Miss Ridgeway's Privateer

by Michele McGrath

  She was shivering as she dressed; hoping she would have the courage to do what she had to do. If she tried to send a servant, they would quite rightly refuse such a clandestine errand and betray her to her grandmother. Lucy had never been out alone at night and she had heard that unpleasant things could happen. Nevertheless she must go. She was fumbling with nervousness but she finished at last. She eased open the door of her room and looked out into the corridor. It was empty. She crept along and down the stairs, avoiding the fifth tread which squeaked. The door was locked and bolted but the key was in the lock and clicked when she turned it. The bottom bolt was easy too but she had to stand on tiptoes to reach the upper one. It was stiff and it took her an age to draw it. She managed it eventually, went out and pulled the door closed behind her. It would have to be left unlocked but that could not be helped. Everything was dark. No moon shone and only a few candles in windows or lantern hanging in doorways lit the gloom. A cold wind blew straight into her face and chilled her to the bone. Lucy hugged her pelisse around her and wished she had brought something warmer.

  It’s not far; I’ll soon be there, she chanted to herself. At least he had told her where he was staying. She had looked for the place on her walks around the area with Nell. A large dog barked at her. The shadow of a stranger almost frightened her to death, so she hid herself in a doorway and he passed her by. Bushes waving in the wind in the square seemed to be reaching out to her with skeleton fingers. She was gasping with fright when she got to his door. It was closed, of course, locked up for the night. Lucy hammered at it with her fists until she saw a light in one of the windows. It was thrust up and an angry voice yelled,

  “What do you want? Waking the house like this!”

  “Mr. Anselm. I have to see Mr. Anselm. It’s urgent.” She heard another window being raised and a head peered out.

  “What does a doxy like you want with him?”

  “Lucy?”

  “Patrick?”

  “You’re speaking to my sister, Coombes. Our mother must have taken a turn for the worst. Let her in at once.”

  Footsteps sounded but the door was opened by O’Rourke himself. He drew her into the house as a man in a nightshirt and hastily donned breeches came out of a room holding a candle. A frowsy looking woman stood behind him.

  “Don’t let that whore in here, William. I don’t want her under my roof,” she said.

  “Call my sister anything like that again either of you and you’ll wish you hadn’t.” O’Rourke took a step towards the man who shuffled backwards. Then he caught Lucy’s arm and pushed her in front of him up the stairs.

  “Where are you taking her? I won’t have any goings on in here.”

  O’Rourke ignored her, taking Lucy to a first floor room and closing the door behind him.

  “What is it?” he hissed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Anselm’s in Dublin. The real Mr. Anselm. You’ve got to go at once before anyone comes to find you.”

  “Has he indeed? A plague on the fellow. Have you left your grandmother’s house in the dark just to warn me about him?”

  “I don’t want you hanged.”

  He gripped her up in his arms and placed a fierce kiss on her lips.

  “I won’t be,” he replied as he let her go, “now I’m warned, but what can I do with you?”

  “I left the door unlocked,” she told him, “so I should be able to sneak back into Grandmama’s house. What are you doing?”

  He was on his hands and knees in a corner of the room where there was a hole in the floorboards.

  “Packing,” he said as he drew out a pistol and his sword. “Clergymen don’t wear swords and the landlord’s nosy.” In a very short time he was dressed, with his sword strapped on and his pistol in his belt. He slung a small pack on his back and opened the door.

  “Come. Don’t say anything to the fine couple downstairs and keep your face turned away from them.”

  She did as she was bid but the Coombes made no attempt to stop them once O’Rourke threw a handful of coins on the floor. They were too busy scrambling around trying to pick them up. Lucy and O’Rourke hurried back to the house in Lower Hatch Street. When they came around the corner, lights could be seen in most of the windows and a servant stood on the pavement looking in the opposite direction. O’Rourke pulled Lucy out of his sight.

