Quint couldn’t stand to be confined to the cabin alone, so he found his way to the deck and silently watched the blue skies, the fascinating ocean—and Lily.
He wouldn’t dare to approach her while she was working, even by putting his arm around her while they stood together on deck. She had to have worked hard to get these sailors to accept her not as a woman, but as their captain, and Quint didn’t want to undermine that respect. And he didn’t think Lily would appreciate it.
Much of the time he found himself standing alone on deck, but on occasion Lily slipped away and joined him at the rail to look out over the ocean and comment on its beauty. She truly loved the sea. He could see it in her eyes and her smile, in the way she accepted the salty spray on her face as if it were a gift of the finest perfume.
But he could tell that she was also careful to keep her distance from him when the others were watching. Only in the privacy of her cabin did she feel free to touch him. In spite of her blatantly unconventional behavior, in spite of the lack of inhibition she displayed when they were alone, Lily had her own strict moral code. She wouldn’t have her crew watch as she displayed her emotions, not even her affection for Quint.
Quint was watching her as she took the wheel from Cyril. It didn’t matter that she was captain. She was definitely a woman. She had a slender shape, but her hips swelled slightly, and even the thick, baggy shirt she wore couldn’t hide the curve of her breasts. It was no wonder that she had that light sprinkling of freckles, and brown hands, and golden highlights in her dark blond hair. All from her time spent at sea.
Tommy slipped into his line of vision—deliberately, Quint could tell by the scowl on the older man’s face. He stood not three feet away, and his eyes glinted with a murderous rage.
“Good afternoon, Tommy,” Quint said cordially. He didn’t want to get into a fight with Lily’s uncle, her first mate.
Tommy grunted. “I’ve got my eye on you. Slip up just once. Please.”
“You love her, don’t you?” Quint asked, knowing that if there was to be anything for him and Lily, he would have to make his peace with Tommy and Cora.
A puzzled expression flashed across Tommy’s face. “Like she was me own daughter.” He turned angry again. “There’s not a man on this ship who wouldn’t kill or die for Lily.” He lowered his voice. “You’d best remember that.”
Quint had noticed the way the young crew treated her, with deference and a kind of awe. “Why? How? I mean… it doesn’t make any sense.”
Tommy grinned, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “See them two lads behind you?” Quint turned his head and saw two young men working together, their fair heads practically shining in the sun, their young muscles easily accepting the task at hand. “Eddie and Gilbert Farmer. Brothers. When Lily found ’em, they were damn near starvin’ to death on the Liverpool docks. She fed ’em, gave ’em a warm place to sleep, and offered ’em well-payin’ jobs.”
Quint frowned, primarily at the thought of Lily picking up stray boys off the docks of Liverpool.
“Simon?” Tommy continued. “The lad who brought you to Lily’s cabin? ’E tried to rob ’er, a poor defenseless woman alone at night.” He laughed. “Next thing ’e knew, ’e was in the street on ’is backside, and Lily was offerin’ ’er ’and to ’elp ’im up.”
“She…. ” Quint still had a difficult time picturing that scene. “She threw him to the ground?”
Tommy nodded, apparently happy with Quint’s discomfort. “Aye. O’ course, ’e was three inches shorter and at least two stone lighter at the time.”
“They can’t all be…. ” Quint hesitated.
“Liverpool dock rats?” Tommy supplied. “No, not all. But many o’ them are. Without Lily, their families might be starvin’. Then there’s those like Reggie Smythe. ’Er chief engineer. Fine man, years o’ experience. ’E was drinkin’ ’imself to an early grave over ’is wife and baby’s deaths. Lily made ’im stand on ’is own feet and take a good look at ’imself.
Quint craned his neck so he could see Lily over Tommy’s shoulder. “I guess I’ll never understand.” Lily turned to look at him then, as if she’d known he was watching her, and she gave him a small smile. Just for him. Cyril joined her and she relinquished the wheel, stepping quickly to join Quint and Tommy.
“What are you two talking about?” she asked briskly. She was smiling, but she looked from Quint to her uncle with suspicious eyes. “I run a tidy ship,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t allow the crew to fight while we’re at sea, and I can’t allow it from the two of you.”
