Smuggler's Kiss

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Smuggler's Kiss Page 18

by Marie-Louise Jensen


  ‘Don’t have to stand by and watch us now, do he?’ remarked one man cheerfully. ‘He can dangle and watch instead!’ There was a shout of laughter.

  ‘Leave ’em there till morning, I say,’ one man suggested.

  I tugged at Will’s sleeve: ‘Please do not,’ I whispered. ‘They could die.’

  ‘Interferin’ busybodies!’ said someone else. ‘They deserve what they get.’

  ‘A good beating would be more to the point,’ suggested another. ‘That’d teach them to keep their noses out of our business next time.’

  ‘That might get the law after us,’ said another man, to my relief. I’d been thinking the same thing.

  ‘How about you hand them over to the skipper for a holiday in France?’ suggested Will.

  This caused a great deal of hilarity. The bound officers were hauled back up the cliff and carried back down to the beach, strapped onto their own horses. There was some rough horseplay as the men were first dropped into the water and then loaded onto one of the boats and rowed out to the ship. Their horses were turned loose; the landers vanished quietly into the darkness with their train of ponies.

  ‘Come, Isabelle,’ said Will. The last boat was waiting for us in the shallows. I crossed the shingle to join him.

  ‘What will happen to them now?’ I asked.

  ‘The Preventives? Nothing too terrible,’ he said, jumping into the boat.

  ‘But what is a holiday in France?’ I asked as I climbed in after him. ‘What does that signify?’

  ‘We’ll drop them off with nothing but the clothes they stand up in,’ said Will. He grinned at the thought. ‘It’s unkind. Most speak no French and will have to find a way to get back to England. But it does no real harm. I thought it the least of the evils. Don’t forget they’d have flung every last man of us into gaol four nights ago if they’d had their way.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ I said reluctantly as I helped to push the boat out into deeper water. As the boat floated free of the shingle the last men jumped in and others bent to the oars, taking us swiftly out to The Invisible. Despite my concerns for the riding officers, I was delighted to be at sea once more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The officers were duly dropped off in France. They’d been blindfolded and tied to the mast during the crossing and though I’d felt sorry for them, I’d been forbidden to approach them or speak to them, even though I was back in breeches.

  ‘Them boy’s clothes you wears might fool people as don’t look at you too close,’ Jacob said. ‘But if they hear and don’t see you, they’ll know we have a woman aboard.’

  I agreed reluctantly to keep my distance. I was troubled by the treatment meted out to the men. No one hurt them once they were on board, but they were offered neither food nor drink. And to be abandoned in a strange country, a country with which we were at war as often as not, seemed a harsh fate. Especially as one of the men tearfully pleaded, as we left him alone on some deserted beach, that he’d ‘never learned to speak frog’.

  ‘It’s often done,’ Will assured me with a carefree laugh, as he swung up into the rigging. ‘If you think about it, they shouldn’t recruit customs men who speak no French. See it as an educational trip for them. They will know a few words for next time!’

  The skipper approached me once the ship was moored in its usual berth in Cherbourg. ‘Isabelle,’ he asked, catching me while I was energetically scrubbing the tables in the galley. ‘A word.’

  I sat down opposite him, pushing the cloth to one side, wiping my hands on my breeches and tucking some wisps of hair back out of my eyes. ‘What can I do for you?’ I asked him rather breathlessly.

  ‘It’s how much you dare,’ he said. ‘I’ve a large order for French lace if I can get it into the country.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I have to say, I didn’t enjoy it much last time.’

  ‘How about if we ensure that Lieutenant Oswald is not in the vicinity?’ asked the skipper. ‘It just doesn’t do to send lace through the usual channels, you see. It must be kept dry and clean and must reach quite a different market.’

  I wasn’t unwilling to do my part. Especially as Will had promised me that there was money waiting as my share of the ventures we’d undertaken. It gave me some hope of being able to survive once the season was over. I hesitated, however, still remembering the terrors at Poole. ‘If you are quite sure he won’t be there,’ I said at last. ‘For I’m certain he would recognize me and find my presence most suspicious.’

