Black Sheep's Daughter

by Carola Dunn

  Most of Teresa's meagre luggage had already been stacked in the cabin. When Josefa joined her, there was scarcely room to turn round. She checked that Don Eduardo's chest of coffee beans had arrived undamaged, then made sure the door was closed securely and opened her precious basket.

  Gayo was muttering very softly to himself, though his eyes were closed. Teresa breathed a sigh of relief.

  "¡Ay, señorita!" gasped Josefa. "¡El papagayo!" She fell silent, looking almost as green as the parrot, as a particularly large swell gently rocked the ship.

  "Ay de mí!" agreed Gayo, struggling to his feet and trying shakily to climb out of the basket.

  The ship rolled again, its timbers creaking. Teresa and Josefa both sat down suddenly on the two narrow bunks which were the only furniture.

  * * * *

  Andrew knocked on the door some minutes later. "Miss Danville?" he called. "We are about to sail. Will you come up on deck to watch?"

  Teresa opened the door a crack. Her face was alarmingly pale. "You mean we are still at anchor and I already want to die?" She managed to summon up a weak smile.

  "You will feel much better for some fresh air, I promise you. Oscar and Marco were both suffering until I made them go up."

  "They are sick too? Josefa is much worse than I. If you will wait a moment, I shall try to persuade her to come along."

  Josefa only groaned and refused to move.

  Sir Andrew helped Teresa up the companionway and they went to join her brothers on the poop deck. She felt better at once, and was fascinated by the busy scene.

  Barefooted sailors in striped trousers and short jackets scampered about in apparent confusion, climbing the rigging, coiling ropes, winding the windlass as the huge anchor rose dripping from the depths. The boatswain bawled orders and the three tall masts blossomed with white canvas. On the quarter deck, Captain Fitch directed orders to the helmsman; the breeze took the sails and the Destiny stood out to sea.

  They rounded the Isla Uvita and met the full force of the rolling waves. Teresa held tight to the taffrail. After a brief glance down at the frothy white wake cutting the glass-green water, she kept her eyes on the receding shore and tried to ignore her stomach.

  She had some success at this until it began to grow dark and she went below. When Andrew came to convey an invitation from Captain Fitch to dine with him and his officers in the wardroom, he was greeted by moans.

  Opening the door, he stepped into the cabin. By the light of a swinging oil lamp, he saw Teresa and her maid huddled on their bunks.

  "Hello, dinner," a hoarse voice said brightly.

  Andrew swung round. The parrot was hanging upside down from a bracket on the bulkhead, regarding him in a friendly manner.

  "Miss Danville! I told you—your father told you—that Gayo was to be left behind!"

  Teresa sat up, her belligerent expression bringing a flush to her pallid cheeks. "I could not leave him. He might have died without me to take care of him."

  "Gammon! Lord Edward promised to look after him." Curiosity overcame his fury. "How on earth did you manage to bring him aboard without anyone noticing?"

  "Marco helped me. He is the only male sensitive enough to understand. I gave him a herb to make him sleep, the same one you gave to the customs men."

  To her surprise, he laughed though he shook his head. "I must learn not to be taken aback by your enterprise, Miss Danville. But since his wings are not clipped, you must promise me to keep him close in the cabin, always leashed. If he started to fly around disrupting the crew, I daresay Captain Fitch would maroon the lot of us on the first island we pass."

  "Like Robinson Crusoe?" Teresa considered. "That might be more agreeable than London society. At least I should not have to worry about obeying every petty rule. However, I shall attempt to keep him hidden."

  "I am delighted to hear it. Now, are you well enough to dine with us?"

  Teresa's nausea had disappeared as soon as she ceased to think about it. "Yes, I believe I am," she said in astonishment. "In fact, I am ravenous. Give me a few minutes to tidy myself."

  "I shall send Willy to show you the way."

  The cabin boy knocked as Teresa finished brushing her hair. "One minute," she called.

  He opened the door and stepped in, then turned fiery red as he saw her putting on her slippers. "Beg pardon, miss. I thought you said to come in, honest I did. I ain't never done for ladies afore."

  "That's all right, Willy. I am quite ready."

  Turning to leave, he came face to face with Gayo. "Cor, miss!" he gasped. "You got a parrot! The carpenter has one, too, but it’s not half as pretty."

