Eye of the Wind

by Jane Jackson

  She woke with a start, not knowing where she was, felt panic squeeze her lungs. Then, as all her senses came alive, she heard the creak of timber and snap of canvas, smelled salt and seaweed, felt the dip and rise of the boat beneath her, it all came back with a rush. She sat up, and cracked her skull against the overhead decking. Her muffled cry won a terse “Quiet!” from Gabriel.

  Pushing aside the blankets and coat, she crawled out of the sail locker and grabbed the boat’s upper side. As she clung to it, trying to get her balance, the deck seemed to be sloping more steeply than she remembered. She looked toward the stern, the wind blowing in her face. Licking her lips, she tasted salt. Seeing Gabriel seated in the stern, she realised the dark blue of night had paled to grey. It was almost dawn. She had slept for hours.

  Following his pointing finger, Melissa caught her breath. Though they were crossing the wide wake and the ship was already some distance away, it still appeared huge as it creamed through the swell, tiers of taut sails set at an angle on each of the three masts. Dropping to the deck boards, Melissa crawled to the stern, wedged herself in the upper corner beyond his feet, and hugged her knees.

  ‘British warship,’ he said softly, ‘a two-decker, carrying between 64 and 80 guns. She’s probably one of the Channel Squadron. Better if they don’t notice us.’

  Opening her mouth, Melissa shut it again, working out the answers for herself. Without any lines, nets or bait they could hardly say they were fishing. Nor would it be easy to explain why they were heading for the French coast with her aboard dressed as a man. Turning onto her knees, she started to crawl away.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m hungry,’ she whispered over her shoulder. ‘And thirsty. Do you want something to eat?’

  ‘I’m starving,’ he answered frankly.

  They made a meal of bread and cheese, some slices of cold chicken, and a raspberry tart. Melissa pulled the cork from the stone jar and held it up. ‘Would you like some lemonade?’

  ‘After you.’ She took several mouthfuls. It was cold, sharp, and deliciously thirst-quenching. She lowered the jar reluctantly, but did not dare drink more. She felt up her sleeve for a handkerchief, realised she didn’t have one, and started to pull out one end of the neckcloth to wipe the top.

  ‘Don’t concern yourself.’ His voice, close to her ear, made her start. ‘I could take no ill from you.’

  ‘It seemed only polite.’ She glanced up as she handed him the jar. ‘Ridiculous, aren’t I, in the circumstances.’

  About to speak, he stopped and shook his head, then drank deeply before passing it back. When she had replaced the basket, she dipped one end of the neckcloth in a handful of fresh water from the cask and wiped her face and hands. Then, refreshed, she crawled back to the stern. After showing her how to use the compass, he stood up, adjusting his balance to the boat’s rise and swoop.

  ‘If you see anything that worries you, call me at once.’

  As she nodded, he started toward the bow. Suddenly he stopped and half turned, but instead of looking at her, he scanned the horizon with narrowed eyes. ‘By the way, so you may be comfortable, there is a canvas bucket under the seat.’

  Despite her blush, she felt a great wave of gratitude. For though she had tried hard not to think about it, the slight discomfort she had noticed on waking had become a matter of increasing urgency, and embarrassment at the prospect of having to ask had increased in proportion to her need. She watched him crawl as far as he could beneath the half-deck. He pulled the blankets over him, leaving only his booted legs exposed.

  She thought she heard him groan, and grew tense. But when he didn’t move she dismissed it as the creaking of the boat and relaxed again. She waited a little while longer, and when his stillness convinced her he was asleep, she took advantage of the only privacy she was likely to have until she reached home once more.

  She checked the compass, then sat back and watched the eastern sky turn from oyster to pearl and then to primrose. Towering billows of cloud blown by the north-west wind changed from purple-grey to gold then flame as the sun rose in a burst of fiery light that turned the sky apricot, and the sea from black, to blood red, and finally to brass.

  Watching the birth of the new day, Melissa shivered at the awesome spectacle, for this was an angry sky. Surrounded by a vast expanse of heaving water, every minute taking them further from land, the boat that had seemed large and strong now felt frighteningly small.