  ‘Thank you, Isabelle,’ said the skipper, waving aside my objections as though they were irrelevancies. ‘I’ll send you and Will to the warehouse today.’ He half got up, and then paused and smiled slightly down at me. ‘You’ve been an asset to us,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I never thought I’d admit it. But you have. It’s good to have you back.’

  He hurried out onto the deck before I could reply, obviously feeling he’d embarrassed himself in some way. I was glad of his words. It was good to feel useful and wanted.

  ‘Don’t let it go to your head, Isabelle!’ called Harry, breaking in on my thoughts. ‘He’ll soon be shouting at you again!’

  I laughed, got to my feet and resumed cleaning the tables.

  The quantity of lace Will bought in the warehouse made me thoughtful. It was more than twice what I’d smuggled last time, and I didn’t think I could possibly carry so much in one go. Will was in a more than usually teasing mood. ‘You need to earn your keep, you know,’ he commented. ‘We can’t have you eating up the whole ship’s rations and doing nothing useful any longer.’

  ‘What about my work in the galley? And that day on Kimmeridge beach?’ I asked indignantly. ‘I saved your skins for you!’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Will with a shrug and a laugh. ‘Who’s to say we wouldn’t have had a good turn-up and seen them off? Instead of which we were obliged to dodge the Navy for several days and run the cargo all over again another night.’

  His voice and face were quite serious, with no sign that he was joking. But I could see by the slight creases around his eyes that he was enjoying himself.

  A wonderful revenge came to mind, so instead of continuing to argue with him, I tucked a hand into his arm and spoke coaxingly to him: ‘Will, you know this money you’re saving for me?’

  ‘Ye-es,’ Will replied, clearly suspicious of this change in tactics.

  ‘Could I have some of it for a new gown?’ I asked.

  ‘Certainly not!’ exclaimed Will. ‘What? Should I allow you to waste it all on fripperies and leave you nothing for the summer?’

  I frowned a little, wondering how to persuade him to change his mind. And then I remembered that I had another gown on board: the gown Ann had lent me would be ideal for the purpose I had in mind.

  ‘Very well,’ I agreed, suddenly docile. ‘You are very good to me, Will. Thank you.’

  Will cast a suspicious glance down at me and I smiled sweetly in return. He was going to hate me presently.

  Back on board, I took the skipper aside. ‘There is a great deal of lace there,’ I told him bluntly. ‘We’ll need a second woman if you wish to take it ashore in one go.’

  ‘We don’t have a second woman,’ said the skipper, frowning. ‘And it can’t be kept on board. The customs men will rummage the ship as soon as we make port.’

  ‘You may not have two women on board,’ I pointed out. ‘But we do have two gowns.’

  The skipper’s quick mind grasped my idea at once. ‘Who do you have in mind?’ he asked.

  ‘Well,’ I replied, pretending to ponder the matter. ‘We need a young man, with no beard, someone slight and small enough to pass for a tall woman. I would suggest … Will perhaps?’

  The skipper chuckled. ‘Send him to me,’ he said.

  I stepped across the gangplank onto the quay at Poole, feeling even bulkier and heavier than the last time I’d gone ashore here. My maid followed: a great strapping girl, too stout for beauty, her head wrapped in a shawl.<
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  ‘Morning, ma’am,’ said the junior customs officer walking towards me and executing a small bow. ‘Welcome to Poole.’

  I could see him looking at us both closely, a small crease between his brow at our bulk and at my maid being so hidden in her shawl. But I was confident in the knowledge it was not in his power to search us. ‘Lieutenant Oswald is not here today?’ I asked.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ replied the young man. ‘He’s at Studland today.’

  I already knew this, but pretended to look disappointed. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘He was so kind to me last time I was here. I wished to ask him where I might find a tooth-drawer. My poor maid here has a tooth that needs pulling. She’s in so much pain.’

  At once sympathetic and eager to be helpful, the young officer explained to me where I could find the local tooth-drawer. Thanking him prettily, I left my compliments to Lieutenant Oswald and moved on, leaving the young officer to go aboard The Invisible. He would find nothing, of course. We’d already run our tubs into Swanage the night before.