  “Your absence has been discovered,” he said, “and they are searching for you.”

  “You must get away. Leave me here. Once you’re gone I’ll go in. I’m safe now.”

  “You haven’t thought. They’ll want to know where you went and what can you tell them? You went to warn me about Anselm? They’ll find out soon enough that you deceived everyone by vouching for me.”

  “I have thought all evening about it. We agreed on the story I was to tell. Even if they find out it’s a lie, they won’t hang me. Leave me and go.”

  “No. You can’t go back there for a while at least. A young girl going out alone in the night is unheard of. They’ll badger you to make you talk and even if you don’t, there’ll be trouble. You’ve not known them long enough for them to accept your excuses without question. People like them don’t want scandal. We need time to decide what to do. There’s only one place in this city where you’ll be safe and we can be sure to find help. Come with me.”

  He hurried her down the street and several others, some she had never been to before. She lost her bearings but he did not slacken pace, saying when she asked,

  “It’ll soon be light. I don’t want anyone to see us together.”

  Shortly afterwards he plunged into an alleyway and started to count the houses which loomed against the sky.

  “This is it.” He put his shoulder to a rickety gate and shoved. It gave a tremendous creak. Inside was a cobbled yard. He lifted a brick in one of the walls and pulled out a key which opened the back door of the house.

  “It’s not as grand as you’re used to but…”

  “Who’s there?” A dim figure loomed over the banisters an upright poker held in his hand.

  O’Rourke laughed and called out, “The bad penny, Uncle, turned up to plague you once again.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Later, as they sat before a freshly-kindled fire in the small parlour O’Rourke and Lucy told their tales. John Reilly, O’Rourke’s uncle, kept perfect silence during the recital although his wife, Sarah, gasped and tut-tutted from time to time.

  “I never expected when I sent you away from Ireland, that you would get yourself into such a mess,” John said when they had finished. “I might have known. You take after your father, he was always in trouble when he was young.”

  “Can you help us, Uncle?” O’Rourke asked, looking to Lucy’s eyes like a schoolboy caught in mischief. “You know the law, what would you advise us to do?”

  “Of course I will, but we must consider what is to be done before we act.” John paused and he peered into the flames. “You’ve been so long away that your whole appearance has changed, not just your hair. I didn’t recognise you immediately. If you hadn’t chosen to be a privateer, it might have been possible for you to remain in Ireland under another name, but not now. Piracy carries the death penalty. This man in Dublin can bear witness you were an officer on a French ship, which is treason. Even if I could find a way around the earlier charge of conspiracy which lay against you when you left here, piracy alone would seal your fate. As for this young lady…” he looked at her. “You’re not of age but you could still be charged with aiding and abetting a felon. Anselm would say that you knew exactly who my nephew was, yet you helped him to pass himself off as your fellow prisoner.”

  “It would be his word against mine, surely?”

  “You wouldn’t be believed. You’re a female and he’s a man of the cloth. Your youth will only protect you so far. From what you’ve told me, it could be argued that you’re under my nephew’s influence so much that you have lost your mind. One of the kindest outcomes would be for
your family to bring you back to Kinsale and keep you under lock and key until you have recovered. They would not be the first family in Ireland to confine a relative if they had brought shame on their name. This could last for months or years. Is that what you want?”

  “No!” Lucy and O’Rourke spoke together, looking at each other in horror.

  “They wouldn’t, would they, Uncle? Lucy has done no harm to anyone.”

  “You asked me what the law would say and I tell you that Lucy is not innocent. At the very least, she has practised criminal deception. Would you like her to be locked up either in her family’s home or an asylum or a gaol?”

  “Of course not.”

  “The only solution is for both of them to vanish,” Aunt Sarah spoke for the first time. “They must leave Ireland as soon as possible.”

  “I was going to Belfast on the stage coach tomorrow and then taking a ship to America.”

