Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant

by Helen Dickson

  ‘I’ve arranged for the horses to be taken on board the Harris—that’s the vessel we will sail on. I’ve managed to acquire a couple of berths. I’ve also taken care of the money.’

  ‘My, you have been busy. You should have given me a knock—although I’m glad you didn’t. I was quite worn out when I went to bed.’

  ‘I’m hardly surprised—considering what happened.’ He raised a questioning brow. ‘No after-effects?’

  For what, she wondered, the drunk’s intrusion or their shared intimacy? She shook her head. ‘No. I slept well.’

  ‘When we’ve had breakfast we’ll go on board. Hopefully the ship will be under way by early afternoon.’

  * * *

  It was a grey day, the sky the colour of old pewter with a hint of rain in the cool air. The noise and the sheer energy and vitality of Portsmouth’s docks Lucy could not have imagined. Men hammered and sawed, and carried huge things on their shoulders. Casks, ropes and chains were everywhere. A jumble of ship’s spars and masts towered above her head until she could barely see the sky. Tidily stacked piles of wood were lying about—stout oak for hulls, pine for masts. Figureheads at the prow of each ship reared at regular intervals. The redolent aroma of timber mixed with salt and tar, with every smell of a great seaport, filled her nostrils.

  Which vessel were they to board? Lucy wondered as she tried to keep up with Nathan’s long strides. She could not believe that she would be standing on the deck of one of these great ships, to command a view of the swaying sail and lines, to stand at the prow and feel the wind and spray on her face. To know the rise and fall of the vessel as it leaned into the jaws of a squall. To feel the warmth of the sun brush her cheeks as they sailed close to Portugal.

  There were several ships in the fleet. They boarded a sixty-four-gun ship with its large guns run out at the porthole. Depending on the weather, it expected to make the run to Lisbon in under two weeks. It was carrying soldiers. Some of them who had been wounded and sent home to recuperate were returning to their regiments. There were several women aboard, some with children, taking the voyage to join their husbands, willing to run the dangers of war to be close to their loved ones.

  Nathan took in provisions for themselves of biscuits, coffee, sugar, butter and other edibles that could be purchased. He managed to secure Lucy a small cabin—not much bigger than a cupboard, but she was glad of it. She would appreciate the privacy.

  * * *

  It was dusk when she went to the quarterdeck to look around. Now they were underway she experienced a strange sensation in which anticipation mingled with excitement. The chill wind that was driving tattered regiments of cloud across a watery sky brought with it a sudden and vicious spatter of raindrops. As the ship sailed down the Channel, she watched the coast recede.

  There was no way of knowing what she might find when they reached Portugal, but she was relatively confident that she would be up to it. Nathan obviously thought so, otherwise he would not have sought her out to make her part of his assignment.

  * * *

  Nathan came towards Lucy from the shadows and stood beside her. The deck was almost deserted. He was conscious of her closeness. She lifted her head and looked into his relaxed, unguarded face in the pale light of the newly risen moon.

  Standing close to her, Nathan took in the vague and subtle perfume of her skin. She had a smudge on her cheek, which he found endearing. Since Lucy had broken off their engagement, all his contacts with women had been restricted to polite intercourse and nothing else. With her presence, it was inevitable that she would evoke thoughts and memories he had tried to bury. War made life uncertain, but he hoped at the end of it there would be a future—a home and a family and a woman’s love.

  ‘Are you all right—not too cold?’ he asked as a brisk breeze played among the rigging, billowing and snapping at the sails.

  Lucy shook her head. ‘I’ve never been on board a ship before. It’s a new experience for me.’

  ‘We’ll soon be leaving the Channel and sailing through the Bay of Biscay. It can be rough so prepare yourself. Even the strongest stomach can be affected by seasickness.’ Turning sideways, he looked down at her. His gaze went deep into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you in London. I know how much the role of Portia meant to you. You are a good actress, Lucy. Portia was a role worthy of your talents. I’ve rarely read such plaudits. Your anger and disappointment must have been overwhelming. I imagine you will by pleased if the performance fails.’

