The Captain's Kidnapped Beauty

by Mary Nichols

  ‘No, sir, but I reckon the captain don’ know any more than he said.’ The answer was given in a whisper.

  ‘I thought not. Are any of the kidnappers on board?’

  ‘Only one, name of Grosswaite, but he’s sick as a dog and won’t leave his bed.’

  Alex saw Lieutenant Miller approaching them. ‘Get back to work,’ he said loudly for the lieutenant’s benefit. ‘And be a little quicker next time or you’ll find yourself on extra duties.’

  Davy knuckled his fist to his forehead and hurried away.

  ‘You’re too soft with them,’ Miller told him. ‘They’ll take advantage.’

  ‘I don’t believe in driving the men too hard, Lieutenant. Fit, contented men will work with a will when they are needed in a crisis.’

  ‘You can put those theories into practice when you become a captain, if you ever do. You’re a mite old still to be a lieutenant.’

  ‘I am content as I am.’

  ‘Then go about your business.’

  ‘Am I to be responsible for Miss Gilpin?’

  ‘If you feel like acting the lady’s maid, then do so. It’s not a task I’d want.’

  Alex smiled at that. The man could not know what had just transpired in Charlotte’s cabin and it was as well he did not. ‘Why hasn’t she come on board with a maid? Seems strange to me. She’s obviously a lady.’

  ‘How should I know? I only obey orders.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘You might as well begin now for there she is. She don’t make much of a midshipman, I must say.’

  Alex swung round to see Charlotte dressed in trousers, shirt and short jacket emerging from the companionway on to the deck. He caught his breath at the sight of her. The loose clothes seemed somehow to emphasise her femininity, not detract from it, especially as she had been unable to dress her hair and it fell about her face in a tangle of curls.

  Alex started towards her with the first lieutenant’s laughter in his ears. ‘You make sure and keep the lads away from her. We don’t want to deliver damaged goods.’

  Alex bowed to Charlotte, which she acknowledged with a slight bending of her head, both determined to be formal and put the episode in the cabin behind them, she because she was dreadfully embarrassed about it, he because he had been unnerved by it. And that puzzled him. He was breaking his own rules about how he treated the female of the species, but she was not simply another female, she was special. The realisation took him by surprise.

  ‘Is it permissible to come on deck, Lieutenant?’ she asked him. ‘I feel the need of fresh air.’

  ‘Of course, but I think you should be accompanied. The men are a rough lot.’ He turned to walk beside her.

  ‘How far have we come? Are we out of the Thames? I cannot see land any more.’

  ‘We are in the mouth of the estuary, but will soon be out into the German Ocean and turning south towards the Channel.’

  ‘Is there any chance at all I shall be put ashore before we leave England behind?’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘What do you want with me?’

  ‘Me?’ he queried. ‘I want nothing from you, Miss Gilpin. I am simply here to obey my orders.’

  ‘Oh, so you are not my mysterious fiancé?’

  ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ He was genuinely astonished.

  She gave a cracked laugh. ‘I don’t know. Something about the way you treat me perhaps...’

  He knew she was referring to the episode in the cabin. ‘That won’t happen again,’ he said softly. ‘Not through me or anyone else on board this ship, you have my word on it.’

  ‘What I cannot understand is why I had to be abducted,’ she went on, unwilling to talk about that. ‘It is hardly the accepted manner of courtship.’

  ‘No, it is not and certainly not one I would have chosen.’

  ‘Oh. Are you married?’

  He smiled. ‘No. Sailors make poor husbands. They are never at home.’

  ‘I was not thinking of you, but the mystery man who claims to be betrothed to me,’ she said quickly.

  They were on safer ground now. ‘You truly do not know who it might be?’

  ‘I have no idea. I thought at first it might be Martin Grosswaite, but he is not subtle enough to dream up such a scheme. And he talked about the gaffer as if he were answering to a higher authority.’

  ‘Martin Grosswaite. I believe we have another passenger of that name.’

  ‘He is the man who paid my two kidnappers and brought me on board. He also pushed my father into the river. I thought Papa had drowned, but I have been assured he was rescued.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘One of the seamen. He seemed more sympathetic than most. He said he’d seen someone pull him out. I wondered if he had made the rescue himself.’

  ‘Perhaps he had,’ he said laconically. ‘Did he tell you his name?’

  ‘He said it was Davy Locke.’

  ‘I know him. You may trust him.’

  ‘But may I trust you, Lieutenant?’

  ‘You must make up your own mind about that.’

  ‘Ah, I am not sure that I do. Davy Locke told me a naval captain would never sign on as a mate on a merchant ship, so why are you on board?’

  He wanted to tell her the reason, but decided it would be unwise. While she was unsure of him, she would behave as was expected of her and not arouse suspicion. It would be time enough to tell her the truth when they were both safely out of danger. ‘I am a second mate, nothing more. A man has to earn a living somehow.’

  She decided not to challenge that. ‘Have you been detailed to be my protector?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But does that stretch to helping me to escape?’

