Sarah's Story

by Helen Susan Swift

  'Up the stairs, lads,' Mother ordered and the carriers clattered and thumped up the wooden stairs, swearing as they inadvertently banged their burden's head against the wall. 'First room on the left; handsomely does it.' I squeezed in front and pulled back the bedclothes. They placed him in the bed, with one scar-faced scoundrel grinning at me as the seaman's nakedness was exposed.

  'Don't you be taking advantage of that man now,' he said, and laughed as Mother tutted, gave him a sound slap on the arm and then thanked them all for their kindness with an offer of free ale.

  'No need for any of that, Charlotte,' they said, slightly embarrassed.

  I did look of course. After all I am as human as you are and some things naturally attract my attention. I would like to say that I was used to a man's nakedness, but that would be a downright lie, which is a sin against God, as the good Reverend Barwis never tires of telling us apparently sinful folk of the parish. In all honesty that was the first full-naked man I had ever seen close to and it was well, not quite what I expected. If anything it was a bit disappointing after the tales of Kitty and the hints of Molly. I had expected more, really.

  Mother was watching me, looking sideways with a queer little smile on her face. 'Attend to your work, Sarah,' she said quietly. 'There will be time enough for that sort of thing later.'

  I coloured and did as I was bid, albeit with some sly glances that I am sure Mother never noticed. I was sent to fetch warm water and we washed the salt and sand from the unfortunate castaway, removed a few strands of seaweed from his hair and while I prepared a warming pan for his bed, mother slid away the now-wet sheet, replaced it with another and tucked him up as if he was a new-born baby and not a full-grown man.

  'There you are, young orphan of the storm,' Mother said quietly. 'You are safe now, whoever you are.' She faced me, level eyed. 'Now you know the rules around here, Sarah; this man has been cast away by the sea and is in our care until he chooses to leave.'

  'I know that Mother,' I said.

  'And what happens in the Back of Wight stays in the Back of Wight,' Mother reminded, as if I needed to be told.

  I glanced across to the door of Mr Howard's room.

  'He is away out on some business of his own,' Mother said. 'I don't know what and I don't want to know what.' She hardened her tone slightly. 'And neither do you.'

  I nodded. 'I understand, Mother.' In those old days of smugglers and revenue men, of French privateers and marching redcoats, sometimes it was best not to know too much, however inquisitive one's nature happened to be. Mother had warned me not to interfere in Mr Howard's business and not to mention our new non-paying guest to him. That was clear as an April morning.

  Chapter Three

  The first I knew about the Volunteers was when I woke the next morning to hear the regular tramp of marching feet. Of course I had seen plenty before, for with all the worry about Bonaparte invading, Wight was full of men in scarlet uniforms; regular army, Yeomanry, Volunteers and small boys who had borrowed their father's uniforms and paraded around in danger of a good whipping.

  'Sarah!' Mother's roar wakened the whole house. 'Get yourself down here at once and get the shutters off the windows!'

  There must have been a hundred of them, stalwart young men in scarlet tunics and white trousers marching toward the inn with their muskets against their shoulders and their feet rising and falling in unison, for all the world like a painted centipede thrumming its way across the ground.

  After a blow like the previous evening, of course, the air was fresh and the sky clear, with a stiff breeze kicking white horses off the tops of the waves and the horizon clear as polished crystal as far as my eye could see. There was the usual traffic on the sea; half a dozen coasters, a single Royal Navy cutter searching for free traders in all the wrong places and a couple of three masters braving French privateers and the Press as they pushed eastward for the Downs and the entrance to London. I spent only a moment admiring the view before switching my attention to the marching men.

  For all their majesty and pomp, it was not so much the soldiers who attracted my attention, grand though they were, but rather the officers who accompanied them. I was well used to seamen, while despite their increasing presence soldiers were still slightly exotic and therefore interesting. Officers were most fascinating of all, with their glamorous uniforms, gold braid and possibilities of all sorts of wonderful adventures.