  The colours drained away, leaving the sea pewter-coloured beneath sullen grey clouds. Hours passed. The boat ran on. The cloud thickened, dropping lower, and the breeze felt damp as it gathered strength. The swell broke into waves with tiny frills of foam appearing on the crests. Melissa’s anxiety increased.

  Just when she could bear it no longer, Gabriel woke and came to join her. Seeing him apparently unperturbed, her fear eased. They ate again. Then, at his suggestion, and only too glad to obey, for the strain of her lonely watch and the boat’s constant motion were more exhausting than she had expected, she crawled into the sail locker to try and snatch a little more sleep.

  When she woke it was late afternoon. She felt guilty at having slept for so long. But when she apologised, Gabriel brushed it aside, tense and disinclined to talk. Assuming they must be drawing close to the French coast, she accepted his silence, and did all she usefully could by preparing another light meal.

  As daylight began to fade, she took the helm while Gabriel brought in the gaff and jib topsails. She could see on the horizon a faint dark line.

  ‘Is that land?’ He nodded, constantly scanning the ocean around them. Half an hour later, she sensed a new tautness in him.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘A boat. It would be better if you’re not seen.’

  Quickly, she scuttled forward to the sail locker, and sat in the nest of sails and blankets, hugging her knees, gazing toward the stern where Gabriel stood holding the tiller, deliberately visible.

  The faint shout made her start. She couldn’t catch the words, but guessed whoever was hailing them wanted to know the name of the boat. Cupping one hand to his mouth, Gabriel bellowed back.

  After a few moments, another call floated across the water. This time Gabriel answered in more detail. It wasn’t only his fluency in the Breton dialect that astonished her; he was acting a part, gesticulating as he shouted, waving one arm as he pretended irritation and self-mocking humour. She wished she knew what was happening.

  As if reading her thoughts, Gabriel spoke quietly. ‘The boat that hailed us is a Breton free-trader. I told him I’m out of Roscoff, lost my crew in a tavern brawl, and must reach Le Conquet before sunset. He’s leading me in.’

  Clenching her teeth to stop them chattering as fear made her shiver, Melissa could hear her heart pounding. The silence dragged on, and she couldn’t bear it. It was bad enough not being able to see what was happening.

  ‘Gabriel?’ She kept her voice low, but his glance told her he had heard. ‘Were you involved in – with the free-traders?’ When he didn’t answer, she hurried on. ‘When you were at the house after your accident and you were delirious, you kept talking of smuggling. As you were speaking Breton I just wondered.’

  ‘I have much to thank them for.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Without their willingness to help me – at considerable risk to themselves – I would never have got back to Cornwall. Yes, you could say I am involved. I enjoy a glass of brandy as much as any gentleman who buys a keg knowing full well no duty has been paid on it. Hush now, it won’t be long.’

  To Melissa, hunched in the sail locker, it seemed like hours. The daylight had almost gone. Thick, low cloud meant there was no sunset.

  She tensed as she heard a voice, faint on the gusty wind. But as Gabriel shouted thanks and God speed for a safe return home, she realised that they had reached the rendezvous.

  ‘You can come out now.’

  Stiff and cold, she crawled out,
her heart beating faster as she moved to stand beside him. They had to find Robert and get away again as quickly as possible. The longer they remained, the greater the danger.

  She took the helm, following Gabriel’s whispered instructions as he dropped the jib then reefed the main and staysails. The boat slowed as they approached the inlet. Melissa’s eyes ached as she strained to see through the gathering dusk. Then she caught a glimpse of something white, waving.

  ‘Gabriel –’

  ‘I see it.’

  The gusty breeze made manoeuvring difficult and she concentrated fiercely. Gabriel dropped the mainsail, turned the boat and, reaching down, handed her an oar.

  ‘Keep us off the rocks.’

  It wasn’t easy. They were in a channel between an island and the mainland, and the combination of wind and tidal currents added a new turbulence to the dark water. Sudden warmth and the taste of salt told her she had bitten her lip.