  He laughed. ‘How can you escape from a ship under full sail? A dolphin, are you? Or a mermaid? You would make a very fetching mermaid, I think.’

  Her lips twitched in spite of the seriousness of the conversation. ‘No, I am a midshipman. Are midshipmen allowed ashore when the ship puts in for supplies?’

  ‘It depends on the captain. This one is not inclined to leniency and in any case it will not be for several weeks. You had best make the best of it until then, but for heaven’s sake don’t think up any harebrained schemes to free yourself. You will not succeed and will find yourself locked in your cabin until we reach Calcutta.’

  ‘I see. You are my jailer as well as my protector.’

  He bowed. ‘As you say.’

  They had reached the stern and stood silently looking out over the wake being left behind. He noticed the tears lying on her lashes, though she brushed them away. ‘Do not despair,’ he said softly.

  ‘I am not despairing, I am angry.’

  ‘With me?’

  ‘Yes, you are as bad as all the others, pretending to be Lieutenant Fox when I know perfectly well you are Captain Carstairs. Or perhaps Carstairs is the false name and you are really called Fox. If you are, you are well named, for a more sly character I have yet to meet. Even those two who kidnapped me did not pretend to be other than they were.’

  He let the insult go unanswered. When he had come aboard and the captain had asked him his name, he had caught sight of the ship’s figurehead and said the first thing that came into his head. It was particularly apt when he remembered he was the Marquis of Foxlees, something he had been inclined to forget this last two days. How long it would be before he returned to take up his responsibilities there? he wondered. A very long time, as things stood. ‘Who were they? Did you discover their names?’

  ‘Hector Ballard was one. The other was called Bert. I never heard his family name. They were the two who accosted me in Hyde Park and they were paid by Martin Grosswaite, who had been working at Gilpin’s for the previous two weeks.’

  He did not pick up
on her mention of Hyde Park, though he was tempted to say, I told you so. ‘And he was paid by someone he called “the gaffer”, is that right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you have no idea who the gaffer is?’

  ‘No. Have you?’

  ‘No, I have not.’ He made up his mind to question Grosswaite as soon as an opportunity arose. ‘Have you turned down any suitors recently who took the rejection badly?’

  ‘No. I have always tried to let them down gently, even when I knew their motives were purely greed.’ She sighed. ‘It is not always agreeable being rich.’

  ‘There are many who would not agree with you: the starving, orphans, desperate mothers, out-of-work sailors.’

  ‘I know. Including penniless gentlemen who live beyond their means and expect marriage to be the answer to their predicament.’

  ‘Have you come across many of those?’

  ‘Too many. Enough to put me off marriage for good.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really,’ she said firmly. ‘And do not say I will change my mind when I meet the right man. I have heard it all before.’

  ‘Then I won’t. Do you think your mystery fiancé is one of those fortune hunters?’

  ‘I don’t know. He had money enough to pay the kidnappers and pay my fare to India, it seems.’

  ‘Perhaps he did not. Perhaps he simply promised to pay them when they delivered you and you had agreed to marry him.’

  ‘That I will never do, you can be sure of that, Captain. Or Lieutenant. Which is it to be?’

  ‘Lieutenant, if you please.’ He was full of admiration for her pluck. Instead of going into hysterics or passions of weeping and wailing, she was calmly trying to rationalise her predicament.

  ‘Lieutenant, then. I will die rather than submit. I like my life as it is, or rather as it was, and somehow or other, I mean to return to it.’

  ‘Then I hope you do,’ he said.

  ‘I keep thinking of my father and wondering if he is well after his ducking; the Thames is full of all manner of noisome debris. I keep seeing images of him going under the water and not coming up. Do you think Mr Locke was right and he was rescued unhurt?’

  ‘Davy is usually right,’ he said.

  ‘I worry about him. Papa is an old man and I am his only child. I keep imagining how my disappearance must be affecting him. We have always been so close, especially since my mother and then my aunt died. If only there was a way to let him know I am alive and well.’

  ‘Perhaps when we make land you will be allowed to write to him.’

  ‘If you could arrange that, I would be most grateful.’

  ‘It will be up to the captain, but I will ask for you if you like.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘In the meantime I believe it is time for dinner. Allow me to escort you to the mess.’

  They turned and began walking again, back towards the bow on the windward side. The sea was rougher now and he took her hand and tucked it beneath his arm to steady her. His touch was almost enough to overset her, just when she was congratulating herself on her steady nerve. If she had not already been convinced that he was Captain Carstairs, that touch would have made her sure of it. It was enough to send shivers all down her body to the tips of her toes. What she could not understand was what he was doing on board. Did it have anything to do with her abduction? Was he part of the plot? She did not want to believe that, but what other reason could there be? She did not believe it was simply to earn a living. Humble lieutenants did not buy expensive carriages, especially if they had no intention of using them.

