the farm, her fear had been tempered by security. She was inviolable, because she was Toby McGann’s wife.

  She had never anticipated that circumstances would ever arise to enable him to resume his career. She loved the farm and her family, but it was as watered down milk without his presence, just as her security rested on the knowledge that he was there. Yet it was going to happen, and she could not stand in his way. Thus she must find her own way, which inevitably would have to be the farm, without him. Then it would have to be the farm as she wanted it to be, not as she had found it, and accepted it. Her money would be important for that, of course.

  But far more important would be the ability, indeed, the necessity, to stand on her own feet, to plan and do things for herself … and above all, to cease looking over her shoulder. This voyage was a first step in that direction. It was something she had long known she had to do, retrace her steps without giving way to the terror which lurked at the bottom of her mind. Of course, if she had been truly courageous, she would have taken passage to Gibraltar. It was something she almost had in mind to do. But just to sail these waters again … on her ability to do this without flinching might depend on the entire rest of her life.

  ‘You are pensive this morning, Mrs McGann.’ John Marquand raised his hat, and she smiled at him. He had proved by a long way the most shy of the other passengers in that he had not even dared engage her in conversation until yesterday. But for that very reason she liked him better than any of the others, each of whom in turn had attempted to indulge in at least a flirtation, despite the gold wedding band on her finger. But he had also proved a fascinating companion, during their conversation yesterday. He was a French creole from New Orleans, and claimed to have stood at Andrew Jackson’s side during the now-famous battle which had so discomfited the English. Felicity could believe that: he had the hard alert look of the man of action, although he also claimed to be nothing more than an honest trader, for whom the ending of the war was a boon.

  ‘I import, you see, dear lady,’ he had explained. ‘From La Belle France, eh? And that has been difficult enough these last ten years, with the British seizing all French goods they could find. To have them also seizing American ships, that was impossible. But now all the world is at peace, is it not? I may even be able to start making a profit again.’

  He had not been very specific as to what he imported, but Felicity supposed it had to be wine or perfume, with perhaps some smuggling on the side, which would account for his reticence. Yet she appreciated his company, even if she felt that he was a man who would always seek to use, rather than share. And if she was sure that he was no different to any of the others, and had his own plans for furthering their relationship, she was almost tempted to indulge him, up to a point, if only as a reward for his patience and good manners.

  ‘I am looking forward to reaching Lisbon,’ she explained.

  ‘Ah. You have relatives there? Friends, waiting for you?’

  She shook her head. ‘I shall only be there a day or two, depending on the sailing of the Southampton packet. I am really bound for England.’

  ‘Ah, the fortunate English. Although I suspect, from your accent, that you are English yourself.’

  He certainly would have ascertained that already. But yesterday, the topic had been him. Now it was to be her. He was clearly a man who laid his plans very carefully. She found it rather amusing. ‘And you are correct, sir. At least … I was English born. I am an American citizen, now.’

  ‘Of course. And you say there is no one to meet you in Lisbon? A lady like yourself should hardly be travelling so unaccompanied.’

  ‘I do assure you, sir, that I am perfectly well able to manage.’

  ‘Nevertheless, will you allow me to offer a prayer that the Southampton packet is delayed? I should very much like to show you something of Lisbon and its environs. Cintra, Cascais … I know the Portuguese seaboard very well, and it is full of interest and some beauty.’

  The approach she had anticipated. Made in the diffident, gentle manner she had expected of him. ‘I would consider it blasphemy to pray for such an event, Mr Marquand,’ she said. ‘But … if the packet were not to be immediately available, I might accept your offer. Providing we are not assaulted by Barbary pirates before ever making land.’

  She wondered why she had said that, even as she uttered the words. But Marquand merely smiled. ‘No chance of that, Mrs McGann. Now that the Royal Navy has no more obligations than to patrol the seas, the corsairs are confined strictly to the Mediterranean. Besides,’ his smile widened, ‘am I not here to protect you?’

  *

  Would Toby approve? But Toby need never know. And in any event, once they had overcome the hurdle of her four years in a Moorish harem, there had been nothing for him to approve, or disapprove, of in her. If he had fallen for her at first sight, as she now accepted
, he had fallen for her all over again that day on the beach in the rain. And since he had taken her on board the USS Enterprise on that never-to-be-forgotten evening in 1805, she had never looked at another man. Well, she was not doing that now. But she would enjoy a glimpse of Portugal, and she had no doubt she could cope with any advances Mr Marquand might choose to make. She told herself that conducting a mild flirtation with him was actually an essential part of the whole exercise, reminding her that she was a woman in her own right.