  Walking towards the town, I attracted one or two curious looks. My maid attracted even more. ‘Keep up, Betty,’ I chided her, as she stumbled along, appearing to have difficulty with her petticoats and shoes.

  I got a baleful glare from under the shawl that made me grin. As we rounded the corner into the High Street, a middle-aged man apparently the worse for drink stopped and stared at my maid. ‘Now there’s a strapping wench!’ he exclaimed. As we passed, he reached out and clapped her on her well-padded bottom.

  My maid whipped round and growled: ‘Try that again at your peril!’

  Startled, the man backed off. He stared at the face half-concealed by the shawl. ‘That’s the deepest voice I ever heard on a lass,’ he said suspiciously.

  ‘Poor Betty has such a sore throat,’ I explained hurriedly, catching hold of Betty’s arm and dragging her away with some difficulty. ‘You cannot start a brawl in the street,’ I hissed fiercely. ‘Behave yourself, Betty!’

  ‘Call me Betty one more time and I’ll start a brawl with you,’ muttered Will at me from under the shawl.

  ‘You have no idea how to walk as a woman.’ I continued telling him off. ‘I thought I’d taught you better than this! Take smaller steps! Don’t look so bold! Everyone’s staring now.’

  ‘I will never, ever forgive you for this,’ said Will as we turned into a narrow alley where the lace merchant had his small store. ‘Not if I live to be a hundred.’

  I chuckled. ‘Yes, you will,’ I assured him. ‘Just think of all the things I’ve forgiven you for.’

  When we returned to the ship, the lace safely delivered to the purchaser, Will was greeted with wolf whistles and laughter.

  ‘Well, here’s a pair of pretty maids!’ cried Harry.

  ‘The maid is the most comely for my money,’ shouted another. ‘Come and sit on my knee, my pretty.’

  Will shook his fist at him. ‘You’d soon regret it, my friend,’ he said. ‘I’m no dainty piece.’

  ‘A bit flat around here, aren’t you, my beauty?’ suggested another, cupping imaginary breasts in his hands. Some of the men were wiping tears from their eyes they were laughing so much. I blushed a little at their crudeness, but couldn’t help but be amused. Will was trying to take it well, but there was no hiding his humiliation. He soon hurried below to throw off the offending garments.

  ‘So how did he manage?’ asked the skipper once he was gone. ‘You had no trouble. Did he make a convincing girl?’

  ‘Convincing enough,’ I replied. Then my sense of mischief got the better of me and I added: ‘He might have been born to the role, in fact.’

  ‘I’ll be bound,’ sniggered Hard-Head Bill.

  The wit was still flying back and forth when Will re-emerged some ten minutes later. My heart lurched at the sight of his slim figure, his strong legs encased in breeches, his broad shoulders filling out his coat, his fair hair caught back in the nape of his neck in his black ribband. He might not be especially tall, but there was nothing girly about him. The men couldn’t leave their teasing, though.

  ‘So our two girls are going into the lace trade then, eh, Betty?’ they asked.

  Will stalked off to the prow to be alone.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of them,’ I told him, joining him there. ‘They will have their fun and forget it again.’ I smiled as it occurred to me that this was very similar to the advice he himself had given me just a few months ago.

  ‘Even you are laughing at me!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘No, not at all. I’m just amused to be repeating your own advice back to you,’ I explained. ‘And if I did laugh, is that so bad?’

  ‘You have no idea,’ he growled. ‘Dressing me like a maid … ’ he glowered at me. ‘How could you?’

  ‘How is that worse than dressing me in those dreadful breeches?’ I exclaimed indignantly. ‘I was so ashamed at the immodesty of it, I didn’t know where to look or what to do. You should be ashamed at making such a fuss!’ I looked at his still-indignant face and began to laugh again.

  Reluctantly, Will grinned back. ‘I’ll never hear the last of it from the men,’ he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The profit we turned on the lace was considered so worthwhile, and the demand for the costly commodity so great, that Will was obliged to play the maid several more times. He grumbled, but did as he was asked. He had a considerable talent for acting and soon moved easily in woman’s garb.