  “You can’t go by the stage now,” John warned. “If Anselm has told his tale, then they will be looking for you. If you are correct and Lucy’s absence has been discovered, they are searching for her too. No, you must wait for a while until I can arrange your escape.” He turned to his wife. “Sarah, hide them in the cellar. The maid will be up soon and they mustn’t be seen. Make them as comfortable as possible. I’ll clear up here and then we’ll go to bed as if nothing had happened. With luck, I’ll be able to get them away tonight.”

  “A moment, John,” Aunt Sarah said. She looked straight at Patrick. “You’re the cause of this girl’s misfortune. If you take her with you, you must marry her and keep her safe. Otherwise it would be kinder to leave her here with us and we’ll arrange something for her.”

  Patrick turned to Lucy. He took her hand and said,

  “Ever since the day we met I wanted to marry her. I would have done so long ago if I hadn’t believed it would bring her to disaster. More than anything in my life I want Lucy to be with me. Now that both our futures are uncertain, at least we can face them together. Lucy, my love, will you marry me?”

  “I thought you would never ask. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

  “Good,” said Aunt Sarah as she kissed them both.

  The cellar was a cold dank place but Aunt Sarah found them some blankets and gave them water and food.

  “I daren’t leave you a candle in case the maid smells it. I’ll release you when she goes to market but you must stay here for now and keep as quiet as you can, for all our sakes. Uncle John is risking his freedom and livelihood by helping you.”

  “I know, Aunt. Thank you.” O’Rourke kissed her on the cheek and then she left. He sat down on the floor and pulled Lucy close to him, covering them both with the blankets which smelt stale with damp. The darkness closed in around them and Lucy could not help crying. She tried not to make a noise but her uneven breathing told its own story. A handkerchief was pressed into her hand and she dried her eyes.

  “I thought you wanted to come with me?” he breathed into her hair.

  “I do but I didn’t think it would be like this,” she said equally softly.

  “Uncle John will get us away. He’s done it before. Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’ll try.” She leaned back against him. How strange, this is where I wanted to be, in Patrick’s arms. She was still frightened by the sudden change in her life but she knew deep inside that she did not regret the circumstances that had brought them together at last. The future was uncertain and the thought of being caught terrified her but O’Rourke seemed so confident she fought her apprehension. In the unchanging darkness, the minutes dragged endlessly. During that time, Lucy was prey to regrets. I’ve let my grandmother down and my aunt and uncle. Nell too, especially Nell. They’ll wonder what’s happened and think me so ungrateful. I must write to them and set their minds at rest.

  When the door opened at last and the light streamed in, they were both dazzled. Aunt Sarah led them into the kitchen.

  “I’ve sent the girl out on some errands,” she told them. “Uncle John came home and said he has found a means for you to leave Dublin. You must change your clothes. I have laid everything out in the bedroom for you, Lucy, and Patrick can stay here. Hurry now.”

  Lucy had been given a rough dress, a shawl and an apron.

  “You’re too clean,” Aunt Sarah said, scooping up a handful of ash and smearing it onto her face. When Lucy looked at Patrick he grinned at her through a similar layer of grime. His hair had been cut raggedly and the ends were burning on the fire. He wore a leather waistcoat and cap as if he was a working man.

  “Will we do now, Aunt?”

  Aunt Sarah nodded. “You’ll do.”

  “I must tell my family; they’ll be so worried about me,” Lucy said. “If I write some letters, can they be delivered when we are gone?”

  “No, not now, not until we’re out of the country. They would incriminate those who are helping us. Write in Belfast just before the boat sails. I have a friend there who can send them for us.”

  With that, Lucy had to be content. They went back into the cellar and Lucy spent the time composing what she wanted to say to her family and to Mrs. Beckwith as well. It helped her to organise her thoughts.

  Even if they disown me, all of them, at least I owe them an explanation and the reason why I had no choice but to leave. Above all I have to tell Nell how much she means to me and that I will never forget her. Perhaps one day I can come back and see her again.

