by Ruth Langan
Riordan shrugged. “I doubt it. I just sent word today.”
“I’d like to take the commission.”
The others merely looked at her.
Geoffrey Lambert cleared his throat. “This isn’t to some exotic island, lass, where the sun shines year-round. We’re talking about navigating the waters around Scotland and Wales in the dead of winter. There are fierce storms and—”
“I know, Grandpapa. But I’d like to do it.”
“Perhaps. But where would you find a crew willing to come aboard?”
“There are sailors in the village just begging for work.”
“I suppose you could find enough to man the Undaunted. But what about a first mate?”
Darcy turned. “Would you sail with me, Newt, as first mate?”
The old man thought about the winters of his youth, when he’d battled waves taller than mountains, and had watched shipmates lose all feeling in their hands and feet, before tumbling into the black waters from sheer exhaustion. And then he thought about the comfort of MaryCastle in winter, with its snug rooms warmed by log fires, filled with the wonderful fragrance of bread baking and soup simmering. After a pint of ale at the tavern, he liked nothing better than to return to the warmth of his bed, knowing there would be no demands made of him on the morrow except an occasional hitch of the team to a sleigh.
And then he looked into those hopeful blue eyes. And he could no more refuse than he could stop breathing.
“Aye, lass. If ye want me aboard, ye know I’ll be there.”
She placed a hand over his. “Thank you.” She looked at the others. “I really want to do this. I need to do it. Do you understand?”
One after another they nodded, before looking away. The pain was still sharply etched on her face. A pain that had all their hearts rubbed raw.
“It’s settled then. I’ll go to the village at first light and tell the harbormaster I’ll take the commission. And Newt and I will hire a crew.” She shoved away from the table, and slowly circled it, brushing kisses across the cheeks of her family, before climbing the stairs to her bedroom.
She had found a way to get closer to Gray. Even if it meant merely passing over his eternal resting place. For, though she hadn’t yet accepted his death, the truth was, hope had begun to fade. If he were alive, she reasoned, he would have found a way to get word to her. And so this was all she could do for him now. But at least it was better than sitting home mourning her loss.
For the first time in weeks she slept soundly.
The air was sharp as needles, burning the lungs of those sailors unlucky enough to be above deck. To add to their misery, it began to sleet. Icy fangs that bit into the flesh and made them yearn for home and hearth.
From high above the rigging came the shout, “Ship with no flag. Moving fast on port.”
“There’s time to outrun her,” one of the sailors called.
“The Undaunted doesn’t run.” Darcy held the wheel steady and gave a call to lower the sails. “She fights.”
“But cap’n—”
She cut off the sailor’s protest with a quelling look. “Take up your positions and prepare for battle.”
“Aye, cap’n.” Amid grumbling and complaining, the cannons were uncovered and loaded with gunpowder.
A sailor began passing among the crew, handing out an assortment of weapons. Swords, pistols and knives disappeared inside heavy jackets, as did the fingers, numb with cold.
Hearing the call, Newton came above deck and approached Darcy, who was working frantically to turn the ship in order to face the oncoming danger.
“The crew is weary, lass. They’ve swabbed the deck clean of the blood from the last fight. They’re not up to another encounter.”
“Our job is to fight pirates, Newt.”
“Aye, lass. That it is. But in order to do that, we need to be strong. There’s still time to outrun them and reach the safety of a harbor.”
“You’d have us turn tail and run like cowards?”
“I’d have us survive, lass.” He touched a hand to her arm. “Look at ye, Darcy. Ye’re nearly skin and bones. We’ve been a month at sea, with scores of skirmishes.”
“Then we’ll make it one more. I’m not weary, Newt.”
“Maybe not. But ye can’t say the same for the crew. It’s time to put into shore now. Let them eat something besides fish. Let them sip ale in a tavern, and sleep in real beds, with a warm female beside them. Otherwise, ye’ll soon have to deal with ye’r crew jumping ship the first chance they get.”
