Jenna heard a man’s cough. She looked to her left and saw a figure standing alone by a pile of bracken, slowly swinging an unlit torch in his hand to pass the time. She realised he was a lookout waiting to light a warning beacon should a preventative man be seen. In that instant Jenna realised what she must do. If she warned everyone on the beach she would not be looked upon with suspicion as she would be helping them all. Mayhem was sure to follow as everyone tried to escape. The chaos would allow her to slip from sight and no one would ever know who she was. She took her lantern from beneath her shawl and started to run towards the man. He looked at her, the light from her lantern shone on his shocked face, temporarily blinding him and forcing him to squint.
‘The preventative men are coming!’ she yelled. ‘Light the beacon. Warn them all!’ The lookout did not move. Jenna was almost upon him, before she realised that he was not a man, but a boy of sixteen frozen by fear. From his sickly complexion, he looked too weak to carry goods so had been placed out of the way with a lighter task. To his horror, the task he was set was now upon him. Trembling, he began to fumble with his tinderbox in order to start a fire.
Her sudden cry had disturbed the horses and they began to stamp and pace in agitation, but the men on the beach heard nothing and continued with the run.
‘Light it!’ she urged, fearful that the preventative men may have heard her. Sparks finally began to fly from his shaking fingers, but the bracken refused to burn. In frustration, Jenna flung her lantern onto it. Her lighted candle fell out of its casing and landed on its side. The flame on the candle grew taller, but the bracken still did not light. Jenna cried out in frustration and headed for the beach.
As she ran down the sand dune, the grains cascaded around her and slipped beneath her feet causing her strides to lengthen and her speed to increase faster and faster.
‘They are coming! The preventative men are coming!’ Jenna yelled as she tried to remain on her feet. New faces looked up and one man started to run away, but the majority of men were at the shoreline in the distance and could not hear her cries against the roar of the sea.
A man grabbed her arm as she stepped onto the beach and pulled her roughly towards him. She fell at his feet but was immediately pulled up again so her captor could look into her face.
‘What say you? Who are you? How do you know?’ His fingers dug painfully into her arm as another man approached them wielding a flail.
‘The preventative men are coming. Run for your lives!’ she urged.
‘I don’t believe you,’ the man snarled, twisting the cloth of her dress into his fist.
‘Look!’ said the other. ‘The beacon’s been lit!’
Three faces turned to watch the flames of the beacon reaching for the sky. Jenna felt his grasp loosen and she fell back down onto her heels. The men needed no more warnings. Jenna was instantly forgotten as they ran to escape, along with the sickly youth on the cliff top. As the men around her scurried like rats from a sinking ship, Jenna picked up her skirts and ran in the opposite direction towards the shoreline to warn Jack and the others.
The word began to spread from man to man. Horses began to panic and pull at their handlers, some breaking loose, others flailing their hooves as they reared.
An officer’s command to his soldiers was heard clearly on the wind. A line of dragoons emerged from their hiding places and began to descend down the sandy slopes into the cove. Their battle yells merged with the warning shouts of the smugglers and the two came together in the middle of the beach.
By the time Jenna reached the shoreline the men were already beginning to scatter and the rowing boats were turning to head back out to sea. The cove began to resonate with musket fire causing Jenna to look back to the beach in horror. In the moonlight she could see puffs of gunpowder smoke as men collapsed to the ground. Jenna watched, desperate to find Jack alive and well, but in the poor light and confusion every man was faceless and every shape familiar. The men’s yells and cries seemed quite distant until she heard a man close by call to her. She turned smiling, believing it to be Jack.
The shadowy figure stood tall in the darkness, his head tilted strangely and his arms held high. The moonlight grew brighter casting new light on the man. Jenna’s stomach lurched – it was not Jack but a dragoon in uniform, high on excitement and ready for battle. In that moment time appeared to slow, hindering her ability to think, understand and move. He looked at her through one narrowed eye as he carefully aimed his musket at her face. Her smile left her lips. I am about to die, she thought, as she looked down the barrel. Fear drained from her body, leaving her calm and ready to accept her fate. Lifting her chin she looked him in the eye and waited for him to fire.
A sudden blackness engulfed her, propelling her backwards to the ground. The back of her head hit the firm sand with a thud, as the sound of his musket fire echoed in her throbbing brain. Jenna opened her eyes to see the musket smoke rise harmlessly into the star-studded sky above her. She tried to speak, but nothing came out – her breath had been taken from her.
Chapter Twelve
The musket smoke continued to rise higher in the sky, leaving Jenna earthbound. This realisation surprised her, as did the heavy weight pressing down on her body and pinning her to the ground. She tried to move.
‘Play dead,’ a voice whispered in her ear. ‘He would rather chase the living than waste time on the dead.’
Feeling Jack’s words brush against her skin was almost too much to bear. She turned her head and found herself looking into his eyes in the breaking dawn light. It was not a dream – it was him, and he had just saved her life.
She wanted to speak but heard footsteps approaching, so did as Jack instructed. She remained still, locked in a gaze with Jack and seeing in their inky depths that he was willing her to remain strong. Knowing he was next to her gave her the courage she needed.
