Endure My Heart

by Joan Smith

  When they were on duty, they were martinets, but on their off-duty hours they were about as accomplished a company of flirts as you ever laid an eye on. They were ‘walking out” with the local belles within twenty-four hours of their arrival. In fact, Sally Trebar had one of them carrying her parcels home within fifteen minutes of his first step onto the main street. A sudden period of social gaiety descended on us. Families who had never entertained anyone but their own relatives and in-laws were suddenly tossing tea parties and routs for the youngsters, in an effort to unburden themselves of their daughters.

  Mrs. Trebar ran an unofficial gambling den about twelve hours a day, to get as many red jackets as her saloon could hold. The real gamesters among them were not long in finding their way to Holy Hell. When it was learned the officers numbered a couple of noble sons in their ranks (younger sons), Lady Ann, Ganner's wife, invited a couple of nieces down, and held one very dull drum. Salford does not usually bother much with assemblies in the bleak winter months, but spring was declared a few weeks early to maximize opportunities for commingling. The first spring assembly was set for March 5, a Saturday.

  As I was quite publicly an engaged lady, even to the extent of Andrew's having mentioned he heard I was going to marry Williams, and he was very happy about it, I suggested to my temporary fiancé that I would enjoy attending the dance.

  His hesitation could not be due to wishing to hide the engagement. I surmised then that it was a reluctance to abandon the coast to Miss Sage's gentlemen. It certainly had occurred to me that some decrease of dragoons might be on duty that night, making it a good time for the tranter to take a run down the road to pick up the barrels. I learned to my great surprise that the young ladies of Salford were to be sorely disappointed at the assembly. “I'm afraid I can't take you, Mab,” he said.

  "You danced in London at Christmas. Your leg is all healed."

  "It is not my leg I am speaking of. The fact is, I have forbidden the men, the dragoons, permission to attend, and don't think I ought to go myself in that case. I ought to set an example to them."

  My disappointment at the news was double—not to be attending the assembly, and not to get the brandy moved. This double blow kept me, for about ten seconds, from finding it odd he had told me. It was a lie, a trick, was my involuntary reaction. I must hear more, and see if I could discern the truth masquerading beneath the lies.

  "I don't want you to mention it to anyone, that goes without saying,” he went on, readily enough. “But I know I can trust you. The fact is, there is a load of brandy dumped in the ocean, and my best chance to catch my old friend Miss Sage is when he tries to get it in."

  Certainly there was no news in this speech. “Wouldn't he be more likely to try it if you took a few of the men off duty?” I asked puckering my brow, as though this were really all too deep for my poor faculties.

  "He might try it, but with the way it is corning in this time each hauler responsible for a few barrels, I fancy it might just turn out that I caught all the Indians, and let the chief escape. It is only the chief I am interested in, according to our bargain."

  "But if you keep the dragoons on guard, nothing will happen,” I pointed out.

  "Something will happen. Miss Sage will not let the stuff go bad by remaining too long underwater. He'll try something. Something desperate, I hope. I wonder what it will be."

  This was so clearly a bid for information I could only sneer (inwardly of course) at his thinking me such a fool. “What do you think he'll do, Mab? You are as clever as anyone in town. What would you do, if you were in his boots?'

  "I would put it on a ship and float it down to London,” I answered, after the requisite period of consideration. I knew this course to be impossible, and deeply regretted too by me. London docks were carefully regulated, and to land it elsewhere would require a great deal of organization. One's whole crew could not be moved for miles only to land a load.

  My fiancé explained all this to me, most patiently. “But it's a good idea,” he congratulated. “Tell me another. How else could it be done?"

  I confessed myself to be at a loss. “He'll think of something,” Wicklow said. “I must admit a grudging admiration for the rascal. He is my nearest and dearest enemy. I know he won't sit back and accept defeat at my hands, without one last effort to beat me. I should be sorely disappointed in him if he did so. But he won't; he is not a coward."

