An Unwilling Spy

by Janis Linford

  The man beside her breathed out noisily. ‘Not bad for a woman.’

  She dropped the bullet into another cloth and with a cursory grunt in the man’s direction, proceeded to sew up the wound. Rosalie would have a fit at her ugly stitches but the main thing was to align the skin so the scar that remained would be as neat as possible. Finch would have many memories of their time together but she didn’t want him to look at his arm with loathing — hating her for all she’d done to him.

  She bandaged his arm with more strips of cloth. The man grunted at her stitching then took himself off, saying he’d get some shut eye.

  Pleased to see him go, she cleaned up the area and brushed back a loose strand of hair.

  ‘It looks really good,’ Eugene said, inspecting the bandages.

  His little face was full of pride and her mouth trembled at the love she saw there. ‘I’m glad you think so otherwise I might have to take more sewing lessons.’

  He smiled, his pale face waxy in the candlelight. ‘Do you think I could sketch him?’

  ‘What? Like this?’ She glanced down at Finch who lay silent and pasty on the bed.

  Eugene nodded, his face anxious now. ‘I want to remember him.’

  Her breath caught and she nodded, unable to say anything.

  He grabbed his saddle bag and pulled out his sketchbook. A moment later his pencil flew over the back cover of the prayer book with a quick drawing of Finch wearing his bandage. He drew the mussed hair, the fine features and the rough beard. If Finch lived, he’d probably be horrified.

  The cabin door opened and Captain Lambert poked his head into the room. The sound of the storm came with him, the wind screaming around the creaking timbers. ‘How is your brother?’

  She sighed wearily and wiped her hands. ‘The wound isn’t deep, thank goodness. But it’s taken its toll and he needs rest.’

  ‘I fancy you and your son need a good night’s sleep too. I’ve told Masson to bunk with the crew. You can have his room until we get to Polperro.’

  ‘Thank you, Captain, that’s very considerate.’

  His glance fell to Eugene’s sketchbook and he came in and had a look at the drawing.

  ‘Did you do that?’ he asked Eugene in surprise.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘That’s very good but take care to keep your book off the floor. During a storm we often get water down the steps.’

  ‘I’ve got this to protect it.’ Eugene showed him the wine bladder and Lambert tutted.

  ‘That won’t help much here, lad.’ Lambert thought for a second then marched across to the cupboard and flung open the door. ‘This might do.’ He pulled out a miniature cask and removed the lid. ‘Masson keeps his brandy in here. Thinks I don’t know.’ He gave them all a wink, extracted two small bottles and handed the cask to Eugene. ‘Put your bladder inside this.’

  Eugene packed the prayer book inside the bladder and the whole lot in the little cask. The lid was a tight fit and Lambert helped Eugene to push it home.

  ‘That should keep it safe,’ Lambert said with a smile. ‘At least until the storm passes.’

  ‘I think you’ve done us a good turn there,’ she said with a chuckle.

  ‘Think nothing of it. Just don’t tell Masson.’

  He grinned then bid them goodnight, closing the door behind him.

  She tended to Eugene and made sure he took off his boots and hung up his damp jacket.

  He took the top bunk and draped his blanket over him and before she’d even finished taking off her own boots, he’d fallen asleep. Watching him, she marveled again at the resiliency of youth. He’d come across the country with them and had been indispensable in so many ways. She loved him with all her heart and just hoped he didn’t regret his decision to come with them.

  All night the brig tossed on the waves. She thought Eugene would wake with seasickness but he slept on, impervious to the howling wind that roared around them. For her part, she couldn’t settle. She lay on her bunk and watched Finch across the room, looking for the slightest sign he’d grown worse. His pale face, slack in repose, had lost the constant watchfulness that marked a man always on his guard. She’d never realized he’d been on edge their whole mission. Unlike her, his face had never betrayed his fear but now it looked relaxed and infinitely precious.

