by Susan Lodge
He watched the woman in fear and fascination as her gaze searched the coast. Brow furled with concentration, trembling slightly, she clutched the jacket around her which he had hastily procured from one of his smaller midshipmen.
She suddenly whirled around to face him with a look of triumph.
“There it is! The entrance,” she shouted, pointing ahead at the steep-sided cliffs.
“Bring her around,” Adam instructed Grant, who was standing beside two very worried crew at the wheel.
“A woman who reads maps,” the coxswain murmured. “God help us.”
Another shot tore through the sail of the mizzenmast and Adam snapped out a few more orders as he watched the woman as she concentrated on the inlet. He hoped her memory would serve her well. She might have travelled through it several times under the guidance of Captain Able, but her ship was much smaller and rode higher in the water.
Adam looked in secret alarm at the width of the inlet. No wonder it had not been on his charts. But turning back now was no longer an option. The coxswain looked grim and glanced at Adam for reassurance as Mrs. Charlesworth relayed her observations.
“Captain Able always took her to the centre until it widens – then the reef rises to starboard.” She scanned the shore and then turned to him, her eyes wide and worried at the task ahead.
He gave her a reassuring nod before turning to his coxswain. “Let us see if we can squeeze ourselves through then.” The coxswain uttered a prayer as he altered course and the vessel pulled perilously nearer the rugged shore.
Adam kept his emotions carefully concealed as he stood beside her at the wheel. The larger French ship now blocked the mouth of the inlet, but the other continued pursuing them, their bow chaser still firing. His gut tightened as the depths being called out by the midshipman became dangerously shallow. They could catch the reef at any moment.
They travelled on for another three hundred yards or so before Jane Charlesworth turned to him with renewed confidence shining in her eyes.
“We are nearly through the narrowest part! I think we are going to make it.” But even as she spoke, a sickening grinding rocked the ship on the starboard side, sending her sprawling to the deck. Instinctively his hand shot out, firmly securing her arm. Hauling her back to her feet, he let his grip linger for a few seconds until he was sure she was stable before calmly replying.
“Apparently not.” He turned to his lieutenant. “Damage report, Mr. Grant. Make sure any breach is plugged at once, take the hands from the guns if needed.”
The ship groaned and lurched like a wounded whale, waiting for the final death blows. Jane Charlesworth looked up at him with eyes full of fear. She expected his anger, contempt even, but he owed her neither. This was just another battle and they were both on the same side. He needed to reassure her on that fact.
“We are not done yet, Mrs. Charlesworth, not by a long way.” But his words just seemed to make her feel more wretched.
“I should have kept my mouth shut for once,” she muttered.
If his ship hadn’t been in such a dire situation, Adam might have smiled at the thought, but instead he switched his attention to ordering the repositioning of the cannons so the weight was taken away from the injured side of the ship.
As the crew laboured, gradually the frigate shifted, and as if a guiding hand from the heavens decided to intervene, the wind increased filling the sails. Slowly the Serena shuddered and limped forward, the reef grazing against the side as it released its prey.
Adam walked to the rail and leaned over to assess the damage. If they could just keep her off the ridge for the next few yards they just might get through.
The ship travelled on under fire from their pursuers until a jubilant shout from the crew brought Lieutenant Forbes racing up the deck. A smile broke out on his face, as he reached Adam’s side.
“They’re caught on the same ridge, Captain, only they’ve ripped their stern to pieces. They’re going down.”
The captain nodded to his lieutenant. “Good work, Mr. Forbes. I would dearly love to turn back and take her as a prize but it is not possible in the confines of these waters.” His men cheered loudly and he couldn’t resist a smile of his own as he caught sight of his new navigator.
Her hair whipped wildly around her face her expression one of stunned joy, as if she couldn’t quite believe they had survived. She looked like a mermaid who had drunk too much grog. The effect was strangely erotic and very dangerous, considering his crew had not had shore leave for weeks.
Samuel Grant approached him, distracting his thoughts. “Timbers plugged, Captain.” The lieutenant shoved a hand across his brow. “Never been saved from certain defeat by a woman before.”
“No, indeed,” Adam replied. He turned towards the wheel and was surprised if not relieved to find Mrs. Charlesworth missing.
Adam checked the course, and then asked the nearest midshipman to discover Mrs. Charlesworth’s whereabouts. Five minutes later he returned and reported that she was at the stern rail.
Adam stared at him. “What is she doing there?”
“She’s casting her accounts, sir, over the side.”
Startled at this reply, he dismissed the lad with a nod and pondered for a moment whether to offer his assistance. Then, deciding she would not want an audience, he went below to check on the casualties.
The familiar stench of death filled the sick bay as Adam sought out the doctor. Crouched over in the confined space, he made his way passed the dozens of wounded bodies, his shoes sticking to the bloody deck as he walked. He saw the striking figure of Celine deftly bandaging a wound to the stomach of Clarkson, the gunner’s mate. The doctor acknowledged his captain’s presence and reported four deaths, which to Adam’s sorrow included two of his most long-standing able seamen and his purser.
