Where Seagulls Soar

by Janet Woods

  Joanna’s eyelids began to droop, and she slumped in her chair.

  ‘What have you given her?’ Seth demanded to know.

  Durrington chuckled as he gazed at him through eyes sunk in a web of wrinkles. ‘Just a little absinthe. She’s taken quite a liking to it. To my mind it’s a filthy brew. Wormwood oil is addictive and it rots the brain, I hear. Though I believe it’s a strong aphrodisiac, as well. What do you say to that, Bisley?’

  Bisley stroked Joanna’s arm. ‘A very strong aphrodisiac, My Lord. Isn’t it, Joanna?’

  Her hand slowly curled and her head came up. With great difficulty she focused on Bisley and whispered distinctly, ‘Pig!’

  Durrington smiled expansively at them all. ‘Such spirit our little island peasant possesses. Ah, here comes the soup. Perhaps you’d like to serve our guests, Joanna.’ A silver tureen was set in front of her, a ladle placed in her hand. Joanna stared at it, as if she didn’t know what it was for.

  Constance Charsford stood up, a determined look on her face. ‘Barnard, I don’t like this. I want to go home and I think we should take that young woman with us.’

  ‘Stop whining and sit down,’ Barnard barked at her.

  Instead, Constance remained standing. ‘Do shut up, Barnard.’ She strolled sedately around the table, saying, ‘Mrs Morcant can’t handle that ladle. Allow me to serve the soup.’ When Bisley leaned across to stop her, she nodded towards Seth, then calmly picked up the vessel and upended it over Bisley’s head before banging it down over his forehead. It was a tight fit. ‘There’s your serve, you odious creature.’

  Bisley’s scream became a gurgle as soup filled his nose and mouth.

  Barnard’s mouth fell open and so did Durrington’s when Seth leaped across the table, scattering cutlery and flower arrangements. He dragged Joanna’s chair backwards.

  ‘Come along, my dear,’ Constance said to Joanna. Joanna managed to stagger to her feet and ambled unsteadily towards the hall with Constance for support.

  Durrington had just brought his weapon up when Seth kicked it from his hand. He flicked his own pistol from the holster and backed away from the three men.

  Barnard had scrambled under the table for shelter and gazed at him from under it, wide-eyed with terror. Durrington was red-faced with fury. Bisley was screaming curses as he tried to remove the tureen from his head. The servants watched, open-mouthed. One of them sniggered and opened the door for Seth and the two women.

  They gained the hall where, at Seth’s request, Constance hurriedly grabbed their outer garments and his umbrella.

  ‘Run across to the park, Constance,’ Seth whispered, grunting as he heaved Joanna over his shoulder. They made it out of the door and into the park unseen.

  Bart greeted them. Taking half of the burden of Joanna, they carried her swiftly to a seat in the most densely foliaged part of the park.

  ‘I’ll keep watch while you sort yourselves out.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll be followed.’ Thank God he hadn’t had to shoot anyone, Seth thought, wrapping Joanna in his coat.

  That done, he turned to Mrs Charsford and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Constance. You’re a brave woman. Do you have anywhere safe to go?’

  She shook her head, panting a little for she was out of breath as she whispered, ‘I shall have to go home.’

  ‘If you wish, I have some rooms you can use for now. Keep out of sight and we’ll sort something out when I come back to London. I’ll be seeing your husband shortly. Is there any message you want me to convey to him?’

  ‘Tell him that if I never set eyes on him again, that will be soon enough.’

  Joanna gave a slurred chuckle.

  He grinned and called Bart over. ‘Escort my sister-in-law to my accommodation address, would you, Bart? Perhaps you’d ask Mr Geevers to see to her needs until I get back. I don’t know how long I’ll be. Take my umbrella, my dear. It’s quite a step and it’ll keep you dry.’

  Seth kissed Joanna when the others left. There was nothing sexual about it. He grimaced at the smell and taste of her breath. Apart from the bitter taste of the absinthe, she’d been fed a mixture of opium and brandy. Her head would feel like the inside of a tar barrel when she came out of it.

  ‘’S’nice kiss,’ she said with a sigh. ‘More.’

