“It's just meant to look good then?” Annabelle asked.
“It's meant for many things,” Harold replied. “But looking impressive is one of them.”
“Lola!” Aaron's cry distracted him. Unlike a dignified lady with a title, she had no trouble satisfying her own curiosity The first thing she had done upon getting a tour of the wardroom, was scramble on top of his hammock, and push at the trap door in the ceiling She had remarkable balance, used to dancing, and wasn't daunted by the swinging of her support. She did almost fall, but quickly recovered.
“Where does this lead?”
“Nowhere,” Aaron said, putting both of his hands out to make sure she didn't topple over. Wesley leaned against the wall with a smile. It was moments like this that he enjoyed Lola the most, when she reminded him just how different they were. “It's just a hatch and a space.”
She confirmed that by pushing the panel open, and peeking up.
“But why would they build it?” she asked, eventually getting down. “To hide in?”
“Exactly,” he said. “Or hide dispatches, in case we are boarded.”
“But everyone can see that it's there,” Lola protested and he rolled his eyes.
“Lola, not everyone scampers up onto a hammock in order to crane their necks and look for a trap door.”
“It's the first thing I do in a new theater,” she smiled, going back to Wesley. “You enjoy having us here, don't be untruthful.”
“Uh huh,” he smiled. “You ladies are all settled in?”
“Yes,” Annabelle replied. “It isn't Bamber Manor, but it is nice to see how you live.”
The bells rang and all the men looked up, listening to the number that was called.
“That's it, then, we're away,” Harold said, after he decoded the long and short bells. “Earl Rippon?”
“It is my watch,” Wesley confirmed. In order to give the guests proper privacy, the crew had dropped to skeleton numbers. There had been much shuffling of the schedule to make sure the watches were still covered, despite the low numbers. The watch leaders had managed to keep their schedule, however, and Wesley was happy for that. He had so much going on in his head that he couldn't possibly figure out another thing on top of it.
He felt like the outsider in the small circle. Everyone else's life was changing dramatically at the end of this adventure. Harold would be married, Aaron would take his title, and they would both live on land. Only he and Lola would remain in the life they had, with no change, no excitement to look forward to. He hadn't quite decided how he felt about that.
However, for the moment, he held out his hand. She took it, going on deck with him. She was going to relish every moment together, if she could, just enjoying his presence
“There is a Captain's dinner tomorrow,” Harold said to Annabelle. “The nobles and the officers will all be crowded into his cabin. But, for tonight, you'll have to dine with us.”
“Pity me,” Annabelle said. “But it is rather restrictive in here. Do you not eat with the others?”
“The mixing of ranks is not...common,” Harold said. “At least, not the officers with the sailors.”
“We could do that, though,” Aaron put his arms up to the rafter of his room, stretching “If you wanted, for a change.”
Harold shot him a look.
“You want to eat with the men, tonight?”
“I do it more often than you,” Aaron said with a shrug. “Matheson and Corrigan will be happy for the company.”
Annabelle jumped suddenly, as she heard a crash. She noted though, that neither of the boys did.
“Thunder,” Aaron said, with a smile. “A storm in coming.”
“Oh,” Annabelle felt silly.
“Nothing to worry about, love,” he said.
“Aye,” Harold glanced at him. “The storm is the least of our worries.”
Annabelle raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. She quickly saw what they meant, however, when it came to dinner that night. At their wishes, they sat on one side of the long mess tables, with slightly better rations than the boys were normally given. Aaron and Harold seemed on edge, their eyes glancing up every few moments.
“What are you---” Annabelle started, but then she saw where they were looking. The captain had come into the mess hall, and had now turned his attention in their direction. The men stood at attention, leaving their plates, while the captain came through. Annabelle thought about standing, but decided to remain on her seat. She was a Lady after all, and she was not in the military ranks.
The room went utterly silent when the captain walked in, and Annabelle felt her heart pound as he looked around.
“Mr. Addleworth,” he said, and one soldier stood at attention “Mr. Addleworth, is it true that you were three minutes late for your watch, sir?”
The sailor gulped loudly.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “That is true.”
“Timing is so important, Mr. Addleworth,” the captain shook his head. “Perhaps an empty stomach will teach you how to be faster to your duties. Remove yourself from the mess hall.”
“Wha...” Annabelle's mouth fell open. She always spoke up for injustice, and this time was no different. However, Aaron slapped a hand over her wrist, putting his sister to silence.
“Yes, sir,” Addleworth said, and scampered out. Annabelle watched in absolute horror as the captain strolled through the mess hall, banning nearly ten men from their rations. He then left without a word, and everyone sat down again.
“He can't do that,” she sputtered, looking between them. “He can't starve them, they have rights...”
“A captain may punish his crew any way he sees fit in order to maintain order and discipline among them,” Harold recited to her, practically from the Navy handbook.
“Not like that,” she said. “How can they work? How can they do their duty if they are hungry? Has he ever done that to you?”
“Not to me, no,” Harold replied, but a sideways glance at her brother told her all that she needed to know.
“No,” she cried. “Aaron! You have a hard enough time eating as it is.”
