Her Match, Her Mate, Her Master

by Vanessa Brooks

  Hammocks were slung across the ship’s timber joists, and one or two were occupied by snoring sailors. The overpowering smell of unwashed humanity hung heavy in the fetid air. Pat led the way between the rows of hammocks to the opposite side of the space, where another dingy galley lay. Holding his lantern high, Pat led the way forward. At the end of this passage was a small hobnailed door which Pat pushed open. He gestured for Linnet to follow him. They were in a large open space with another very low ceiling, without the lantern’s glow; it would have been pitch black. Pat held the lantern up as high as he could to disperse the eerie shadows. Linnet was startled by a soft scurrying sound deep in the darkness.

  “Them’s rats,” he told her matter-of-factly.

  She shuddered, wishing now that she had waited for John’s reassuring presence before venturing down here with only a lad for company.

  “Where are the trunks normally stored?” Linnet asked him in a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” came his unhelpful reply.

  She resisted the temptation to clout his ears. “Well, let’s start to look for them.” He moved away and, in alarm, she added, “But stay close by me!” The boy moved back with the lantern.

  As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she began to make out large shapes in the deep shadows and called softly to Pat. “Over here, boy, shine the lantern here!”

  He did as she bid and sure enough, a large pile of travel trunks were stacked along the wall. It was not going to be as easy as she’d anticipated. Not all this luggage belonged to her. She guessed correctly that the captain and his officers stored their own chests and trunks down here. Sighing heavily, she decided there was nothing for it, she would have to sort through them all until she recognised her own. At least hers had her family crest on the side of the trunk, which would make it easier to identify.

  “Stand the lantern on a chest, Pat.” He duly did as he was bid, and Linnet began to slide chests and trunks forward one by one. “Come on, lazy bones, help!”

  Pat pushed the nearest trunk, then there was an almighty crash and they were left standing in total darkness. There was a moment of shocked silence. Pat’s voice whined, “T’ lantern fell, not my fault!”

  “I am aware it fell,” she snapped, exasperated. “What on earth shall we do? Can you feel around for the lantern?” She herself was feeling her way around the stack of trunks, heading towards the sound of the boy’s voice.

  It was totally unnerving standing in the horrible dark place, unable to see and without the comforting presence of another person to hold on to. Her foot knocked against something solid. It yielded and moved. Linnet’s heart thumped. “Pat, is that you?” Her voice sounded reedy in the hollow space.

  Pat’s voice came from her left. “Over ‘ere, missus!”

  She swivelled towards the direction his voice came, but as she did so, she tripped over a large mass of something warm and moving. She shrieked.

  A deep voice resonated from where she’d staggered. “Mon dieu!”

  Pat yelled, “Missus, missus?” His voice betrayed his fright.

  Linnet, more terrified than ever, blundered towards the boy’s voice and they collided, each screaming at the impact.

  Linnet quickly realised it was Pat. She clasped his arm. “There is someone over there!” she hissed quietly. She could feel the boy begin to tremble through his thin clothes.

  “A ghosty? I isn’t staying here! Come on, missus, the way out is over there.” Pat grabbed hold of her and they moved blindly through the pitch black. Suddenly Linnet collided with a solid wall and she squealed in fright, truly panicked.

  Stretching out her hand, she felt her way along the rough wooden ship’s wall. There was a long grating noise and dim light appeared on the other side of her. Pat had located the door and pulled it open. They both scrambled through, jostling one another to be first through the small frame. The door swung closed behind them. With hands still clasped, they scurried along the dark galleys, back through the sailor’s sleeping hanger, on upward to the stairway, climbing to the next level.

  Hurriedly, they returned to Linnet’s cabin in silence. Panting and sobbing, Linnet flung open the cabin door and they tumbled inside, still holding hands as the door slammed shut.

  They drew up short when met by the astonished faces of John and Duncan Snow. “Good God, ma’am, where on earth have you been? You look terrible!” John strode over to his dishevelled wife.