  Having failed to pump my brain for information, he was issuing a challenge, I mentally picked up the gauntlet, and verbally closed the subject by diversion. “The girls will be very disappointed. That you aren't letting the soldiers attend the assembly, I mean."

  "It can't be done. The move will be made at night. Every hand is needed. And there will be squabbling in the ranks if a few are selected to attend. These noble boys are the very devil to handle. As emotional as a parcel of prima donnas."

  "If that is the case, it seems to me you should let folks know, so they can change their plans and make it an afternoon do."

  "Not a bad idea,” he replied, but with a deprecatory look, as though we both knew this was too farouche an idea to take seriously.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I don't really know how it came about that the hour of the assembly was advanced to 3 P.M. It may be that the dragoons themselves prevailed on Sir Stamford to do it when they learned they were not to be let off for an evening frolic. Or it could be—this is more likely, I think—that Wickford told everyone, and not only myself, his plans. Letting on he was confessing to me alone was to con me he didn't know I was Miss Sage. In that case, the advancing of the hour of the party could be laid in Miss Trebar's and Miss Simpson's dish. In any event, the change was known by March 3. It was known as well that only a very small number of guards were to be left on duty, as Miss Sage would never move his wares in broad daylight. “He is like a bat, and only comes out at night,” was one of several remarks made during Wicklow's most recent spate of calls.

  I sometimes took the notion he was trying to get a rise out of me, for he spoke so often of Miss Sage, usually in an extremely derogatory way. “A parasite preying on these poor, simple people,” “an avaricious scoundrel"—such were the terms of opprobrium I had to listen to, while I longed to defend myself. My old arguments were occasionally trotted out to defend Miss Sage, but they were like the cuckoo in June, unheeded.

  In my uncertainty and depression, I once sank so low as to believe him. I was a parasite, a scoundrel, a criminal, sitting at home in comfort while Jemmie and the gentlemen did the dirty work. Then Rose Marie dropped by for a chat.

  "As you'll not be using the Eyrie, dear, I think I'll be leaving you. I've got a bit of cash put by, and I see by the London papers a troupe of my old friends has got together to tour the provinces. The Parkham Players, the outfit is called. You'd have heard of it?"

  I never had, but raised my eyebrows to denote surprise and delight at her association with the troupe all the same. She rambled on, “The thing is, Pearl talks of nothing but going back to London. She's dull company, I can tell you, but still it would be worse without her. I mean, I wouldn't want to be all alone, with only the backhouse boy for company. And it would look odd, me staying on when my mistress has left and all."

  To canvass the possibilities of requiring her services, I asked a few questions about the Parkham Players and life on the road, as touring was called. “It's jolly. All like one big happy family, laughing and working and fighting together. Of course you're cut off from things. No one knows just where you are, but I'll give you a few addresses in case of an emergency coming up back here."

  I could see no reason for her to remain behind, and mentioned I would probably be giving up the business myself

  "That's a pity then. I've enjoyed the run, but there's no point staying around when the show is closed. The lads will miss their bit of extra money, won't they? You don't find many willing to risk themselves to help the poor. It's been a real honor knowing you, dear. Does your heart good
to see a body think of someone besides herself for a change. It's just grand the way you've put yourself out for the lads. They were never half so well treated when Miss Thyme was in charge, they say. Paid a lot less, and made to take plenty of risks. But there, you've done your share and more, and no one can expect you to turn down a parti like a baronet, I'm sure. Mind he don't go finding out the truth now!” she added with a waggish finger under my nose. With a hearty laugh she was off, promising she would stop in again and say goodbye on her way to join the troupe. Exit Rose Marie. I would miss her.

  But as she always could, she had raised my spirits, made me feel I was not the scum of the earth Wicklow described. If I had skimmed a little of the cream from the top of the profits of crime for myself, I had done more than most for the poor people. In fact, very little remained to me after buying Seamew, renting the Eyrie and not yet having made a penny on the cargo dumped at sea. I expect I made a good deal less than Wicklow with his fat government salary, as far as that goes.

