The Lady and the Captain (17 page)

By now a small group of her admirers stood at the bottom of the quarter-deck, looking up in adoration at the winsome vixen. A few of them, moved by her speech, softly uttered pledges to help her, to support her in her hour of grief.

“Darling Fiona, I’ll take care of you,” said one.

“Miss Foxworthy, you need never be alone again, Reginald dearest will provide,” cried out another. One young fellow even went so far as to boldly declare, “I’ll make you my wife, Fiona, and we’ll live happily together, my dear!”

But this more serious declaration of love was met with outright anger. Several of the more senior admirers, who were married, gave the lovesick swain a hearty shove. In return, the offended young dandy delivered a perfectly aimed facer.

Sensing that a riot might occur and ignoring the fact that some of Fiona’s admirers were higher ranking officers than him, Robert said loudly, “The next man to raise a hand will be put in the brig for a week! There’s to be no fighting aboard this frigate.”

Meaningfully, he eyed the gentlemen below.

“You are all my guests here. I will come after the first Jack man of you who puts a single toe out of line!”

He nodded to the two marines who were standing sentry by the captain’s door. They descended and stood by the brawling gentlemen. Spirits quickly calmed at the sight of the bayonets the marines held.

Sarah directed her own attention at the cook. “Get the gentlemen some punch, Mr. Baker. They must be thirsty and in want of some hospitality. We must make them feel welcome with some good cheer.”

“Aye, aye, Mistress Duncan.” The old seaman grinned, winking up at her as he saluted her. He went off in search of some spirits for the lovesick gentlemen.

Fiona, as if all this attention and fuss were perfectly normal, dabbed her eyes with a white handkerchief. She sniffed prettily and patted one of her blonde curls back into place. Slowly, she removed herself from Robert’s person. Her scene was finished.

The audience, with the exception of the commander and his betrothed, had responded exactly as she’d desired. It had all been most satisfactory.

She gave a smug smile to Sarah. She preened, thinking of how she would have her choice of protectors to choose from on the morrow. In a few weeks she would take off the mourning colors of black and gray, and once again become the fetching Venus of the Royal Naval Officer’s Club.

Robert let loose a small sigh. What he did not need now was for one of these admiring senior officers to take it into their head to become jealous of him. He had enough trouble as it was. He didn’t need to be labeled a seafaring Casanova and be connected with the hot-tempered, grieving vixen. Gently taking Sarah by the arm, he strategically placed her between himself and the calculating minx.

He planted a possessive hand about the wise woman’s waist. It was a clear indicator as to where his affections lay. He was interested in one woman only, the winsome lady he wrapped his arm around.

The crew and group of admirers below noted this. Aye, it wasn’t the late Captain Jackson’s mistress, the master and commander of The Brunswick would be spending his shore leave with, that was fair certain.

Fiona peeked around Sarah and looked at him. As if reading his thoughts, she made a face and whispered aloud, “Coward.”

The vixen flounced over to the quarter-deck railing, surveying her small group of admirers. Deliberately, she released her handkerchief into the air and watched with a smug smile of satisfaction as it floated gently down to the deck below.

All eyes were upon the small white piece of cloth.

Mayhem ensued and an all-out brawl broke out.

Officers, regardless of rank, jumped upon other gentlemen, trying to elbow the others out of the way, seeking the small prize. Grunts and loud curses filled the air . . . until, with a howl of delight, a victor emerged.

A sprightly senior officer with almost six decades on him crawled out of the pile of flailing arms, legs, and hands. His white wig sat askew on his balding head. He stood up and brushed off his clothes and walked purposefully towards the quarter-deck with the sang-froid of a man used to doing battle.

He carried the white handkerchief aloft in one hand.

Eyeing the steps, he ascended them with the vigor of one half his years. Ignoring the venomous stares of the other gentlemen, he presented the handkerchief to the lovely Fiona.

“Oh, Rear Admiral, how gallant of you.” The beauty simpered, placing a hand upon her heart. She batted her lashes at him, rewarding him with a gloved hand for him to kiss.

