Rowankind (3 Book Series)

by Jacey Bedford

  “Oh, yes, stouthearted woman.” Hookey smiled, and it was one of those smiles that told me all I needed to know.

  “We need to set sail for Auvienne immediately, Hookey,” I said.

  He frowned. “I’d like to oblige, but how immediate is immediate? Apart from the contraband, I have a package for Etta, and we’re not provisioned for a transatlantic crossing.”

  Damn. We needed to get out of Plymouth quickly. “Where’s your drop for Lady Henrietta?”

  “Sussex. Camber Sands, close to Romney Marsh. If we can drop the goods and the packet, we could see what provisions might be available in Rye Harbor. I’m sure Etta could help. She has a lot of influence in the area. Her late husband used to be a magistrate. If there’s not enough to be had in Rye, we can provision in Portsmouth on the way back.”

  I noticed Lady Henrietta had become Etta as he spoke of her. I wondered what might be going on between them and tried not to smile to myself.

  “Well, if you say you can trust her, I believe you. Get ready for a fast run along the coast.”

  “Aye.” He barely stopped himself from saying aye, Cap’n, then he caught my glance, and we both laughed. How easy it was to slip back into old ways.

  There was a clatter on the companionway outside. Lazy Billy opened the door. “Excise, Cap’n. Redcoats on the dockside.”

  Hookey cursed and jumped up. Corwen and I followed.

  At the far end of Vauxhall Quay, a troop of redcoats were lined up outside a barque while two officers stepped up the gangplank.

  “Go ashore quickly,” Hookey propelled me to the gangway with a firm hand.

  “It’s too late for that,” I said. “I presume if they come aboard, there will be something to find.”

  Hookey’s face told me the answer to that.

  Corwen swore softly.

  “Get all your men below, Hookey. I don’t want any movement on deck. You, too, Corwen.”

  “You’re going to do the slidey-eye thing again, aren’t you?” Corwen asked.

  “I’m going to try, but the Heart’s a bit bigger than the things I’m used to diverting attention from.”

  “I’ll be close by at the top of the companionway, keeping my head down. You only need to whistle, and I’ll be there.”

  “I know, now go.”

  I sauntered to the bottom of the gangway and stood very still, wrapping myself not in invisibility—there was no way I could make the whole ship invisible—but with a bit of luck I could make us less than interesting—so uninteresting that the redcoats would pass by. They were at the next ship, now, once more the troop remaining on the dockside while two officers went aboard. I saw the sergeant in charge of the troop look in our direction, and I increased my efforts.

  Nothing to see here. Move to the next ship.

  Nothing to see.

  I felt as though my head was going to burst.

  Nothing to see.

  The two officers returned to the dockside and exchanged a few words with each other. My palm was sticky on the rail. My knees ached. I wanted to jiggle from one foot to the other to ease my feet, but I had to hold still.

  Nothing to see.

  Nothing to see.

  Oh, blast! I wanted to sneeze. That would be fatal. I pressed my lips together and concentrated on not sneezing. The troop of redcoats moved toward the Heart’s mooring.

  Nothing to see.

  The officers faltered at the bottom of our gangway. They were less than ten feet away from me. That damn sneeze was going to come whether I wanted it or not. I clenched my chest muscles and squeezed my lips together as hard as I could. The sneeze came, but I held it in tight, making barely a sound. Like a tiny explosion in a sealed container.

  One of the lieutenants stiffened and turned toward me.

  Nothing to see.

  Nothing to see.

  Nothing to see.

  With a slightly puzzled look on his face, he moved on.

  I didn’t even let myself breathe until he was safely past and aboard our neighbor. I stayed sentinel until the redcoats had passed to the far end of the quay and then retreated up the gangway to the deck.

  “Can we come out now?” Corwen whispered.

  “Yes. Let’s get underway before they decide they’ve missed something and come back.”

  * * *

  I sat on the cargo hatch with Corwen at my side.

  “What can I get you?” he asked.

  “I’m all right or will be soon. Some of Lazy Billy’s tea might help.”