  The fishing boat butted into the waves, casting up a fine spray. Lucy huddled into Patrick’s arms, enjoying the experience. Dublin lay behind them and Belfast Lough was in sight. Uncle John had returned, the maid was sent out with a message to Aunt Sarah’s sister and the fugitives emerged from the darkness. Uncle John handed Patrick a package which he bade him hide under his clothing and keep safe. Then he led them through the twisting and malodorous alleyways of the city. Two other men joined them when they were almost at the dock.

  “These are Brian and Fintan, friends of mine. They’ll see you to Belfast and onto a ship. Once you’ve sailed they will report to me.” Then he hugged and kissed both Patrick and Lucy. “Marry her in Belfast so you can go aboard as husband and wife. Fintan has a brother who’s a priest; he’ll arrange it. God bless you both.”

  Lucy had a sudden pang, leaving these people who had been so good to her and she knew that Patrick felt the same. They were silent for most of the way as they sped along the coast of Ireland.

  Fintan’s brother, Father Colm, agreed to marry them. He even let them stay with him in his small cottage while Fintan and Brian arranged their passage to America. Father Colm gave her paper and ink so she might write to her family in Dublin and London. Lucy found the letters very difficult. She thanked everyone for their kindness and explained what had happened to her in such a way that she did not reveal who had helped her. By the time you read this, I shall be married and on board a ship bound for America… She knew that it was unlikely that she would ever see or hear from any of them again. The ones to Nell and Mrs. Beckwith were the worst and cost her many tears, but in the end they were done. Father Colm sealed them for her and promised to ensure that they would be delivered as soon as possible.

  “There’s no danger,” he told her. “Friends will take them for me and put them into the right hands.”

  A look from Patrick warned her ask to ask no questions.

  In the middle of the night, Lucy stood before the altar in Colm’s tiny church. Her wedding could not have been more different from the one she had fondly imagined when she was younger. No flowers or silk dresses or a veil. There were candles and incense and a language she did not understand. The Latin words rolled over her. Fintan, who with Brian were their witnesses, had to tell her what to say when she was asked a question but she understood Patrick’s kiss at the end. They scrawled their signatures in the register. Father Colm gave Patrick a letter which said that he confirmed to anyone who asked that he had married them according to the rites of the Holy Catholic Churc
h. The fact that Lucy was an Anglican and marrying without her guardian’s permission did not seem to matter. When Lucy had told him, the priest asked,

  “Do you want to marry this man?”

  “Yes I do,” she replied.

  “Then in the sight of God you will be married. Rules are made by men but God sees the truth in every heart. Be a good and faithful wife to your husband as he will be a good and faithful husband to you. No one will question your marriage where you are going. This other letter introduces you to some friends of mine in Boston who will help you.”

  The wedding banquet was a hasty meal and then Fintan and Brian led the newly married pair to the docks. A large brig was loading the last of its cargo and several people were boarding. At the end of the gangplank, they halted.

  “This is the ship,” Fintan told them. “She’s the first one leaving Ireland and she’ll go out on the tide. The captain has already been paid for your passage. Mr. Reilly said that you will have to travel steerage; not enough time or money to arrange better. I doubt it will be a pleasant voyage but this vessel is fast. I wish you fair winds and a safe journey.”

  “Thank you for your help,” Patrick said and put his hand into his pocket to pull out some money but Fintan shook his head.

  “Mr. Reilly has already paid us,” he told them. “Keep your coins and hide them well.” He handed Patrick a bundle he had been carrying. “Here are provisions for the journey. It’s not much, because there was so little time but it should help out with the food you will be given on board. Mr. Reilly asks that you write to him once you arrive in America.”

  “We shall certainly do so.” Patrick shook hands with both men while Lucy stood on tiptoe to kiss their unshaven cheeks. “God bless you both.”