  "Hello," said Gayo politely.

  Teresa thought the child's eyes would pop out of his head. “Blimey, it talks! His don’t say nuffink, and it bites. Can I touch it, miss?”

  "Not now. I shall be late for dinner. Tomorrow. And don’t tell anyone about him, will you?"

  “Cross me heart and hope to die.” His eyes were like stars as he led her to the wardroom.

  * * * *

  In the days that followed, as the Destiny sped across the sparkling Caribbean, Willy became adept at smuggling food to Gayo. The task of keeping their presence secret was made easier by Josefa. The maid's seasickness continued, and any odd noises the parrot made were put down to her groans of misery.

  Willy grew very fond of Gayo. It troubled him that the big bird was always kept tied and he begged Teresa to let him have the run of the tiny cabin. Mindful of her promise to Sir Andrew she refused, so one day he decided to take matters into his own hands.

  Miss Danville was talking with her brothers in their cabin. Josefa was asleep. If he let Gayo off his leash just for a few minutes, no one would ever know.

  For a few minutes Gayo explored the cabin. He stayed away from Josefa, who was nervous of him. He peered out of the porthole, muttering, then climbed up the chain of the oil lamp and flapped his colourful wings. Then he crossed to the door. Hanging on with one foot and his beak, he went to work on the latch with his powerful claw.

  The ship rolled and the door swung open. Appalled, Willy grabbed for the parrot and missed.

  Gayo swooped through the doorway and flapped away along the narrow passage. Willy scurried after, until he saw Gayo disappear into the galley. Peering from around a corner, he saw the bird emerge at full speed, followed at a fast waddle by the ship's cook, brandishing a cleaver.

  "¡Hijo de puta!" screeched Gayo, fleeing up the companionway.

  The cook's language was equally colourful as he stood at the bottom of the stairway. The difficulty of hoisting his ample person up the steep rungs dissuaded him from following, but the stream of invective issuing from his lips made every head turn his way.

  "Catch it!" bellowed the bosun after a stunned moment of silence when the parrot erupted from below.

  With one accord, the sailors joyfully quit holystoning the immaculate deck and took up the chase.

  Gayo headed straight for the rigging. Alighting, he started hand over hand up a taut rope. A couple of dozen seamen climbed after him. Unintimidated, he didn’t bother to move away until the foremost reached for him. Then he glided down to the quarter deck, perched on a convenient railing, and addressed the gaping first mate. "Hijo de puta," he said in a conversational tone, adding Sanchita's deep, rich chuckle. "Hello, hello, what a pity. Blimey! Cor stone the crows!"

  The officer snatched at him. Gayo eluded his grasp with an effortless hop and continued his harangue to an appreciative audience as a circle of sailors closed in on him.

  "Misbegotten son of a sea-snake!" he yelled in the cook's voice. "Toss-pot scum! Slimy, slimy, slimy scum. Hello. Gadzooks!" Eyes alert with mischief, he waited until the last moment before flying back up to the topgallant mast. "Misbegotten rum scum!" he let loose one last insult before falling silent and preening his feathers.

  Down on the quarter deck, the first mate shook his fist in impotent fury as the rest of the crew took to the rigging again. Teresa, war
ned by the trembling cabin boy, arrived on deck moments later with her brothers and Sir Andrew hot on her heels. She ran to the bosun.

  "I can fetch him down," she told him hurriedly. "He will come to me, only you must call off your men. He’ll just keep evading them."

  The bosun glared at her. Before he could open his mouth to let out a blistering reproof, Sir Andrew broke in.

  "It’s Miss Danville's parrot," he said in his most soothing diplomatic accents, "but she is not responsible for his escape. Let her call him down."

  The first mate leaned over the rail to hear them. He scowled at Teresa, but his lips were twitching. "Bring the men down," he ordered.

  The bosun's roar brought the sailors down with a rush.

  Everyone watched as Teresa put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. Gayo descended like a diving eagle. He landed on Teresa's shoulder and nibbled her ear. Then he saw Sir Andrew and flapped over to him. "Hello, dinner," he said fondly.

  The bosun looked at the diplomat and grinned. "Got a mouth on 'im, that bird," he said with sympathy. "Don't know as I 'adn't rather be called slimy toss-pot better'n dinner. Sir." He realised his men were slacking and sent them back to their holystones with a bellow.

