Gentle hands smoothed back her hair and helped her to rise, and she turned towards the person. “Patsy? Is it you? Oh thank God, I thought you dead... John! John! What have they done to him?” Linnett twisted round to look for her husband. John lay slumped on the deck and he wasn’t moving. “Oh God, they have killed him! John! John!”
Linnett dropped to her knees at her husband’s side and placed her hand over his heart; to her relief, she could feel the steady beat. Stroking his hair back, Linnett bent her head and pressed her lips to his temple. She realised that she was shivering, trembling as if she suffered a fever, and her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Linnett’s senses had slowed, and she was finding it hard to gather her wits. Patsy, who stood beside her, spun around and yelled at someone close by. “Ere! You promised me these two wouldn’t be ‘urt an ‘ere they are, all bashed about!”
“Merde, cherie, zees is war! What I said was I would not ‘ave ‘em kil’t.’ A large pirate stepped into Linnett’s vision and she tried to focus on him but found it hard to stop the dizziness that threatened to overcome her. She saw he wore a red and white sailor’s cap, which flopped jauntily to one side, and like the other pirates, he wore no shirt, and his arms and chest were covered in tattoos. He had on blue breeches and dirty, stripped red and white stockings.
“Patsy?” Linnett croaked. “I don’t understand... do you know this, this...man?”
The pirate gave a coarse shout of laughter. “Ah, oui! Ze madamoiselle knows me verra well! Do you not, ma petite choux!”
“Stop it, Henri!” Patsy said and turned to Linnett, a pleading look on her face. She reached down to where Linnet crouched over John and took hold of Linnett’s hand. “It was after I fell into the sea, missus, I met Henri below deck. I was crying, and he was so kind to me. Well, we fell in love, we did. Don’t be mad at me, missus...Linnett. I didn’t want no one to be hurt... look he promised me you... Mr. Foster and Mr. Duncan could go free. Them’s plan was all set up anyways so there was nuffing I could do to stop it.”
Linnett jerked her hand away from Patsy’s. “You helped him? You knew he was aboard this ship?” Linnett was incredulous; Patsy flushed and hung her head.
The pirate strode forward and put his arm around her, then he spoke to Linnett. “Ma femme! Of course elle would not betray me! Elle sait I would cut her preety throat if she did zuch a zing! Mais I will keep ma word; you are to go free!”
Linnett stared into the heavily lidded, dark brown eyes and unshaven face. A livid scar ran down one cheek. “It was you in the luggage hold.” She said it as a statement for she knew his answer.”
“Mais oui, of course, madam. also I had zee pleasure, non, zee verry great pleasure to watch your lovely self and your ‘usband, in zee moon light one night being so very romantic, eh!”
Linnett looked at him with horror. “You were spying on us?” The pirate gave a lascivious laugh, revealing a few missing teeth as he did so. “Oui, madam, certainement! I compliment you, vous ete tres belle, madam!”
He continued to chuckle, while Linnett closed her eyes briefly, hoping she would not swoon.
“What are you going to do with us?” she asked at last in a low voice.
The pirate, Henri, looked serious now. “I keep ma word, petite. Vous et votre marie...can go!” and so saying he turned and raised his arm, signalling to two of his men.
Then, another pirate ran forward talking in French to his leader, holding Linnett’s jewellery casket. The man opened it and showed the contents to Henri, and the large pirate scooped out the valuables and handed them all to Patsy. The girl stood there, her hands cupped, holding more wealth than she had ever seen in her life before, her mouth hanging open like a fish.
Linnett was livid.
“How dare you! Those belong to me, you nasty little thief!”
The French Pirate’s heavy brows lowered, and he snarled at Linnett.
“Merde! You are verra lucky, madam, zat your jewels are all zat we take, you understand ma meaning I am sure! Ferme la bouche!”
He gave a typically Gaelic gesture and turned away. Linnett had to know what had happened to Duncan. “Where is Duncan? Have you seen him?” Patsy lowered her eyes as she replied, “Yes’m. I’m real sorry, missus, but he were killed in the fight, a clean wound straight through his chest. I was with ‘im when he went.”