  The captain in charge was tall, saturnine, handsome and aloof. I watched him ride up and look at our inn as if it was somehow beneath him. Anyway he was at least in his mid-thirties and therefore far too old for me. He was followed by a brace of ensigns, young, fresh faced boys with smart uniforms and eager eyes; I doubt either had turned seventeen yet with their unshaven faces and chubby little cheeks. I was far more interested in the lieutenants. There were two of these, and one walked right into the inn and into my life.

  'Good morning,' I greeted him with as wide a smile as I could muster at that time in the morning.

  'Good morning to you, too' he replied with a sweeping bow that immediately won me over. When you are used to the grunts and growls of very uncouth mariners, a man of manners is always a rare treat. As the lieutenant straightened up I saw that he was in his early twenties with the most adorable brown eyes and a face that would have put a green sheen of jealousy on any Greek god. 'Are you the proprietor of this delightful inn?' He asked, retaining that wondrous smile.

  I could not help my laugh. 'I am afraid not,' I said. 'I am only the daughter of the proprietor. It is my mother you seek, Mrs Charlotte Bembridge.'

  The lieutenant bowed again. 'Thank you, Miss Bembridge, although I can see that you are extremely capable of running this establishment with or without the aid of your mother.'

  I curtseyed at the compliment, met his eye and could not restrain the blush that accompanied my smile. I lost the latter and retained the former when I heard mother speak and realised that she had been behind me since the lieutenant stepped into the tap room.

  'And who are you, sir?' The fact that my mother called him 'sir' at first acquaintance indicated that she had also been captivated by his charm.

  'Lieutenant David Baldivere, Ma'am, at your service.' His bow was as low as could be, and more graceful than any Frenchman could manage, I'll be bound. The wonder is that he did not burst his tight breeches. I am sure that my glance in that direction was inadvertent.

  'Well, Lieutenant David Baldivere,' Mother said, nearly smiling as he dried her hands on a scrap of clean rag, 'what can I do for you?'

  'My men,' the brave lieutenant conveniently forgot the arrogant captain, who remained outside during our conversation, 'are searching for any survivors of a sea battle that occurred last night.'

  'Are they indeed?' There was no need for Mother to give me her warning glance. 'I wish you every joy in your search, lieutenant.' The 'sir' had quickly been replaced, I noted.

  'Were you aware of the action, Mrs Bembridge? Or you, Miss Bembridge?' When he gave me that wonderful smile I could not help but renew my liking for him. He was only doing his job after all, and not intentionally interfering with our lives.

  'That thunder storm last night took all my attention,' Mother spoke for us both.

  'Ah,' the lieutenant nodded. 'I understand.' I think he did too, damn his perspicacity. 'You may be interested to know that one of our customs cruisers caught a smuggling lugger making a run from the coast of France to this area.'

  'Did they indeed?' Mother looked suitably astonished. 'I hope they captured all the rascals.'

  Lieutenant Baldivere shook his head. 'Alas no, Mrs Bembridge. The cutter got off several astute blows and landed a number of shots on the smuggler, but with the stare of the weather and that damn… I do beg your pardon, Ma'am; that dratted mist, the smuggler escaped.'

  'Indeed,' Mother frowned, as befitted a patriotic Briton who had no sympathy for free traders who ran silks and spirits from the coast of our enemy directly to our wine cellars. 'Well, better l
uck next time, perhaps.'

  I thought of our naked guest in the room upstairs, only a few yards from this eager and very dashing lieutenant. At least now I knew he was from a smuggling lugger. We would tend him until he was well and then send him on his merry way. I hid my smile; with a bit of luck he may even reward us with a parcel of French silk or even a keg or two of fine French brandy.

  'Lieutenant Baldivere,' I said quietly, 'it seems that your men are leaving without you.' I nodded outside the window, where the Volunteers were formed up and beginning to march past with that arrogant captain barking out orders in the most brutal manner. I had conceived as big a dislike for that captain as I had a liking for the lieutenant.

  'Oh that matters not,' Lieutenant Baldivere said, 'for I intend to stay at this inn for a day or so, providing that you have a room to spare?'

