by Jane Jackson
As the sun slipped out of sight behind the Spanish hills, taking with it the day’s warmth, Nick went below, retrieved the satchel, and returned with it to the deck.
‘Mr Laity, prepare the signal gun, two seamen below to bring up the trunks then make ready the cutter and the jolly-boat.’
‘Aye, sir.’
The topsails were lowered, the gaffs on the fore and mainmasts dropped, jibs and headsails taken in, and with just a staysail to keep her under way, Kestrel glided into Rosia bay, turned into the wind and, as she began to drift sternward, the anchor was dropped.
‘What you do?’ Maggot asked, appearing beside him. Normally Nick would have been first off the ship.
‘I’ll send the Woodrows ashore in the jolly-boat. I’ll take the mail and Lady Russell in the cutter.’
The seamen emerged from the companionway, set down the first trunk, and went down for the next.
Putting down the second, they stood aside, exchanging a glance, to allow Betsy Woodrow onto the deck.
‘Are you quite certain nothing has been left in the cabin?’ she demanded of her husband as he stepped over the coaming. ‘I think you should go down again and make sure.’
‘My dear, I promise you –’
‘Oh no, Donald, no more promises. You have been unable to keep those already made, so I fail to see –’
‘Please, my dear,’ the minister said wearily, beyond embarrassment. ‘Not now.’
‘Perhaps, Mr Woodrow,’ Nick intervened, ‘you will go first? Then if your wife should require assistance –’
‘Of course.’ He gripped Nick’s hand hard. ‘Thank you, sir, for bringing us here safely. I wish you God speed and a safe arrival on all your future voyages.’
‘Do hurry up, Donald,’ Betsy sighed. ‘You’re keeping everyone waiting.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Woodrow.’ Nick shook his hand, and meeting the minister’s sad eyes added softly, ‘Good luck.’
As Donald Woodrow clambered down into the jolly-boat, his wife offered Nick her hand in a manner that reminded him of a dog holding up an injured paw.
‘Well, Mr Penrose, I suppose I too should thank you for getting us here safely. It has certainly been a most unusual voyage. I have to say, much of it was not at all as I expected.’
After the briefest contact courtesy permitted, Nick dropped her hand. ‘Indeed, ma’am,’ he agreed without expression. ‘Travelling in wartime must always be dangerous and unpredictable. But I hope you may find one pleasant memory to take with you?’
She blinked, startled, and was about to speak when Kerenza appeared at the hatchway.
‘Please forgive me for interrupting, Mrs Woodrow. Mr Penrose, Lady Russell wishes to know if she should come up.’
‘Not for a few minutes,’ Nick said. ‘I’ll send word.’
‘I hope,’ Betsy spoke severely to Kerenza, ‘you will take care to see that baby is properly protected. The evening air has a distinct chill.’
‘Indeed I shall.’ Kerenza smiled. ‘Thank you for your concern, Mrs Woodrow. She will remain below until the last possible moment.’
With a noncommittal grunt, Betsy turned away. Her complaints about the lack of space on the jolly-boat floated back to the deck, gradually diminishing as the distance widened.
Nick watched as the cutter was lowered and the four oarsmen took their places. Ordering Lady Russell’s trunk stowed up for’ard, he nodded to Maggot, who ducked down the companionway.
A few minutes later Kerenza appeared, carrying the baby, who was closely wrapped in her shawl. Nick reached the hatch in two strides, leaning down to cup her elbow before she released her grip on the guardrail. As she murmured her thanks without looking up, the swift rosy flush on her cheek kindled in him a surge of hope. She was not as indifferent as she would have him believe.
Behind her Lady Russell emerged, looking drawn and tired. She smiled as she took his proffered hand and stepped over the coaming. ‘Thank you, Mr Penrose.’ But already she was turning, seeking Kerenza, who had crossed to the rail and now stood forward of a portion that had been removed to form a gateway.
Nick felt her lean heavily on his arm as he led her across the deck. Having stayed behind her on the stairs in case she was overcome by weakness, Maggot now sprinted ahead and swung himself down into the cutter bobbing gently on the blue water.