Linnett pressed her hand to her mouth and bit hard to stop herself from screaming. No please, not Duncan! Sweet, fresh-faced Duncan, with his wife and baby daughters in Plymouth. What would they do now without him?
The two ruffians who had fetched them up from the cabin had come over and were now dragging John, still unconscious, over to the port side of the ship, a side that was relatively undamaged. They tied a rope around his body.
“What are they doing?” Linnett asked Patsy in a whisper, her heart beating jarringly in her chest and her mouth filled with fear.
Patsy followed Linnett, who ran to John’s side and pulled at his arm, trying in vain to get him away from the two pirates. Patsy caught up with Linnett and glanced nervously at her. “Well them’s got to lower Mr. Foster ‘cos he’s not awake.”
Linnett frowned in puzzlement, asking, “Lower him where?”
Patsy shuffled uncomfortably. “In ‘ter the boat,” she said.
“But you told me we would be safe!” Linnett shrieked in a voice of pure rage.
Patsy paled and stumbled back and away from Linnett, shouting, “I saved yer life! If Henri ‘ad his way, you and yer ‘usband would be dead right now!”
Linnett lunged forward with her arm raised to slap Patsy’s face but a vice-like grip on her raised arm prevented her from following through with her action. Her arm was twisted behind her back, and she was marched to the side of the ship, where John was already being lowered. Linnett turned her head and spat at the pirate gripping her arms, while screaming at Patsy, “You traitorous bitch, I should have left you to drown!” Then to her fury and shame, Linnett burst into noisy, gasping sobs of misery and rage, the horror and fear of what was happening completely overwhelming her.
She then found herself flung over the shoulder of the foul-smelling pirate, who made his way over the ship’s side and began a fearful and sickening descent to a small rowing boat tied to the side of the ship. From her upside down position, Linnett could see John’s body slumped in the bottom of the boat, where he had been slung by the pirates. When the pirate carrying Linnett was at the bottom of the rope ladder, he swivelled his shoulder and dropped her down to join John.
“Land is zat a’way,” he said, jerking his head away from the ship. He gave Linnett a leering grin from under a greasy blond fringe and shinned back up the rope ladder onto the ship.
Patsy’s voice floated down to her. “There is a flagon of water in the boat. Land is about twelve miles port out, so they tells me. I am sorry, I really am. You was real kind to me. Farewell, missus!”
Linnett slumped in the boat, wondering what she should do next. She looked down at John, who appeared to be sleeping but Linnett knew that the blow to his head could mean he was unconscious anyway, and it was very serious. Linnett tore off some of her second petticoat and dipped it into the sea, and then she lifted her husband’s head gently onto her lap and tenderly mopped the wound. John groaned, but when she said his name, there was no other response, so she held him, the cool wet cloth laid across his forehead.
The boat had been bumping gently at the side of the ship but was now beginning to float away from the ship’s side. Linnett noticed the oars on the floor of the boat; she would have to move John off her lap if she wanted to use them. Perhaps she should try to move the little boat away from the ship just in case the pirates changed their minds about killing them. A vision of Captain Pettigrew and the ship’s officers hanging from the masts sprung into her mind. She hastily suppressed these images; she must not think about the things she had seen on the ship, not yet. Linnett knew that she had to stay calm and think, that their lives were in her hands. If she mov
ed the boat away, they might blow them out of the water with cannon fire. Linnett was terrified about which decision she should make. She glanced up the wooden sides of the ship and saw that nobody was looking down at them. Most of the guns were now on the other side of the ship since that was where most of the fighting took place. Linnett reasoned and chewed her lip indecisively, finally deciding that she would row; they had to get away from that ship of death. At least if they were to die, they would be alone together on high seas with only God and the fish for company.
“Surely Lord,” Linnett asked aloud, “you can’t have saved us just to go and drown us a few days later? No!” She rebelled against the thought, determining, “If I have my way, we will survive this!”