  Now, the Horse Head Inn is only a small place, with two rooms for guests. One was already taken by the mysterious and wealthy Mr Howard, while our unfortunate naked smuggler occupied the other. With groups travelling together, or the rougher sort of travellers, mother would happily double them up in the rooms, but I could not see Mr Howard agreeing to that and it was inconceivable that the lieutenant would share with his prey.

  I waited for Mother to inform the lieutenant that there was no room at the inn.

  'Of course you can stay, sir,' she said with a broad smile that was as false as a politician's promise, or the propaganda of that ogre Bonaparte. 'Why, you can have Sarah's room, if you don't mind having her female fripperies scattered around.'

  About to protest, I held my tongue. Partly because I knew it would do no good, partly because we always needed money and partly because, well, I rather liked the look of Lieutenant David Baldivere and did not really object to his presence in my room. In fact I found the idea strangely appealing in the most disturbing way.

  'Oh, no!' The good lieutenant placed a hand on my sleeve, bless him. 'I could not dream of driving this lady out of her room.'

  'Oh sir,' I put on all my charm, while hoping that our naked smuggler did not make his appearance now, tumble down the stairs and get us in all sorts of trouble, 'I am quite happy to sleep in the kitchen for such a distinguished guest.' I forbore to mention that I was well used to sleeping in the kitchen for guests who may have been less distinguished but whose coin was equally welcome.

  The lieutenant's laugh was genuine. 'I am hardly distinguished,' he said. 'I am the younger son of a parish vicar with no prospects and no talent.'

  At that moment I did not care who his parents were or if he had prospects or not. I was much more intrigued with his honesty in telling us about himself right away, and his disquiet about evicting me, a poor innkeeper's daughter, from her bedroom. Such kindness was not usual, in my experience.

  'I think you are very distinguished,' I told him, and favoured him with my second best smile. 'And I wager that you have many talents.' I toyed with the idea of allowing my gaze to run down him from his forehead to his feet and back, as Kitty had taught me, but with Mother watching I thought I had better not.

  I felt my mother's gaze on me and wondered if she could read my innermost thoughts. As the lieutenant responded to my smile with another of his own, I could see a golden future stretching in front of me. My vision was a future of glamorous balls at the side of this handsome officer and no more scrubbing floors at the inn, or persuading rough fishermen to go home when they have had too much to drink. I was more than happy at the prospect, although a trifle put out by the thought that poor Mother would have to cope on her own. I stilled my conscience with the knowledge that she could hire a skivvy to do the rough work while she supervised. You may think that my instant leap from first meeting to matrimony was too fast, allow me to remind you that this was wartime, lives were short and cheap and adorable, handsome young men who may accept the hand of an innkeeper's daughter were in short supply.

  With Kitty in the vicinity I had to move fast or lose my chance, for Kitty was the most attractive girl with the most shapely body you can ever imagine. After one sight of her men tended to forget that I even existed.

  'Now sir, while Sarah takes care of your horse and moves her most personal possessions from your room, may I offer you wine? Or brandy?'

  'That is very civil of you, Mrs Bembridge,' my lieutenant said. 'Brandy would be most welcome.'

  You notice that there was no qualm about accepting brandy that must be smuggled while searching for the men who had transported that same brandy. It was a case of double standards that always amused me. My handsome Lieutenant Baldivere was no exception and in that he was very much a man of our time.

  Chapter Four

  'We'll have to get the smuggler out of the house,' Mother whispered to me across the width of the bar counter. 'If this Lieutenant Baldivere catches him here…' She had no need to complete the sentence.

  'He's still unconscious,' I said. 'I've just checked.'

  Mother swore. Only one word, yet it revealed her state of mind. 'That makes it harder. We'll need help to carry him.' She looked around the tap-room. Business had been quiet these last few weeks, which was one reason why Mother had been keen to allow Lieutenant Baldivere to stay. There were only three people huddled around half-empty pots of ale, with James Buckett and Molly speaking together in low, intense tones.

  'James,' Mother said quietly as she approached the smuggling captain. 'Did you hear what happened last night?'

