There was no sign of their stricken ship, which had completely submerged now, likely having found its final resting place on the sea floor. Other than the odd bit of floating debris, the sea was good at hiding her crimes.
Chapter 24
Joshua spoke at lengths with the captain of the ship as they sailed north. The weather grew colder and Sarah stood on deck watching the land slowly pass by in her inappropriate attire. Joshua's coat was large and most of her was amply covered, but her calves did draw the attention of the sailors. She was too drained to care.
He acted unfamiliar with her now, having returned to an even more polite deference than before. She wasn't sure what she had expected, not that she really had expected anything at all, but ignoring their familiarity wasn't it. He refused to look at her and it hurt. Was he ashamed of her? Disgusted that she would let herself be used that way?
In the heat of the moment, it had seemed so right—natural—but in the cold light of day, such intimacies were shocking. Perhaps that was it: he was shocked.
This pressing sadness only added to the discomfort she felt about all those men who had lost their lives. People simply carried on. The captain took notes for his log and would report it, and it was neatly lamented as unfortunate, but that was where it ended. They'd just left—had been rescued and sailed away.
In her mind, it felt as if people should come from all around and attempt to do something, respond with the seriousness she felt the incident deserved, but they just lamented and left. All those men, hidden by the water, just left behind, along with the cargo, the ship and everything else. It felt as if something should have been recovered, but it hadn't been.
In every way, Sarah felt bad. She didn't know what the state of her relationship was with this pirate. Had things changed? In her mind, they had. Perhaps in her heart, they had, too.
She understood his caution. There was almost a haunted expression in his eyes. They had done something they weren't supposed to do and in the throes of a wild storm, it might have seemed natural—now it didn't. It didn't stop that craving in her lips, to kiss his warm skin, to feel him kiss her back. Her stomach lurched sharply, almost making her knees give.
What had she expected, really? That he would throw away everything, claim her as his and they'd run off? Bringing her to England was the ticket to his redemption, something he'd pined for during his entire exile. Her professing that he should forego his dreams and desires because of an urgent coupling in a distant marsh was ridiculous. She understood this. It was never meant to be, and thinking otherwise was foolish.
*
In the distance, Sarah saw ships, which meant they were nearing Boston. She couldn't quite see the township yet, but they were steadily sailing closer. Ships were sailing away and sailing to, signifying the hub of commerce that Boston represented. It traded goods with the Caribbean and with England. There were also what Sarah assumed were naval ships, in port to guard against the French.
In a way, she was excited about arriving, seeing this town she had heard about but never visited. She knew an English governor had been sent, wresting the control of the township away from the puritans. While Sarah had occasionally seen puritans, she didn't know any—was a part of the landed aristocracy puritans so despised. It was hard to imagine being despised by people who didn't know her, but her, and her family, stood for all the things these people rejected. Would she be unwelcome when they arrived, she wondered, but then looking down at her dress, she hardly looked like the daughter of an earl.
A sound was heard near her and she turned to see Joshua standing in his linen shirt, the material fluttering slightly with the breeze. "We will be arriving shortly," he said, his voice low and somber.
"I surmised."
He considered her for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but didn't know what. His coat kept her warm so he must be getting cold now. The air was distinctly chilly. As much as she wanted to offer his coat back, she couldn't—a chemise was hardly going to keep her warm enough, let alone the fact that it was madness standing on a ship full of sailors in a chemise. The puritans would certainly not welcome her then. They might even arrest her.
She smiled, feeling uncertain in his presence. He was so difficult to read. As she watched, his eyes sought out the township that was drawing nearer. "One step closer," he said.
For him, it was one step closer to home and his goals. She knew him well enough now to know what it represented to him. His heart ached for home. While she couldn't entirely say she felt the same, she understood what it was to be stuck in a situation and long for somewhere else. She enabled this return for him, enabled him to achieve his dreams. It felt a heavy responsibility. In a way, she'd threatened it by… seducing him. Was that what she'd done? Was she a seductress?
The idea sat blindingly in her mind. She hadn't been aware she could do something like that. She was a seductress. How about that? She should probably be ashamed. Seductresses were vile creatures. It was perhaps the idea that she could have some influence that stirred. In her life, she had precious little. Even on Isla Rosa, she had little power to influence anything other than her own reactions to the things that happened to her.
"We best get out of the way," he said as the men were preparing for arrival. A burst of activity culminated in men heaving ropes, shouting orders and swinging booms. Joshua guided her to stand in front of the door to the captain's quarters where they seemed to be out of the way. She heard the captain shouting orders on the quarterdeck above her.
As the sails dropped, the ship reduced speed and drifted closer. They were pulling in along a protruding jetty, where the ship would obviously unload the cargo.
"God's speed to you, Havencourt," the captain shouted as they started to disembark across extended planks.
Joshua did a quick bow, acknowledging his gratitude for rescue and conveyance.