  And he was at least right about the absence of pirates. The Dolphin made the Tagus without delay, and he was at her elbow to point out the Bay of Cascais, and then the palaces of Lisbon, and the monument to the memory of Prince Henry the Navigator, the man whose ambitions had first started the European people on their career of world conquest, as they slowly made their way up the river on the rising tide. She hurried ashore as soon as the ship was moored, seeking the shipping agent for the packet lines, Marquand at her elbow.

  ‘A passage to Southampton,’ the clerk said. ‘Oh, indeed, nothing could be simpler, Mrs McGann. You have timed your arrival in Lisbon to perfection. The ship entered the harbour this morning, and sails at dawn tomorrow. If you could manage to be on board her by midnight …’

  ‘The devil,’ Marquand commented. ‘The ship enters and leaves again within twenty-four hours?’

  The clerk peered at him. ‘Have you not heard, sir, that we are again at war?’

  ‘War?’ Felicity cried. ‘You mean England? But … with whom?’

  ‘Why, the French, madam. Who else? Can you not have heard that Bonaparte is loose?’

  ‘My God,’ Marquand commented. ‘No, we had not heard. We have spent this last month at sea.’

  ‘Well, sir, the monster landed at Cannes in the south of France at the beginning of this month, and promptly marched on Paris. It was supposed he would easily be stopped, as he commanded no more than a handful of men, but the force sent to arrest him, why, sir, madam, they threw their hats in the air and shouted “Long Live the Emperor”. It was shocking. And then the common people welcomed him as a returning hero, and the towns were decked out in the tricolour … The French will never learn their lesson.’

  ‘But what of King Louis? And the Allied armies?’ Marquand demanded.

  ‘King Louis has fled Paris, I understand. Indeed, Bonaparte may already be sleeping in the Tuileries, as far as I know. The Allied armies, sir, well, they have been dispersed. I believe a new mobilisation has been ordered, but it will take time.’

  ‘So we are launched upon another great war.’ Felicity sighed, and paid the fare. ‘I really must make haste; my husband will be worried about me in these circumstances.’ She faced Marquand and held out her hand. ‘I shall have to look at Lisbon some other time, Mr Marquand. But I do appreciate your offer, and I have no doubt that if you ever find yourself in Long Island my husband and I will offer you all the hospitality we command. We may even do business with you.’

  ‘I shall certainly remember that, Mrs McGann. And may well take you up on it. But … you do not have to be on board the packet until midnight. And it is now but ten in the morning. Can I not at least entertain you this afternoon? And then, dinner?’

  She hesitated. But she did have nothing to do with herself all day. Captain Carruthers had said there was no need to take her things ashore, as she could use the Dolphin as a hotel, if she chose, until she found herself a passage to England. So really, it was simply a matter of transferring her box from one ship to the next. And the prospect of spending a whole day sitting on the deck of the brig watching the stevedores at work did not appeal at all.

  ‘Why, that would be very kind of you, Mr Marquand,’ she said. ‘If you are sure you can spare the time.’

  ‘My time is yours.’ He held up one finger ‘Almost. If you will excuse me for an hour to see to my own arrangements, I will return for you at the ship at eleven o’clock. And voilà, I shall be at your disposal.’

  She laughed at his sudden change of demeanour, and he was as good as his word, appearing at the reins of a hired trap, with which he took her first of all on a tour of the city, and then for a ride outside it, along the road to Cascais, from whence she could look at the huge Atlantic rollers creaming over the sandbank which guarded the southern side of the estuary. He had obtained a most pleasant picnic lunch, which they enjoyed sitting on the sand in Cascais Bay, after which they lay on their backs and gazed at the sky, and he told her the history of Portugal.

  ‘It is remarkable,’ he said, sitting up, ‘how much of it has been concentrated, within a few square miles of Lisbon. Alas, there is not even time to take you up to Cintra, if you are truly leaving tonight.’

  ‘I must,’ she said. ‘I have seldom enjoyed a day more, Mr Marquand. I shall never forget it. But if you truly wish to entertain me to dinner, and yet give me time to be on board the packet by midnight, we should return.’