“We were just having a… a friendly discussion,” Quint said, though “friendly” was a stretch.
“Mr. Tyler can’t understand why the crew doesn’t mutiny, you bein’ a woman an’ all,” Tommy said seriously.
“That’s not exactly —” Quint began.
Lily smiled smugly as she interrupted him. “Is that so? Perhaps I should show Quint how I keep the lads in line. How I teach them who’s in charge.” Her grin was frightening. She was up to something.
Tommy drew his thick brows together. “I don’t think that’s such —”
“Roger’s in the engine room,” Lily said, glancing at Tommy. “He smarted off at me this morning. Perhaps I should teach him a lesson.”
“It’s not necessary —” Tommy began.
“Roger,” Lily ordered. “Now.”
She turned her head and nodded to Simon, who watched the scene and listened closely. Quint tried to picture Lily throwing the healthy young man to the ground, and could not. He tried to picture Simon as a thin, under-nourished boy, and that made the scene more believable. But still incredible.
Simon disappeared below to fetch Roger, and Tommy headed toward Lily’s cabin. Quint noticed that those of the crew who could, crowded around, whispering in small groups and forming a large circle on the deck. At least they seemed to know what to expect. Quint leaned toward Lily.
“What’s going on?”
Lily appeared to be composed, but a smile lit her face and her eyes. “You’re going to see what happens to men who defy me. It’s only fair, after all.”
A surly young man climbed from the engine room, sweat pouring from his face, his curly dark hair clinging to his forehead. It looked as if he’d put on a clean shirt specifically for his rise to the deck, because it was the only thing about him that was clean. His trousers and boots were sooty, as was every inch of exposed skin. Especially his face.
“You wanted me, Cap’n?” He presented himself before Lily with a defiant stance, legs braced apart.
“You made an insubordinate comment to me this morning, Roger. I thought I’d give you this opportunity to apologize.”
Roger spat on the deck. “I stand by what I said, Cap’n. I’d as soon serve under a monkey as a woman.” The man’s cockney accent was so thick that Quint had trouble understanding him.
“You know what this means, don’t you, Roger?” Lily asked darkly.
Roger gave her a curt and insolent bow, and when he pulled his hand from behind his back there was a wicked-looking knife in it. Tommy had to restrain Quint with one strong hand, while with the other he tossed the saber Quint had seen hanging in the cabin through the air, the sun catching the metal blade and flashing before his eyes.
Lily reached out her hand and snatched the blade from the air, almost without looking at it. She didn’t smile, but Quint could tell that the situation amused her, for some reason he couldn’t fathom.
Her eyes were on Roger. The sweaty seaman feinted, then lunged forward. Lily stepped aside and Roger stumbled, catching his balance an instant before he fell headlong into the sailors who formed the circle that surrounded them.
Quint turned to Tommy. “Don’t you have a weapon?”
“Aye, but Lily will kill me if I use it.” Tommy appeared to be more aggravated than upset, and he maintained that iron grip on Quint’s arm. Quint searched the crowd. Several members of the crew were grinning, and a few even looked
bored. He relaxed, but Tommy didn’t release him.
Lily wielded the saber as if it weighed nothing, and Quint remembered the taut muscles in her arms. She would have no trouble lifting and parrying with the weapon, but could she actually stab someone?
As she watched, Lily seemed to toy with the rapidly tiring sailor, and she handled the saber as if it were an extension of her arm. She was light on her feet, moving away from Roger’s knife without effort, once stepping on the lower rail, her back to the ocean, and gliding quickly to the other side of the belligerent crewman.
“Do you still say a woman can’t be your captain?” she asked, not even breathless with her efforts.
“Aye,” Roger replied hoarsely. “To the death!”
Their swordplay intensified, Lily clearly having the advantage. Her saber was much longer than Roger’s knife, and he was tiring quickly. But he didn’t give up.
Then Lily pointed the sharp tip of her saber at Roger’s side. “Yield, sailor,” she commanded.
