A British Heiress in America (Revolutionary Women Book 1)

by Becky Lower

  A few chapters later, the captain appeared to be asleep. Gentle snores emanated from the hammock, reverberating against the wall. Pippa rose quietly, dropped her trousers to her knees and squatted over the chamber pot, slowly releasing her urine stream so as not to make a sound. She then stood, yanked up her trousers, dabbled her fingers in the water in the basin, and opened her shirt. She longed to sink into a tub full of hot water, but a simple bird bath would have to do. Even though her breasts were aching from being so confined, she kept the tight binding around her chest. She couldn’t risk taking it off for the night. It would take too long to rebind herself. She washed the stink from underneath her arms and cleaned her face. She tucked in her shirt before she glanced over her shoulder.

  The captain had not moved. She blew out a soft breath. She was safe, so far. She positioned her blanket on the floor in front of the door, as the captain directed, and laid her weary body on the hard floor. Her body might cry out for sleep, but her mind buzzed. She listened to the gentle breathing coming from the captain in his comfortable hammock. A true gentleman would have given a lady the bed and instead would have taken up the position guarding the door. She squirmed, searching for some comfort, while she reminded herself she was no longer a lady, but in disguise as a young boy. With any luck, she could keep up her subterfuge the entire trip. And then what? She’d set foot in America—which, by all accounts, was an uncivilized country—with only a bit of money and the clothes on her back. Lord, she longed for a cigar.

  Giving up on sleep for the time being, she took the one candle that illuminated the room and opened drawers as stealthily as she could. She’d smelled tobacco when she opened the bookcase, so she knew the captain imbibed. If she could find his stash, she’d enjoy one before bedding down. She checked all the drawers on one side of the room and then glanced over her shoulder.

  The captain had propped himself up on one elbow and was staring at her. Damn the man.

  She smiled at him, the same smile that had brought scores of men from the Ton to their knees, before she changed it to a scowl. She reminded herself she was no longer a sparkling debutante, but a hardened street urchin. “Sorry to wake you, captain. I was searching for a cheroot.”

  “Good idea, Pip. But, if I’m going to share a smoke with you, you’re going to have to come clean with me and tell me what you’re running from.”

  He dipped a hand into the box of cigars near his head and brought out two. He tossed one across the room to her and lit his own. She brought the still-lit candle to hers and inhaled deeply. “Nothing beats the scent of tobacco, don’t you agree?”

  He glanced at her. “I enjoy the aroma, although I’ve never seen a youngster imbibe.”

  She lifted a brow in his direction and blew a perfect smoke ring. “I’m guessing there are a lot of things you haven’t seen yet.”

  He laughed and took a draw on his cheroot. “I have a feeling you’ll fit in nicely in America. Who are you?”

  She bowed to him and made a flourish motion with the lit cigar. “My name is Pip Worthington. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

  He cast a studied gaze at her, making her feel undressed even though her shirt was firmly tucked in place. “My name is of no consequence. Cap’n will do. We’re discussing you, not me. Now, tell me why you had to leave England in such an all-fired hurry.”

  Pippa settled onto the floorboards. At this point, she was thankful she’d chosen the right ship, even if it were bound for America rather than France, where she would have preferred to spend her time in exile. She was also thankful she didn’t have to walk the plank. At least, not yet. But she had to come up with a compelling story. How close to the truth did she dare?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Daniel Simmons flirted with danger every day of his life. Skirmishes between England and the American colonies had been raging for years now, with no end in sight. It provided a good living for him, and he relished the duplicity he lived with. But now, a stowaway had been thrown into his voyage, making things even trickier. If he had any sense, he’d toss the boy overboard. But something about his story resonated. His father had been about to sell him to the highest bidder, to do Lord knows what. All the boy wanted was his freedom. Kind of like what America wanted. He’d keep the boy safe, limit his involvement with the crew, some of whom would relish having a young one to abuse, or to heap their workload on, during this trip.

  So much for having an uneventful crossing.