  ‘Certainly not. It was a scientific test. If I held a flame to your breath you’d ignite like a bonfire. I’m taking you on board the Joanna Rose to sleep it off.’

  Hope flared in her voice. ‘’S Toby there?’

  ‘No, but I have a good idea where he is. I’ve just got to get it confirmed. Edward Staines will look after you for now.’

  She gulped. ‘I feel sick.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ The brew she’d been given was best out of her. To help the process along, Seth placed her on her hands and knees then thrust his fingers down her throat. After she’d finished he hauled her upright and wiped her mouth with his handkerchief. ‘Is that better.’

  She whimpered when she nodded. ‘I was a fool.’

  Sliding her arms into his overcoat he did the buttons up. ‘We’ll talk about that when you’re more yourself. You’re not thinking straight at the moment. Can you walk?’

  ‘I’ll try, but the ground keeps shifting sideways.’

  He slipped his arm around her waist and they made their way across the park, looking for all the world like a man on the town with a drunken doxy. Rain began to fall from the sky in a steady deluge. ‘Wait, I’m thirsty.’ She turned her face up to the sky and hung her tongue out of her mouth, lapping at the rain as it came down.

  Cold as he was, Seth smiled at the sight. ‘I love you,’ he said quietly, but she didn’t seem to hear him, for the next moment she chuckled. ‘Didn’t Slisby look funny with the soup bowl on his head?’ Her next chuckle turned into laughter, which then became a series of hysterical gulps and sobs. ‘I hate myself,’ she wailed.

  He drew her into his arms. ‘Joanna, my love, don’t cry. Everything will be all right.’

  ‘But I love Toby so much, and I miss him. What if he’s dead?’

  ‘He’s not dead,’ Seth said fiercely. He stood there, growing colder and wetter while Joanna sobbed her heart out in his arms. Then she stopped, blew her nose on the handkerchief she found in the pocket of his overcoat, and stuffed it back where she got it from. ‘My head’s a bit clearer now. Where did you say we were going?’

  ‘On board the Joanna Rose.

  ‘My legs feel all wobbly.’

  ‘I’ll carry you.’

  She fell asleep against his shoulder and as her breath warmed his ear he prayed he wouldn’t die from the fumes. He was lucky to pick up a Hackney carriage on the other side of the park.

  It was a relief to deposit the sleeping woman with Edward Staines. After quickly explaining what had happened, Seth told him, ‘I’ll bring her something decent to wear. Whatever you do, don’t sail without me. Tide or no tide.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘Apart from filling her to the gills with laudanum, absinthe and brandy, I don’t know. Joanna wasn’t in a state to answer questions, and neither did I want to ask. She’ll tell me, if and when she wants to. I’m just happy to get her back in one piece.’ He chuckled. ‘The best thing for Joanna is to sleep it off, and I’m praying that takes as long as possible. Having a woman like her around is distracting to a man with a mission, especially when she does the opposite of what you tell her. Clap her in irons if she shows signs of rebellion.’

  Edward grinned as Seth loped off.

  Seth found James still at his desk and pounded on the door until he came to see who it was.

  He filled him in on what had occurred, then said, ‘I need a credible witness to all that is about to take place. Will you be it?’

  ‘You could have picked a better night,’ James grumbled, and fetched his overcoat. Taking a look at Seth’s sodden clothes, he pulled a shabby coat belonging to his clerk from a hook. ‘Here, wear this, it
’s better than nothing. Where are we going?’

  ‘To visit Barnard Charsford. He’s going to tell me where Toby is being held.’

  The tone in Seth’s voice told James that Barnard would do exactly that.

  When they reached the Charsford residence, there were signs that Seth’s brother was making a hurried departure. There was a carriage outside and the servants were piling luggage into it.

  They found Barnard skulking in his study. Grabbing him by the lapels Seth dragged him to his feet. ‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’

  ‘Out of the country. I want nothing to do with what’s going on.’

  ‘It’s too late for that, since you’re part of it.’ Seth shook him ‘Where’s the boy being kept?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You’d better remember, else I’m going to take Joanna Morcant to a magistrate and swear out a warrant for the arrest of all of you.’

  Barnard looked terrified. ‘The child is in Portland. Joanna Morcant’s cousin has him.’