  She must have fallen asleep for a few hours because she woke towards dawn, when the ship lurched from side to side to such a degree that she thought it would never right itself. Finch and Eugene were still fast asleep and feeling queasy, she slipped on her boots and cloak and went up to the top deck.

  The half-light showed the sea running high. The incoming swell broke over the bow and spray launched into the air, the wind flinging it back to drench the nearest boards. Lambert found her clutching the gangway door frame. ‘Good morning, Madame. What are you doing out here?’

  ‘Hello, Captain. I needed some fresh air but the wind is much stronger than I expected.’ Her words were whipped away as the ship hammered into the oncoming swell.

  His gaze lifted to the sky. ‘It’s picked up and I don’t like the look of those clouds.’

  A dark rolling mass of pewter blotted out half the sky. She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her. ‘Is Polperro much further?’

  ‘A couple of hours but if the storm increases we won’t make much headway past Fencarrow.’

  Her breath hitched. ‘Fencarrow?’

  He pointed to a land mass far to her left then was called away.

  The familiar terrain of the headland stood proudly facing out to sea. Just as she remembered, the cliffs rose sheer to the cliff top. On the other side she could make out the harbor breakwater, which sheltered the seagoing boats. Somewhere over there would be her village and her family. If only she could stop the ship and get off to see them.

  The cold ate into her bones. She ought to seek the warmth of the cabin but the coastline held her entranced. The light grew darker and the seas turned an inky gray. The ship dipped and swayed, the coast disappearing from view only to reappear again as the ship lurched up a wave face. Each time the headland grew nearer and nearer until it was almost in front of her.

  Thunder rumbled around the sky and large fat raindrops started pelting her head. She’d have to return to the cabin if she didn’t want to get soaked. She tore her gaze away from her homeland as a wrenching screech came from the front of the ship.

  Flung forward, she landed on the drenched deck with a thud. On a groan, she clambered up, her knees stinging, and clung to the nearest upright, afraid to let go. Frenzied shouts rang out and crew members ran past her, slipping and sliding as the rain came down. What had happened?

  The next time the ship rolled she saw the reef. Her reef. Like menacing creatures from the deep, sharp rocks poked above the swirling waves, only to disappear as another huge wave rolled by in a torrent of white spitting foam.

  A crew member stumbled towards, rain streaming from his eyes.

  ‘Have we struck the reef?’ she shouted at him.

  ‘Oui, Madame. There’s a hole the size of la France near the bow.’

  The man hurried on and she drew in an agonized breath. The ship groaned and tilted at a horrible angle. Once the deck would have righted itself after each lurch but now she had to brace her feet against the slope. The rowboat, usually held by ropes to the side of the ship, had smashed against the rail. Men were desperately trying to maneuver it over the side but gallons of water poured across the deck, swamping them. A moment later they abandoned the effort. Her heart hammered in her chest as she cowered from the rain. That could mean only one thing.

  The Sagiterre was going down.

  She battled back to the cabin, her cloak soaked. Eugene sat at the table, putting on his jacket.

  Finch lay awake, his hair a tousled mess on the lumpy pillow. ‘What’s all the noise?’ He sat up and eyed her cloak and his face grew paler if that were possible. ‘Why are you wet?’

  She loosed a panting breath. ‘We’
ve struck a reef. The ship is sinking.’

  Eugene’s mouth dropped and Finch stilled.

  ‘How far are we from land?’ Finch asked quietly.

  ‘A half-mile or so but I know these waters. We’re near Fencarrow.’

  He absorbed this information silently then swung his feet over the side of the bunk.

  ‘Will we all fit in the rowboat?’ Eugene’s voice sounded anxious.

  ‘The rowboat’s damaged. We’ll have to swim.’

  Silence greeted this announcement then Eugene began to put on his boots, his fingers shaking.

  ‘Don’t bother with your boots,’ she told him. ‘They’ll only weigh you down.’

  Her gaze shifted to Finch. In his slashed shirt and black pants he looked under-dressed for a swim. But the swathe of bandages around his arm would provide some protection for his sutures.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, catching her glance with a twisted smile. ‘After all, we’ve done this before.’