Roger gave her a scowl of pure hatred. “Never.” And then he fell on the saber. His white shirt was quickly streaked with red, sticky blood, and Lily glanced down at the motionless sailor, apparently unconcerned.
“Bloody hell,” she muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. “Somebody clean up this mess.”
Quint pulled away from Tommy as a few members of the crew bent over Roger, and he ran to Lily, grabbing her by the shoulders. “For God’s sake,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’ve killed him.”
“It would appear so.” Lily smiled, barely lifting the corners of her mouth. “Now do you see why my men follow me?” She handed the stained saber to Tommy, and he took it with a snort of disgust.
“I never doubted…. ”
“Never?” She lifted her eyebrows.
“Lily…. ”
Her eyes softened, and her grin widened. For a moment, Quint thought he had fallen in love with a woman who was quite insane. Then she spoke. “You can get up now, Roger,” she said, never taking her eyes from Quint.
Roger rose and turned to the crowd with an exaggerated bow. A small smattering of applause broke out before the crewmen returned to their duties. When Roger came to stand beside his captain, a great smile spread across his sooty face.
“That was a good one, eh?” He was slightly breathless, and his face was flushed.
Quint looked down at the “bloodstain” and reached out to touch the sticky substance on the man’s shirt.
“Crushed berries and syrup in an oilskin bag,” Lily explained, that satisfied grin still lighting her face.
Quint turned his furious countenance to her. “That’s not funny, Lily.” He was seething. He had seen enough real death in his lifetime. “Goddammit, it wasn’t funny.”
Roger removed the sticky shirt to reveal a sooty chest and arms, and he was unstrapping the deflated oilskin bag from his side as he slipped quietly away.
“At least Roger dies like ’e should,” Tommy added. “Lily carries on in an awful way, makes such a fuss —”
“You mean to tell me you’ve been on the receiving end of that charade?” Quint shouted at Lily, not caring who heard. “You could have been killed. You will never —”
Lilt silenced him with a stare. “Don’t tell me what I’ll never do,” she said in a whisper. “It was just a… an exercise I dreamed up when Tommy and I were teaching the lads to fence. It holds their attention, and has been known to frighten one or two of the newer crewmen. They need entertainment, you know.”
“Entertainment,” Quint muttered. “I was worried.” His voice was so soft no one could hear him but Lily. “And it wasn’t funny!” he added more loudly.
Tommy snorted. “That’s one thing we agree on, mate.”
Quint turned to the older man, who was suddenly and unexpectedly an ally. “It wasn’t funny.”
Lily followed him into the hold, her musical voice drifting down. “Yes it was.”
There was a sliver of a moon, and not as much fog as Lily would have liked, though there was a heavy bank ahead of them as they approached the mouth of the Cape Fear River. As always, the crew was hushed, and Lily’s heart was pounding as if it might burst from her chest. There was a significant difference on this approach. Quint was beside her, ignoring her pleas to stay below. She couldn’t blame him. She never would have been able to confine herself to the dark cabin as they slipped past the Union patrol.
The patrol was tighter than it had been in the past, the Union ships thick. Lily wouldn’t rest until the Chameleon was safe in the channel where the Union ships, with their deeper draw, would be unable to follow, and she and her crew would be under the protection of the guns of Fort Fisher.
A Union ship on the port side spotted the Chameleon first and fired a warning shot across the bow. Lily knew that they would much prefer to take the Chameleon intact, but would sink her if that was not possible. She couldn’t imagine handing the weapons and ammunition in her cargo hold over to the Yankees, to be used against Southern soldiers and civilians.
“Captain!” A shout went up. There was no longer any reason to remain silent, as a second shot was fired.
There were no guns built into the Chameleon. She was not a warship, and as such her crew would be able to return home in a few weeks if they were captured. There weren’t even any pistols, except for the ancient cap-and-ball gun that belonged to Tommy. Lily’s saber was the most lethal weapon on board.
Another shot was fired, this time from the starboard side, missing the Chameleon by mere feet. Their only chance was to outrun the two ships, and with a little luck they could. The Chameleon was fast and low in the water. Lily set her sights dead ahead.