  He looked surprised when she flung herself into his arms and buried her face in his chest. Mr. Snow grabbed the unfortunate Pat by the scruff of his neck. “What’s been going on, boy? Where have you two been?”

  Pat began to howl. Duncan shook him. “Stop that at once and tell us what has happened.”

  “Ghosties! Ghosts, is what!” the poor boy stuttered.

  “That is ridiculous! He must be hysterical!” Duncan said, releasing the boy in disgust.

  John held Linnet away from him and looked earnestly into her face. “Linnet, calm down and explain to me what has happened.”

  Duncan Snow poured a cup of tea. “Here, John, this might help her.”

  John pushed her down on a chair and told her to take a sip of tea. Hunkering down in front of his wife, he ordered her to explain.

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “We went down to the luggage hold to fetch my etui from my sewing box. We were sorting through the trunks when the lantern fell over and went out. We were left in total darkness!”

  John ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “Why didn’t you ask me to fetch the damn thing for you? Linnet, you are not to roam about the ship alone! Do you not possess any common sense, woman? Anything might have happened to you! In fact, what actually did happen?” He stood up and began to pace back and forth.

  She flared up at him. “Oh, for goodness sake, stop your bellyaching and listen. I am trying to tell you what happened, and anyway, I wasn’t alone, Pat was with me! It was totally dark. I fell over something but I don’t know what!” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her body. “It was horrible; we heard a voice, crying out in the dark.” She gazed wide-eyed at Pat, who shivered and stared back at her.

  Duncan Snow frowned. “What kind of a voice?”

  “It be the soul of a drowned sailor,” whispered Pat, unexpectedly.

  Linnet stared at him, round-eyed “Yes!” she whispered, trembling. “You are right; that’s exactly what it sounded like, a French sailor.”

  John rubbed a hand over his face, utterly exasperated. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, this is complete twaddle! Duncan, I leave you to sort out this ignorant young scoundrel. What on earth did he think he was doing, taking my wife down amongst those ruffians? Anything might have happened to her. It doesn’t bear thinking of!”

  Pat opened his mouth to protest but Duncan Snow quelled him with a look that boded no good. Pat gulped and snapped his mouth shut.

  “Come along, you young whipper-snapper,” Duncan ordered, walking to the door. “Perhaps a sound thrashing will help you forget about drowned sailors and ghosts!”

  Linnet leaped up. “No, please don’t hurt him, Mr. Snow, I beg of you! Be kind to the lad, he’s had a terrible fright—we both have.”

  She stretched out an imploring hand. Pat flashed her a grateful smile. Duncan Snow nodded politely but refrained from replying. As a ship’s officer, Linnet feared he would do as he saw fit with Pat, her plea fell on deaf ears.

  When they were alone, John swung round and immediately took her to task. “Have you any idea of the danger you might have been in?” he asked.

  “John, please leave it. I have had a horrible shock. I just want to lie down.”

  John gritted his teeth and counted to ten. “You have had a shock through your own thoughtless behaviour. Turn about and place your hands on the bed.”

  She glared at him. “NO!”

  It was a feeble fight, one that ended with her tossed over his knee with her skirts raised and his hand imprinting his lesson onto her bared bottom. As much a
s she shrieked and kicked, it was to no avail. He was bigger, stronger and much more determined. “You will not wander the ship without me and you will not put yourself in danger. Am I clear?”

  When there was no reply, he doubled his efforts and soon she sang her apologies and made promises of obedience. He stood her to face the wall and think upon her actions. Calling her to him after a few moments, he asked her to tell him how she should have arranged to fetch her etui. Sulkily, she said that she should have asked him to go with her, or fetch it for her. He kissed her forehead and left her alone to dress for luncheon. When he’d left the cabin, Linnet stamped her foot and stuck out her tongue at the door before flouncing behind the screen to wash.

  Later, at dinner—a meal this time with the two of them, the captain and Duncan Snow—Linnet recounted her tale again for the captain’s benefit. When she had finished, he put his elbows onto the table and placed his fingertips together thoughtfully.

  “Tell me, my dear, what made you and the boy suppose this ghost to be French?” he asked.