  She heard the splash of footsteps in the shallows and saw Gabriel heave Robert in over the side where he collapsed, panting, on the deck boards.

  Obeying the terse whispers, she dropped the oar inboard and pushed the tiller hard over while Gabriel hauled on the mainsheet. A few minutes later, the boat was speeding through the waves heading back out to sea.

  Robert had pulled himself into a sitting position in the bottom of the boat, elbows resting on his bent knees, head bowed as he gasped for breath. He hadn’t so much as glanced her way since his frantic scramble aboard.

  Gabriel came back to take the helm. Standing beside him, Melissa hesitated, oddly reluctant to reveal her identity. Then Robert looked up.

  ‘I’m more grateful than I can say. Will you not tell me your names, so I may know to whom I owe my freedom?’

  Kneeling in front of him, Melissa smiled. ‘My disguise must be better than I thought,’ she said. ‘Do you not know me, Robert?’

  He stiffened as if turned to stone. Then, rearing back, he scrambled to his feet, clutching the rail.

  ‘Melissa? What in the name of God do you think you’re doing?’

  Startled, she stood up, steadier on her feet than him, having had the long crossing to get used to the boat’s movement. ‘I’d have thought that was obvious. I came to –’

  ‘I cannot believe you would be so foolhardy.’

  ‘And I am astonished you should show so little gratitude,’ she retorted, stung and angry.

  ‘Your hair,’ he said suddenly. ‘What have you done to your hair?’ It had the ring of accusation.

  ‘You’ve been away too long, Robert. It’s all the rage.’ If he had not the wit to realise it had been a necessary sacrifice she certainly would not tell him. But the light retort cost her dearly.

  ‘You were wrong to put yourself in such a position. I had assumed you would recruit someone from the yard or the village to come and fetch me.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I did. But we are short-handed at the yard; Gabriel couldn’t come alone. So I volunteered. Who would you consider more trustworthy than me?’

  Darting a glance at Gabriel, Robert took her arm, drawing her away. His voice vibrated with barely suppressed emotion.

  ‘Have you no idea of the damage this will do to your reputation?’

  She could not read his expression, for his face was just a paler blur in the darkness. ‘Who will ever know, Robert? I will not tell anyone.’

  ‘I certainly won’t, you may be sure of that.’ He lowered his voice, and drew her away still further. ‘How do you know you can trust –?’ He tipped his head. ‘

  ‘Gabriel,’ she supplied curtly.

  ‘Gabriel, then.’ He was impatient. ‘How do you know he will remain silent?’

  Taking a deep breath as she fought to control her rising anger, Melissa pulled her arm free and moved back toward the stern, raising her voice so it was audible above the noise of wind and waves.

  ‘I would trust Gabriel Ennis with my life. In fact, I did just that, to come and fetch you.’

  Robert stepped closer, his shoulders raised, his posture tense. ‘I am mindful of my debt to you, do not think otherwise, but I cannot pretend to admire what you have done. Nor, though they will be glad to see me safe, can I imagine my family will find your behaviour acceptable. Indeed, what of your own family? I cannot believe they gave their blessing to your actions.’

  ‘Perhaps you have chosen to forget,’ she said tightly, ‘that it was you who swore me to secrecy.’ She heard him gasp.

  ‘You mean they have no idea where you are or what you are doing?’ He raised one hand abruptly. ‘You must forgive me, Melissa, but I find it impossible to discuss this further. The whole business – it is just too shocking.’ Holding tight to the rail, he turned his back, leaving Melissa furious and mortified.

  Gabriel leant down and murmured in her ear. ‘Why don’t you tell him about your father’s death? It might help.’

  ‘No.’ She moved closer to him. ‘It’s not relevant. Nor will I use it to bid for sympathy.’

  ‘Take the helm,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m going to put a couple of reefs in the mainsail. We’re in for a rough trip back.’ It took considerable willpower to mask the disgust he felt for Robert Bracey. It required even more to resist the urge to take Melissa in his arms and reassure her that her erstwhile friend’s churlish response in no way diminished her valour.