  “Here you are, Cap’n.” Lazy Billy had anticipated my request. “That was a good bit of bamboozling, if I may say so.”

  “Thanks, Billy, but I don’t know how long it will last before they realize they missed us.”

  “We’re casting off now.”

  I stood up, but my knees were like jelly. Corwen took my elbow, and I sat down again quickly. “Ask Hookey if he needs a breeze. I can manage that from here.”

  Corwen delivered the message, and Hookey came over.

  “If you can manage it, gal. Otherwise, we’re going to have to kedge out.”

  “I can manage a light breeze. Set your tops’ls.”

  Hookey wasted no time in easing the Heart out of Sutton Pool on the tide before the redcoats came back. The next time the Heart docked in Plymouth, they would likely be all over her, so she had to be as clean as a new pin. Until then, she sailed with a hold full of illegal spirits. I would have liked to dump the contraband over the side and make for the Dark Islands immediately, but we couldn’t sail without adequate provisions, and the package Hookey had for Lady Henrietta might be of national importance. I would have to work doubly hard to conjure up a wind to take us across the Atlantic in days. At least we didn’t have to divert to pick up the trade winds; we could cross to Bacalao and thence to the Dark Islands. Beyond that, I didn’t have a plan.

  As soon as we cleared Sutton Pool and crossed the harbor bar, I felt the strong seas kick the Heart awake. I waited for Hookey’s request to conjure a favorable wind, then I sought deep inside myself and connected with the air. It needn’t be more than a little blow. It had been a while since I’d used that kind of magic, and it didn’t come as easily as it used to before I relinquished a good portion of it back to the rowankind, but I’d recovered enough of its use to help the Heart to make good speed along the coast.

  It seemed odd to be sailing with such a small crew and, in particular, without Mr. Sharpner on board, but he was doing well, trading in American and Caribbean waters. I couldn’t call the Butterfly to me like I could call the Heart of Oak. Unlike the Heart, she had no splice of winterwood in her keel—something I hoped to rectify eventually.

  30

  Smugglers and Spies

  WE MADE GOOD time to Romney Marsh, arriving east of where the River Rother runs into the sea two hours after dusk. I let the breeze die down and heaved a sigh of relief. Corwen came to stand behind me. He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my wind-blown hair.

  “Mmmm.” I relaxed into him.

  “If you’re so tired after a short run along the coast, how will you manage an Atlantic crossing?”

  “I’ll manage because it’s what’s needed.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Be there to pick me up if I fall over.”

  “Always, though I’d prefer you not to.”

  Hookey came on deck. “No lights and no more noise than is strictly necessary for the safety of the ship and crew,” he ordered, soft-voiced.

  The crew passed the order on from one to another.

  The anchor dropped with a soft splash.

  I straightened up from Corwen’s embrace, and he released me to the darkness of the deck.

  “How are you supposed to make contact?” I asked Hookey as we stood at the rail looking
out toward the shore.

  “We signal twenty minutes after midnight. Three long, one short, repeated. Etta signals back exactly five minutes after that: five long flashes, two short, and three long. Anything else, or no signal at all, and we make for open water as fast as we can. Have you got your magic glass?”

  “I have.” I could call light into the lenses of my spyglass so that the images would be almost as bright as day. “Have you got yours?”

  “It’s getting a bit dim. Probably needs a top-up.”

  “Let me take a look.”

  He passed me the glass I’d given him when I left the Heart for good. Sure enough, the image was darker than it had been. I called magic and brightened it. Hookey scanned the shore again.

  “Are you taking cargo on board as well as dropping off contraband?”

  “Not this time. This is purely a delivery.”

  “That’s good. I wouldn’t want you to let down a customer, or the king’s spying service.”

  Hookey chuckled. “You’re hardly an inconvenience. The Heart’s yours, after all. I was planning a trip to London after this, to tout around the warehouses for a suitable cargo. Mr. Rafiq has a contact there, all lee-git-i-mate.” He sounded out every syllable. “But that can wait.”