  Seth couldn’t believe his ears. ‘Which cousin? Tilda or Leonard?’

  ‘Someone called Brian Rushmore. Durrington bribed a guard to help him escape from Newgate.’

  ‘So the plan is . . .?’

  ‘Durrington will pick the boy up in Portland and take him on to Ireland.’

  ‘As I suspected,’ Seth said to James before turning back to his brother. ‘What about Brian Rushmore? What does he get out of it?’

  Barnard’s eyes shifted. ‘I imagine he’ll be paid off.’

  ‘To blab to the authorities when he’s caught. I think not, Barnard. You know, if Rushmore is murdered, that will make you an accessory.’

  ‘A hanging offence,’ James said casually.

  Seth was just as casual. ‘Have you thought that Durrington might send Bisley after you before they leave?’

  Barnard’s face turned to clay. Fear rose from him in waves and his eyes darted to the dark corners of his study. ‘I don’t know anything about plans to murder Rushmore, I swear.’

  Seth felt no sympathy for him as he shoved him back into his chair. ‘How much did you say you’d loaned Durrington?’

  ‘Almost everything I have. But I have the ships as collateral.’

  ‘No you don’t. Two have already been sold to fund his purchase of the steamship company, and the proceeds have been used for progress payments of the new steamship under construction. The city is talking about the pair of you. They don’t like the way you do business. Cargo and passenger bookings are drying up. When tonight’s little affair becomes common knowledge, Durrington’s business will be in ruins, and so will yours.’

  Barnard was beginning to sweat. ‘The Joanna Rose is worth a bit. She’s mine, on lease back to Durrington. I have her papers in my safe.’

  ‘Did you know there are plans to sell her off after her next voyage? I wouldn’t be surprised if Durrington hasn’t got a second set of papers naming him as owner. And the outward cargo won’t cover the cost of the crew’s wages.’

  ‘Durrington can’t do that. He promised me she’d pay me twice what she cost me within three years.’

  James laughed. ‘You’re a fool if you think that. Steam is taking over, and once the Suez canal is completed shipping costs will drop. Joanna Rose was only just beginning to pay her way. Believe me, the vultures are already beginning to gather around the corpse.’

  ‘Nobody will buy the Joanna Rose, since a claim is about to be lodged by Joanna Morcant, on the grounds that the Joanna Rose was a legacy, and you seized the ship illegally,’ Seth announced. ‘The ship will be laid up until the mess is sorted out and the dispute is resolved.’

  James raised a surprised eyebrow and turned away to hide his grin.

  ‘I’ll lose everything,’ Barnard whimpered.

  ‘Including what remains of your reputation. I can’t imagine what the Earl of Alsonbury will say. He’ll be furious, I imagine, and will probably withdraw patronage of your sons. You know how vitriolic he can be.’

  Barnard placed his head in his hands and whispered, ‘Oh, God! Help me, Seth. What shall I do?’

  Seth winked at James, and took a hasty step backwards when fear forced flatulence to gust from Barnard. He fanned a handkerchief under his nose. ‘I’m willing to make you an offer for the ship. I had an arrangement with Joanna Morcant to buy it from her anyway, once she’d gained possession.’

  Barnard looked slyly at him. ‘Ah, you’re as willing to bypass the widow as I was, then. Now, let me see.’ Barnard did some quick calculations on a piece of paper, then looked up and named an extortionate sum.

  Seth chuckled as he put in his counter offer, which was less than half of what Barnard demanded. ‘That’s a fair offer, and there will be no negotiations, Barnard. I have taken crew entitlements, provisioning and lack of profitable cargo into account.’

  Barnard hesitated for just a moment. ‘Cash?’

  ‘I can get that amount in cash, if you wish.’

  Barnard eyed the shabby coat he was wearing and sneered, ‘From where?’

  Seth spared his brother the finer details of his wealth, telling him briefly, ‘A legacy from my aunt.’

  Along with the greed, suspicion surfaced in his brother’s eyes. ‘I’ll see the colour of your money first, then.’

  An hour later, James Stark witnessed the signatures, and Seth became the owner of an ocean-going clipper with no cargo and hardly any crew to her name.