  ‘On the contrary. I sincerely hope it will be a great success.’

  ‘And it will not sour your friendship with Coral?’

  ‘No, of course it won’t. Initially I was angry and resentful, but we have been friends for too long to let something like this come between us. I am happy for her. Coral has proved herself a consummate actress. She will be pure perfection as Portia. She radiates vitality, wry good humour and overwhelming charm in a performance that is sheer enchantment.’

  ‘You’re a good friend. You are indeed generous.’

  ‘Not generous. I’m simply being honest.’

  His eyes fell to her face and his voice was hoarse when he spoke. ‘Somehow I can’t imagine you being anything else.’ Her beauty still stunned him and her sparkle, gentle humour and indomitable caring for others had held him in a thrall of admiration. Four years ago she had become part of him, a part of his flesh and his spirit. His lover of the night had been an added bonus.

  There was still a sweetness about her, a candour so disarmingly endearing. Her consideration and concern for Coral despite her playing the role she herself had coveted was real, admirable and instant.

  Uneasy beneath his watchful gaze, Lucy looked towards the darkening sky with the silver moon riding low. ‘You’ve travelled to Lisbon before, Nathan?’

  He nodded. ‘In my line of work. Portugal was in a state of collapse—it still is.’

  ‘What was it like? What did you do there?’ she asked, curious that he never spoke of his life in the Peninsula.

  His stare did not waver from the sea and he did not immediately answer. When he spoke his voice was distant, as though all emotion had been carefully erased from it.

  ‘One of my assignments was to discover if it was worth defending and whether it was prudent to keep British troops there. That was the task I was given to carry out.’

  ‘And when you made your assessment? Was it on your advice whether the troops remained in Portugal or withdrew?’

  He shook his head. ‘The decision did not rest with me. It was up to me to supply the facts to the Foreign Office, but of course I was not working alone. I had contacts over there and the use of the army’s couriers to send military dispatches to the British Embassy in Lisbon. From there the Ambassador sent them unopened to London.’

  ‘It all sounds very complicated—and dangerous.’

  ‘It was. When I was wounded and returned to England, I told myself I wouldn’t go back.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Another assignment. This one to be precise.’

  ‘Where we are going, will there be conflict?’

  ‘I sincerely hope not. We will be going into territory that is unimportant to the English and the French. Events are moving in Wellington’s favour. Bonaparte’s invasion of Russia in June has ended in disaster. As a result Bonaparte is unable to spare fresh troops for the Peninsular Campaign. At the same time, reinforcements continue to be fed into Wellington’s army.’ A sudden gust of wind blew cold off the sea. ‘Come, enough talk of the war. We’ll be in Lisbon soon enough.’ He escorted her to her cabin—such as it was. ‘If you should need me, I’m bunking down next door with the midshipman. To avoid a repetition of what happened to you last night—not that I think you will be disturbed—make sure your door is fastened.’

  ‘I intend to. Thank you
for telling me about your time in Portugal.’

  They looked at each other. He fingered a short tendril of her hair that had escaped her hat. She reached up and caught his fingers and squeezed them lightly.

  ‘You’re a lovely woman, Lucy. I would be every way a fool if I didn’t see that.’

  He moved his hand to her cheek. He felt her blush, although in the dim light he couldn’t see it.

  ‘Goodnight, Nathan,’ she said a little breathlessly, and before he could reply she had slipped inside her cabin and closed the door.

  * * *

  Lucy had slept little the first night, not being accustomed to the rolling of the ship. The following morning she returned to the deck. Seagulls screamed and wheeled above the churning wake and the acres of straining canvas overhead sang to the rush of the wind, while spray drove over the bows in a fine, stinging veil of mist. Passengers and crew went about their business. When she was alone she kept to herself. Eyes were drawn to her at one time or another, but never was anything said or done to suggest they thought of her as anything but the young man she appeared to be.