Nick watched Kerenza kneel, touch her lips lightly to the baby’s forehead, and pass her down to Maggot. When she straightened up, her face was pink and her eyes suspiciously bright. The distress she was trying so hard to hide moved him in ways he had not experienced before. As well as not understanding her attachment to a child who wasn’t hers, he did not understand why he felt angry, and jealous.
Releasing his arm, Lady Russell seized both Kerenza’s hands and said, ‘I will never be able to thank you enough. I shall miss your company.’ A faint wail rose from the cutter and he saw them exchange a smile. ‘If by chance the ship has to call before returning to Falmouth, please, if it is possible, come and see me, if only for a few minutes.’ She turned to Nick. ‘Will you escort her, Mr Penrose?’
He saw Kerenza stiffen and wince, saw the rosy flush climb her throat, and realised she was afraid he might feel the request an imposition. ‘It would be my pleasure, Lady Russell.’ From Kerenza’s shy, startled glance and the lift of Lady Russell’s eyebrows, he knew his tone had convinced both that he meant every word.
Leaning forward, Lady Russell kissed Kerenza’s glowing cheek. ‘Goodbye for now, my dear. Take care of yourself. And try to get some rest. I have been a very demanding companion.’
‘I would not have missed a moment.’ Her voice faltered and Nick wanted to put his arm around her in protection and reassurance. He saw her swallow, then she widened her mouth in a smile. ‘You must go. Your daughter is waiting and already you have been standing too long.’ She moved aside.
Nick helped Lady Russell down into the cutter. He watched Maggot place the baby in her arms then swing himself up onto Kestrel’s deck.
‘I don’t know how long I’ll be,’ Nick warned.
Maggot shrugged. ‘No matter. I here. Is all safe.’
Nick gripped his shoulder briefly, then dropped down into the boat. The lines were cast off and the cutter headed shoreward. Unable to stop himself he looked back. But she had gone.
Kerenza shivered as she went down the stairs. She could hear laughter and shouts from the fo’c’sle as the crew who were going ashore got themselves ready. She had learnt from Broad that lots had been drawn and, as there was only time for one group to go ashore this time, those remaining aboard would automatically be first off next time.
‘There’ll be some thick heads tomorrow.’ He’d clicked his tongue. ‘A few bruises too, I shouldn’t wonder. Well, ’tis only to be expected if Navy boys from the warships is daft enough to bait our lads.’
As she reached the bottom of the stairs her father’s cabin door opened and he backed out, dragging his trunk.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Papa? What are you doing?’
He turned, grimacing as he pressed his fingers to his forehead. ‘Go and pack your trunk. We’ll leave Kestrel as soon as we reach Gibraltar.’
Startled and bewildered, Kerenza stared at him. ‘Leave? But – Why, Papa? We’ll only be staying there a few hours, one night at most. As soon as Mr Penrose delivers the dispatches –’
‘What if something goes wrong?’ She recoiled from the reek of stale spirits on his breath, but he was too anxious to notice. ‘What if Mr Penrose is told he cannot leave them to be collected, but must take them on to Admiral Hotham himself? It could be another week before we reach Tangier. No. No, I can’t take that chance. As soon as we arrive I shall go to the Waterport Wharf. There’s bound to be a merchantman or a fishing boat willing to take us across. If we leave tonight we’ll be in Tangier before dawn. Now go and pack while I retrieve my money from Mr Penrose.’
‘No, Papa, you –’
‘No? Don’t you argue with me,
girl. Remember why you’re here and do as you’re bid. Go on!’ He waved her away.
Kerenza flinched but remained where she was. ‘Papa, we are already at Gibraltar.’
He stared at her. ‘We can’t be.’
‘Perhaps –’ she suggested carefully, wary of triggering yet more anger ‘– you have been asleep?’
‘So? A nap, that’s all, after dinner.’
A nap that had lasted six hours. She had not gone to the saloon at teatime. Busy packing for Judith and caring for the baby, she had accepted Broad’s offer to bring a tray to the cabin instead. And because her father’s attendance at meals had always been erratic, no one had mentioned his absence to her.