  No, definitely it had not been financially rewarding. I must pull out before I got caught. I had just one more job to do before retiring, and that was to get that load of dumped brandy to London—do it without getting caught. After some judicious consideration, I decided it would be done on March 5, while the dragoons were being entertained by the young women of Salford. Do it in broad daylight, as a final thumbing of my nose in the face of the customs authorities. When the higgler came to give us the money from Edna's beads (all of a shilling), he was shown into the study for a private discussion.

  The greatest planning and cunning must be used, every hauler know his role to a T. To roll the barrels in from their current resting place would not be the work of more than fifteen minutes. The guards were at half-mile intervals approximately. As soon as they had passed a cottage, the men would roll the barrel in and hide it on land. The tranter must not use the regular road by the sea that was under patrol. The old sheepwalk behind the main road, narrow and rutted, was good enough for one trip.

  The next detail was to get the barrels from the smugglers’ places of concealment near their cottages to the sheepwalk. I could see no other way of doing it but to carry the stuff over their backs. It was about a half-mile haul. They had been known to carry it farther, and they would receive double pay, as my parting gift. There would be no complaints. I felt some self-destructive urge to be rid of any money I had made; it was Wicklow's repetitions regarding Miss Sage's greed that led me to it, I expect.

  Very well, the barrels would be rescued from the sea between one set of patrols, and carried to the sheepwalk during the next. Let the dragoons come back and pass the cottage in the interval, and see nothing unusual going forth. They would see old Mrs. Oxton mending her sails, Mr. Peters fixing his fence, for he kept geese and some poultry. They would be treated to a view of Mrs. Edwards hanging her wash—all just as usual, and of course the customary Saturday traffic, already heavier than on a weekday, would be augmented with families coming in to the assembly. Plenty to divert them.

  On Friday evening, Stamford called on me in state, bearing a gift of bonbons, like any proper fiancé. I thanked him demurely, and welcomed him to our saloon. I mentioned Rose Marie's departure, spoke of the assembly, and how odd it would seem, to be dancing in the afternoon.

  "You mean to go, do you?” he asked, startled. He thought Miss Sage would be taking advantage of the party, you see. Our great minds seemed to think very much alike.

  "Why, I thought—I took for granted as the party is to occur in broad daylight, you would be able to take me. Will you not?” I asked, preparing a pout in case of a refusal.

  "I have given so many men the afternoon off, I planned to take a few trips down the shore road myself,” he confessed. Was this a warning to Miss Sage, or a diversionary remark? I rather thought it was an unintended outcropping of the truth, for he looked very surprised at my announcement I wished to attend the assembly. “Business before pleasure, you know,” he added, in a humble, explanatory way.

  "That's all right, Stamford. Andrew will take me,” I assured him sweetly, just presuming on a fiancée's privilege to sulk a little. “If you find a moment free, drop in. I shall save you a dance.” What I really wished to accomplish was to let him know Miss Sage would be there, to make the likelihood of moving the brandy less probable.

  He felt obliged to utter a few remarks about my standing up with all the dragoons, but I assured him I meant to stand up with only the most handsome, and then only if Miss Simpson and Miss Trebar could spare them.

  My men were notified via the usual channel that they would have Wicklow to contend with as well as the dragoons on Saturday afternoon, but our plan was not changed. Mark was to be our wandering scout, his apparent occupation catching moles, with the help of Lady. Phillips was told to have his three wagons at the ready—with a very good cover. He was moving a bachelor's small establishment that day, which was excellent. The few rooms of furniture would sit neatly on top of the barrels. I was to take no active part in the move. If I were indeed under suspicion, what better way to throw dust in any suspicious person's eyes than by going to the assembly, like all the other girls?

  My Christmas gown of blue velvet was aired; I was happy for another chance to wear it before the warmer weather came upon us. One has so few chances to wear really fine feathers in a village. The thought darted into my head that Lady Wicklow would have had a dozen opportunities to have donned it over the past few months, but there was no point in repining about what could not be.