  Slowly, the days began to draw out. Time passed and still I waited for a chance to speak to Will. The ship was crowded and busy and somehow there never seemed to be a time when we wouldn’t be overheard. I began to wonder whether Will deliberately avoided being alone with me; certainly he never took me with him on his solitary trips ashore. Or perhaps I was being cowardly, for I surely could have told him I needed to speak privately, but I didn’t do so.

  Soon we all knew winter was fading. Some days the sun had a little warmth in it when it broke through the clouds.

  ‘Just another month before we’re all toiling in the fields again,’ said Will, shielding his eyes as he looked towards the green coast of England.

  ‘Is that what you do in the summer too?’ I asked, surprised.

  ‘It is. But unlike the others, I go to France,’ said Will.

  ‘What’s wrong with England?’ I asked.

  ‘I prefer France,’ said Will, not meeting my eyes.

  I could make nothing of his enigmatic remarks or his secrecy. I wondered not for the first time what I would do when the crew dispersed. Where would I go? All winter I’d pushed aside the thought of my own situation. The time was fast approaching when I could escape it no longer.

  It was ironic that our destination tonight brought me, in a sense, full circle. Our penultimate venture of the dying winter took us into the beach at Durdle Door. The very place I’d fled in such despair five months earlier. Since then, my despair had left me. Life was still complicated, but it was precious to me. For a while I’d found a purpose, or at least a merry distraction, aboard The Invisible.

  The dilemma kept me awake during the crossing that night. I thought of all the things I’d like to do, and none of them were realistic. Then I thought about Will, and all the aspects of his behaviour that made no sense. Spending the summer working as a common labourer in France. Disguising himself whenever he went ashore in England. I remembered that he hadn’t ventured out at all at Worth Matravers over Christmas. And yet on board the ship and in Cherbourg, he wore no disguise at all. What reason could he have for concealing his identity in England? The other Gentlemen never did so. They came and went quite openly; apparently fearless of prosecution. So it could scarcely be due to the smuggling itself.

  A cold feeling crept over me. Was he … it was hard to frame the words even in my mind. But I needed to: was he wanted by the law? For something other than evading duty? Those men had been searching for him before Christmas and had mentioned a reward. There was obviously something I
didn’t know. I wriggled, the very notion filling me with darkness. I couldn’t lie still any longer. I had to get up.

  The weather was calm and bright, and I found my way to the open deck to think and watch away from the constrictive discomfort of my narrow bunk and stuffy cabin.

  I had a shock when I saw that Will was at the helm. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him right now. He lifted his hand in greeting, but was too much occupied to speak to me. That suited me; I craved solitude for a spell.

  The moon was high in the clear black sky, casting a brilliant silvery light over the quiet waters of the channel. Stars frosted the heavens, like shards of ice scattered by an idle hand. Wrapped in my shawl, I contemplated the natural world around me and drew strength from its divine beauty.

  Almost sub-consciously, I picked up the loose end of rope and began to practise the knots I’d learned. Right hand over left; twist, tug. I went through them all: clove hitch, anchor bend, sheet bend, bowline, mooring hitch, buntline hitch. Sometimes they fell apart in my hand or tangled. Each time, I started again.

  As I practised, Will faded from my mind and I went back to thinking over my own future. Unfortunately, inspiration stayed far from me. No matter how hard I thought, there was no solution to the mess I’d made of my life. My aim had always been marriage and status. I never remembered wishing for anything else. That had been compromised by my father’s stunning loss. What did a person do when their life-long goal failed them? I had no idea. I’d fled the disaster, but I’d not escaped. The problems had followed me.

  ‘Isabelle,’ said Will’s voice behind me. I started and turned to face him. As always in recent weeks, the sight of his handsome face made my breath come short. It was no good. I had to get the better of feelings that could only lead me into trouble. ‘You’re getting better at those, I see, though you’ve tied that one left-handed again.’ I hurriedly pulled it free and began again. ‘Is this the right time of night to be practising?’

 

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