  The third mate and a couple of midshipmen, who were already in the mess, jumped to their feet on seeing her. She bade them be seated again and took her own seat. Alex left her to be served with pork chops and green beans by a steward and returned to the quarterdeck. He had not intended to deceive her over his identity; the false name had been adopted simply because Carstairs was too well known in the maritime world and he would never have been taken on as a second lieutenant. She knew who he really was, but not that he was there to rescue her and return her to her father. There was nothing he could do about that until they made land and in the meantime it was back to his duties as second mate.

  * * *

  It was the beginning of the routine of life aboard an East Indiaman. Charlotte’s own clothes were returned to her cabin cleaned and neatly folded, but she could not lace her stays without help and would not ask Alex to do it for her. She could not risk losing her self-control all over again. Besides, the midshipman’s clothes were comfortable and far more practical than her own when she was walking about the deck. If Alex noticed what she was wearing, he did not comment. Whenever he was free of shipboard duties, he would accompany her on her perambulation. He gave her a tour of the ship and explained about masts, shrouds and ratlines, topsails, gallants and jibs, and told her about the hierarchy of the crew and the part played by each member.

  ‘But if it is a merchant ship, why does it have so many guns?’ she asked.

  ‘Because of pirates, Miss Gilpin. The cargo is more often than not very valuable and includes gold coin with which to do business. We have to be able to defend ourselves. Besides, until recently, we were at war with France and they would think nothing of seizing an unarmed vessel. They still would, notwithstanding the cessation of hostilities.’

  He went on to speak of the East India Company and the vast trade it did not only with India, but China, too, and the rivalry of other countries, like France and Holland, which resulted in battles, both on land and on the ocean. He talked about his childhhod at Briarcroft and his parents, his time in the navy and his part in the war with the French. Not once did he deviate from his insistence on being Lieutenant Fox and though she did not know the reason for it, she always addressed him as Lieutenant. In turn she told him about her beloved aunt who had brought her up, about the broad education her father had provided for her and his hopes for her future, and about the coachmaking business and her plans for it.

  ‘I think building a ship must be something like building a carriage,’ she said, looking round at the vessel. ‘On a much larger scale, of course. It uses the same materials, wood and cloth, glass, paint and varnish, and the same skills are needed to construct it.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you are right. I have never thought of it. Do you think you could build a ship?’

  She laughed. ‘No, of course not, I would not be so presumptuous as to claim that.’

  ‘But you could build a coach?’

  ‘I could direct its manufacture and I can do some of the processes, like the decoration and the needlework. Papa...’ She choked on his name as her situation was borne home to her. ‘Papa let me practise on the smaller vehicles. I keep thinking of all the jobs we had on hand and wondering how he is managing without me and if Joe Smithson has recovered from his fall and is back at work. Papa will need all hands if I am not there.’

  ‘No doubt he can hire help, but I imagine the business is the last thing on his mind while you are lost to him.’

  ‘But I hope he does not neglect it on account of me. He worked so hard to build it up. When I was growing up he would be down at the Long Acre premises long into the night working after all the men had gone home to their beds. My aunt was never sure if he would be home for his supper or not. I think he missed my mother and being busy helped. I spent many hours there myself when my aunt wanted a rest from my childish pranks.’

  ‘You a prankster?’ He laughed. ‘I do not believe it.’

  ‘Oh, I managed to get into as much mischief as any boy,’ she told him. ‘I think Papa was sorry I was not a boy and indulged me to my aunt’s despair.’

  ‘I can imagine that,’ he said. ‘Whatever the rights and wrongs of that, it has made you brave as a lion.’

  ‘Until no
w I have never had anything to be afraid of.’

  ‘You are afraid now?’

  ‘A little because this is all so strange to me and the further we go, the further I am from all I hold dear, and I do not know how it will end.’

  ‘We none of us know that,’ he said softly.

  ‘No.’ If she had been free and going on this voyage of her own will and Papa had condoned it, she would have enjoyed it. If Alex had really been her fiancé and not her jailer, she would have delighted in his company. He was knowledgeable and entertaining and, like her, had a wry sense of humour. He also had a fine singing voice, she discovered, when the off-duty sailors sang and played pipes and violins to entertain themselves. She was only too aware that, but for him, her situation would have been a hundred times worse. She had seen some of the crew eyeing her up and down appreciatively and was grateful for his escort. When he was on watch and unable to be with her he made sure Davy Locke was close at hand.

  The passage round the south-east coast of England and into the Channel was choppy, but she was not sick until, several days later, they reached the Atlantic Ocean and turned south into the Bay of Biscay. It lived up to its reputation with gales and mountainous seas and every man on board was needed to man the ship. Charlotte, who had been boasting she was never sick, succumbed and took to her cot where she lay in misery, her stomach heaving while the ship bucked and tossed like an infuriated horse. She could calm a horse, but this creaking wooden prison was at the mercy of an untameable sea. She did not care what happened to her, if only it would stop. Someone came and bathed her face, took away the stinking chamber pot and brought fresh water for her to drink, holding her head up and putting the cup to her lips, but she was only half-aware of these ministrations and thought it was Barbara.

  * * *