  Never had she met a man who took things so much in his stride — and his bravery never failed to bolster her spirits. He was magnificent.

  Eugene picked up his little cask. ‘I’m not leaving this.’

  ‘We can’t take anything with us,’ she said firmly.

  His mouth set in a determined line. She wanted to tell him that the waves were huge and he would need his arms for swimming, but she did not want to scare Finch.

  Trying another tack, she said, ‘It will only get seawater in it and your drawings will be ruined. There is no point taking it.’

  ‘It won’t get wet. Captain Lambert said the cask would protect them.’

  ‘Eugene —’

  ‘Let him take it,’ Finch murmured. ‘Who knows, it might come in handy.’

  ‘How?’

  Finch and Eugene just looked at her. Two peeved males against one female. And the cask did contain the snuffbox, the only thing of Skylark’s she could show Peregrine. ‘All right. The cask comes.’

  She undid her boots and tossed them in a corner, along with her cloak. The cabin lurched and the timbers flexed and groaned. The overhead lantern swung wildly and nearly smashed against the rafter. They didn’t have long.

  ‘Will you look after this if I die?’ Eugene held the cask close to his chest.

  ‘You’re not going to die.’

  But he might be swept away before she could reach him and Finch would be no better. He was still weak from the surgery and without swimming ability, his chances were slim. Keeping them both afloat would be difficult, if not impossible.

  Her heart contracted painfully but something in Finch’s steely resolve, touched her deeply. He must be terrified yet he squared his shoulders without a word. A hot ache of tenderness swelled in her throat and her world steadied. Finch and Eugene were counting on her and she would do her best.

  ‘We will have to stay close,’ she said more confidently than she felt.

  ‘How?’ Eugene asked.

  She rubbed her temple. There must be something she could do to keep him from drifting away. But the only thing she could think of was to tie him to her. She’d need rope of course but that should be easy to come by as the rigging had come down. If she cut a long enough length they might just manage it and if she were going to tie herself to Eugene she might as well do Finch too.

  On that thought she retrieved her knife which she’d hidden under the mattress. ‘I have an idea. Come on.’

  She helped Finch and Eugene out of the creaking cabin and up to the deck. Finch sucked in deep lungful’s of air but kept going, even when she knew his wound pained him terribly.

  The Sagiterre had sunk further onto the rocks, tilting over at an acute angle. The stern poked higher in the air and it would be better to jump from there, away from the reef on the ocean side.

  As she assessed the idea, a sailor jumped from her chosen spot, his arms flailing in the air. He landed in the water with a yell and was swept from sight within moments.

  The storm’s ferocity had increased even in the time she’d been below deck. It screeched around the brig and huge waves rolled past in angry white-capped peaks that crashed onto the deck with a massive thud. Her plaited hair lifted from the back of her neck as the driving rain pelted down and she had to shout to be heard. ‘This way.’

  They scrambled over the slippery deck to a mast where the rigging swirled in a tangle at its base. She sliced off a section of rope with her knife and tied half the length around Eugene’s waist and up and over the cask. ‘Now you,’ she cried to Finch.

  ‘I’ll drag you down.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she yelled. ‘If you aren’t tied on you’ll be taken out of my arms in an instant.’

  He must have seen the truth in that because he held up his arms for her. She quickly tied the rope around him. They were all connected now, like a row of ducks out for a swim. She pulled the knots tight and prayed they would hold.

  Finch smiled through his pain. ‘Lead on, Adeline. We’ll be right with you.’

  She tried to laugh at the absurdity of this as she steered them to the side.

  Eugene tucked his hand into hers, his face terrified.

  ‘Take a big breath as we jump,’ she told him. He nodded, his eyes pools of fear. Even she was frightened and she could swim. What must it be like for a little boy who couldn’t?

  The waves pounded the ship as men jumped off the side in ones and twos. They would have to leave now but —

  ‘One thing before we go,’ she yelled to Finch. ‘What’s your real name?’