He glared wildly around. ‘What time is it?’
‘I’m not sure, but I think it’s after seven.’ She watched him try to take it in, and felt dismay, pity, and shame that her father, once a proud and successful man, should have fallen so low. He rubbed his forehead again, frowning hard.
‘Right, well, that’s all to the good. We will leave at once. I’m not going to just sit here and wait, not with my wife and daughter only a few miles away. I have to get over there now, tonight –’
‘Papa, listen. We can’t leave because we can’t get off the ship.’
‘For God’s sake, Kerenza.’ Anger sparked in his bloodshot eyes and at the corners of his mouth spittle was gathering. ‘Will you stop being so difficult? The packet carries two boats. They’re kept on the deck.’
‘Yes, but they are not on deck any longer. Both are at this moment on their way to shore.’
‘What? They can’t be.’ He shook his head then clutched it in both hands, his face contorting in pain.
‘I saw them leave. Mr and Mrs Woodrow and their trunks are in the jolly-boat. Mr Penrose has taken Lady Russell, her baby, and her luggage in the cutter.’
‘No!’ He howled, pushing past her and lunging for the companionway. But Maggot was already half way down.
Kerenza didn’t see exactly what happened. But suddenly her father hunched over, stumbling backward off the stairs and crashing backwards against the bulkhead. Agile as a cat, Maggot followed and gripped her father’s arm to prevent him falling. William Vyvyan’s eyes were wide and unseeing, his mouth open as he strained to heave air into his lungs.
‘You are all right, miss?’ Maggot demanded over his shoulder. ‘I hear shouting.’
‘My father is a little confused and upset.’
Maggot nodded. ‘Is good he sleep some more. I give him something. You ask Broad to come, yes?’
Kerenza fetched the steward. Maggot met him at the door of her father’s cabin where they conferred in low voices. As Broad gave her a reassuring nod and walked briskly down the passage, Maggot closed the door and gently drew her away.
‘You no worry. Your father is all right. Broad will see. Tonight is good you write letter to your grandmother, yes? You have many things to tell. Tomorrow we reach Tangier. Then you are very busy, have no time.’
She had been wondering what to do, how to fill the empty hours now she no longer had Judith to talk to or the baby to look after. Earlier she had considered doing some washing, but abandoned the idea, for how would she dry it? Repacking her trunk would take only minutes. It was far too early to go to bed. Despite her physical tiredness, she knew her clamouring thoughts and the tension in her body would never let her sleep.
‘I suppose I could.’ The more she thought about it, the more sensible the suggestion seemed.
He grinned. ‘In saloon there is table and more light.’ He waited while she collected her writing case. As she slid onto one of the short benches, Broad emerged from the galley carrying a steaming jug and a bucket.
‘Don’t you worry, miss. Mr Vyvyan will be good as new after I finish with him.’
Kerenza thought his smile had an oddly grim edge to it. But as he hurried away down the passage, Maggot spoke to her again and she dismissed the notion as a trick of the light.
‘I have duties. But I am back soon. You stay here, please, yes?’
He didn’t actually say it was important she did so, or that it was safer, but his tone implied both. Grateful to him and to Broad, Kerenza nodded.
He left, closing the saloon door. She opened her writing case, hearing his footsteps in the passage and faintly on the stairs. As she began to write, she realised how much there was to tell. So much, in fact, that she was able to keep her references to Nick minimal and brief. It was impossible to avoid mentioning him altogether. If his name did not appear at all her grandmother would surely think it strange. After all, everyone in Flushing was aware that though the Post office had Sam Penrose’s name listed as Kestrel’s captain, it was Nick who commanded her. Besides, had it not been for his daring and Maggot’s skill she might not be sitting here.
A shiver tightened her skin and she turned the pen between her fingers, staring blindly at the bulkhead as images flashed across her mind and once again she was reliving the bloody horror of the captain’s death.
A choking shout, followed by sounds of violent retching, jerked her back to reality and she looked round, her heart thumping, not sure if the sound was real or part of the memory.