“The female insisted helping, Captain,” Doctor Harris muttered, returning his attention to the probing tong inside the leg he was trying to extract a fragment from. A spurt of blood splattered his arm like a crimson firework. “I didn’t think it proper, but she’s a natural, and I was sorely glad of the help.”
Adam gave Celine a nod of approval as her anxious eyes searched his.
“Is Mrs. Charlesworth safe, Captain?” she asked, worry creasing her forehead.
He came closer to her and lowered his voice. “She helped guide us safely through, but I hear she is now indisposed; although not injured.”
To his surprise, Celine showed no concern as she looked up at him with a slight sigh.
“The sight of blood turns her stomach; always has, I’m afraid.”
“Indeed – then she must have suffered somewhat today.” He had to begrudgingly admit that Jane Charlesworth had displayed the intelligence and bravery he never had thought possible in a female. Adam felt a pang of appreciation for both the women as he headed back up through the decks. He needed to double the watch – they had to be vigilant. The French frigates’ presence in these waters was a strange coincidence. Had they been hunting the Serena, and was Jane Charlesworth their prey? If that was so, a serious leak in security had occurred. A new sense of unease engulfed him as he considered the thought.
***
Jane made her way back to her cabin, relieved that the nausea had passed, and hoped not to encounter any further attention. As she turned along the walkway, she silently groaned at the tall figure of the captain blocking her route. Confound it! She must look like something that they had dredged up from the bilges. Hair blown into a tangled mess, a midshipman’s jacket over her sodden clothes which fitted in all the wrong places and in which she had discovered – initially by the aroma – half a dried sausage stowed in the pocket.
She remembered the captain’s earlier scathing remark about covering herself up and felt a new rush of annoyance. What did he expect her to look like after being half drowned in the midst of a battle? If he didn’t like the way she looked, so be it. At least none of his company were going to lust after her in her present co
ndition.
Approaching him slowly, she tried to gauge his mood. He didn’t look his usual arrogant, surly self – and goodness, was that a look of concern on his face? His broad shoulders glistened with the same wind-blown moisture that had made her look like a water rat, but all the elements had done to him was ruffle his hair as if someone had run their fingers through it.
“Are you feeling ill?” he asked.
She had been correct – there was concern in his voice; it was most off-putting. Blast! News of her sickness must have reached his ears. She replied a little coldly to hide her embarrassment.
“No, Captain. I am quite well.”
A touch of warmth softened the steel of his eyes, which had the alarming effect of flooding her body with a heady mixture of heat and fear. Good heavens, now he was smiling at her. He had the look of a predatory lion.
She eyed him sternly, trying to remain dignified, but failing hopelessly as a strand of hair plopped down over one eye. She brushed it back with her hand, but it was defiant and slowly started its decent again. Oh, why didn’t he go about his business so she could deal with her hideous locks in peace? But he settled a shoulder against the beams in the walkway, obviously in no hurry to let her pass.
“You did a very good job today – your knowledge of these waters is impressive,” he said.
Jane peered at him in suspicion; she couldn’t quite deal with him saying something nice to her. But she also realised he deserved her gratitude.
“Thank you for taking my advice, not many would have considered my guidance worthy.”
“No indeed, I’m sure my crew are still in shock at such a scandalous act on my part. Not to mention the insults thrown at me in front of them. ‘Stubborn ox’, was it not?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.
She coloured up at the memory. “I had to gain your full attention, Captain. There was little time for the civilities of protocol. But I do beg your pardon – it was unforgivable.”
“It certainly was, but considering the circumstances I suppose I should accept your apology.”
The strand of sodden hair plopped down in front her face again and she reached up to swipe it back, but he beat her to it. The warmth of his hand grazed her cheek as he secured the lock back behind her ear. His features softened for a few seconds before he appeared to give himself a mental shake and firmly folded his arms over his impressive chest. His expression set back into the sharp planes of the ship’s commander.
“You best get some rest now.” He straightened up and stepped aside to let her pass. Their bodies strained to avoid contact in the confined walkway. The heat from his body assaulted her senses as she slid past him and hurried away.
***
Jane detected an unusual tension in the air as Celine tried to arrange her newly-washed hair into order for her dinner with the captain’s gathering that evening.
“Is there something amiss, Celine? You seem worried. Has someone upset you?”
Celine pulled her face into a semblance of a smile. “I’m just tired; it has been an eventful day. Fighting off the French was a formidable task but not as impossible as trying to get your unruly mop into a fashionable style.” She tugged at the curls with a brush.
“Ouch!” Jane protested. “Just tie it back, no one is going to notice or care what style it’s in.”
Celine threw her hands up in mock despair. “But I have my reputation as a lady’s maid to consider.”
Jane chuckled, but she was puzzled; despite her levity something bothered her friend. Celine was a strong woman, there were not many situations she could not handle, but they usually shared their concerns. She resolved to keep a close eye on her over the next few days.
Taming her hair sleekly over the crown, Celine secured the mass of curls high at the back leaving a few strands to curl down past Jane’s ears. The effect surprised them both.
“Well done, maid.” Jane looked at her reflection in the hand mirror smiling at the result. “What do you think I should wear?”
