Where Seagulls Soar

by Janet Woods

  Ernie’s voice came closer, along with the glow of a lamp. ‘The methodists’ fire and brimstone be making you mazed, woman, a bleddy cat can’t speak.’

  ‘Well, this one does, I heard it with my own two ears, you daft auld bugger,’ she muttered under her breath.

  A hysterical giggle exploded from Joanna’s mouth. ‘I’m not a cat. I’m under the fishing nets.’

  ‘See. I told you it could speak. A real fright it give un, too.’

  ‘Get away with you, Gertie. ’Tis a woman’s voice. Here, make yourself useful and hold the bleddy lamp.’ Hands felt carefully round Joanna’s body and she groaned when one of them touched against her bruised side. ‘You lie quiet, missus, while I get you out of there. I’ll try not to hurt you.’

  The bulk of the net was lifted from her and the net-maker started on her arms, his nimble fingers quickly untangling her bonds. As he helped her to her feet, she clung to him, fighting off dizziness.

  ‘What happened to you, missus?’ Ernie said.

  ‘Somebody hit me, and they took my son and stole my wedding ring.’

  ‘There’s some right wicked folk around these days,’ Gertie said with a sniff. ‘Weymouth folk come over the bridge to cause mischief all the time. And all those comings and goings to see that damned great eyesore of a ship in the harbour. What if it blows up again? Like as not it will take the island with it. It shouldn’t be allowed. Do you be from these parts, then?’

  ‘Just up the hill. Fortuneswell. I’m Joanna Morcant.’

  ‘The only Joanna I heard of was Joseph Rushmore’s daughter. A right saucy piece, she was. She was washed ashore in a storm, I heard, though don’t you go tellin’ anyone that because it be a secret that Fanny Rushmore told me. A real comfort to her ma, the girl was, though. Anna set great store by her, and she was the apple of Joseph’s eye.’

  A lump rose to Joanna’s throat. ‘I’m Joanna Rushmore, though Morcant is my married name.’

  ‘I’ll be blessed. You don’t look like no Rushmore to me. Those boys of Fanny Rushmore’s were a ratty looking lot. Funny that. I thought I saw that younger son of hers today, not Peter, though, since he be dead. Brian, his name be. He must have got out of the jail. Came off the boat, he did.’

  Joanna shuddered at the very thought of running into Brian Rushmore, the man who’d nearly raped her and had succeeded in doing the same to his own sister, Tilda. But the old woman must be mistaken. She deliberately put Brian from her mind, for Tilda had said he’d been sentenced to life imprisonment.

  ‘That would have been Leonard you saw.’ Joanna couldn’t stand here chatting any longer. ‘Can you see my bag anywhere? I’ve got to get on.’

  At least her jewellery hadn’t been stolen, she thought as her bag was discovered nearby. ‘Would you do me a favour?’ she asked the couple, because she didn’t want to have to go back and explain everything when she was frantic to go after her son. ‘Go up to Fortuneswell, to the Rushmore house. Tell the people living there that Toby has been abducted, and Joanna has gone to London to find him.’

  ‘Who be Toby, then?’ Ernie asked.

  Desperation filled her and she shouted, ‘He’s my son . . . will you tell them?’

  ‘Aye, missus. There’s no need to take on so.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She was gone, running headlong down the hill, for she had to get to London as soon as possible. That’s where Lord Durrington had threatened to take Toby, and nobody else would have taken her son.

  Behind her, rain suddenly splattered on to the couple, who stood with their mouths gaping open, watching her go.

  Gertie eventually said, ‘Well I never. It weren’t a devil tomcat, after all.’

  ‘Course not, you ought to wash your lugholes out with soap if you can’t tell the difference between a human voice and the caterwauling of a tomcat. Fetch my coat, would you,’ her husband said with a sigh.

  Gertie’s hands went to her hips. ‘You don’t want to go walking up the hill in this rain, it’ll give you rheumatism. You leave it till morning, since the girl won’t reach London afore then. ’Tis too far away, I hear.’

  Seth crossed to Portland at midday. The water was choppy, making his stomach uneasy. The lash of the wind was nearly strong enough to blow his head off.

  Leonard came up on deck as they neared the shore, giving him an assessing look. ‘I reckon Joanna must like you, at that.’