Gently but awkwardly, she extracted the oars from under John’s prone body. First, she used an oar to push the boat farther away from the ship’s side, and then she placed each oar either side of the boat into the rowlocks. Clutching an oar in each hand, she dipped the paddle ends into the sea and pulled back with all her might. One oar slipped from her grip; hastily, she grabbed it, only just saving it from disappearing into the ocean depths. Linnett took a deep breath, started again and eventually got a rhythm going, pull back and stroke, pull back and stroke. Sweat dripped down her face and between her breasts, but she struggled on.
When finally Linnett broke for a rest, wiping her hot face with the back of her forearm, she looked back at the ship and was surprised by how far she had managed to row. “I am only just realising what an amazing woman you are, Mrs. Foster.” Linnett started in surprise and squealed with joy, her arms reaching out for John, helping him to sit upright; Linnett covered his face in kisses. “Steady now!” John swayed and held his head with both hands. He felt and looked dreadful.
“John, thank goodness you are alright!” Linnett gasped with relief.
“Well, I wouldn’t say alright, exactly,” John quipped and gave her a weak grin. He looked around him and frowned. “So, here we are then. I take it we are the only ones blessed with this particular fate?” He raised a questioning brow. Linnett hung her head; her hair tumbled forward in a curtain of honey, which screened her face from his gaze.
“Linnett?” John reached out a hand and gently raised her head. Her face was awash with tears and she was unable to speak.
John’s face hardened, “All dead?” he asked, hazarding a guess. “Captain Pettigrew? Ahhhh, not Duncan, too?”
Linnett nodded her head and suddenly she spluttered into gut-wrenching sobs, her body folded forward, and her head dropped onto John’s lap. He gently laid his hand on her head and stroked her soft hair. Sorrowfully, he sat thinking of the good men he had come to like and respect, so needlessly slaughtered. He wondered how this disaster had come about and thought he may have some knowledge of that. John remembered the darting light from the ship the other night and the French song being sung by someone hidden from view up on deck.
He looked up at the sky and saw it was still blue and the sun shone quite warm. The sea looked a pleasant green, and although there was quite a swell, it was reasonably calm. They must make use of this fine weather and row as much and as far as they could. It was their only chance of surviving.
When Linnett had subsided into hiccups, John mopped her face with his handkerchief, holding her face between his hands he spoke to her tenderly. “We will talk of what has happened later. Now we must row to survive, or rather you must row for now at any rate. I will rest, and hopefully soon, I can help you with the rowing.”
John pressed his lips against her forehead gently. Linnett nodded grimly and settled herself back on the boat seat to row once again. She found it a relief to do something physical and put all her strength into the rowing. After an hour, she stopped, absolutely exhausted, and sitting where she was, Linnett bowed her head, her chest heaving from her exertions. She was disappointed to see the ship still in view even though they were some way from it.
John watched her sadly. What terrible dangers he had exposed her to, a young gentle-born girl of only nineteen years. She should not have seen such terrible atrocities. John knew that he would never forgive himself for dragging her into this nightmare. If only he had heeded her wishes, she would still be safe at her home in England.
Gingerly, John felt his injured head and then stretched, reaching out to touch Linnett’s arm. “I will row now, sweetheart. Can you move over to here so that we can switch places?”
Awkwardly, they shuffled around one another so that John was able to row. The first five minutes were hell for him. His poor head pounded and his arms throbbed with the effort of rowing, but then he managed a good rhythm.
Linnett settled into the bottom of the boat and rested her head on her arms while leaning against the seat. She fell into a doze, and when she awoke The Tempest was no longer in sight and the sun was low in the sky. John was rowing still.
“Have you been rowing all this time?” she asked him with concern.
“No,” he replied, shaking his head, “I stop every hundred strokes for a rest. Is there any water? I’m parched.”
Linnett turned from side to side looking for the flagon of water that the pirates had given them. She finally found it under the seat and passed it to John. He drank deeply and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I had hoped we were near enough to shore so that we could land before night came but we are farther out than I had estimated,” John said.