She was referring to the seizures he had suffered since childhood. They left him nauseous and cautious about what he put in his mouth, least he vomit it back up. Aaron shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it.
“It was twice, Annabelle,” he replied “I was fine.”
“That man is a monster,” she muttered, knowing that neither of them wanted her to stir up trouble. She thought that she had seen the worst of it. After all, what could be worse than a captain who starved his crew?
However, it was not the worst of it, by any stretch of the imagination. She was awoken from her uncomfortable sleep at dawn by cries and yelling on deck.
Annabelle sat up, her ears perked for what was happening. Lola stepped into the ladies' area, her face solemn.
“What is happening?” Annabelle asked, confused.
“You don't feel that?” Lola said. “The storm is practically upon us. Everyone is frantic to make sure that things are right for us to weather it. And it doesn't help that they have to ask the captain for permission to do everything. It's ridiculous, they can't get anything done and we're going to get rocked by it any moment.”
“Do you know what happened last night?” Annabelle asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “He's starving the men.”
“I know,” Lola replied, sitting on a free hammock. “Wesley told me most of it. I think he's one of many who cannot wait to off the ship.”
A sudden thunk came from above deck, and then utter silence. Annabelle felt in her chest that there was something very wrong.
She left the wardroom, along with the other two, taking the stairs two at a time.
It had already begun to rain on deck. As the men were trying to prepare, under Harold’s command, the sail had torn.
The captain was already on his warpath when she got there, staring down Harold as if it were his fault.
&n
bsp; “If you had LISTENED to me, Mr. Harper, we would not be in this situation.”
“With respect sir,” Harold started, but the captain was having none of it.
“With respect, nothing, sir!” he bellowed. “You will have that sail repaired or it will come out of your pay check. How you made it this far, Mr. Harper, given your incompetence, is stunning. Perhaps it's good that you will be behind a desk for the rest of your career.”
“Yes, sir,” Harold answered, and then to Annabelle's horror, the captain turned on Aaron. From her understanding of the watch schedule, Aaron had just come off of watch, and was likely staying around as extra support during the storm. She could feel her twin's tiredness without even looking at him, and felt him step beside her.
“With respect sir,” he said, trying to support Harold. However, Willcock turned his evil glare to him.
“Lord Bamber,” he said. “Are you the officer of the watch?”
“No, sir,” Aaron replied. Annabelle saw something out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head. Her brother's hands were behind his back, and they were trembling.
On anyone else, this would indicate nerves, fear. However, for Aaron, it was usually one of the first sounds of an upcoming seizure. Annabelle took a very cautious step towards him.
“Perhaps you should be, next time. Mr. Harper might need help. Is that clear?”
“---Yes, sir,” the pause in Aaron's voice was enough to alert Harold as well. His best friend was fearless of nearly everything, and never stopped talking. His vocal issues were due to the impending doom that was about to strike him.
The captain eyed both of them for a long moment, and Annabelle felt like time was standing still. Finally, after the longest moment of her life, he turned, and went back down the hatch. The wind and rain were beating heavier now, and visibility was getting difficult. They waited as long as they could, until the captain was down the hatch.
Then they both moved quickly forward at once.
Harold grabbed Aaron from one side, and Annabelle on the other. They couldn't manage to get him down the hatch, but they could manage around a corner, out of the way.
There was so much rain and noise on deck that they went unnoticed. The men were scrambling to get the sail repaired, and avoid getting thrown overboard as the ship began to rock.
“Ow,” she heard Harold say, as he dropped to his knees, unable to support the weight of Aaron's seizing body.
Both of them had seen this so many times before. It didn't frighten them so much as startle them. However, they both knew that these fits might take his life one day. Stress, a lack of nutrition, a bump on the head, a virus, the causes seemed to be unlimited.
It lasted a minute or two, which was a normal length. It also didn't help that all of them were shivering in the pouring rain.
“One more week,” Harold said, as the seizing stopped. They were lucky this time, he didn't choke, he didn't stop breathing, and he didn't smash into anything “One more week, Aaron, and then we are free of this.”
Annabelle glanced up to her fiancé, her heart beating hard.
“This has been happening more often?” she asked, and Harold nodded.
“The frequency has been remarkable. I'm surprised that he managed to stand to deboard and greet you, for it had happened not an hour before we docked.”
“Oh, God,” Annabelle dropped her head, closing her eyes.
“One more week,” Harold said again, taking Annabelle's hand across Aaron's shivering body. “One more week and then we shall all be free of this. All of us.” It seemed like a mantra, that he was telling himself more than Aaron.
“One more week,” Annabelle spoke mostly to her brother, although she shared her heart with Harold in that moment. “And then you shall be Lord Bamber forever, and Harold and I shall have all the privilege and none of the responsibility.”
“Yes,” Harold managed a smile at that. “Won't that be grand?”
CHAPTER FOUR
IT BEGINS
IT BEGINS
“You had a fit,” Annabelle's words were the first Aaron heard when he opened his eyes, and saw her staring back at him. She was sitting at the edge of his hammock, knowing that he was usually confused when he awoke. “And it was normal, except you stayed unconscious for awhile. No one saw.”