  Pip had revealed his story to him last evening. Or at least, Daniel wagered, the portion of it the boy wanted to tell. How many other youngsters had similar tales? Their fathers using them for their own gain? But, to date, none had tried stowing away on a ship bound for the dangerous country of America. At least, not on his ship. Could he not have found an easier way to circumvent his father’s wishes? Something that didn’t involve Daniel?

  He’d sent Pip to the galley to put together some breakfast for them while he went on deck. He watched the morning sky, with the sun rising from the east. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. A storm was coming, adding to his discomfort.

  “Morning, Ben.” He strode to the foredeck, admiring the precision with which Ben raised the sails.

  “Cap’n.” Ben nodded in his direction, his hands full of sailcloth.

  “Keep an eye to the sky this morning. I smell a storm coming.” Daniel pointed to the red sky.

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n. I’m smelling it, too.” When the sail was finally in place, Ben faced Daniel. “How’s the stowaway working out?”

  “As well as can be expected. The boy’s eager to work for his passage, at least.”

  Daniel diverted his gaze, drew in a deep breath of the salt air, and made his way back to his cabin, where, with any luck, Pip would have breakfast waiting. Maybe he’d reveal more of his background. Yesterday, when Pip followed him on deck, he’d gotten his feet caught up in some rope and nearly went overboard. Daniel now had to keep a close eye on the boy whenever they were on deck. He didn’t need this obligation. Maybe he should give in to his first impulse and make Pip walk the plank. Christ! His nightmare had only begun. They had weeks before they’d arrive in port.

  Pip had just returned from the galley with a platter nearly as big as he was, filled with plates of eggs, toast, and bacon, along with a pot of tea. Daniel grinned at the image Pip presented and opened the door to the cabin. He was warming up to the boy, despite his clumsiness. Pip set the tray on his desk, then shook his arms to restore the feeling in them. Surely, someone other than Daniel would insist Pip be tossed overboard the minute trouble erupted. And trouble was coming, if this morning’s sky color was any indication.

  Daniel sat at the small table in the room and indicated for the boy to do the same. Pip sat on the opposite side and removed his hat before elegantly pouring a cup of tea for them both. Where had a street urchin learned such grace? It was an almost feminine mannerism. Daniel exhaled a slow breath. Yes, he’d have to curtail Pip’s activity with his crew. Some of the crew would delight in taking advantage of a young boy who had a feminine demeanor.

  He cleared his throat. “Tell me why you chose to board a ship bound for America.”

  Pip bristled. Daniel rather enjoyed seeing him get his dander up. He certainly didn’t care for his motives or decisions to be questioned. “It was as good as any other destination. What’s so special about America?”

  Daniel’s mouth quirked up. “Our streets are uncivilized, which is why there’s such a large presence of British troops. Good for me, since I’m kept busy toting supplies to the forces, but they’ve done little to quell the unrest in the country. Or to address the issues of the colonists.”

  Pip had been studying Daniel closely, but now he shifted his gaze and stared out the porthole for a moment. “So you’re saying I’d be better off in a different country?” At his grunt, Pip continued. “But you said there is a large British presence in Boston. I’ll keep my dealings confined to them, then.”

  �
�I thought your purpose in stowing away was so your father can’t find you and sell you off to the workhouse, or worse. How long do you suppose it will take before word filters back to him, if you become a member of the British society in America?” He let his fork clatter onto the plate.

  “I doubt anyone in America would care to send word back to him. Besides, I only need a year. Boys become legal at sixteen, then Father won’t be able to force me to do anything. I’ll be free.”

  Daniel scrubbed his face with his hand. Pip’s plan had major holes in it. And Daniel had no wish to help him patch them up. “You could have spent a year in civilized Paris or Rome waiting out the time. You haven’t answered the question of why you chose America, which is involved in a battle with England.”