  Something leaped inside Seth’s heart. ‘Why, what has she said about me?’

  The man grinned. ‘Not one word, either for or against. Odd that.’

  Seth drew in a deep breath. It was time he made friends with this man. ‘Are you married?’

  He was rewarded with a slim smile. ‘Aye. I’ve got two children.’

  ‘Didn’t you used to fish?’

  Leonard hunched into his collar and shrugged. ‘Had my own boat and crew, once. My brothers burned it and robbed me of my living. Joanna’s husband put a word in for me and I was offered this job.’ Leonard’s glance brushed over him. ‘Alex Morcant was a good man.’

  And it was obvious to Seth that he’d never measure up to Alex Morcant in this man’s eyes. Not that he was interested in Joanna as a suitor, he told himself. Just trying to unravel an intriguing mystery to his own satisfaction. A thought arrowed sharply into his denial and it had one word etched on it. Liar!

  He smiled and casually asked Leonard, ‘Which of Joanna’s husbands was that?’

  The crewman gave him a flat stare. ‘I reckon you’re too damned nosy. I’ve told you enough.’

  ‘If you’re trying to warn me off, it won’t work. I’ve decided to wed Joanna. I’d be obliged if you’d keep that to yourself, though. It’s best she doesn’t know yet.’

  ‘There’s something you should know then.’ The grin Leonard gave was measured, but laced with amusement. ‘I hear tell Joanna’s got a man living in her home now.’

  Dismay yawned inside him. ‘The devil she has. Who?’

  ‘He’s a master mariner by profession, I believe.’ Leonard didn’t satisfy his curiosity any further, but leaped ashore to secure the boat fore and aft. He waved to the man at the wheel. When the engines cut out, he ran a small gangplank across and helped the passengers on to the pier. ‘If you want to wait, I’ll walk up the hill with you. I’m paying my sister a visit.’

  But his sister had come down to see him. She came running to the boat, her face agitated. Leonard took her by the arms as she stooped to catch her breath. ‘Nay, Tilda, you shouldn’t be running like that. It’s bad for a woman in your condition. What would David say if you fell flat on your face?’

  She gasped out, ‘Ernie Brown came up this morning with a message. Toby’s been abducted and Joanna’s gone haring off to London by herself to get him back. You know how headstrong she is. Oliver is going into Poole to tell Mrs Scott and her husband. We’re all frantic with worry.’

  As if that would help get the child back, Seth thought, trying to hide his own alarm as he snapped, ‘How long ago did Joanna leave?’

  The woman stared at him, her mouth tightening slightly as she said with aggravating slowness, ‘And who might you be?’

  ‘It’s all right, Tilda. This is Seth Adams. He’s a friend of Joanna’s.’

  ‘Is he, indeed?’ Seth found her thorough scrutiny rather disconcerting, then after a few seconds, she relaxed. ‘Well, I doubt you had anything to do with it, else you wouldn’t be here visiting her today.’

  ‘And I’ll be heading straight back to London after her. I might be able to help get the boy back, since I know where he’s likely to be. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Ernie Brown said Joanna left just as it got dark. He found her in his yard. Somebody had hidden her under his fishing nets. Ernie said she was right mazed. She must have been lying there for most of the day, because she said she was on her way to catch the earlier steamer. You knew she was going to Poole yesterday, Leonard. Didn’t you wonder why she wasn’t on board?’

  ‘It was my day off.’
<
br />   Seth sighed with impatience. ‘Will the skipper take me to Southampton? I can catch the train from there and overtake Joanna, perhaps.’

  ‘Not in the paddler. She plies a regular run between Poole and Portland and the passengers rely on her. Jack and Robbie Dunn have a fishing cutter they use for hire, and for other activities. There’s a bit of weather on the way by the look of it, but you’d be in safe hands. The boat’s over yonder. Tell them Leonard sent you.’ He threw Seth a set of oilskins before he could move off, and grinned broadly. ‘Here. Most likely you’ll need them.’

  Most likely became a definite when they left the shelter of the harbour. Before too long the boat was wallowing up and down in the swell and spray was being thrown at him from all sides, causing him to hang miserably over the side and lose the contents of his stomach. Immediately he felt better, though he was frozen to the bone from the wind and his feet were wet and cold.