  Andrew transferred the parrot to Teresa and, a minatory look in his eye, ordered her below. She obeyed meekly while he went to apologise to the mate.

  "Funniest thing I've seen in fifteen years in His Majesty's Navy," admitted that worthy officer. "If it was not Miss Danville's fault, whose was it?"

  "Well, it was Miss Danville's fault for bringing the bird aboard in the first place," he temporized, thinking of the scared, remorseful cabin boy. "I warned her not to. As for who let them loose, I'd prefer not to say. I'm afraid Captain Fitch is going to be in a high dudgeon over this."

  "He has probably slept through it, and I'll do what I can to keep it from him, but I cannot guarantee he will not find out."

  Andrew went down to ring a peal over Teresa. He found Oscar doing an excellent job of it, so he changed his mind and consoled her with the news that the first mate was more amused than angry.

  * * * *

  Inevitably, the tale reached the captain's ears. He summoned Andrew to his cabin. "I cannot countenance such a Bedlam on my ship," he pointed out. His eyes were inflamed, making him look more than ever like an unhappy bloodhound. "Unless she’ll leave the bird behind or clip its wings…”

  “She’ll never do that,” Andrew was certain.

  “Then not a league beyond Port Royal shall I carry Miss Danville and her parrot. Pray inform her that she must seek another vessel to carry her to England."

  Teresa accepted the verdict without demur. She was unhappily aware that she ought to have left Gayo at home. He had never caused any trouble there and she had not realised how disruptive he could be. It was too late now. She could not abandon him to the doubtful care of strangers and the thought of clipping his wings revolted her.

  Indeed, there was no good reason why she and Marco need look to the Royal Navy for transportation. It should not be difficult to take passage on one of the many merchant ships that plied the Atlantic between Jamaica and England.

  The only trouble was that once Sir Andrew had sailed off aboard the Destiny, she might very well never see him again.

  Chapter 6

  Captain Fitch no longer took his meals in the wardroom with his officers and his passengers. Teresa supposed him to be so angry with her that he preferred to dine in solitary splendour in his cabin.

  It was Willy, a chastened shadow of his former perky self, who disabused her of this notion. "It's his eyes, miss. Mortal bad, they be. The sawbones can't do nothing for 'em. Says it's some tropical disease and cap'n's like to go blind."

  Sorry as she was for the captain, Teresa brightened at this news. She consulted the ship's doctor, who confirmed the cabin boy's report. "There's nae a great deal known o' yon tropical infections," he went on. "I hae me doots there's nae doctor e'en in Kingston can cure it."

  Eagerly Teresa offered a herbal eyewash. "If it is as bad as you say it cannot harm him," she pointed out. "You had best administer it, though, for the poor man is quite out of charity with me. Only if it works, please tell him it was my doing and perhaps he will be grateful enough to let me stay on the Destiny to England."

  By the time the lookout in the crow's nest sighted Port Royal two days later, Captain Fitch's eyes were definitely on the mend. With considerable reluctance and still more trepidation, he acknowledged his debt to Miss Danville and gave his permission for her to remain on board. As he mentioned to Andrew, she was, after all, Lord Frederick Danville's niece, though he rather doubted that Lord Frederick's brother, the duke, would thank him for adding a blasphemous bird to his domestic arrangements.

  Teresa's pleasure at his capitulation was overshadowed by Oscar's imminent departure. She realised that she had relied on her older brother's presence as a sort of deputy for her father. From now on, she was the eldest family member; Marco would depend on her as she had depended on Oscar.

  As the Destiny sailed into Port Royal harbour, she recollected that Josefa was also to lose a brother now. The maid was sister to the manservant who would stay in Jamaica with Oscar, and though she had seen little of him during the voyage she must certainly wish to take leave of him.

  Leaving her brothers and Sir Andrew watching the busy harbour from the forecastle, Teresa went below. She found Josefa packing up her few possessions.

  "We do not go ashore," she told the maid. "The Destiny will stay only to pick up supplies and despatches and we leave again tomorrow."