  At exactly twenty minutes past midnight by Hookey’s pocket watch, with a half-moon on the rise, Hookey nodded to Lazy Billy. “All right, show your light.”

  Billy slid the lantern’s shutter open, closed, open, closed, to give three long and one short flash. Then he repeated it for good measure.

  “Now we wait,” Hookey said. “Five minutes.”

  It seemed like a long five minutes, but at last there was an answering signal from the beach—five long, two short and three long.

  “Man the boat, lads,” Hookey said.

  It didn’t take long for the Heart’s boat to be loaded with barrels of brandy. Lazy Billy jumped down into it, with Hookey following. I scanned the shoreline with my magic-enhanced glass. I could see a small knot of people and ponies waiting for us in the shadow of the sand dunes. One of them, dressed in buckskin breeches and a frock coat looked a little too rounded to be a man. She was round in all the wrong places, or maybe all the right places if you were a man—a man like Hookey Garrity.

  “I think I can see your Lady Henrietta, Hookey,” I said over the side. “Does she wear breeches?”

  “Aye, that’ll be her. She fills her shirt out somewhat generously.” He grinned at me, his teeth flashing in the moonlight.

  “Hookey, are you smitten?”

  “All I said was—”

  “It was the way you said it.”

  He cocked his head on one side.

  “Ha! I want to meet this woman.”

  “Boat’s fully crewed,” Hookey said, half-heartedly.

  “I can row, even though I’m wearing a dress.” There wasn’t time to change, although I had breeches in my traveling bag.

  “Me, too,” Corwen said. “What? You think I’m going to waste an excuse to set my feet on dry land for a few moments?”

  What he really meant was I’m coming with you, but it was as good an excuse as any, so Corwen and I took two places at the oars along with Lazy Billy, Crayfish Jake, Windward, and the Greek, all stalwarts of my old crew, and as good in a skirmish as any who sailed the seven seas.

  We pulled for the shore on a rising tide and ran our boat aground on the sand. Damn! I wished I had my breeches on, but Corwen splashed into the ankle-deep water and lifted me out like a fragile doll. I chuckled quietly and kissed his chin, which was the only bit of him I could reach.

  An owl hooted. No, it was Lady Henrietta and her men, owlers all. Our men offloaded the barrels which were quickly tied in pairs and slung across the back of the sturdy ponies. As each pony was readied, their handlers led them off into the dunes, each man taking a slightly different direction.

  “Captain Garrity.” Lady Henrietta’s voice was warm and deep for a woman, or maybe she thought her breeches were a good disguise. She looked at me. “Passengers?”

  “Not quite,” Hookey said. “Lady Henrietta Rothcliffe. Allow me to introduce Mr. Corwen Deverell and Mrs. Rossalinde Deverell. Mrs. Deverell is the Heart’s owner.”

  “Ah, so this is your Ross who wears breeches and climbs the Heart’s mast like a boy. I’d curtsey, Mrs. Deverell, but I ain’t dressed for it.”

  “Pleased to meet, you, Lady Henrietta.” I held out my hand, and she took it. “You have the advantage over me. Hookey’s said very little about you.”

  “There’s not much to know. Rye’s a small place. We don’t get up to much here.”

  I suppose she didn’t count smuggling and spying.

  “Ross, riders coming up the beach at a lick.” Corwen had been keeping watch.

  “Quick, get the last two ponies away.” Lady Henrietta smacked the rump of the nearest pony and sent it trotting into the dunes with a boy hanging onto its lead rein. “Is it excise men?”

  “I don’t think so,” Corwen said. “Or if it is, they’re not redcoats.”

  “Into the boat,” Hookey said to Etta and the one man still with her.

  “There’s no time.” She held out her hand for Hookey’s glass, grunting in surprise when she put it to her eye and discovered it saw in the dark as if it were daylight. “It’s the Snelling gang. Get ready for a fight.”

  We set our backs against the dunes and bunched up together. Corwen drew his pistol. I had two primed pistols tucked safely away in the pockets tied beneath my skirts, but they were small ones. Though beautifully made by Mr. Bunney of London, they didn’t have much range to them.

