The Lady and the Captain (21 page)

*    *    *

After the master gunner left, she got into bed beside Robert and held him comfortingly in her arms. He turned towards her and started to speak, wanting to tell her how much she meant to him, but she prevented him, placing a finger on his lips.

“
Shush. . .
now is not the time for talking,” she said, “For sure now, Robert, I don’t want you making any rash promises, which you might later regret. I have no desire to add to your troubles. I want you to promise me you’ll wait until we return to my mother’s island before we talk about any possible future we might have together. Please, promise me.”

Nodding, he agreed.

“Aye, you’ve the right of it, Sarah. This isn’t the time to make life-changing decisions. We don’t know how the Admiralty may view the events that have transpired since Captain Jackson took ill and left The Brunswick in my care . . . I may very well find myself walking the docks tomorrow looking for another job, or worse, be clapped in irons.”

“Then, let us be together tonight, without any thoughts about tomorrow,” she suggested, smiling at him as she laid her head against his chest. “For who knows how much longer we may remain together?”

Agreeing, he lowered his head, capturing her lips with his own. It had been a few days since he’d shaved and she could feel the rough stubble around his lips as he brushed his mouth up against hers.

Gently stroking her face, he looked into her bright blue eyes.

“Sarah,” he said, “You are more than I deserve.”

“Am I? Reward me then with that which I desire most,” she said, pulling her gown off her shoulders, drawing him closer to her.

“And what would that be?” he asked, smiling, guessing already her reply.

“You, sir, in my bed . . .”

“You are such a demanding woman.” He laughed, planting another kiss on her lips, as he helped her remove the remainder of her clothing. “What am I to do?”

“Obey me,” she said in a stern manner, imitating him, while holding his manhood in her hands. “And no harm will come to you.”

“Indeed, minx,” he answered, laughing under his breath as his arousal grew, “I find myself in a vulnerable position. Your orders shall be obeyed to the letter, ma’am. What shall I do next?”

“Make love to me right away, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am, willingly, I obey.”

He gave her a mock salute, as his other hand moved her underskirts out of his way so that he might access her most intimate of places.

“Hmm . . . ,” he said, noticing the knife she kept habitually strapped to her leg. “I doubt very much we shall have need of that tonight. Permission to throw it, ma’am.”

“Granted.” She laughed, delighted.

He removed it, and with the agility of one used to weapons, adeptly threw it so that it struck the top of the doorframe, where it remained.

“Any other secrets you wish to share with me?” he asked, kissing her neck as his hands reached under her and held her bottom.

“Just this one,” she replied, her breath becoming heavy with desire. He placed his firm manhood inside her, their joining was a bittersweet one as their cries echoed throughout the empty ship, for who knew if tomorrow they might not be separated forever. At least tonight they would enjoy and cherish each other.

The verdict of the Royal Admiralty’s Board of Review was quick and swift. Although members of the board expressed displeasure at being kept in the dark about Captain Jackson’s true condition, and therefore disapproved of the manner in which the officer was hidden on a tiny island in Ireland, they understood the circumstances of Robert’s actions.

It was as one admiral surmised, “Done without any malice towards good Captain Jackson. And as The Brunswick is safely returned here to Portsmouth, we see no reason for Lieutenant Smythe to be reprimanded for doing what he thought was best to protect both Captain Jackson and his crew.”

He gave a favorable nod in the young officer’s direction.

“Indeed, it is our general opinion that the first mate may have managed to save the same gentleman’s life, by bringing him to the learned wise woman . . . and as we have learned, the good Captain Jackson is said to be on the way to what is hoped will be a full recovery of health.”

The admiral looked up from the papers from which he was reading the summary of the board’s decision. His white wig slipped down a little over his wrinkled brow. He turned a page and continued.

“Now, as to the matter concerning the deserter, ordinary seaman Jeremy Kaye, whom we now know as Mrs. Jemima Kaye, we have advised that a warrant be issued for her immediate arrest. A reward has been posted for information concerning the murder of Captain Jackson’s steward, John Stafford.”

He paused in his speech, looking about the room to those who waited on tenterhooks concerning Lieutenant Smythe’s future. The hour of reckoning had come.