  "Lo siento, señorita, pero no voy con usted." After nine days confined to her bunk, the girl was shaky but determined. Nothing, she vowed, could make her stay on board and the only thing that would ever make her brave the sea again was the prospect of going home to Costa Rica. Don Oscar and her brother would take care of her, the señorita must not worry. Her mind was made up.

  Disheartened, Teresa climbed back up to the forecastle. The world seemed to be conspiring to prevent her travelling with Sir Andrew. She knew that Oscar would refuse to let her go on without any female companion, and indeed she could not feel comfortable at the prospect. It did not seem likely that she could find a new maid ashore in time to sail with the Destiny on the morrow.

  She poured out her tale of woe. As expected, Oscar was adamant. "Naturally I should be happier if you could travel under Graylin's protection," he said, "but it is quite out of the question to go without your maid, is it not, sir?" He turned to the Englishman.

  Sir Andrew's lean, tanned face was unwontedly flushed. "Normally I would agree," he said hesitantly. "However, I must tell you something which will change the situation entirely. Captain Fitch does not know it yet, but there is an order awaiting him from the Governor of Jamaica. His Excellency's sister-in-law, Lady Parr, and her daughter are to sail to England on the Destiny."

  "Then that is all right!" said Oscar with relief. "It must be altogether unexceptionable for Teresa to travel in such company."

  Sir Andrew's embarrassment was patent, and Teresa's happy smile faded as a disagreeable suspicion crossed her mind. "How is it," she asked, "that you already know what the captain as yet does not?"

  His flush deepened and he avoided her gaze. "I am betrothed to Miss Muriel Parr," he said.

  There was a moment of shocked silence. Then pride came to Teresa's rescue. She could only be glad she had once considered the possibility that he was married. It enabled her to keep her composure, though inwardly she seethed with anger and hurt. After a scarcely noticeable pause, her voice was steady when she said, "I shall be happy to make Miss Parr's acquaintance."

  * * * *

  Captain Fitch, when his orders arrived, was equally disgruntled and less unwilling to show it. He had to give up his cabin to the ladies, an imposition beside which the disruption caused by Miss Danville's presence aboard seemed insignificant. His regard for Teresa warmed immeasurably from the moment Lady Parr swept past him
with a haughty nod, her majestic air unimpaired by the indignity of being lifted from the boat to the deck in a sling.

  Teresa had already moved her belongings, including Gayo, into the captain's cabin. Despite the addition of two cots to the large bed, four chairs and table, it seemed huge after the first mate's cramped abode.

  Here she awaited the new arrivals, with some trepidation. This was to be her first encounter with ladies of that Polite World in which her father expected her to find a place. For the fifth time she peered into the captain's little square of mirror. She had wound her long braid into a knot on the back of her head. She poked at escaping tendrils, tucked her shirt more firmly into the waistband, smoothed her full purple skirt and was glad she had lengthened it with the black cloth purchased in Límon.

  There was a knock. Willy opened the door, squeaked "Lady Parr, miss," and ducked out of sight.

  Her ladyship, clad all in white crape, reminded Teresa irresistibly of the Destiny under full sail, except that she altogether lacked the frigate's beauty.

  Teresa curtsied. "I am Teresa Danville, ma'am," she said.

  Lady Parr, standing in the doorway, raised her quizzing glass and examined her from head to toe. "You are shockingly brown, Miss Danville," she declared.

  "What a pity," commented Gayo. "Buenos días, hello, hello."

  The full force of the quizzing glass was turned upon him and he quailed a little. "A parrot," said Lady Parr. "I cannot share my cabin with a parrot. The bird must be removed at once. Sir Archibald would insist upon it."

  In the fuss attendant upon the removal of Gayo to the cabin shared by Marco and Sir Andrew, Teresa noticed Miss Muriel Parr only as a slight, silent figure in pale pink muslin.

  When she returned without Gayo, the ladies' luggage had arrived. Their abigail, Kinsey, was scurrying about attempting to stow everything away in the limited space available. A short, round, rosy-cheeked woman, she smiled in a friendly way and bobbed a curtsy, but did not speak. Lady Parr sat in the captain's chair, a well-thumbed book of sermons open upon the table before her. Her daughter perched on the bed on the far side of the cabin, doing her best not to hinder the abigail's task. Her back was as straight as if she found herself in the drawing room of one of the patronesses of Almack's, her hands folded in her lap.