  Pip laced his fingers together over his empty plate. “Believe me, I would rather be heading to the continent. But Father will never think to search for me in America. Besides, it takes longer to get to America than it does to Paris. Or Rome. So, I’m buying myself extra time.” He glanced over at Daniel. “I figure if it takes six weeks to cross the Atlantic each time, by the time someone figures out I am on the run and sends word to Father, I’ll have celebrated my birthday.” He pouted. “Besides, yours was the only ship leaving port the night I needed to escape. It’s fortunate I have relatives in America. Father won’t be able to piece it together for a while. He barely has any dealings with his sister, Bernice.”

  “Your father’s sister lives in America? At Pip’s nod, Daniel continued. “Does your aunt Bernice live in Boston?”

  Pip nodded again. “All I have to do is find Aunt Bernice and Uncle Walter, and I’ll be set.”

  “Would that be Bernice and Walter Longfellow?” Something inside Daniel twisted.

  “You know them?”

  “Boston’s not so big a town as what you’re accustomed to. Everybody knows everybody.” Yes, he knew Walter Longfellow.

  “Good. Then, I won’t have to search for them. If you’re finished with your meal, I’ll take these dishes back to the galley.” Pip placed his tweed cap back on his head and loaded up the dirty dishes on the tray.

  Daniel scrubbed his face again. Christ!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Gladys Maria did encounter a storm, as Daniel had predicted that morning, but it was only a small squall. The season for typhoons and hurricanes was blessedly not upon them yet. The air had freshened because of the storm, and he inhaled deeply. His ship could handle a small disturbance. The larger disturbance was standing alongside him, since Pip accompanied him on deck for his nightly check to see if all was well and to make sure the storm had not damaged the rigging. His presence at Daniel’s side was something Daniel insisted upon, since Pip needed protection from some of the crew. And from Pip himself, it appeared. If the boy found one more way on deck to get almost tossed overboard, Daniel might just be a minute too late to catch him. He told himself it was for his own good as well as Pip’s that he kept the boy close, because as his cabin boy, he had duties that lightened Daniel’s load and that of the rest of the crew.

  Even though the reason Pip was running away from England was of no concern to him, he did have an obligation to deliver the boy to his uncle upon their arrival in Boston, and Daniel needed to make sure no one took advantage of Pip during this voyage. The mere fact he was related to Walter Longfellow made Daniel even more confident Pip had not told him the complete story of why he stowed away on the Gladys Maria. Pip was no street urchin. Exactly what he was, Daniel was not yet privy to. But whatever his story ended up being, it would no longer be his concern once he delivered Pip to his aunt and uncle.

  He rolled his shoulders and tossed a rope to Pip. “Any sailor worth his salt is an expert at tying knots. Let’s begin.”

  Pip eyed the rope as if it were a snake. Then, he expelled a breath. “Wouldn’t hurt to learn something new while I’m at sea.” His grip on the rope tightened. “It’ll break up the boredom.”

  Daniel picked up another length of rope. “When you’re in the middle of the Atlantic, you pray for boredom. We’ll start with the most basic. The clove hitch is an easy enough knot and might come in handy for you someday.”

  “I’ve always been a quick study.” Pip followed his instructions for the simple knot, looping the rope around a pole and tugging it taut. “Simple.”

  He only had to show the boy one time. He was indeed a quick study, and just might be able to hold his own in America.

  “All right then. Let’s progress to something more complex. Here’s the king of the sailor knots–the bowline.” Daniel worked his way through the complicated steps of the bowline knot quickly and grinned at the confusion on Pip’s face. Not all knots were created equally.

  “Show me once more but slow down a little.” Pip’s brow furrowed as he followed the steps to form a bowline. It took him several tries to get the sequence right, and his fingers got in the way more often than not, but in the end, he successfully tied a bowline knot.

  Daniel surveyed the position of the sliver of moon and issued quiet instructions to his crew before heading down to the cabin, Pip close at his heels.

  When the cabin door closed, Pip opened the drawer holding the cheroots and removed two while Daniel lit a candle. They both used the flame to set their tobacco glowing, then settled into their chairs at the table. Pip blew another impeccably round ring of smoke, then glanced over at him.

  “Tell me more about America. Why are they fighting England?”