  The Dunn brothers, weather-beaten men old enough to be his grandfathers, attended to their task of keeping the boat on course with a singular unconcern that was reassuring, especially when the sky seemed to come down and touch the water.

  They grinned toothlessly at him when he shrugged and gave them a shamefaced smile. ‘It happens to us all, lad.’

  Lad? Seth grinned, for he was twenty-seven, and there was something exhilarating about being tossed about at the mercy of the waves and wind, though it was a bloody cold occupation, even with the oilskins on.

  Above him, the faded red sails whipped and snapped in the wind, and the ropes slapped tirelessly against the mast. They were being escorted by seagulls, who dived into their wake to snatch up anything that was turned up.

  One of the brothers jerked a thumb towards a hatch that led to a dark hole under the deck. ‘It’ll get worse before it gets better, so best you go below for a while. Wedge the hatch open a bit so you’ve got some light. Get a drop of brandy inside you, and mayhap you’ll find some dry socks and boots for when you come out. Watch your head, though.’

  The small, dark space that doubled as a cabin smelled strongly of fish, tobacco smoke and stale sweat. There was a keg of brandy hanging in a rope cradle from a hook. Seth helped himself to a tot, whispering as it warmed him through, ‘By God, this is fine enough for the palate of a king.’ The brothers were involved in other activities, Leonard had said. Smuggling perhaps?

  He took his thin hose off, hanging them over a line slung from two hooks, then pulled on a pair of thick socks knitted from greasy wool. They smelled as though they’d come straight off the sheep’s back and were none too clean, but Seth was past being fussy.

  Another tot relaxed him enough to lay down on a wooden plank that served as a seat, his arms triangled under his head to act as a cushion.

  He applied his mind to where Durrington might take young Toby. Probably his London house to start with, as Barnard had indicated in the conversation Seth had had with him. Though the man had property in Ireland, as well. Seth didn’t think the boy would come to any harm, since that would defeat the object of the abduction. Durrington would have the nursery all ready for Toby, and would have hired a nursemaid to look after him. Most likely, it would be at the top of the house and well guarded.

  Joanna would be beside herself with anxiety. He hoped he could get there before her and could intercept her before she went banging on Durrington’s door – even though she had several hours’ start. Joanna acted on impulse instead of thinking things through in a rational manner. Still, she was an intriguing woman.

  He smiled. And a magnificent woman with those blue eyes and her graceful, well-proportioned body, though he’d like to put her across his knee for placing herself in danger. He calculated his odds of getting the boy back as slim. Walking into Durrington’s house undetected would be virtually impossible.

  His eyes drifted shut and he was almost asleep when the boat canted sideways and he rolled off the bunk. He scrambled to his feet and was propelled back in the other direction. When he straightened he forgot to stoop, and hit his head on the deck above. ‘Sod it!’ he muttered.

  Pulling on the boots and oilskin he went up on deck. The Dunn brothers nodded approvingly when he closed the hatch behind him. Standing with their legs braced apart, neither of them moved an inch as the boat rolled from side to side, while Seth was forced to clutch at the nearest rope to balance himself.

  ‘Don’t ’ee pull on that too hard else you’ll have the sail down on top of us, lad.’

  They’d made good progress. Portland was a dot on the horizon behind them.

  Jack Dunn aimed his pipe stem at the streamers of clouds racing across the sky. ‘Wind is a bit fresh, but she’s pushing us along at a goodly gallop.’

  The gallop all seemed to be in Seth’s stomach as the horizon kept changing direction. No wonder Leonard Rushmore had grinned when he’d seen him off. He gulped and headed for the side, changing direction when Jack shouted out, ‘Not upwind, lad.’

  Later, Robbie was on hand to catch Seth by the collar as he nearly lost his footing. ‘If you be staying on deck, best you hold on tight to that net rail, for she rolls like a pig in shit, that she does.’

  An apt description, Seth thought, grinning, for despite everything he was enjoying himself, and, besides, there was nothing left inside him to come up.

  ‘If I were you I’d have a good slug of brandy and try and sleep. There’s a bucket under the bench if you need it, and if you wind the ropes over your body and loop them over the hooks it will stop you rolling off.’

  ‘Later, Robbie. I’m quite enjoying the buffeting, you know. I’ll try not to get in your way.’