  Linnet thought a moment. “Well,” she explained, “for one thing, it spoke in French. It moaned horribly, calling out, ‘Mon dieu, mon dieu!’”

  The gentlemen passed one another meaningful glances. “What is wrong? Tell me!” Linnet demanded, looking from John to the captain, but they both ignored her.

  “Where are the new crew from?” Captain Pettigrew asked Duncan.

  Duncan frowned. “Most have sailed with us for some while now, but we did press-gang a few men from Plymouth for this voyage.”

  The captain nodded thoughtfully, unconcerned by Duncan’s revelation, for it was common practice in these times to kidnap drunken men from taverns to take aboard ships as ship’s crew. Often these men were bludgeoned unconscious before they were flung into a hold until the ship was far out to sea.

  Captain Pettigrew turned again to Linnet. “Ma’am, I am sure today’s adventure has exhausted you. Perhaps you would like to retire now and leave us to our port.”

  She cocked her head to one side and smiled sweetly at him. “On the contrary, Captain Pettigrew, I am well rested and not at all fatigued.”

  John stood and frowned at his wife. “I think, my dear, that you would benefit from an early night, especially after your shock and the consequences of today. Come, I shall escort you back to our cabin and return, if I may, Captain, to join you for port?”

  Linnet threw John a filthy look. How dare he embarrass her by referring to the consequences, thereby letting the other gentlemen know that she had been humiliatingly punished!

  “Come along, my dear,” he said, his voice brooked no discussion.

  The gentlemen rose to their feet and bowed; Linnet realised that she had no option but to leave. “Gentlemen,” she said icily, her nose in the air as she swept through the door.

  John followed behind her stiff, indignant figure. When they arrived at their cabin, he unlocked the door and she marched inside. Spinning about, she faced him furiously. “How dare you treat me like that? I am not a child, John, to be put to bed before the adults! That was an interesting conversation which concerned me. You had no right to hint at what happened earlier. That was private, between the two of us! What on earth must have Mr. Snow thought of your arrogantly rude behaviour?”

  John made no attempt to interrupt her tirade. He simply lounged in the doorway, his grey eyes twinkling, his arms folded, watching her with irritating amusement.

  When at last she ran out of breath, he spoke. “My, my, we do have a temper this evening! I must try to remember not to stand too close to the ship’s rail when you are in poor humour. I am sure it would not be quite so easy to climb out of the sea as it was for poor Charles from that pond!”

  Then, with a grin, he ducked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. She heard the lock turn with a click. The bastard had locked her in! Picking up the water jug, she hurled it at the door whilst giving an ear splitting shriek.

  Something smashed against the back door. A loud scream of rage echoed from within. He would let her behaviour go on this occasion; after all, she’d had a nasty fright today, and he suspected her rage was Linnet’s way of feeling in control of herself again. Chuckling, he pocketed the cabin’s key and went back to join the officers and drink port.

  Over drinks and cigars, the possibility of a French spy being stowed aboard was discussed. It was decided that Duncan Snow should conduct a thorough search below decks as a precaution the following day.

  The days rolled past pleasantly enough. They even fell into a routine. They would take breakfast together in their cabin, after which they would take a stroll up on deck before returning below for a light luncheon, which was generally set out within the captain’s quarters. Afternoons were spent sewing shirt sleeves in place, while John disappeared with Duncan Snow. Pat came daily to run errands, wash out their smalls, and clean. He often brought breakfast to them in the mornings and it was his job to empty the slops. They met up for tea in their cabin; this was a mutually satisfying hour in which they generally ended up in bed, slaking their honeymoon passion. Linnet was amazed at how much she enjoyed John’s attentions. She enjoyed their lovemaking and was learning more about her husband. She quickly realised how easily she could manipulate him using sex to get her own way. Linnet still entertained the hope that she could persuade her husband to return to England and live at Lavenstock Hall. She thought wrongly that he had no idea of her wiles, but John was an astute man and fully aware of her plan. While it was harmless, he was happy to indulge her. For the duration of their honeymoon, he would appear to comply with his bride’s whims, just so long as she respected him and did as he bid.