A thud against the ship’s side marked the return of one of the boats. Shouts from the topside were answered with whoops and jeers. Shoes drummed on the fo’c’sle ladder then crossed the deck. The stomach-heaving sound was not repeated and soon all was quiet again. Kerenza returned to her letter.
A little while later, Broad opened the door from the passage. ‘Everything all right, miss? How about a cup of hot chocolate?’
She smiled at him. ‘Thank you, I’d love it.’
‘Be ready in two shakes.’
As he crossed the saloon with the bucket and jug, both clearly empty, he trailed an unpleasant smell behind him and Kerenza’s nose wrinkled. She recalled the sound she thought she had heard.
‘Is my father –?’
‘Much better now, miss. He’ll sleep right through.’
‘You’re very kind.’
‘Just doing my job, miss.’
‘We both know it’s far more than that.’
‘Yes, well, I aren’t the only one. Lady Russell would’ve been in some bad way if it hadn’t been for you. Now you finish your letter and I’ll get your chocolate.’
She caught her lip between her teeth to hide her smile. His chivvying, always tempered with respect, reminded her so much of Minnie, her grandmother’s housemaid. As well as acting as her lady’s maid whenever necessary, Minnie had assumed personal responsibility for her welfare. But telling Broad this might offend him, and after all his kindness and willing help that was the last thing she wished to do.
She had added her signature to the final page, and was re-reading the four closely written sheets, when she heard the ship hailed and the answering call from the lookout. She listened for the thump against the ship’s side. After a few moments she heard familiar footsteps on the companionway. Nick was back.
Her heartbeat quickened and her fingers, as she replaced the top on the inkbottle, were a little unsteady.
More footsteps meant Maggot was coming down as well.
She folded the letter and had closed it inside the case when the saloon door opened to reveal Nick. Something in his smile made Kerenza feel as if a dozen butterflies were trapped inside her.
‘Miss Vyvyan, I am glad to find you here. I have with me someone most anxious to meet you.’
As he stood aside, Kerenza slid out of her seat, puzzled. She didn’t know anyone here. Apprehension tightened her throat. But Nick had said “anxious”, so it could not possibly be Lieutenant Ashworth. Apart from it being extremely unlikely he would wish to renew his very brief acquaintance with her, surely Nick would not invite his cousin aboard Kestrel? Not after she had made clear her dislike of him? But perhaps in trying to remain polite she had not made it clear enough. In which case this would be the perfect opportunity. Moistening her lips and trying to quell her tumbling th
oughts, she smoothed palms damp with nervousness down her creased green muslin.
The man who entered was tall and slim and dressed in the gold-braided red jacket, white waistcoat, white breeches, and polished black boots of an officer in the Guards. A black military hat edged with gold braid was tucked under one arm. Though he appeared to be only in his mid to late thirties his short wavy hair was streaked with silver at the temples. A sallow complexion betrayed past illness, as did the lines radiating from the corners of his eyes and bracketing his mouth.
‘Miss Vyvyan,’ Nick said, ‘may I present Colonel Sir George Russell.’
But Kerenza had already guessed his identity and relief weakened her knees. As she made her curtsey, a battle raged inside her between shame at thinking Nick capable of such lack of consideration, and vivid, pain-filled memories of the way he had severed his connection with her.
Sir George dropped the large bag he was carrying and made a deep bow. His stern countenance softened in a smile of great sweetness and she saw immediately why Judith had claimed such good fortune in her husband.
‘Miss Vyvyan, I owe you a debt of gratitude I will never be able to repay.’
‘With the greatest respect, sir, you owe me nothing. Lady Russell was very kind to me. That I was able to be of help to her was my privilege.’ She could have said so much more. She could have told him how – even though it had been terrifying – the experience had moved her beyond words and changed her irrevocably. But, afraid he might think her impertinent, she held her tongue.
‘We will not argue. However, I must tell you that my wife’s wish to name our daughter Georgiana Kerenza has my wholehearted support. As soon as she is old enough, Georgiana will be told the circumstances of her birth. I hope one day you and she will renew your acquaintance. We would be delighted to welcome you back. Next time, I hope you may stay longer.’ His look was direct, his smile sincere.