  ‘Mayhap you have the sea in your blood, sir.’

  ‘I doubt it. Piss more likely, since my father always told me I was stubborn.’

  ‘Having a streak of the mule in him don’t do a man no harm, I reckon,’ said Robbie, and he went off cackling with laughter.

  The weather worsened and the rain began to pour down in cold slashing showers. The Dunn brothers went about their tasks. Water bounced off their sou’westers and sheeted off the sloping brim at the back. The sail shed spray with furious snaps and cracks.

  The day lost its charm. Seth went into the cabin, though sleep eluded him as the boat butted and rolled its way along the coastline. But as it grew dark the wind eased off.

  Jack Dunn came through the hatch, whistling tunelessly to himself. He faked surprise when he saw Seth. ‘Ah, there you be, lad. We thought we’d lost you overboard.’

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t turn back then.’

  ‘No, sir. You paid us to go to London and back, and the Dunn brothers allus gives value for money.’

  He took a swig of the brandy and gave a sigh of pleasure. ‘That be a lovely drop, that do. It ferments the brain a real treat. If the gaberty men knew we had it, we’d be in trouble.’

  ‘Gaberty men?’

  ‘Revenue men to you landlubbers.’

  ‘It’s smuggled brandy then?’

  ‘Whoever told ’ee that is a liar. ’Tis genuine plunder. As I recall, it came off the Saggitario back in eighteen forty. ’Tis said she was a pirate vessel out of Trieste.’

  ‘Eighteen forty?’ This had the flavour of a tall tale to Seth. ‘It’s a wonder it hasn’t all been drunk since then.’

  ‘’Tis a wonder indeed, sir, but don’t you go worrying your head about it.’

  ‘Oh, I was just wondering where I could get hold of a keg.’

  The man gave him a measured look, then smiled. ‘’Tis a rare drop, but it could be done, I suppose. Couldn’t guarantee it was off the Saggitario, though, and it would cost a pretty penny.’

  Seth took out a fold of notes from inside his waistcoat and money was transferred.

  From a wooden crate nailed to the deck, Robbie removed a dish containing three mutton pies, which were covered in muslin and had been wrapped in an old copy of the Dorset and Somerset Reporter to soak up the grease. ‘You fit your gums round that,’ Robbie said, and poured a gen
erous amount of scrumpy cider from a stone bottle into a metal mug for him to wash it down with.

  Seth wondered if this pair ever drank anything but alcohol. He had to admit it was warming, though.

  In the dark morning hours he was put ashore in London. The ground rose up to slap him in the stomach. ‘What did I trip over?’ he said, gazing down at it in surprise.

  Jack Dunn hauled him upright and handed him his sou’wester. ‘Don’t forget this, sir.’

  Seth staggered off towards the set of rooms he rented. His sou’wester seemed heavy, and he soon realized why. There was a small keg of brandy wrapped inside.

  Letting himself in through the skylight, he set the brandy on the table. He needed a couple of hours’ sleep before he went in search of Joanna. He was about to strike a Lucifer to light the lamp with when he realized it was already burning low. His wits had been too fugged with the brandy he’d consumed to notice before. They were fast clearing now, though.

  There was something different about the place. A presence. Seth’s eyes narrowed and he stood still, just listening, the hairs on his wrists pricking with alarm.

  A floorboard cracked to his left, a mouse scratched. Perhaps his landlady had forgotten to turn off the lamp. There was a piece of paper next to it, probably an account for her services.

  But no! There came a sigh from the other room and the bed creaked as someone turned over.

  He picked up the piece of paper.

  I’ve made Mrs Morcant comfortable. I’ll see what I can find out about the child.

  Geevers.

  Good. If Joanna had turned up here, it would save him running around looking for her. Geevers had a network of informers, too. Seth put a light to the makings of a fire in the grate and heaped coals upon it before placing the guard around it to catch any sparks. Soon it was burning merrily.

  Removing his shoes, he picked up the lamp and crept towards the bedroom. The cast of light revealed Joanna, her dark hair splayed across the pillow.

  He gazed at her a long time. She slept on her back, the quilt pulled up to her chin. Her sleep-flushed face inclined to one side and was tracked with tears. One eye was puffy and bruised, her breathing an even rise and fall. On the chair her clothes were folded neatly.