She sighed. He had a point. She’d noticed the restlessness of the men, but had chosen to ignore it. Besides, they had another task to see to. There was a cargo in the hold which they’d agreed to deliver.
She studied the distant ship struggling to keep up with the Undaunted. It would be a simple matter to take shelter in one of the many harbors that dotted the coastline. After a night in port, they could continue their journey and deliver their cargo. And if the pirates were still waiting, her crew would be fresh and ready to fight.
Reluctantly she nodded. “All right, Newt. Give the order to hoist the sails.”
The old man sighed with relief. If the crew had been forced into one more fight, he wasn’t certain they’d have had the heart for it.
The order was given and the sails were soon billowing in the stiff wind. As she steered toward port, Darcy heard the happy murmur that went up among the crew. Despite the bitter cold, the sailors crowded the rail as they drew close to land. The thought of a warm fire, and an even warmer woman in their beds, had them eager to drop anchor and head to shore.
When Darcy went to the strongbox in her cabin, Newton urged her to be cautious. “I wouldn’t give the men all their pay, lass.”
“But I owe them.”
“Aye. And ye’ll pay them when ye return to home port. For now, ye’d be wise to give them only half. Knowing these lads, they’ll spend as much as they have in their pockets, be it a quid or a pound.”
She considered, then nodded in agreement.
Darcy stood alone on deck and watched as the skiff deposited the last of the crew ashore. Then she went belowdecks to take stock of their supplies, noting that they were down to a single barrel of fresh water.
A short time later she heard footsteps overhead. Newton poked his head around the door of her cabin.
“I brought the skiff back for ye, lass.”
“Thanks, Newt. But I won’t be going ashore.”
“What do ye mean? Ye’d spend the night here in ye’r cabin?”
“And why not? I have an extra blanket. And as long as I have my knife, I’m safe.”
“I know ye are, lass. There’s not many who could outfight ye. But I thought ye might want to go ashore here, since we’ve made it to the coast of Wales.”
“Wales?”
“It’s just a small island offshore. But it’s Wales, nonetheless.” He saw the way her eyes widened, before they narrowed with the memory. He kept his tone casual. “This is a rare chance to sleep in a feather bed, lass, with a fire to warm ye.” Before she could refuse he put a hand beneath her elbow. “Come on, Darcy. I know the tavern owner. His wife’s a fine cook. We’ll share a bowl of soup and a tumbler of ale. And he’ll put ye up in a room by ye’rself, all warm and snug in the attic.”
She shrugged, then gave him a slow smile. “You’ve always known just the thing to bring me around, haven’t you, Newt?”
He merely grinned as he led the way to the ship’s rail. Darcy followed him down the rope ladder, then sat in the bow of the skiff while he rowed to shore. Once there they walked along the wharf until they reached the tavern.
Inside the air was heavy with the smells of wood fire and meat sizzling in grease. Of bread baking and, as they moved deeper into the public rooms, of sweat and unwashed bodies. Darcy wrinkled her nose, preferring the sting of clean night air carrying the tang of saltwater. Still, there was the promise of a feather bed. And a cozy fire. And it had been so
long.
As she trailed behind Newton she was aware that the raucous conversations became more hushed as she passed the tables of sailors. She saw heads come up to stare, and voices lowered to whispers.
“That’s ’er then? Ye’r cap’n?”
“Aye.”
“She’s too pretty to be a sailor. But I wouldn’t mind taking her to my bunk.”
“She’d as soon slit ye’r throat. She may be beautiful, but this one sleeps alone. She’s untouchable. Keeps to ’erself, she does. But in a fight, she’s a fierce brawler, she is. Maybe the most fearless fighter I’ve ever seen.”
“Fearless? Or foolish? I’ve heard the lass has a death wish.” An old sailor’s lips curled in derision. “I’d not sail with such a captain.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because she’s bound to take her crew down with her.”
At that several of the men at the table fell silent, mulling over the seed of suspicion that had been planted. Since they’d signed on with her, they’d been involved in more battles than most would see in a year or more.
Could it be true that Darcy Lambert preferred death over life? Was that why she seemed hell-bent on destruction?