“As to the attack upon Lieutenant Smythe and that immoral den of iniquity, known as The Hair of The Dog Tavern. . . . Upon the morrow, it is to be permanently closed. It has been deemed an embarrassment to his majesty’s navy and a scourge upon our fair land that a den of scoundrels and crooks should be openly operating within the vicinity of this harbor. It shall be immediately closed and torn down.”

“We are the center of the Royal British Empire. This sort of evil activity against a naval officer will have serious repercussions. Let it be a warning to other establishments of entertainment that think that we will turn a blind eye to such nefarious activities,” said the admiral sternly.

“Huzzah for the Admiralty!” came a shout from among the seamen in the surrounding galleries, interrupting his speech. “Huzzah!”

A large contingent of ex-crewmembers from The Brunswick sat in the public galleries. Many of the seamen had already volunteered to go with a troop of marines to help tear down the disreputable tavern in retribution for what had happened to the well-liked master and commander.

“In conclusion, although we disagree with the secretive manner in which Lieutenant Smythe left Captain Jackson recuperating in Ireland, and the impetuosity in which he pursued his inquiries into the death of John Stafford . . .” The admiral took a moment as he prepared to make his final pronouncement, looking carefully over the parchment in front of him. The gallery held their collective breaths. Would the brave young master and commander receive any undue punishment because of the heinous actions of an evil hellion? Was his promising naval career abruptly to be put to an end? Or was he to be praised and applauded for his unwavering courage and bravery?

“We are, however, pleased with the measures he undertook to safeguard his majesty’s frigate, The Brunswick and its crew. He has proven himself an able commander during a tumultuous time. We therefore are unanimous in our decision that acting master and commander, Lieutenant Robert Smythe, shall continue to serve king and country in the Royal Navy. And—” He stopped.

A spontaneous round of applause and cheers broke out. Whistles and catcalls of agreements were heard emitting from the galleries surrounding the courtroom.

The admiral waited until the audience had calmed itself. He then waved a hand for the caterwaul to cease.

He concluded his speech saying, “Upon the safe return of Captain Jackson, further inquiries shall be made as to what rank he shall be rated by his majesty’s Admiralty.”

“Three cheers for Lieutenant Smythe!” cried out one of the seamen in the gallery.

A round of “Hip, Hip, Hurrahs!” was heard around the chamber, seconding the motion. Hats were thrown in the air and the seamen who had served with Lieutenant Commander Smythe patted each other in joy on the back.

Tears sprung to Sarah’s eyes.

The men’s open support of Robert brought a most touching and affirmative end to the proceedings. He had been found innocent of any wrongdoings and commended for his bravery. His career as a naval officer would continue as planned. There would be no punishments, only merited commendation.

Robert turned around and gave her a relieved smile. She returned it, watching as seamen and ladies of all ages surrounded him, eager to shake his hand.

Brave and handsome, she knew he would be the talk of the town for days to come. Reporters from the local daily gazettes quickly sketched his profile. The young master and commander had proven himself before the Admiral’s Review Board. His record would remain unblemished by the unsavory incidents that surrounded the poisoning of Captain Jackson and the murder of John Stafford.

The recent skirmish with Mrs. Kaye and her cronies at The Hair of The Dog Tavern had reinforced the fact that an evil plot had been afoot, and not successfully executed, aboard the frigate. The sole reason the ship had not gone up in flames was entirely merited to the first mate’s ability to lead his crew through a daunting time of terrible crisis.

To what purpose had these unsavory events been planned? It was still unknown.

But Robert knew enough to now be on his guard. For who knew what else Jemima Kaye might have planned for him?

All the dangerous events he had lived through, he silently admitted, had somehow been tied together. There was a common thread. He had but to find it and uncover the whole truth concerning the evil duplicity of Jemima Kaye. He wanted to know why she detested the crew of The Brunswick enough to kill them.

*    *    *

On their way back to the frigate, a tiny woman dressed from head to toe in widow’s weeds approached them. She appeared to be no larger than an overgrown leprechaun.

“Excuse me, ma’am, Lieutenant,” she said, clutching a small painted portrait. “Have ye seen this man? He’s my husband, Captain James William Fitzpatrick. I’m trying to find out what happened to him and the crew of The Blue Star. Can you help me?”