"We must remain here for a few days," Joshua said to her as he took her elbow, leading her down the busy jetty. Horses and carts were everywhere, and cargo was being hoisted in nets into and out of ships. "I am sure the administration, as well as the navy, will want an account of the shipwreck."
"Will they ask me?"
"No, I don't think so. I can recount the events enough that they shouldn't have to."
Getting off the jetty, they walked into the township itself. It was brimming with life moving along dusty streets. Merchants and sellers lined the streets selling everything from farm implements to vegetables and meat. There was a tavern, as she had grown to expect wherever there were ships and sailors, but there were also schools and churches. Some of the buildings were finely constructed in stone, while most were wood. They walked by a building that looked a little more official, ‘the Governor for the Dominion of New England’, a sign said.
She saw puritans, many of them. This town seemed to be made up of a good proportion, but then that was hardly surprising. It had been a puritan town before the English had claimed their sovereignty over it. But she also saw gentlemen in finely dressed clothes, even ladies. She saw a woman in the style that had been the fashion during the last spring. She had obviously come from England quite recently. Sarah wondered who she was, but Joshua wasn’t interested in meeting anyone. He was searching for something.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"There is an inn. A finer one."
They kept walking, taking a turn at an intersection and walked farther. Sarah felt self-conscious as people noticed her attire. She felt their stares and she didn't dare wonder what they thought. She wanted to tell them it was a result of a shipwreck, quite the emergency. They would understand then, but now she was some strange woman ushered along in little more than barely covered undergarments.
"Here we are," he said and she looked up at a wooden building. The upper story seemed slightly larger than the lower and windows sat in a neat row along its length, with square panes set in white wooden lattices and there were flowers planted along the front of the building. It looked very ti
dy. "This is apparently where the more established families stay."
"Oh," she said. It did look modest, but very nice. The door was set a step down from ground level, painted green. Joshua entered and was greeted by a slim man, who Sarah could tell took time with his appearance. He wore a black wig with neat curls and a haughty expression. He was in no way related to the puritans that made up a good portion of this town. With soft manner, he assured Joshua that two rooms could be found. His gaze traveled to her and he looked down her disapprovingly. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to change his mind, but the gold coins Joshua held out seemed to win him over.
"We need a dress and a cloak for the lady. Something that is ready."
"Madame Johnstone would be your best bet. It is not the most fashionable, but it would do, in a pinch." Again, the man looked down her disapprovingly. He obviously had no idea the kind of gowns she normally wore—would probably bow and fawn profusely. Disapproval of her appearance was something that was new to Sarah, and she hadn't really understood that she would be judged by it. The finest dresses had simply been a constant in her life. Granted, in the Caribbean, she hadn't wanted to stand out and a drab dress suited that purpose fine.
The man led them up a narrow staircase, the wood creaking as they moved up, passing a window looking out over a back garden. It had been a while since she'd seen a garden. Pirates and the other outlaws that thrived in pirate havens were not all that interested in gardening.
In the dark corridor, the man stopped in front of a room. "Here is one, and the other is opposite." He stuck a heavy key in the lock and turned the handle. The door opened to a large room, where a four-poster bed sat in the middle. It had green velvet curtains. It wasn’t fine by the standards she was used to, but it was decent.
"A bath for the lady," Joshua said, handing more coins to the proprietor.
He looked dismayed for a moment, then smiled. "Of course. I'll see to it, right away." He left Joshua with the keys and walked away. He'd probably have an apoplectic fit if he learned she really was a true lady.
"I think he's worried we'll stain the furnishings," she said.
"He is unimportant," Joshua stated. Sarah considered him for a moment. In some ways, he wanted desperately to return to his true station, but in others, he cared not a bit what others thought. She didn't quite know how these things fit together. "I will find you a dress and enough warm clothes to keep you warm during this voyage," he said more quietly.
Her eyes sought his, and for a moment, she was caught there, before he tore himself away. Again, he pulled away from her. She saw a slight coloring in his cheeks. Was he embarrassed by her, by what they'd done?
Chapter 25
Joshua had found a good vessel heading to Southampton on which he had secured two cabins. It was a ship that was partially accommodating to passengers, hence a much more comfortable journey than any they'd experienced so far. Two cabins also kept a respectable distance between them, which was now important to ensure.
The closer they got to England, the more important it felt to deal with her with as much propriety as possible. She had to be incorporated back into her life and with the minimum of challenge to her reputation and virtue as possible. To help with this, he'd also hired a maid for her, who would travel back with her—a servant by the name of Mary, whose indenturement contract he'd purchased from the innkeeper.
The representatives of the admiralty had eyed him with suspicion as he’d recounted the events related to the grounding and subsequent sinking of the Arabel. He could see in their eyes there were some who wanted to arrest him on the spot, but they were also aware of the quest entrusted to him. It wasn't unnoted, he was sure, that he easily achieved what they could not do—be it courage or virtue.