“It’s rumored she lost her love to the sea. Maybe she hopes to join ’im.”
Although Darcy overheard many of the slanderous remarks, she chose to ignore them. Instead, trailing a lad of perhaps nine or ten, she marched through the public rooms with her head high, looking neither right nor left. When she and Newton were shown to a private room, she accepted a tankard of ale and stood warming herself in front of the fire.
“Don’t mind the men out there.” Newt accepted a tankard from the lad and paused beside her. “Nothing sailors like better’n a good tale. They’ll repeat it in every port until it grows as many tentacles as an octopus.”
“I know, Newt.” She tipped the tankard and drained it, then stared into the flames.
“But they may have a point, lass.” He stood beside her, staring keenly at the flames dancing on a draught of air. “I’ve been watching ye. There’ve been plenty of times ye could have avoided a fight. Instead, ye steered the Undaunted into the path of danger.”
“Have you forgotten what it is we do for our king, Newt?” She turned to him with a frown, then fell silent as she noticed for the first time that the lad was still in the room, listening intently.
When the boy saw her look his way, he took his leave, closing the door firmly behind him.
Alone, Darcy turned to Newton. “We’re privateers. Just as Papa and James were. It’s our duty to rid the ocean of pirates who would do harm to those who sail for England.”
“Ye needn’t remind me of duty, lass. I was seeing to it before ye were born.” The old man drained his tankard and set it on the scarred wooden table, then turned to her. “But lately ye’ve begun to take risks with the lives of ye’r men.”
“They knew the risks when they signed on. We never lied to them.”
“Nor did we tell them we’d seek out every pirate sailing the Atlantic.”
They both fell silent as the lad returned with a tray. He took his time depositing two bowls of steaming soup and a loaf of hard-crusted bread on the table.
“Would you like more ale, miss?”
“Aye. Thank you.”
“And you, sir?”
“Aye.” When his tankard was full Newt narrowed his gaze on the lad until he backed up, then took his leave.
When the door closed behind the lad, Darcy turned on Newton. “What would you have me do, Newt? Avoid any further battles?”
“Nay, lass.” Patiently the old sailor held his tongue as he drew out the chair for her in a courtly gesture. When she was seated, he walked around the table and sat across from her. “But ye know in ye’r heart that ye’r pushing ye’rself and ye’r men to the limit with these endless brawls. It may help to take ye’r mind off ye’r pain, but it’s a dangerous game ye’r playing. And I’ve a duty to remind ye when I think ye’ve overstepped ye’r bounds.”
Darcy picked up her spoon and began to eat mechanically. Across from her, Newton broke the bread and handed her a chunk. “Here, lass. It’s fresh from the oven.” His voice lowered with feeling. “Take a moment to savor it.”
She set down her spoon and tasted the bread. Then she sighed from the pure pleasure of it.
His weathered face crinkled into a wide smile. “Ye see? Sometimes it’s the little things in life that ye need to enjoy. It makes the big things that much easier to bear.”
She reached out and placed her hand over his. “You’re so good to me, Newt. How do you put up with me when I’m in one of my moods?”
“They never last long, lass. And I always know that ye’r sunny nature will win in the end.”
The two fell into a companionable silence as they enjoyed their first tasty meal since leaving home. Outside the wind raged and howled. Inside the tavern they were warmed not only by the fire, but by the warmth of their friendship as well.
“This way, miss.” Holding a candle aloft, the lad climbed narrow stairs to the very top floor of the tavern, then stood aside, allowing Darcy to enter first.
“Oh, my.”
Tucked under the eaves was a small cozy room with a single bed and a scarred wooden night table on which rested a pitcher and bowl.
The lad set the candle on the night table. “To my mind, even though it’s small, it’s the best room in Timmeron Tavern, miss.”
“Aye. It’s fine.” The room was comfortably warmed by the stone fireplace that soared through the roof. A small, narrow window looked out over the wharf. The curtains and the bedlinens were freshly washed.
“Will you be needing anything, miss?”
“Nay, thank you.”