  “Who are they, what do they want?” I asked.

  “Joss Snelling and his son George and their gang. Smugglers, cutthroats, thieves.” Lady Henrietta said. “They think they own the coast from Kent round to Sussex. Bastards, all of them. My late husband hanged five of them two years ago—not personally, he was a magistrate—so they’re not well-disposed toward me and mine. Thank goodness I don’t have family, or I’d seriously fear for them.”

  “Do they know who you are?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it? My crew are not the only owlers on the marsh.”

  I saw Corwen shrug out of his jacket and rip off his neck cloth in preparation for changing into a wolf if it should prove advantageous. “Are they likely to shoot first, Lady Henrietta, or are they looking for the goods?”

  “Either. Both.”

  “Billy, Jake, get the boat into the water,” Hookey said. “Stand off shore and keep your heads down. If they start shooting, shoot back. Get ready to come in quick if we signal.”

  “We can escape across the marsh,” Lady Henrietta said.

  Hookey nodded and modified his instructions to Jake and Billy. “If we go inland, return to the Heart and come into Rye Harbor at first light.”

  They probably couldn’t get completely out of pistol-shot range before the gang arrived, but every pull on the oars took them and the boat closer to safety. That left Windward, the Greek, Corwen and me, Hookey, Lady Henrietta, and her one man. Seven of us against a dozen mounted men.

  “Into the dunes,” I shouted. “Stay together.”

  I called up a fierce wind and blew sand into the faces of the thugs, but I couldn’t call on magic and run at the same time. I felt Corwen at my shoulder, guiding me backward slowly as I kept my face toward the enemy. They’d slowed their gallop and were milling about, trying to turn their backs on the stinging sandstorm, so I swirled the wind around them and caught them coming and going. I felt the firm damp footing turn drier and softer under the soles of my half-boots, and the ground begin to rise. Corwen caught me around the thighs and hoisted me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It meant he could run forward while I looked backward and kept up the wind.

  A shot whistled past and then anothe
r. Despite the sand in their eyes, they were managing to discharge their pistols in our direction. I heard answering fire from the Heart’s boat.

  As soon as I lost sight of the gang, I had to let the wind drop since I needed to see my target. Corwen dumped me on my feet, and I gathered my skirts up above my knees.

  “This way,” Lady Henrietta said, and led us through the soft dunes to where the marsh leveled out behind them.

  “If we leave the shelter of the dunes, won’t we be sitting targets?” I asked.

  “Not if we can get out of their range.” Lady Henrietta said. “There’s a series of drainage dikes and ditches. It’s like a maze unless you know exactly where you’re going.”

  “And you do?”

  “Born and raised here. Those bastards are trying to hold all the coastline from Kent round to Sussex, they don’t know any one part of it well. Not this well at any rate.”

  She led us to a wide ditch, steep-sided, deep and waterlogged, bridged by a single plank of wood no wider than a foot. She went across first in the half-moonlight, closely followed by Hookey. I ran across, with Corwen on my heels. The plank dipped in the middle, but it was no more difficult than a gangplank. Windward and the Greek followed, and the manservant came last. He bent and heaved the plank across after him, leaving it on our side. A man might slither down one side, splash across and climb up the other, but not with his pony. That should slow them down.

  We ran across the wet grazing of the levels, scattering a flock of marsh sheep who looked like ground-tied clouds in the half-moon.

  A volley of shots rang out. I heard a bleat and then Windward’s yelp.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, Cap’n, but one of these sheep is done for. I nearly tripped over it. Shame to waste it.” I heard him grunt, and then he was running beside me with a dead sheep over his shoulders, the ewe’s head dangling down.

  We crossed another two plank bridges, pulling the planks onto our side as we went, until all sounds of pursuit had died away.

  “This way,” Lady Henrietta led us through a rickety field gate and onto a track, taking care to close the gate after her. “Those are my sheep. I don’t want them roaming all the way to Rye.”