  Andrew's arm was twisted to secure his escort for the assembly. At two forty-five we left the rectory together, to join the parade en route to the assembly rooms. There was a gay feeling in the town, which always responds strongly to any irregular behavior, especially of a frolicsome nature. We have one of the best fairs on the coast, and our Christmas pageants too are something a little out of the ordinary.

  The assembly began well enough. We soon became accustomed to dancing in daylight, but could none of us (we girls) quite get used to having such an interesting surfeit of gentlemen, actually lining the walls, waiting for us to finish with a partner so that they could claim us.

  It lent a glow to the proceedings, but for Miss Sage, there was another shade not so rosy. How were my men making out? Wicklow was not to be seen, which worried me considerably. The tranter was to pass down the sheepwalk between four and five, giving the party time to be in full swing. To my infinite relief, at three forty-five, Stamford came through the door. There was some satisfaction as well that he found me in mid-waltz with Captain Lawson, who was the acknowledged Lothario of the Army gentlemen among us, as well as the man in charge of the dragoons.

  Certain ladies, whose names hardly have to be mentioned to you by now, were green with envy to see him stick to my side like a burr, declaring he was Wicklow's special ambassador, sent to guard me. From the flaming eye the ambassador received upon his superior's entrance, it was clear he had made the story up out of whole cloth.

  "I see how it will be,” Stamford said, as he quite simply grabbed me away from Lawson. “Off flirting with the officers the minute my back is turned."

  "When the cat is away, you know,” I answered lightly. “Is everything quiet on the shore road?"

  "Yes, too quiet,” he answered, frowning.

  "Everyone is here, at the assembly,” I mentioned, lest he get to thinking about the other road, for of course he was aware of the sheepwalk's existence, though it was but rarely traveled.

  "No, the smugglers are all at home, doing the usual things."

  "No need to worry about them then."

  "Andrew brought you, did he?"

  "Yes. I didn't even have to use duress, but only mention Sally Trebar would be here. I must warn you, however, she will not give him the time of day when there are so many scarlet jackets present, and it is not at all sure he will stay the course. Your escort home would be welcome."

  "Did he actually tell you he would be leaving early?"


  "No, Andrew does not think to mention such details. You know what he is like. He is probably at home this minute playing the organ. I see he is not here, in any case,” I added, looking around the room. “Unless he has gone into the card room for a hand of whist. He will sometimes condescend to a hand of cards."

  "Shall we have a look?” he asked, and in my surprise, immediately left the dance floor. Andrew was sitting in a corner with Mrs. Aldridge and the Slacks, a couple in their seventies. These were his chosen companions for an afternoon's entertainment.

  "Safe and sound, you see, flirting with Mrs. Aldridge. Did you wish to see him about something?"

  "No, not particularly.” We returned to the hall and finished our one waltz.

  Between the plethora of escorts and Sir Stamford's status as an engaged gentleman, he was not in his customary demand that afternoon. I saw him stand at the room's edge for one set, then when Andrew emerged from the card parlor and went home (without a word to me!) I took the idea Stamford did wish to speak to him after all, for he followed him very shortly afterward.

  I assumed he was arranging with Andrew for one or the other of them to take me home. It was impossible for anyone to have a minute to herself at that party. No less than three gentlemen were fighting over me for the next dance. What a party it would have been, if only I had not so many worries on my head. As Wicklow did not return, I knew he was out scouring the roads for my men. It was a dreadfully nerve-racking afternoon.

  After half an hour, I was wishing myself at home in my saloon. The officers’ importunities ceased to amuse, and only annoyed me. But Jemmie knew I was at the assembly; if he had to see me, he would come here. I remained on and on, my eyes flying every two or three minutes to the clock on the wall—four-fifteen, four-thirty, four forty-five—soon it would be five. Phillips would have completed the pickup and be safely on the road to London.