There, her bulk emerging from the fog like a wraith, was a third Union patrol ship, and Lily cursed loudly. She wouldn’t risk the lives of her crew by attempting the impossible, not for silks and whiskey, or even for the rifles and gunpowder she carried. Lily ran across the deck, Quint at her heels.
“Run up the white flag!” she shouted over the din of yet another shot. This one rocked the Chameleon, and Lily steadied herself with her feet planted far apart. Cyril was still at the wheel, calmer than most. But a harried bunch of boys, her crew, looked to her wide-eyed.
“We’ve talked about this before,” she said with no trace of fear in her voice. “You all know what to do. Bloody hell, I’m sorry, boys. Bad luck, that’s all it is.” Lily turned away from them and disappeared down the hatch.
Quint tried to follow her, knowing that she had to be up to something. In spite of her fearless stance, he had seen a gleam in her eyes that frightened him. Tommy grabbed Quint’s arm and pulled him back.
“Leave ’er be,” Tommy barked. “If you get in ’er way, you’ll ruin everythin’.”
Tommy’s voice was so anxious that Quint decided to do as he said, and he waited on deck near to where Lily would emerge. The Union patrol was drawing closer and would be boarding in a matter of minutes. Their attack had ceased, and Lily’s crew was hushed. The strained silence gave the night a momentary unreal stillness. Lily’s short speech had calmed the crew, though they were visibly nervous as they waited for the Union Navy to descend upon them.
Lily was on deck moments later, and Quint could only marvel at the quick transformation. She was Lily Radford, refined lady, once again. She wore an atrocious bright pink dress with satin roses down the front and around the hem, its high neck and long puffy sleeves covering every inch of her skin. Her hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and there were simple white gloves covering her hands. Once on deck, she smiled at Quint dazzlingly, and he realized that she either didn’t comprehend or didn’t care that she had placed herself in danger. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to shake her. But there was time for neither.
“Follow my lead, Quint,” she said curtly, and she turned to face the officers who were boarding her ship. She didn’t move forward, but maintained a regal stance, waiting for them to approach her. She breathed a low curse as her crew was handled roughl
y. They weren’t actually hurt, though, and no emotion showed on her face.
It wasn’t long before an officer made his way to them, and Lily placed that vacant smile on her face, the one she’d once fooled Quint with.
Another officer was questioning members of the crew as they were herded onto the Union ship, and Union sailors were taking their places on the Chameleon.
“Good evenin’, sir,” Lily drawled, stepping between the officer and Quint before Quint grabbed her arm and pulled her back to his side. “My, isn’t this excitin’? I hope my brother and I aren’t in too much trouble. We were just so anxious to get to Wilmington, and this seemed to be the only way. I just thought my little ol’ heart was goin’ to burst when that other boat shot at us.” She spoke fast and wrung her hands in excitement.
“You’re in no trouble, ma’am,” the officer said in a calm voice. “But I would appreciate it if you could point out the captain of this ship. A Captain Sherwood, I believe?” Evidently, none of the crew was willing to identify Lily as their captain, and the Union officer looked expectantly to the civilians.
“Elliot?” Lily turned to Quint and screwed her lips in a pout. “Did you see Captain Sherwood? I heard a loud splash a few moments ago. You don’t think he might have deserted us, do you? Left us at the mercy of the Yankees?” She looked as if she might cry at the very thought.
The officer turned his attention to Quint, dismissing Lily’s lament that she had been abandoned. “Have you seen Captain Sherwood, sir?”
Quint shook his head, and was glad that he could say, truthfully, that he had not. Once they were in custody and he was alone with an officer, he would identify himself. But not in front of Lily. He didn’t want her to learn the truth that way. He would tell her when they were alone.
“Excuse me, sir?” Lily plucked at the officer’s sleeve. She seemed determined to keep his attention away from Quint. “We haven’t properly introduced ourselves. My name is Lily Radford, and this is my brother Elliot. Will my brother and I be remaining on this boat, or will we be moved to that other one?”
In Enemy Hands Page 13