  Linnet awoke one night to a terrible shrieking noise and a sickening rolling sensation. There was a vast storm in progress and the ship groaned, her timbers screaming under the force of the wind, bucking and dropping as she strained to ride the high boiling sea. Linnet clung to John, who was awoken by her terrified whimpers, and he reassured her and comforted her.

  He began distracting her, and soon the frenzied elements were blotted out by the internal frenzy of own their lovemaking. When morning dawned, the storm had lessened considerably, but the wind still howled and the ship rocked alarmingly. For the first time since boarding the ship, Linnet felt bad. As the morning wore on, she became more and more unwell. She retched until she lay completely exhausted. John stayed by her side and held a cool, damp cloth to her forehead; concerned for his sickly wife. He was so used to her boundless energy and robust good health that he found the sight of her lying limply pale quite terrifying. He berated himself for taking advantage of her fears during the night, using her to slake his lust, quite forgetting the active role she’d played in their coupling.

  Duncan Snow came to check on Linnet, bringing Pat. “She’s jus’ sea sick, ’tis all.” He shrugged unsympathetically.

  Duncan showed more concern. “I have a draught of powders in my chest that may help,” he told John. “I’ll fetch them. Just pour a little wine into a glass, Pat, ready for my return. The sooner Linnet swallows them, the quicker she’ll recover.”

  As good as his word, he returned promptly and mixed a foul potion in the waiting glass. John held her head up, and Duncan pressed the glass to her lips. Linnet turned her head away stubbornly, refusing to drink.

  “Right then, there’s only one thing for it,” John decided.

  He signalled for Duncan to support her head then, taking the glass, he gripped Linnet’s small nose between finger and thumb, and as soon as she opened her mouth, he tipped the liquid in. She coughed and spluttered, but most of the noxious potion went down her throat. “Good girl,” he encouraged kindly as he mopped up the spilt medicine and plumped pillows to make her comfortable. She glowered up at him from the bed, too ill to complain. Duncan and Pat left quietly, closing the door behind them.

  Linnet dozed, sleeping fretfully until evening. When she awoke, the horrible moaning winds had dropped, the storm had passed, and the shi
p lolled gently once more. She felt drained and washed out but so much better than she had done earlier in the day. When she roused, she saw that John was sitting across the cabin, reading.

  “Hello. Have you been there all the while I was asleep?” she asked.

  He put his book aside, walked over and seated himself beside her. “Yes, of course, I wouldn’t have left you on your own; I’ve been worried about you. How do you feel now?” He placed his palm upon her forehead, checking for any fever. She felt warm but not feverish. He grazed his knuckles down her pale cheek in a gentle caress.

  “Like a wrung-out dishcloth and utterly horrible! You absolute beast, making me drink that odious stuff of Duncan’s. It tasted foul!”

  John grinned and Linnet smiled back; she decided that she liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smirked. How could she have ever have feared this handsome man of hers? He who’d brought ecstasy into her sheltered life. Her eyes roamed over him, noting the way his dark hair fell over his collar. He lifted his leg and sat with his foot crossed over his thigh. She admired the bulging muscled thighs, and her gaze moved up to the exposed bulge of his loin. She licked her lips, giving a sigh, wishing she felt better.

  John frowned at her in concern. “Is something wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, smoothing back her russet hair.

  “No. I hate being ill, I always have done. Talk to me, John; tell me about Boston and your home there.”

  Linnet settled herself back against the pillows. John was pleased that she had at last asked about his home. He swung his legs up and lay on the bed, pulling her into the circle of his arm. She snuggled against him, feeling warm and safe. She could hear the soothing beat of his heart and the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke, telling her of his home in Boston. He spoke of the people he knew and of his friends and, finally, he mentioned his mother.

  She jerked upright. “Your mother is alive?” she asked, amazed.

  “Why, yes,” he replied, surprised. “I assumed that you knew.”

  “No, I did not. Why did you not tell me this before? What is she like?”