“Your blue silk,” Celine said with confidence. “It will be more appreciated than those shapeless drab things you have been wearing.”
“Clothes which attract undue attention could cause us trouble,” Jane replied, her voice taking on a bitter note. But she might as well have saved her breath, as Celine had decided for her. The aquamarine dress had already been taken from the sea chest and neatly pressed, so she obediently stood up and let herself be fastened into the garment. It was fairly modestly cut around the bodice for current fashion, but managed to flatter her slender neck and reveal a hint of cleavage. The silk fabric gathered just under the curve of her breasts and hung in a straight sweep to her feet. The dress was certainly more flattering than anything she had worn for a good while.
Celine surveyed her critically. “Not bad at all, considering the raw materials I have to work with,” she sniffed.
Jane tugged at the bodice, trying to make it cover more of her flesh.
Celine’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “I think the captain will appreciate that you have bothered to make an effort with your appearance.”
“It would have to be a voyage of years, I fear, before I get the captain to appreciate anything about my existence,” Jane responded, as she snatched up her fan, saluted with it to her friend, and left the cabin.
Chapter Four
Jane made the short trip to the captain’s quarters and hesitated outside. A number of voices in boisterous conversation came from the cabin. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and nodded to the scarlet-clad marine on duty outside. He knocked lightly on the door, opened it, and then stepped back as she entered.
A silence fell on the cabin as four pairs of eyes turned and studied her.
Will Forbes recovered first and came forward. He smiled as he offered her his arm and escorted her over to the gathering. “You are looking radiant tonight, shipmate,” he said in lowered tones.
Jane had been put off-balance by the sudden silence and wondered whether they had been discussing her. She caught the captain’s gaze and read something slightly disturbing in the way his eyes wandered over her. He now gave her a polite bow and restarted the conversation.
“Good evening, Mrs. Charlesworth, we have been looking forward to your company.” His eyes did not seem to convey the sentiment of his words. Was it her dress that he didn’t approve of? She silently cursed Celine; she knew the aquamarine was a mistake. Then she cursed the captain for making her feel uneasy. She exchanged an imperious nod with him before he was distracted by a question from Samuel Grant.
Will was back at her side. “I have never worked alongside such a beautiful colleague.”
She turned to him with a scolding grin, appreciating his efforts to make her feel at ease. “That’s not much of a compliment, Mr. Forbes – after all, just how many of your comrades have you seen in gowns?” She instantly flushed and then groaned silently at the implications of such a statement.
Will took his time considering her words and then replied in a very serious voice, meant only for her ears. “We are only allowed to wear our evening gowns on exceptional occasions, madam.”
Jane laughed, instantly more at ease by the second lieutenant’s good-natured banter. Strangely enough, she never felt threatened by his attention and was beginning to develop a sisterly sort of affection for the young man. Her eyes swept around the cabin, noting the captain was still involved in conversation with Samuel Grant. Relieved, she put her mind to recalling the name of the other dinner guest.
She caught sight of the black-clad figure of the ship’s chaplain and a chill ran down her spine at the malicious look he was giving her. She had been introduced to Chaplain Crosby when she arrived, but they had not conversed. What on earth had she done to warrant such a look? Perhaps he had overheard Will’s joke and disapproved – yes, that must be it. She was sure she had done nothing else to court such animosity. She frowned at the man, and then with a flick of her fan turned her attention back to Will, who had o
ffered his arm to escort her to the meal. The captain sat at the head of the table; she was on his right, Will Forbes next to her. Samuel Grant and the chaplain sat on the opposite side.
Jane began to relax a little as she sipped the exceptionally good wine she had been poured. The captain prompted the conversation, as protocol required. She joined in when she was asked an opinion, but was content to listen and learn all she could of the ship’s business and its occupants. Perhaps she would find a clue to where the ship was headed.
She glanced at the chaplain several times, aware that he still held her under a cold stare. He sat ramrod straight and the look coming from those pale, cold eyes was now beginning to irritate. Finally, annoyed by his blatant disapproval of her, she glared straight back at him, holding his gaze for a few seconds.
The captain’s voice diverted her attention and Jane guessed the silent interchange between her and the chaplain had not gone unnoticed as he turned the conversation to include Crosby.
“I would appreciate you holding a short service on Sunday, Mr. Crosby, with a few words for each of the lives we lost this morning.”
“Of course, Captain, I will send prayers for the dead and the living,” he replied, and then pointedly turned the conversation her way. “Mrs. Charlesworth, I trust you and your servant will be present.” His voice, a pious whine, was as repulsive as the rest of him.
She considered whether his words were an invitation or an ultimatum; either way they vexed her. She forced her voice into a pleasant tone. “Why, Mr. Crosby, I look forward to it, and I will certainly extend your kind invitation to Celine.”
Crosby looked like he had taken a mouthful of foul food as he stared back at her. “How strange, madam, I would expect a lady to instruct her servant, not ask her. I hope you have seen fit to teach her a Christian education.” He paused and dabbed his thin lips with his napkin. “Indeed, you seem to have taught her many things beyond her station in life.”
He made the words conversational but the insult was clear. She considered her reply for a moment and then forced herself to smile at the chaplain.