The soldier stopped and looked down on their bodies. Together they lay as if dead, neither flinching when the soldier prodded them with his boot. Time dragged as they heard the soldier above them tear and spit his cartridge before priming his musket. To Jenna, the noise seemed strangely loud compared to the distant shouts of the others. He was taking his time and Jenna’s eyes began to sting and fill with tears. She wanted to blink but she remained strong and kept her eyes steady and fixed on Jack’s. She took comfort in feeling Jack’s heart beating against her own and the warmth of his body providing shelter against the chilly night air. What had initially felt like a heavy weight was now comforting and protective and she longed to reach up and hold him as he held her. At last the soldier’s muffled footsteps were felt vibrating through the sand, signalling that he had left. Jenna closed her eyes in relief and felt Jack’s forehead touch hers.
‘It is going to be all right, Jenna,’ he whispered reassuringly. ‘He has gone.’
She felt him brush a stray hair from her cheek, a gentle gesture amongst so much carnage. Her body began to tremble, as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his body.
‘Oh, Jack. I was so afraid.’
‘Do not be afraid,’ he whispered into her hair.
She opened her eyes, wanting him to see the honesty in her face. ‘I was afraid for you, Jack … not for myself,’ she said, placing her hand against the stubble of his jawline. ‘I was afraid they would catch you … that they would kill you.’
He tried to smile. ‘They did not,’ he reassured her, ‘although we cannot stay here much longer.’ In the dim light, she could see his expression remained troubled.
‘You want us to run?’ The thought of standing and becoming a target filled her with dread. Her hand fell from his face.
‘Yes, we must.’
‘But I can’t.’
‘Why? Are you hurt?’
She shook her head, not thinking to ask him the same.
‘Then we must leave now,’ he persisted, grabbing her hand. ‘Before he comes back for our bodies.’
Suddenly the warmth of his b
ody left her and he was pulling her up. Taking her firmly by the hand, he led her towards the cliff.
‘Where are we going?’ Jenna asked.
‘Back to the cottage, but not by the route that you came. The track will be littered with dragoons and smugglers, and at this moment we are friend to neither. Hold on tight,’ he told her as they entered a cave. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’
The cave’s gaping mouth provided instant shelter as they stepped inside its eerie void. The sound of their rapid breathing broke the silence inside and echoed around them. Jack tightened his grip slightly and led her towards the darkness.
He came to a halt and searched for something in his coat. After finding it, he tried to use it, but failed. She heard him curse, before pressing whatever it was into her hand. ‘Make a spark, Jenna. I have a candle for you to light.’
She recognised it as a tinderbox and did as he asked. The sudden bright spark in the darkness temporarily blinded her, before it grew into a small dancing flame whose only flaw was to cast eerie shadows on their faces. Jack lit two candles and used some melted wax to stick one of them onto his hat to light their way. He gave the other to Jenna to carry.
‘Keep it tilted so the hot wax does not burn you,’ he said, taking her hand again.
She followed as he led her down into a narrow passage framed with dripping rock.
‘What is this place?’
‘It is a tunnel leading straight to our house. The wooden panel at the back of the pantry is a false wall. This tunnel leads straight to it.’
‘Why?’
‘The tale I told you about a sea captain’s wife waiting for her husband to return is true. What I did not tell you is that the captain not only carried legitimate cargo, but also a small quantity of smuggled goods. His wife had a fondness for silk and he had a fondness for French brandy. He employed four miners to dig this tunnel so he could drop off his supplies before he reached the harbour. She waited for her husband, but she waited for her fine bolts of silk too.’
Jack’s footsteps slowed which allowed her to look around and marvel at the miners’ workmanship. The incline of the floor began to steepen until it finally gave way to steps chiselled out of the rock. After a while the tunnel changed again. The walls crowded in around them, squeezing the path narrower, pressing the ceiling lower and sapping the freshness from the air. Mineral trails lined the rock surfaces above and beside them, whilst the distant sound of dripping accompanied their journey. Eventually, the steps changed abruptly back to the same steep gradient as before. The abrupt change caught Jenna unaware and she almost stumbled. Jack looked back, concerned. After reassurance, they moved on, finally arriving at the foot of a ladder, which marked the end of their escape.
Jack took off his hat and gave it to Jenna, before climbing somewhat clumsily up the few rungs. Carefully lifting her candle so that he could see, she watched him gently ease a wooden hatch free and climb out. Placing his hat on her head and blowing out the second candle, she lifted her skirts and followed him.
It was just as he said; she was looking into the pantry through an open false wall. Jack stood in the room beyond looking at her.
‘We must clean your face,’ she said, taking his hat from her head, walking into the room and reaching for a bowl. ‘The dragoons may want to search here and they hang people for having a blackened face at night.’
Jack leant against the table. He was unusually quiet as he allowed her to clean away his camouflage.