  James punched him on the shoulder when they got outside. ‘You certainly move when you have to. What are you going to do with the ship?’

  ‘Leave it to the experts to run, but it seems I must swiftly learn how to operate a shipping company.’

  Seth also had an idea forming in his brain, one he thought might suit everybody. But he had to think it through a bit more. So he grinned, and said nothing.

  Joanna woke to pitch darkness, her head thumping relentlessly and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She must have died and been buried, she thought, and now she’d woken up. She was so thirsty, and desperate to relieve herself.

  She gave a soft groan, indulging in a moment of panic before she thought to reach out and explore her immediate surrounds. At least she was thinking more clearly now. Her bed was too big for a coffin, and her fingers only encountered rough wood. Faintly she heard creaks and cracks, the slap of lines against the masts. She smiled, she must be on board the Joanna Rose. But how did she get here?

  What’s more, she wasn’t in a passenger cabin, and she could sense space around her now. She was lying on a mattress. Feeling around it, she found a place where she could swing her feet down to wooden decking. Cautiously, she stood up, cursing when her head collided with what appeared to be a cubicle above her. She dislodged something soft, which fell and enveloped her. After she’d fought herself free of it, she said crossly, ‘Where the hell am I?’

  There was the scrape of a Lucifer and a flame was applied to a lamp swinging from a beam. Joanna nearly screamed when an odd, grinning face was illuminated by it. A demon! She was dead!

  ‘You awake now, Missy Morcant?’

  It was Thaddeus Scott’s former cabin boy. Joanna breathed a huge sigh of relief. ‘Mr Lee? How you startled me.’

  He beamed a smile at her. ‘You remember Chin Lee?’

  ‘Of course I do. You looked after me so well. Where am I on the ship?’

  ‘Women’s quarters for the Irish passengers. Captain Staines had partitions built for sleeping in.’

  Water slapped against the hull. ‘Are we underway?’

  ‘Too soon. We sail later tonight. The master said there are bad men aboard, and you must stay here, out of sight. All right, missy?’

  Her head set up a drumbeat when she nodded. She felt stale and smelled worse, as she said with heartfelt pathos, ‘Would it be possible to have something to drink and some water to wash in, Mr Lee?’

  He passed her a metal jug filled with water and a bucket with a cake of soap in. ‘Drink f
irst, wash second, make pee-pee third. Clean clothes are on the next bunk. Chin Lee will bring you food soon. I go now, tell master you’re awake.’ He disappeared silently into the darkness.

  The water was almost freezing, and it took all of Joanna’s courage to apply it to the warm folds on her body, for her skin puckered in protest and her teeth began to chatter. She felt better afterwards, however, as if the removal of her painted mask had lessened the humiliation of the abuse she’d suffered – though the physical abuse was still all too apparent in the various bruises, aches and grazes that disfigured her flesh. They looked worse than they were.

  She reached for a set of clean clothes and blessed Seth for taking the trouble to return to his house to fetch them. Her familiar skirt, bodice and shawl, washed and repaired by his housekeeper, felt comforting after the red gown, which stank of Bisley’s sweat, his cloying lavender oil and liquorice.

  Shuddering, she threw the garment to the floor, kicked it into the darkness and pulled Seth’s coat around her shoulders. She snuggled into it for the warmth and comfort it brought her. It was almost like being in his arms.

  She scowled at the thought of Bisley being on board, and curbed the almost irresistible urge to seek him out and plunge a knife into his heart. The tortures he’d inflicted on her had been humiliating and painful, but she’d earned them by not listening to Seth’s advice in the first place.

  Bisley had forced that foul drink down her throat, and he’d tied a rope around her neck and compelled her to crawl on her hands and knees after him, like a dog. He’d kicked and pinched her as the whim took him, and had bound her hand and foot and threatened to prick her eyes out with his knife point and blind her. The most frightening threat was when he said he’d cut Toby’s feet and hands off as soon as he got hold of him.

  It had occurred to her then that Toby wasn’t being held in Lord Durrington’s house. Joanna began to shake with the rage she felt. She should have listened to Seth.

  Just then she heard footsteps coming down a ladder, followed by Edward Staines voicing a cautious, ‘Are you decently dressed, Mrs Morcant?’