  Robert moved to the other side of the boat, apparently preferring the discomfort of flying spray from the bow wave to standing on the higher side with them.

  ‘The wind’s against us, so we’ll have to beat back,’ Gabriel told Melissa. ‘I’m going to bring her about. When I give the word I want you to loose the staysail and jib sheets, then when she’s on the other tack you haul in and make fast on the opposite side. All right?’

  ‘Loose these then pull in those?’

  ‘That’s right. Ready?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now.’ He loosed the mainsheet. Forward of him, Melissa released the other ropes. The boat came up into the eye of the wind. As the jib and staysail flapped, cracking the loose sheets like whips, Gabriel watched her dart to the other side and start hauling them in. The boom began its swing.

  Robert moved away, intent on avoiding the young woman who had risked so much to rescue him. The huge mainsail caught the wind and filled.

  Leaning against the tiller to hold the boat on her new course, Gabriel hauled in as fast as he could but the boom swung hard over and hit Robert, knocking him off his feet. He fell, hitting his head against one of the sturdy frames as the boat heeled and leapt forward on the new tack.

  Gabriel belayed the mainsheet and Melissa turned, stumbling over Robert’s feet.

  ‘Come and take the helm,’ Gabriel called. ‘He’ll be more comfortable in the sail locker.’

  ‘What happened?’ she asked as they passed. He could hear her teeth chattering.

  ‘He got in the way of the boom.’

  ‘Is he hurt?’

  Crouching, Gabriel lifted the lieutenant’s head, felt the lump, and the wetness.

  ‘A bump and a small cut, nothing serious.’

  A moment later, a neckcloth landed on the deck beside him. Soaking one end with water from the cask, he wrapped it round the lieutenant’s head then dragged him to the sail locker. Turning him onto his side and throwing a blanket over him, Gabriel pulled out the driving coat and stood up. The first spots of rain dashed against his face as he made his way back to the stern.

  ‘Here, stand up and put this on. The rain is starting.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m used to it.’

  ‘I’ll share it with you. We’re in this together.’

  ‘Why don’t you go forward? It might be a bit cramped but –’

  ‘No thank you. I’d rather stay here. I prefer your company.’

  It was like a knife in his heart. He forced a laugh. ‘I don’t think you need fear another scolding. When he comes round he’ll have a headache. I doubt he’ll feel much l
ike talking.’

  ‘I’d still prefer to stay here … That is if you don’t mind?’

  Her uncertainty tore at him. He wanted nothing more. If this was all there could ever be, then – ‘I’m honoured, miss.’

  ‘Don’t, Gabriel, please. I don’t want things between us to change just because –’

  ‘Take the tiller, and give me the coat.’ The rain had begun in earnest. He wedged himself in the corner and held it up for her. As she moved closer, still holding the tiller, his arm encircled her shoulders and he drew the coat around them both. He could feel her shivering against him.

  ‘Listen, Lieutenant Bracey’s reaction to your presence on this boat says far more about him than it does about you. But –’

  ‘How could he? Doesn’t he realise what we –’

  ‘Hush. Please let me finish. It made me realise how isolated you have become from normal society, and how much I am to blame for that.’

  ‘No! Without you –’

  ‘Melissa, please.’ He could not have devised a more exquisite torture than holding her close within the sheltering coat, inhaling her fragrance with every breath, her body warm against his. ‘You may not like what I am saying, but you cannot deny the truth of it. When Lieutenant Bracey’s escape becomes known, as it must, so too will my part in it, He will ensure I am given credit in order to hide your involvement.’

  He could not tell her that the resulting interest in him, coming so soon after the gossip among the local men concerning the package of secret papers Janner Stevens was carrying, would increase the risk of his being recognised. A sudden thought struck him. Why had the papers Janner Stevens brought back been addressed to the Foreign Secretary in person?

  He had assumed that, as Sir John had given him his assignment, he dealt with all such matters on Lord Grenville’s behalf, to distance the Foreign Secretary from any embarrassment should an agent be caught and tortured into revealing that he was acting on behalf of the British Government.