It had still felt strange walking out of there. Those men had no sway over him now. They couldn't arrest him, and he was in no way subject to taking orders from them. He never would be again. Once his pardon was granted and he was ensconced in the estate he would buy, he would be a gentleman, and of higher standing than most of them. No doubt, many thought it unfair, but things were rarely fair. Mary could probably attest to that. He didn't know her story, but the fact she'd ended up as an indentured servant, away from family and friends, most likely showed some degree of woeful history.
Issues of fairness had never really struck him before his time in the Caribbean; lives and its various structures had been something he'd taken for granted. People might not be ecstatic with their lot in life, but there was always a structure—for just about everyone. But now he'd met men who railed against it, refusing to accept those structures, including those on the very bottom—those he'd stolen and sailed away with, so low as to not have a will of their own. This had made the whole system sit more uncomfortably than it had before.
He returned to the inn with a gown and a cloak for the girl. The gown was fine enough, pre-owned by someone who’d fallen on hard times and escaped to the colonies or had stolen it to fund their escape. As for the fashionability of it, he couldn't say.
There was an excitement in him as they drifted away from port on a misty morning. He was heading home. This had seemed such a distant dream, but in a matter of weeks, he would be back in his own country. He could hardly believe his own fortune. Madame Guerier crossed his mind and he saddened. She would probably never have the same opportunity, but then he suspected her circumstances in France were such that she would never choose to go back.
The mist lay in sways across the cold, gray water. Boston disappeared in mere minutes, hidden by the mist that obscured everything.
"Dismal day," he heard the girl's light voice behind him and he turned.
"A good day for a departure. Are you finding your cabin sufficiently comfortable?"
"It has every comfort I could ask for."
Her hair was done in a more elaborate style than he'd seen before, glossy curls her hair did not form on its own. The russet-colored silk gown was a fairly good fit. She looked more the lady now, her face framed by layered hair and lace around her neckline. The bodice ended in a deep V and the skirt flared around her hips. She looked so different dressed like this.
There were other passengers on the ship, and in their company, looking like this, Sarah Lancaster had reclaimed her station. She even moved with more grace and gravitas.
"Thank you for the books," she said with a smile.
He'd bought them on an impulse, worried she would be bored on the long voyage across the Atlantic. "I thought a bit of distraction would be helpful." He'd actually taken some care, considering what kind of books she would enjoy reading, drawing from everything he knew about her. Not that there was a great deal of choice in the general merchant he'd visited. He'd ended up with two plays, which were the pick of the selection available.
It looked as if there was something else she wanted to say, but she couldn't find the words, so instead, she looked down and then away.
"I hope the cloak is warm enough."
"It is lovely, thank you. I don't feel quite so bedraggled now."
"I suppose the trip so far has been more eventful than we'd wanted, so I apologize for that."
"Will you apologize for the weather as well?" She looked up at him again and he was sure she was teasing him.
"I will apologize for its refusal to comply with my edicts," he replied dryly. "All round bad form."
"Do you aim to be the lord of everything around you?"
"I am a pirate. We are all powerful, but now that I have given up my crown, Poseidon no longer smiles on me."
"Perhaps we should worry about this leg of the trip as well. You might be viewed as cursed by all seafarers now that you have garnered Poseidon's wrath."
"It might be Calypso whose displeasure I have amassed."
"If she captured you like she did Odysseus, then she let you go much too quickly."
Did she? he wanted to say, looking down at her. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy. In this dull weather, she was a glowing
beacon of beauty. The only thing his eyes seemed to settle on. Perhaps there are other ways of being captured, he thought. A tight smile ghosted across his lips. "I am sure she is satisfied with the punishment she has inflicted."
"Let's hope so. Else I will have to start wondering if the fates are trying to stop my return to England."
"England misses you dearly, I am sure."
*
Supper was a more formal affair. This ship, the Bishop's Call, had a dining room and they were served supper on fine bone china. Joshua was aware that his clothes were a little on the inelegant side and his hair too unruly to be respectable. He had grown unaccustomed to the more refined grooming requirements.
The captain wore a white wig and a heavy dark-green coat. A small fringe of lace protruded from his cuffs. He had a large nose and a ruddy face, and he liked his claret, pouring himself several cups.
The meal was a pork roast and the meat was sweet from its freshness. It would get more salty further into the voyage. Bright green apples sat in a bowl and Joshua claimed one, savoring the flavor that tasted of autumn. Images of mist and colored trees around the family estate lingered in his mind, mud hard from frost and the condensing breath of horses shooting out like plumes.
"Shropshire, you say?" the captain asked, referring to his family's estate.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"Nice part of the country. Haven't been myself, but so I hear. Cornwall was where I started, and where I'll probably end up again once I've quelled this restless spirit in me."
The captain's issue resonated with him as well. Joshua had been a mere youth when he'd taken his commission, longings for adventure firing his soul as he left his home behind. Would giving up the sea be possible for men like them? Would he pine for it? He wasn't sure. He'd pined for his home and his position within English society, as well as aching for the memories of his family and his childhood.
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