“It was nothing, my dear. Nothing at all.” The elderly officer smiled, wiping his brow, before bending over the proffered hand. “May I escort you back to your carriage, Miss Foxworthy? I do believe the soiree here has come to an end.”

“Please do, sir,” the vixen said in an exaggerated grateful tone. “I am afraid I shall faint away if I stay here much longer. All of this attention has been most trying on my sensitive nerves.”

She took his offered arm, calculating in her head how she might get the gentleman to help her. Perhaps he would be willing to cover the rent on her townhouse for the following two months? She did not know how it had happened, but all the money Captain Jackson had left to provide for her had seemingly slipped through her fingers.

Before parting, she turned and quickly planted a kiss upon Robert’s cheek. Her eyes flashed triumphantly over at Sarah, her delight at having done so. Knowing full well it might cause an argument between them.

Fiona boldly added, “It was most excellent meeting you again, Lieutenant Smythe. I do hope you remember to send me anything that my dearly departed Captain Jackson might have bequeathed me. Perhaps he left some jewels, silk, silver, or blunt? If so, do send me word. I eagerly look forward to meeting you again, sir. And I hope it is very soon.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows at that assumption.

The devil, she says! I’ll scratch her eyes out first if she ever lays a finger upon him.
She balled her hands into fists, ready to jump on the trollop if she came any closer.

As if reading her thoughts, Robert hugged her tightly to his side.

“If there should be something that comes to my attention, I’ll have . . .” He paused giving it a moment’s thought, looking down at the unmarried officers. “I’ll have my second mate, Lieutenant Litton, bring it to you, Miss Foxworthy.”

She in turn gave the second mate a sly smile.

The second mate, Lieutenant Litton, cut almost as dashing a figure as the master and commander in his uniform. And more importantly, his pockets were almost as well lined. He might do very well as a replacement for Captain Jackson.

“Yes-s,” she lisped affectedly. “Please do send Lieutenant Litton, Commander.”

With one final swish of her ermine trimmed cloak, she left the frigate.

Her small court of admirers trailed behind. When she reached the gang-plank, the men jostled for a better position near the beauty and in all the excitement, one of the swains fell into the harbor—a rope and barrel were tossed down so that he might not drown. It was, some said, a fitting end to the night’s boisterous festivities.

The next day the crew of The Brunswick was dismissed. Robert and Sarah left for the town of Portsmouth. The port was heavily protected by surrounding stone walls and cannons situated on top of high battlements.

The Royal Naval base was one of the most important in the British Empire, also one of the seediest, full of dens of iniquity. It was a typical seafaring town. Drunken sailors on leave and harbor trollops met openly on the cobbled streets in front of taverns.

Portsmouth was filled with the typical debauchery one would expect from seamen who had been too long contained in tight spaces without female companionship, or any other recourse of entertainment. Despite its air of open rowdiness, it played an important part in Britain’s empire building. It was from this port that the fleet commanded by Lord Horatio Nelson went out and defeated Napoleon at Trafalgar.

But not all of the port was low-brow. There were, Sarah noted, on the High Street, several handsome new houses with shiny well-kept windows. Local vendors and shops were located nearby, catering their wares to the middle-class seamen and merchants.

Their carriage traveled away from these more elegant quarters, where officers and admirals dwelled. It ventured into one of the dark narrow streets, a place where abject poverty reigned. Sea harbor prostitutes and grog taverns plied their trade in the bowels of the poorest part of town.

It was in one of these narrow streets that they located number thirty-one, North Port Street. Here they found the rented rooms of the mysterious Mrs. Jemima Kaye.

“She came back from one of her wanderings a few days ago, Lieutenant,” said an old woman, wiping her nose with the back sleeve of her blouse.

She wore a dirty dust cap with tattered lace that dangled down one side of her graying hair. As Robert and Sarah drew closer, the old woman’s rum-soaked breath threatened to overwhelm their nostrils. The woman took a gulp from a flask dangling from her hip and gave them a speculative look.

“She takes off for months at a time, ever since that wretched husband of hers died. But then she always comes back ’ere in good time. She recommended Old Nancy’s place to you two, did she? Ye want to rent a room?” she asked. “Mine are plenty clean enough for an hour or so of fun . . . that is for them who desire to be alone with a pretty gel, such as you have there, guv’nor.”