‘I’m so sorry for asking you to do this,’ Jenna said, tenderly wiping his face. ‘Please forgive me.’ She sensed he was watching her as she cleaned, but she dared not look directly into his eyes, fearful that if she did, she would not feel able to finish. She could see his eyes were crinkled with worry and his handsome mouth was held in a firm, straight line. The stubble on his jaw quietly rasped against her cloth as she worked and blamed herself for the trouble she had caused. She swallowed and tried hard to concentrate on the task at hand. When she had finally finished, it was he who spoke first.
‘There is nothing to forgive,’ he said quietly. ‘I told you, I had my own reasons to go. Do not concern yourself.’ His balance faltered and he steadied himself.
‘Jack, what ails you? You look so pale. Let me take off your coat, it feels wet and you will catch a chill.’
She reached for his coat and eased it off his shoulders, causing Jack to flinch. Jenna looked at the coat, which felt wet and sticky in her hands. She looked up at his shirt, which she could now see was stained with his blood.
‘You have been shot! Oh Jack, why did you not say?’ She began to undo his shirt. ‘No wonder the dragoon thought we were dead. He saw your wound.’
‘I will be all right.’
Jenna would not be put off.
‘We must stop the bleeding and then I must clean it before it festers.’ She pulled the shirt carefully away from his body, exposing the gaping wound for the first time. She hesitated as she saw the enormity of her task, before rolling the shirt to form a pad and tying it in place with her shawl.
Jack began to sway. ‘Take me to my bed. I will pass out if I don’t lie down.’
Supporting him under his good shoulder, they carefully made their way up the stairs where he collapsed onto the bed. Jenna ran back downstairs, hid his coat, cleared away the bowl of water and quickly returned to his room. She looked at him lying on the bed, thankful that the colour was beginning to return to his face.
‘I must hide your boots, they are covered in sand,’ she said, pulling each one off him and hiding them in the wardrobe with her own. She covered him with the blankets.
‘I wish you had told me.’
‘It would have made no difference. We are home and that is all that matters.’
‘Let me look at your wound.’
He shook his head. ‘I can hear someone approaching.’
Jenna heard something too and ran to the window. Tentatively she lifted a drape away from the wall so she could look down at their door.
‘There are four dragoons outside,’ she whispered, just before they banged so loudly on the door that the windows vibrated in their metal frames.
Jenna began to undress.
‘What are you doing? They will be here soon.’
Jenna stepped out of her dress and threw it under the bed.
‘My father taught his children the art of distraction. He told us that if we learnt the skill, in all its forms, we could pick a pocket with ease.’ She started to untie the lace of her stays. ‘Mother said a woman could distract a man with greater ease than a man could.’
Jack watched her warily from across the room.
‘A playful smile, a flirtatious look …’ Frustrated she could not undo her laces quickly enough, she picked up Jack’s razor blade and cut them in two. Jenna smiled triumphantly as her stays fell limply to the ground at her feet. She dropped the razor on top of them with a flourish. ‘A razor will add a sense of passion,’ she said matter-of-factly as she stepped over them. Her petticoats were the next garments to fall to the floor.
Jack moved his head more comfortably on the pillow. ‘Your distraction technique is working.’
‘I hope to distract them – not you.’
They heard the front door bang open and sandy boots shuffle on the wooden floorboards of the parlour below.
Jenna climbed into his bed.
‘I want them to think we are making love and have not been on the beach tonight.’
‘I have a hole in my arm that says otherwise.’
She covered his bandaged arm with the blanket. ‘Close your eyes, while I pull down my shift.’
Obediently he did as he was told just as the shift slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her waist. Satisfied with the effect, she climbed on top of him and lifted its hem to expose a thigh. Jack groaned beneath her as she ruffled her hair.
‘You don’t have to do this, Jenna,’ he said. ‘I don’t want lecherous dragoons seeing you like this.’
Jenna looked down on Jack’s face as she heard footsteps gathering at the bottom of the stairs. His brows were knotted in pain, but his eyes remained tightly closed.
‘It will embarrass and confuse them, no more. It is worth a try.’
‘Did you smile to distract me on the first day we met?’ he asked suddenly serious.
She heard the soldiers’ voices downstairs.
‘Hush. It is time,’ Jenna warned him. She touched his jawline with her fingers.
‘If you did, your smile worked. I let you go and you ran away from me.’
‘The pain is going to your head. Hush, Jack, and rest. I will do the acting.’
Jenna heard a boot on the bottom stair. She looked at Jack’s handsome face shadowed in evening stubble. His lips were well shaped and inviting. Dear Lord, she was about to kiss him! She placed her lips on his. Her kiss was chaste and awkward. She was playing the role of a passionate lover, but she had little experience to draw from. It was a painful charade to be part of, especially with Jack. What must he think of her?
She expected Jack to play a passive role, but she soon discovered that he had no such thoughts as he responded with a kiss of his own. Henry was the only man who had kissed her. Rough and self-satisfying, his kisses were never a pleasure to receive. It was how she thought it must be and expected no more, but Jack’s kiss was different, causing Jenna to freeze in surprise.
It was a gentle kiss and the knowledge that such a kiss could exist at all confused her. She began to withdraw, wanting to touch her own lips with her fingers to stop the strange tingling sensation that she felt there. Jack, she soon realised, had no plans to let her go.
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