She held it up to them to inspect.

Looking at the portrait and into the tired face of the lady, Sarah immediately recognized both. “Lady Fitzpatrick!” she exclaimed, acknowledging the eccentric aunt of her dear friend, Lady Beatrice O’Brien.

“Why if it isn’t our Wise Sarah!” replied the Irish woman, taking hold of her hands. “I never expected to see you here, m’ dear. Faith, what brings ye here to England, lass? And who be this handsome devil of a gentleman beside ye?”

“I’m Lieutenant Robert Smythe, ma’am,” he said, stepping forward. He doffed his hat at her in respect. “I am Mistress Duncan’s betrothed.”

Sarah turned towards him, surprised by his statement. She had not expected him to continue the charade of their engagement after the crew was dismissed . . . unless he wanted to continue their relationship.

She gave him an inquiring look, which said,
What are you up to
? He returned her look with one of his own, a tender one, which caused her heart to skip a beat. It clearly said he wanted to discuss this further in private.

“Ye are!” exclaimed the tiny lady reminding them of her presence, her eyes widening with surprise.

Her gaze ran up and down his handsome frame, comparing him to the deceased rough-and-ready blacksmith the wise woman had once been betrothed to. There was a vast difference between the two.

Where the one had been a large and unrefined peasant with a quick temper, this gentleman appeared to be the best the English middle class had to offer. He displayed impeccably good manners and had a pleasing way about him. The other had been impetuous and full of unrestrained impulses.

Lady Fitzpatrick’s old eyes noted his tarnished gold epaulets. Aye, this young officer was a gentleman who was very sure of himself and undoubtedly knew what he wanted from life.

Standing there in his naval uniform, solicitously taking the time to listen to the tale of woe from an old woman, he reminded Lady Fitzpatrick of someone very dear to her . . . her beloved Captain James Fitzpatrick.

“It is a grand pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant,” she said, smiling up at him, holding her hand out for him to bow over. “I’m Lady Agnes Fitzpatrick.

“And what brings you here to Portsmouth, ma’am?”

“I’m after trying to discover what happened to my husband, Captain Fitzpatrick. I’m hoping to meet someone who can tell me what became of him. He and his ship, the Admiralty says, may have sunk during a storm off the coast of Africa. I am traveling to all the seaports of the known world in hopes of hearing news of him, of running into someone who has either heard or seen him or his ship. But so far, I have been unable to find any. ’Tis as if they disappeared off the face of the earth without a trace to be found.”

Lady Fitzpatrick’s face crumpled with sad tears.

“They fear all hands were lost in one of the dark uncharted spots off the coast of southern Africa,” explained Sarah, picking up the narrative. “It is feared when they were rounding the horn, a squall hit.”

She handed a handkerchief to the tearful woman.

“Lady Fitzpatrick has been on this quest for news of her husband and his crew for over three years. She has never given up hope of learning of what became of her good captain and his crew. She has always remained loyal to his memory.”

“I cannot go on with my life. I must know what became of my darling husband. I cannot continue . . . ,” explained the weeping lady, dabbing at the tears in her eyes.

“Such devotion is indeed most admirable,” said Robert, feeling compassion for the grief-stricken widow. “Please, ma’am, won’t you join us for a cup of tea? There is a tearoom nearby. It serves the very best kind of refreshments.”

 “Oh, Lady Fitzpatrick, please do,” added Sarah enthusiastically. “It would be an honor for us if you would. We could then sit cozily together like two old village market gossipmongers. And ye could tell me all the latest developments in Urlingford. What has happened between Lady Beatrice and the Earl of Drennan? Last I heard they were betrothed by her father, Lord O’Brien, but she was fighting the match. Ever the Spinster of Brightwood Manor, she was still playing the role of frostbitten maid last I was there.”

“My dear, then you truly are behind in the latest!” exclaimed Lady Fitzpatrick, her whole face alit with joy. “My niece and the earl published their banns in church two weeks ago. They are to be married in a fortnight’s time in Drennan Castle’s chapel. And to everyone’s delight, ’tis become a love match made in heaven.”