She gave them a suggestive toss of the head towards her establishment. Greasy, streaked windows looked down upon the street. A sooty alley cat lazily meowed as it rolled over on the dirty stoop. The house looked to be on the verge of collapse. It leaned to one side with large wooden beams propped beneath the walls on the right to brace it.

“I’m thinking maybe I could even give you a cut-rate price. That is, if you was to let the young lady ’ere walk the streets tonight with me gels. Why, I’d even promise to take care of her once you got back to your ship, Commander.” The whoremonger beamed. “I’d make right certain she’d be safe and dry whilst you were gone. And if anything should happen to you . . .” She left a significant pause, eyeing the ring Sarah wore. “Well, to be sure, I’ll see to it myself that she’d find another husband to watch out for her, Lieutenant.”

“I have no doubt,” said Robert dryly.

He glanced upwards at a group of women who were of all ages, standing by the windows in various stages of dishabille. These ladies of the night worked for Old Nancy and hung out the different windows of the establishment, displaying their exposed flesh.

One or two of the women, without any great enthusiasm, lifted their light skirts to show him their shapely legs and garters. Another, a blonde woman of Rubenesque proportions, was so bold as to pull back her paisley shawl and thrust forward her tightly corseted bosom. It was a wonder her breasts did not spill out of the garment, the strain on the laces being so great.

“Not interested in any o’ them, are ye, sir? Sure ye won’t take one of me clean rooms off me hands for an hour or two?” Old Nancy asked, scratching a series of small red welts on her plump arms, the result of the establishment’s linens being undoubtedly infested with bed bugs.

“No,” he repeated.

He produced two silver guineas from his money purse. “I want some more information about your tenant, Mrs. Kaye—and anyone else who might have lived with her.”

Old Nancy reached out a gloved hand to greedily take the guineas from him. He quickly moved them out of her reach.

“The information first,” he said softly with a small, tight smile.

Eyeing the coins, Old Nancy nodded. Her eyes fixed themselves upon the coins he held. She was more than willing to give him the information he sought.

“Right, well before she became Mrs. Kaye, our Jemima, was one of me gels. A good worker she was. Officers and captains were eating out o’ her hands. Peculiar though about who she took to her room. But she was still mighty popular with the gents. She was almost as handsome a looker as that one there,” she said, nodding her head at Sarah, “’til she took to being ever so peculiar.”

The woman shook her straggly, gray curls.

“Jemima said her mother had once been a maid in the Spanish royal court and her father, a French merchant—but they both got drowned at sea, so she said.” Nancy paused in her tale, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her gown. “She came here to live with me and make her living after their deaths.”

“A year ago she took up with a foreign bloke by the name of Kaye. A dangerous fellow, he was, I can tell ye, Commander. He gave me the shivers, he did. Eyes like cold steel he had when he looked at ye, sir. And the men he brought with him were of the worst sort. Aye, none of me gels wanted to have anything to do with that rough lot. A right gang of cutthroats, they were. Scary, if ye get my meaning.”

“Did Jemima suddenly disappear with these men?” asked Sarah, thinking the woman might have been taken away by force from the house of ill repute.

“Nay,” spat Old Nancy, “she weren’t kidnapped if that what ye be thinking. Something worse than that occurred.”

She grimaced and spat into the street.

“She leg-shackled herself to Kaye. Up and married him, she did. She started putting on more airs than a drunken fairy walking about in her nightdress. Huh! Her who used to walk the streets with me others, telling us how to behave . . . but then a few months after the wedding, she came back out of the blue. She wanted her old room back and her money purse was full to the brim with blunt. Not that she gave Old Nancy any.”

“Was he with her?” asked Robert.

“Nay,” said Nancy, shaking her gray head.

“She came back alone and started drinking and cussing. She was wearing black widow’s weeds when she returned . . . apparently that cur she married had managed to get himself killed at sea.” She shrugged and said. “No surprise there, what with the dreadful company that one kept. Pirates and blockade runners, they all were. And I told her myself that she was better off without him. But the gel did pine so for that black-hearted devil.”