  It was common practice for naval officers to tyrannise over their men so that they trembled at an order. Thankfully the captain of the Harris was an amiable sort. It was evident that his men were fond of him. One of the sailors told Lucy that he had sailed fifteen years under him and never knew him to punish a man without the crew being convinced of the justice of it, nor did he punish cruelly. He was, however, when necessity compelled, very strict and then he punished with severity. This kind of management made him respected, both by those who were under his command and those who were merely onlookers. As a result of this the ship moved forwards without noise or confusion just as if no order had been given.

  * * *

  On the second day they lost sight of land. Lucy had viewed the receding shore with a degree of regret. A melancholy gloom spread over the soldiers, except those who had been abroad before. As night fell, spirits gradually lowered, and all was silence, except for the whistling of the wind in the shrouds. Several of the passengers were laid low with seasickness. Lucy couldn’t believe her luck that she had escaped—so far.

  Their principal amusement on board was playing draughts and Lucy and Nathan would sit at the game for hours, the board balanced on a barrel. Lucy was fascinated at seeing porpoises tumbling and rolling about in the sea. They appeared in small groups, their small heads and triangular fins frequently seen popping up in the sea.

  * * *

  After three days, the wind changed and now their real troubles began as the crew was roused and sent up to take in sail, lashing them tightly in place, with ropes strung across the decks to provide hand holds for those who must venture on them. The ship ran gallantly before the ever-stronger gusts, clawing through the crest of each wave, then sliding down into the troughs.

  Most of the passengers were struck down with sickness and kept below decks. Lucy had not succumbed and could only look on in sympathy. She rarely saw Nathan, who spent most of his time calming the horses and doing what he could to help out on deck. When he did stumble into her cabin to check on her, he was usually shivering and chilled to the marrow of his bones. After eating some buttered biscuits and drinking the coffee Lucy managed to procure from the galley, he would leave her.

  During the night the wind rose to a perfect hurricane, drowning out the noise of the cursing captain, who, however, gave the men two or three drams a piece. The dismal noise in the rigging reverberated as if against a forest, in one continued roar. The waves came rolling towards them, like mountains piled on each other—the sea appeared white as snow.

  When the lightning ceased, the tremendous thunder which accompanied it stunned their ears. There was no comfort to be had. The ship’s timbers strained and creaked as she rolled from side to side. The rain came down in torrents and the lightning set the whole atmosphere ablaze, so that they could distinctly see as well as in daytime.

  Lucy found what an excellent seaman their captain was. He certainly kept the ship steady when he directed the helm. At such a time, the wrong direction of the helm would have sunk the vessel.

  * * *

  On the fifth day, the captain told them they were in the Atlantic, approaching the Bay of Biscay. Nathan ordered Lucy below. She went, reluctant to leave the deck. It was cold and dark down there. Below deck, no braziers could be lighted during the storm, or even lanterns—Nathan had explained to her that these precautions were taken in case of fire.

  As the storm raged, unable to bear the confinement below deck, Lucy ventured from her cabin. Bright veins of lightning briefly illuminated the ship, making the intervals of darkness seem even blacker. Her stomach knotted with fear as she staggered and groped her way along the companionway and up the stairs, gasping as she emerged on deck. The rain was cold and slashing, and she was soon drenched. Yet she breathed easier in the open. Everything that wasn’t fastened down rolled about the deck. The captain and the helmsman stood beneath the lantern by the wheel and, as the Harris tossed, they seemed to float about against the darkness as if detached from the ship.

  Swallowing convulsively, she looked for Nathan. He was looking out at the hostile sea when he saw her. Concern for her safety made him angry.

  ‘Lucy! What are you doing! Don’t you know you could be washed overboard?’

  She could scarcely hear him for the howling wind. As he was speaking, the ship heeled to one side. She lost her hold and was driven with amazing force against the capstan, and from there to the other side of the ship against one of the main beams. It proved her protection from the sea, for it saved her from being plunged into the abyss, without the faintest probability of rescue, but her head made contact with something hard.

  She levered herself upward, but her legs remained twisted beneath her. The deck seemed to reel about her and she saw it as through a long, dark tunnel. It was Nathan who moved first to assist her. All his anger had drained away when he saw her predicament.

  ‘Lucy! Dear God, Lucy.’