  Daniel shrugged. “They have good reason, if you look at it from the American point of view. They have to pay a heavy tax on goods being imported from Britain, but England doesn’t give them a voice in parliament or give the Americans any say in the laws and obligations placed on them. Taxation without representation.”

  Pip removed his cap and ran a hand through his shiny dark hair in yet another feminine motion. Daniel studied him and wondered if he might not welcome the attentions of one of his sailors who leaned that way. Pip glanced over at him, wrenching him away from his thoughts. “What is the English point of view, then? Why do they care? Is it worth the fight?”

  “The British have spent a lot of money over the years, sending explorers out to find the new land, and then to settle it with hardy English men and women like your uncle and aunt. America is a fine, fertile land on which to grow tobacco and cotton, and the crown feels they have the right to all the riches America offers.” Daniel ceased his explanation, not wanting to tip his hand. It would be best if Pip could never tell which side he favored. Especially since he was related to Walter Longfellow.

  Pip peered through the cigar smoke. “So you’re an Englishman who grew up in America, and you’re now in the employ of the British government. Am I right so far?”

  He nodded and inhaled the fragrant smoke.

  “Consequently, you have a foot in both camps, since your home is in America yet you ferry British supplies to the troops who are attempting to quell an American uprising.”

  Daniel tried to divert the conversation from the dangerous path Pip was steering it toward. “I am employed by the British government, so even though I call America my home, I have to side with the Brits. America needs a proper governing body such as the English Parliament and the king.”

  Pip stood and ground out the remaining cheroot. “Well, I will make it my mission in the year I’m in America to convince the local folks British rule is what they need. It’ll give me something to do. Good night, Captain.”

  Pip quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth before bedding down in front of the door. Daniel sat at the table for a long while after Pip fell asleep. He scrubbed his face with his hands, tossing around ideas about how best to play the hand he'd been dealt. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep the boy’s favor once Daniel delivered him to his uncle. If he became a part of British society in Boston, Pip would have access to things Daniel couldn’t, being merely an employee of the government. And, if they maintained a friendship once he was off his ship, Pi
p could perhaps innocently pass along intelligence to Daniel. What he did with it would be his own secret.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They had passed the two-week mark on the high seas. So far, Pippa’s ruse had held up. Even though it was difficult to bathe properly, if she waited long enough, and the captain fell into a deep sleep, she hid behind the desk and took care of her needs. Then, she’d bed down on the floor and listen to his night sounds and, if there was a moon, would spend hours studying his handsome face. She was becoming a competent cabin boy, doing the captain’s bidding, but she only wandered on deck when he was by her side. The churning water below the ship still made her knees go weak, and while she had finally gotten her sea legs, she didn’t tempt fate by getting too close to the railing and possibly falling overboard. The captain had saved her arse a couple of times from doing just that, and reamed her out good. She had no wish to add to his already considerable duties.

  So, other than Ben, she limited her time with the rest of the crew. They had no problem performing their bodily functions in front of her, and some of them eyed her as if she were a morsel they wished to sample. If only they knew. But their looks made her uneasy. She only was truly comfortable with the captain. If she entertained wicked thoughts of what they could do to each other behind the closed door of the cabin, no one else needed to know. But it was getting harder with each passing day to ignore the current passing between them whenever he touched her. Did he feel it, too? No, of course not, since none of his touches were sensual. Rather, they were to keep her from falling overboard, or down a set of stairs, or to teach her a new knot. Nothing even remotely close to sensual.

  The solitude of the vast ocean still made her heart race and her stomach roil in rhythm with the waves. After all, she was accustomed to beautifully appointed ballrooms crammed to their limits with bodies, all talking at the same time as they searched for the next scandal. The ocean was anything but quiet as the waves slapped the ship around, but the sense of aloneness was overwhelming at times, comforting at others. Was her disappearance a point of discussion among her peers? Had the other debutantes been worried about her, or had they secretly applauded her exit from the scene, since it increased their chances for success? Had word of her untimely departure faded as quickly as it had appeared when the next bon mot took hold of the Ton?