  ‘No-one at the Nest knows my name.’

  ‘Please, Finch. I promise I’ll not tell another soul.’ Her eyes begged him, she knew, but she couldn’t bear the thought that she might lose him and never know. That she might never hold him and tell him of the fire he lit inside her — of how it burned so fiercely for him.

  His hand reached out and caressed her cheek and she turned her face into his palm and kissed him one last time. He would never know the spray that drenched them hid her gathering tears.

  ‘My name is Richard Clendon.’

  Richard. Like the lion-hearted king. Strong and brave.

  ‘Your name suits you.’

  And like his namesake, Finch would need every ounce of courage. Just as she’d need the faith her father had instilled in her, to leave this ship and swim for shore.

  She peered over the wooden rail. They were many feet above the waves that swept past the stern. She would have to time this right or they’d get smashed against the side. ‘Remember, when we hit the water, kick hard.’

  They clambered over the side of the ship with difficulty. Judging the next wave, and with her eyes on Finch, she cried, ‘One, two, three …’

  They jumped.

  Chapter Twenty

  They hit the wave at its peak and in seconds they were swept past the ship. The rope pulled tight around her waist, cutting into her skin. She pulled Eugene and Richard in close as they battled the floating debris from the ship. Kegs and broken timber, ropes and items that had come loose from the deck, swirled in the water.

  Something sharp stabbed her in the stomach and she buckled and clamped her hands to her abdomen with a gasp. A spear-shaped piece of timber floated up from under her feet. Her fingers felt around the tear in her skirt. Sticky blood.

  The wind burned her ears and the rolling waves lifted them higher only to plunge them down again towards the reef. ‘Kick hard,’ she yelled at the others, ignoring the pain that screamed across her stomach. ‘We must clear the rocks.’

  Eugene’s cask helped to keep him buoyant and Richard kicked strongly. When they crested the next wave, her heart gave a jolt. Coming towards them was a galley boat and the man rowing at the first set of oars had blond hair and a physique she knew well.

  Daniel.

  The Fencarrow men must have seen the Sagiterre go down and organized a rescue operation, alongside a little smuggling.

  The galley boat plowed on, the men rowing hard.
Daniel kept looking over his shoulder and when she waved at him, his eyes narrowed then widened in shock.

  ‘Adeline?’ His call was just discernible over the thundering waves.

  He looked like he’d seen a ghost. She’d been gone for weeks and he must have thought she would never return. To find her swimming for her life from a French ship must be incomprehensible.

  Richard yanked on the rope with his good arm. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Friends from Fencarrow. They’ll save us.’

  Usually slow to show emotion, Richard’s face lit with relief but the next time they crested a wave, Daniel’s crew had stopped rowing. They were in a holding motion, going with the swell, and Daniel was staring out to sea.

  ‘Daniel!’

  She waved furiously at him but he did not see her. She swiped at the rain in her eyes and glanced at the rocks to her right. The outcrop was several yards closer than the last time she’d looked. Water spilled over them, curling and cresting in angry white foam. If Daniel didn’t rescue them soon they’d be washed onto the reef.

  They plunged down into a green valley of water and rose again to see a three-masted customs lugger further out at sea. She squinted and her mouth grew slack. It looked like the Gallien and a moment later her thoughts were confirmed when a familiar rowboat slid into view.

  ‘Adeline! Finch!’ Peregrine yelled.

  She swallowed a mouthful of water and instantly felt sick. Peregrine directed his men to row as close as possible. The oarsmen spun the galley with a skill she could only admire, riding the waves a few yards away.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ she shouted in English.

  Peregrine’s glance flicked over them. ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’

  He threw them a rope and she lunged for it and tied it onto their own.

  ‘Come on,’ she urged the others. ‘They’ve got in as close as they can.’

  They struck out. Even with the men hauling on the rope, it was difficult to maneuver in the pounding waves, but somehow they reached the galley boat.