  As Buckett looked up the light from the hanging lantern reflected from his gold ear-ring. 'I heard,' he said. 'The revenue say they fired into a free trader.'

  'Do you know who she was?' Mother was always direct.

  Buckett shook his head. 'I haven't heard anything bar that,' he said. 'Whoever she was, she was not a local craft.' He drained his tankard of ale and screwed up his villainous, salt-pickled face. 'I doubt she was a smuggler at all; more likely some innocent coastal brig. The Excisemen want to look good else they'll all be pressed into the Navy.'

  'One of their seamen fell overboard,' Mother lowered her voice.

  Buckett's face twisted into a frown. 'Or he was blown over by a revenue cannon-ball.' He looked away. 'Is that the naked fellow that young Sarah rescued?'

  'That's the very man,' Mother said.

  Buckett lifted his tankard in salute. 'Bully for you, Charlotte, and for Sarah. Is he injured?'

  'Not badly,' Mother said. 'I had the doctor examine him. He has a bruise on the side of his head where he hit something and a bit of a damaged leg but he should be perfectly all right when he regains consciousness.'

  'I will speak to him then,' Buckett said, 'and find out where he is from.'

  'There is a problem,' Mother said. 'We have other guests.'

  Buckett looked around the tap-room. 'I know these people,' he said, 'they won't blab.'

  'I have a lieutenant of Volunteers named Baldivere,' Mother said, 'and a gentleman who gave his name as Adam Howard.'

  'Your free-trader can't stay here, then,' Buckett said at once.

  'Do you have room for him?' Mother asked.

  Buckett shook his head. 'With me and the wife and six little ones the house is stuffed full.'

  'I have room,' Molly stopped talking as the door opened and Mr Howard stepped in.

  'Ah Mr Howard,' Mother greeted him with an extended hand. 'Welcome back!'

  Mr Howard looked around with a slight smile on his face. 'This looks like a very important discussion,' he said.

  'There was a sea battle off the coast last night,' I said. 'I was wondering if anybody knew what had happened.'

  Mr Howard frowned. 'I had not heard about that.' He sat down, placing his disreputable hat on the table. 'Tell me more, if you will.'

  Mother stepped forward. 'I will tell you all I know, Mr Howard. Sarah; go you and attend to Mr Howard's horse. I will see to his lunch.' She pushed me as I hesitated. 'Go on, girl.'

  Although I would dearly have liked to stay and listen, I did as I was ordered. I could feel Mr Howard's gaze on
me as I left the tap-room and only a few moments later he joined me in the stables.

  He sat on a bale of hay and watched as I rubbed down Chocolate's legs.

  'She likes you,' he said pleasantly. 'You spend more time caring for her than I do.'

  I looked around. 'She is a lovely animal. You can tell a lot about a man by the way his animals act.'

  'Is that so?' He sounded sincere. Most men tend to mock the opinions of young women, treating us as if we were simpletons, suitable only for cleaning, cooking and creating babies. Mr Howard seemed different.

  'Especially dogs and horses,' I said. 'If a man is nervous, then his dog will be too, and if a man is calm, then his horse will usually be the same. Chocolate has the most lovely nature. She allows me to fondle her without any hesitation. She is a very trusting horse, so she has always been well treated.'

  As I spoke, Chocolate lowered her head and nuzzled me.

  'She undoubtedly likes you,' Mr Howard said. 'I am glad she is in good hands. Do other people entrust their animals with you? That Captain Buckett for instance; do you care for his horse?'

  My guard slammed up straight away. 'I don't believe that Captain Buckett has a horse,' I said.

  'Perhaps not,' Mr Howard laughed. 'He is a smuggler I believe.'

  'I would not know about that,' I smiled. 'I do know he is a married man.' That was a piece of essentially harmless information designed to disarm Mr Howard.

  'I am sure he is,' Mr Howard rose, still smiling. 'You are loyal Sarah; I like that.' He gave a bow that may have been meant in irony and sauntered away, leaving me with Chocolate and my thoughts.