When the lad hesitated, she glanced at him. “What is it?”
He shrugged. “Is it true then? What the sailors are saying below?”
“What have you heard?”
“That you’re a ship’s captain. That you fight like a man. Is it true?”
“Aye.” Darcy couldn’t help smiling at the look of astonishment on his face.
“But you’re no bigger than me.” He seemed to be taking her measure, and realized that his head came nearly to her chin. “How is it that you have your own ship?”
She sank down on the edge of the bed. “The Undaunted was my father’s. And now she’s mine.”
The boy looked at her with new respect. “I went to sea once. Aboard my uncle’s ship, the Mary M.”
“I’ve not heard of her.”
He shrugged. “She was a small ship. But seaworthy. She ran cargo around the coast of Wales.” His voice lowered. “But she sank in a storm, and my uncle went down with her.”
“I’m sorry. Did he have a wife and children?”
“Nay. Just us. My mum and me.”
“Have you no father?”
The boy shook his head, avoiding her eyes. Darcy could feel the lad’s shame and was instantly sorry for the question. “You lived with your uncle?”
“Aye. Until he died. Then we were forced to move to the village. My mum took a job here at the tavern.”
“How does she fare here?”
He stared at a spot on the toe of his scuffed boot. “She died more’n a year ago.”
She should have guessed as much. Judging by the shabby, ill-fitting clothes, the lad was barely getting by. “I’m sorry. Are you on your own now?”
He nodded. “The owner lets me work here sometimes. And I have a place to sleep. In the shed with Gryf.”
“Gryf? Is he a brother?”
“Nay. He’s just a friend. He’s a bit slow still, as he’s recovering from injuries. But left on his own he can do anything.”
“Such as?”
The lad pondered a moment. “Such as cutting my hair.”
Darcy had to bite back a laugh. The lad had the look of a shaggy dog, with only big dark eyes visible beneath the fringe of hair the color of autumn leaves.
“
Do you consider that a fine haircut?”
“Aye. Before Gryf cut it, I had to tie it back with a length of leather. The sailors were always teasing me about looking more like a lass.”
“Then Gryf did a fine job for you. What else can he do?”
He gave it some thought. “I’ve seen him mend nets in the village, and trim sails. He’s a fine fisherman. He helped cut logs for the fire. He can cook a bit, and—” he had a sudden inspiration “—if you’d like, he’ll fetch up a tub and buckets of warm water for a bath. And while you sleep, he’ll wash your clothes and have them dried and looking like new by morning. For a coin, of course.”
“Of course.” The little beggar, she thought. He’d have his friend do any amount of drudge work for a price, and he’d probably keep the coins for himself.
Still, visions of a warm bath had her heart soaring. She’d been wearing these filthy rags for weeks, without the time to change them between bloody battles. The thought of a real bath, and clean clothes after a good night’s sleep, was almost more than she could resist. “How much?”
The lad thought quickly. “Ten and sixpence.”
She narrowed her eyes in challenge. “You wouldn’t be thinking of stealing my clothes, would you?”
“Nay, Captain. Gryf and I have no use for a lady’s clothes. Will I have him fetch a tub?”
It was simply too tempting. How could she refuse? “Aye. And a square of linen and some soap.”
“It’ll cost you another pence.”
“I’d thought as much.”
The lad’s smile would rival the sun. “I’ll have Gryf here before you can pry off those boots, Captain.” He turned away.
“Wait.”
He paused, turned.
“What is your name?”
“Whit.”
“All right, Whit. I’m Darcy Lambert.” She offered her handshake and though he held back at first, the boy finally managed to accept.
“Have your friend Gryf hurry.”
“Aye, Captain Lambert.”
The door slammed and Whit’s footsteps could be heard racing down the stairs. True to his word, within a short time there was a knock on the door and he was standing there with a round tub.
“Gryf is heating kettles of water.” He handed Darcy a square of snowy white linen. “You’d best stand to one side, Captain, while I set this as close to the chimney as possible. That way you’ll be warm while you bathe.”