  Before she could accept or reject his assistance, placing a strong arm beneath her back and sliding another underneath her knees, he lifted her from the deck and stood her gently on her feet. She teetered unsteadily, unable to stand alone.

  ‘Lucy, are you hurt? Damn it, look at me!’

  She opened her eyes to find him looking down at her, his large body shielding her from the worst of the blinding rain, his fingers cupping her face.

  ‘Are you in pain?’

  ‘Not much,’ she mumbled, taking stock, ‘except for the ache in my head.’

  ‘My God, you gave me a fright.’ His breath was warm against her cheek. ‘Here, let me help you.’

  Quickly he slipped an arm about her shoulders and half supported her against his broad chest. She was glad of his support when she had to negotiate the wildly rolling deck again. Carefully he helped her below to her small, low-raftered cabin, where he made her sit on the bed. He risked lighting a lantern, securing it to keep it from falling and setting the ship on fire.

  Nathan drew in a breath. Her hat had been whipped from her head by the wind. She looked pale and bedraggled, even pitiful, as she huddled there, shivering. Something in his chest tightened. In the glowing light, he could see at once that her wound wasn’t fatal. There was a small amount of blood caused by a superficial laceration on her brow.

  ‘Lucy,’ he murmured, sinking down before her, ‘are you all right?’ Placing a gentle finger under her chin, he compelled her to meet his gaze. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Would you...’ Lucy whispered, her teeth chattering, ‘do you suppose...you could hold me?’

  Wordlessly he opened his arms, and when she came into them, he could feel her body trembling. ‘There’s nothing to fear now,’ he said gently, stroking her sodden hair. ‘You’ve suffered nothing more serious than a cut to your head. Already
it has stopped bleeding. I dare say you’ll have a headache, but it will pass—as will the storm.’

  ‘It wasn’t the storm. I thought...I was afraid I might be washed into the sea—that I would drown.’

  Nathan pressed his cheek against her hair. He had been afraid, too. Afraid that he had lost her to the sea. ‘Don’t ever,’ he breathed, remembering that devastating moment when he had looked down to see that mountainous sea sweep over the deck, remembering the helplessness he had felt, ‘disobey me again.’

  ‘I won’t. I’ll not venture out again until the storm has passed.’

  Nathan repressed a smile, suspecting her docility was a measure of her fatigue.

  ‘Come now,’ he urged, ‘if you will allow me I will help you out of those wet clothes. You’ll be warmer without them, then you must get into bed.’

  He knelt before her and began chafing her cold hands. He saw she was watching him quietly with wide, expressive eyes that looked trusting and vulnerable. She sat unresisting as he pulled off her boots. He hesitantly unfastened her breeches and peeled them off, stripping off her stockings in the process and rubbing her shapely calves to bring the blood back. Fortunately the rain hadn’t penetrated to her undergarments so he left them alone. He then removed her jacket and unfastened her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders. He stood up, bringing Lucy with him, his head brushing the rafters.

  His gaze was drawn to her face, to her cold, trembling lips. Slowly he bent his head, covering her mouth with his, warming her. When he heard her sigh, he deepened his kiss, thrusting gently into her mouth, warming her tongue with his. When she shivered, he didn’t think it was from the cold, but he left off kissing her to finish peeling the wet shirt from her shoulders. Leaving the chemise she wore next to her skin, she stood before him, pale and cold, and he could see that gooseflesh covered her bare shoulders and that the nipples of her high, firm breasts were chilled and rigid beneath the fabric that covered them.

  His blue eyes darkened at the sight. Lucy tried to cover herself with her arms, but Nathan caught her hands and pulled them away, scrutinising her carefully for further injury. In the lantern light he could see a reddening on her shoulder and his mouth hardened. Gently, he reached out to touch the faint discoloration. She raised an eyebrow as if in question. He hardly dared speak, he hardly dared breathe. He moved his hand, sliding it gently on to her back so that his fingertips touched the skin of her spine. She closed her eyes, seemed to sigh, and he pulled with his hand and she came, so easily, into his chest.