  ‘Of course.’ She sat beside him in the trap, cast a last look at the sun setting in the Atlantic amidst a blaze of gold and pink, and they drove back into town. ‘I have an idea that you would enjoy sampling some real Portuguese cuisine,’ he said, ‘rather than eat in one of the fashionable places in the centre of town. They have become too used to catering to Englishmen, eh, and it is all boiled beef and cabbage. You will get enough of that in Southampton … But here …’ he guided the pony down a narrow side street. ‘Here you will dine like a queen. Providing you like sea food.’

  ‘I adore sea food,’ she told him.

  The restaurant was unimpressive, small and somewhat dingy and quite empty. ‘Do the Portuguese not eat sea food?’ she enquired.

  ‘Oh, indeed. And this is one of the most popular eating places in the city,’ Marquand assured her. ‘But you see, this is the land of the siesta. Everyone sleeps until four, and then works until eight. No one thinks to dine much before ten o’clock, and it is only just after eight now. So … we have the place to ourselves.’ He winked. ‘That means we have first pick of the food.’

  And the first pick of the service, as well, Felicity thought, for they were attended by mine host as well as three smiling girls, whom she took to be the daughters of the house. They obviously knew Marquand.

  ‘Well,’ he explained, ‘I eat nowhere else, when I am in Portugal. Now, let me recommend … the gambas.’

  ‘Gambas?’

  ‘They are shrimps. But shrimps such as you have never seen. Six inches long, and the sweetest taste in the world.’

  She didn’t believe him, but the shrimps were, indeed, six inches long. She supposed they were more what the French called lang-oustine, or baby lobsters — but they definitely tasted like shrimp and were quite delicious. They were followed by lobster, served with a very dry white wine. She had not eaten such a meal before, that she could recall, and felt quite lightheaded when it finally ended.

  ‘You will have a glass of cognac?’ Marquand invited.

  ‘Oh, really, I do think I should be getting back to the ship, Mr Marquand,’ she protested.

  ‘After a glass. Cognac helps to settle the digestion.’

  And hers was suddenly feeling very odd indeed. Undoubtedly the lobster. Besides, she had seldom enjoyed a day more. He had been the most perfect companion, and the most perfect gentleman, too, never seeking for an instant to take advantage of being alone with her. She could not remember feeling so relaxed, even with Toby.

  ‘Well,’ she agreed. ‘Perhaps a very small glass.’

  ‘Of course.’

  The words were scarcely out of her mouth when the glasses were presented. Marquand raised his. ‘To our so fortunate chance meeting, Mrs McGann. I would like to drink to the success of your business affairs in London, and to say that if we do not meet again, I shall count myself the most unfortunate of men.’

  ‘Why, thank you.’ But when she tried to smile, she frowned instead, because his face had gone fuzzy. She drank the rest of her cognac, hoping to clear her vision, got to her feet, and felt the room begin to
revolve about her. Only dimly was she aware that Marquand was holding her arm to stop her from falling to the floor, then she lost consciousness.

  *

  Felicity awoke to a gonging headache, and a good deal of discomfort as well. Principally it was movement, of several different varieties, all, it seemed, in conflict. Her brain moved to and fro inside her head. Her stomach moved up and down, and threatened at any moment to rebel. But in addition, her body was moving to and fro, and the entire world about it also seemed to be moving, bouncing and jolting, banging her head … She realised she was in a cart, which was moving over an uneven road. She attempted to sit up, discovered that her wrists were bound together, as were her ankles — the reason why they were not hurting was that she had lost all feeling in them.

  Yet she could sense that her boots had been taken off. She felt sick. At least partly this was because of the food and the drink and the drug which had obviously been fed her in the cognac, but equally it was at the thought of men tying her up, removing her boots, while she was unconscious. What else might they have done to her? She was so generally uncomfortable it could have been anything — she could pinpoint no individual pain. It was too many years since she had been manhandled, and then she had had the resilience of a girl. Now … but over the sickness was a great cloud of uncertain horror. She had been kidnapped. For ransom? She had heard that these things did happen, and it had been generally known on board the Dolphin that she was an heiress. But that would mean …

  She opened her mouth, and sucked evil-tasting blanket between her teeth as she inhaled. Hastily she spat it out again, gasping and choking; she was not gagged but was covered in the cloth, which was lying across her face.

  A man said something, and a moment later the blanket was pulled back. She stared at Mar-quand. As she had just thought, that would mean Marquand was involved. Marquand! The most perfect gentleman she had ever met. She opened her mouth again.