Linnett reached out to take the water from him. “How do we know if we are even rowing in the right direction” she asked dejectedly.
John pointed beyond her. “Turn your head and look,” he said, and when Linnett turned, what she saw made her eyes liquid with relief. For there in the distance lay mountains, and wheeling up in the sky from that same direction were birds. “Land, oh John! How long will it take us to get there?”
“It’s much farther away than it looks. I can’t say how long it will take us, but we will get there, my sweet, I promise you that!” John grimly rowed on, determined to land the small boat before night fall if he could.
It was dark now. Still they had not reached the shore, the sea was starting to rise, and the waves tossed their small craft from side to side. It was almost, Linnett thought, as though the sea were playing catch-a-ball with them, only in this case it was catch-a-boat. Linnett was terrified, her teeth chattering and her lungs jarring with ragged breath. John had abandoned rowing as soon as darkness had fallen. He had tried to use one of the ores as a rudder to keep their course true, but as the sea swelled, it had become an impossible task and he had given up. He stowed the oar in the boat alongside its partner. A small sail was folded under the boat seat, John wrapped it around the two of them so they could snuggle together in the bottom of the boat. They were at the sea’s mercy, and all they could do was pray, which they both did silently, each imploring God for the other’s survival.
After a while, it may have been minutes or hours, they had no way of knowing, it rained. As it rained the wind got up, and the little boat was thrown about like a bobbing cork. Linnett clung to John in terror. John held her tightly and cursed himself for ever bringing her on this wretched voyage. He now believed they were doomed and expected the boat to turn over as each new wave hit them. How long the storm lasted, neither knew.
The long night finally passed, and they had survived, but morning bought no joy. Thick fog had fallen, and they had no way of telling in which direction land lay. John dared not row, lest he take them far out to sea by mistake, so they lay in the boat dozing, becoming listless with fatigue. As the day passed, Linnett began to shiver. Soaked to the skin, cold and hungry, she had given up all hope of them ever reaching safety. Finally she fell into a deep and unhealthy sleep. John roused himself enough to give her the last of their water dribbling it between her salty lips and then he too was overcome with the wet and the cold and fell into an exhausted slumber.
Chapter 8
The first John knew of the following day was a rough shaking of
his shoulder and a deep male voice shouting in his ear, “Mister! Mister! Wake up Mister!”
John groaned and tried to push the man away. He just wanted to be left alone to sleep. He felt himself lifted upright to a sitting position. John opened his eyes and quickly shut them against the brightness and the salt that stung them. He rubbed them with the back of his hand, and as he did so, a wet rag was placed in his palm and a deep calm voice spoke, “Use this. It is fresh water.”
Gratefully, John wiped his eyes and face. At last able to open his eyes, John saw a sturdy arm covered with curled, white-blonde hairs, holding out a drinking canteen. John drank deeply, and never had water tasted so sweet.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse, and he passed the canteen back.
John looked around him. He was sitting on the sandy beach of a cove; his rescuer was a huge blonde giant of a man dressed in warm outdoor clothes. At his side was a small blonde boy so like him that John guessed correctly that it must be his son. John smiled at them, but then suddenly he remembered Linnett. “My wife!” He tried to stand too quickly and fainted away. The blond giant sighed heavily. He turned to his son and said, “Peter, go to the cart and untether old Bess and bring her here to me.”
“Yes, Pa!”
The boy ran as fast as his thin legs would carry him up the beach to the track where they had left the horse and cart tethered. In the cart, covered in a warm home-knitted blanket, lay a feverish Linnett. Together, the man and his son managed to get John slung over the horse’s back and up to the cart, where they placed him next to Linnett. Slowly, they set off up the earth track towards the man’s home. He wondered what his wife was going to say when he returned with two more mouths to feed; worried, he frowned and shook his large shaggy head and sighed. On the beach, the sea birds flew back, landing on the now deserted sandy shore to scavenge in the surf once again. Undisturbed by man, a few gulls sat on the wreckage of the small rowing boat, which lay just beyond the tide’s reach.
His Spoilt Lady Page 13