He took a moment to blink, and let out a breath.
“I remember,” he replied. “At least, I remember falling into it. How is Harold?”
She smirked.
“Of course that is what you are concerned about. He is fine. Your Captain, however, is out of his mind.”
“Tell me about it,” Aaron shifted, and winced. Annabelle knew better than to ask what hurt. If he wanted her to know, he would mention it. “That is what we have been dealing with for the past few months.”
“Can you not report him?” Annabelle asked, but he shook his head.
“No. Telling the board that the captain is punishing a few soldiers? It will not go over well,” he sat up a bit more. “We have learned to live with. Harold knows how to hold his tongue.”
“But I can tell he wants to do something about it,” Annabelle protested.
“Aye, of course he does,” Aaron replied. “We all do. But keep your voice down, Annabelle, because what you are suggesting is mutiny.”
She sighed, leaning back.
“Well, you certainty have loyalty for your future brother-in-law.”
He smiled.
“All I want is to see you two married and safe on land,” he said. “Which will be in a week. I am sorry. When we extended the invitations to you, we didn't think the captain would continue to exhibit...symptoms. We thought that having guests on board would help to alleviate things.”
“A man like that?” she stood up. “Never. I'll leave you to rest.”
“I think after hearing all of this, Shauna will feel better about suggesting I lead a quiet life,” he said.
“I think after this, we will all be glad to see you living a quiet life. It's two o'clock in the afternoon, before you ask, and Earl Rippon is on watch, with Lola at his side.”
“You read my mind,” Aaron answered. “Thank you.”
“Take care of yourself, Brother,” Annabelle said.
She was soon glad of the fresh air, and the chance to clear her head. On deck, the men were moving about as if nothing was wrong, as if one of their own hadn't just risked his life.
“Lady Bamber,” she heard Matheson's voice, and turned to the kindly old gentleman. “Ma'am. I was just inquiring if all was well.”
“He's well, thank you,” Annabelle said.
“Glad to hear, Mum,” Matheson tipped his hat again. Suddenly, his face turned pale and his eyes flickered behind her.
She turned, knowing what she would find. The captain had come on deck again. His eyes were blazing, and she took a step back, wondering what he was on a warpath for this time.
“Earl Rippon!” he cried, and Lola and Wesley turned from the side of the ship, where they had been talking. Lola raised her chin, and Annabelle could see that she felt the same way about the horrid man. Normally, Lola was the epitome of polite, curtsying and smiling to anyone a rank above her. This time, she didn't move.
Annabelle wondered if he was going to yell at Wesley for talking to his sweetheart, or just overseeing the men rather than getting involved. However, the captain never ceased to surprise her in his lack of reason.
“Earl Rippon,” the captain said, strolling over. “It has come to my attention that the sail was torn last night, by one of your men, assisting Mr. Harper on watch.”
From Wesley's face, Annabelle could see that he knew nothing about it.
“I was not aware, sir,” he said.
“You were not aware,” The captain snorted. “You were not aware of where your own men were.”
“Sir, we were not on watch,” Wesley replied. “I was---”
“Every man in your watch is your responsibility at all times, whether he is on dut
y or acting like a bottom feeder,” Willcock practically screamed at him. “Do you understand me?”
“Sir, according to the articles of---” Wesley had a perfectly good quote for the captain. He was smart, with a memory that retained every bit of information. Nevertheless, the captain was not of mind to be contradictory.
“And you should teach them discipline, Earl Rippon,” the captain said. “As I shall teach you discipline. Get below, now.”
“Sir,” Wesley gritted his teeth and Annabelle heard Matheson half choke. She turned to him, to see his jaw gritted.
“What is he doing?”
“He's going to whip him,” Matheson said, in shock. “He’s going to whip him. An officer, about to be promoted to Captain. Twenty-two years old, he's just a—-”
“I said GET BELOW, Earl Rippon,” Willcock raised his voice and Wesley had no choice. Lola had a firm grip on his arm, but Wesley shook free, not looking at her. She was left standing in shock as he moved forward, his jaw set. The captain spun around, at least aware that he had removed his watch leader. “Mr. Matheson,” he said, unaware of the tension he was causing. “Rouse Lord Bamber. He can take early watch.”
Annabelle put her hand to her mouth, covering it before she screamed at the captain.
Matheson seemed to have a hundred responses on his tongue, but none of them came out. Corrigan opened his mouth, but Matheson hit him in the stomach.
“Yes, sir,” said Matheson, even though he was seething with rage. The captain seemed satisfied, and followed Wesley down the hatch way.
“Matheson,” Lola came over. “What should I do?”
“Stay here, Miss,” Matheson said, shaking his head. “You won't like what follows.”
“But how can he punish him for that? How can he punish him for an accident made by---?”
“Hush, Miss,” Matheson said. “I know. I know. But we can do nothing.”
“We have to be able to do something!” Lola cried.
“Earl Rippon is strong,” Matheson said. “He can take a whipping and stand to fight another day.”
Saving The Lord’s Title (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story) Page 3
