The Lady and the Captain (6 page)

“What do you know of the matter, ma’am?” asked the offended officer, huffily. He coolly looked at the healer with all the frigid contempt his superior station granted him.

She obviously did not fully comprehend the complexity of the situation. She couldn’t possibly grasp the importance. He had to get back to his command. His men needed him. He had to return to The Brunswick.

“My mother understands a great deal, sir,” said Sarah, as if she could read his thoughts. “It was through her advice and training that I was able to save your life. I heartily agree with her and Lieutenant Smythe. Ye would do better to remain here, sir, continuing your cleansing. We Irish have a saying, ‘’Tis better to have fifty enemies outside the house than one hiding within.’ And you have one aboard your ship with a nasty habit of trying to kill you, Captain.”

She frowned and added, “Lieutenant Smythe cannot be expected to protect you, run a warship, and chase down an assassin all in the same breath. For who knows if the next time this devil won’t succeed? And then where will the blessed Admiralty be minus one of its valuable naval captains?”

Giving the sick officer time to think over what they said, she quietly passed him a fired clay cup containing the hot sage brew she had prepared.

She poured one for herself and the others. They all sat in glum silence. She drank her tea. It tasted slightly bitter with a lingering smoky peat flavor from the hearth’s turf fire.

“’Tis good,” said Captain Jackson in a conciliatory manner. He owed these women his life. He checked his temper and frustration.

Being a man of strategy, he quietly considered his options. He was gravely ill and as weak as a new born lamb. That fact settled poorly on his manly pride. He wanted action.

“Sage has been used for hundreds of years for healing, Captain Jackson. It was often said, ‘How can a man die who grows sage in his garden?’” commented Gladys, bringing him tactfully back into the conversation. “In due time, you’ll regain your full strength and resume your command. Then your time here will be but a brief, unpleasant memory.”

“That is if the Admiralty hasn’t taken me off the lists,” said the officer with a tinge of bitterness. “If it had been any other man but Smythe here—well I’d have called him out as a mutinous traitor and his action of taking command a hanging offense. But as he has just saved my life, the noose, it would appear is around my neck.”

He looked over at the young officer and shook his head. He had come to his senses. If Smythe had truly wanted to get rid of him, he could have simply left his sorry body aboard The Brunswick to slowly worsen and eventually die. Nay, he could not put the blame on his stalwart first mate.

“There are other posts, Captain Jackson. But there are no other commanders like you, sir. The Admiralty will want you back once you’re again in full charge of your health,” said Robert, knowing the full value of seasoned leadership and experience.

The ships and lucrative cargo Captain Jackson had managed to capture from the enemies of the United Kingdom made the commander of The Brunswick much respected by his fellow officers. Any man of his reputation was not readily put aside. He had influential friends in power. They would see to it he was not easily dismissed.

“You need not fear. Quick, able-minded captains who can provide the victories at sea that you’ve handed the navy are highly valued,” he commented.

“Aye.” Captain Jackson nodded slowly, seeing reason. “I suppose, ’tis true . . . but how I long to get my hands upon the villain who did this to me! I’d like to string him up from the highest topsail for all to see and let him die a lingering death.”

“I give you my word, this would-be assassin will be brought to justice,” said his first mate in earnest. “He’ll be made to pay for his crime against you. Have no fear, sir. It will be taken care of before you once again walk on a quarter-deck. Of this, I promise.”

Captain Jackson patted him on the shoulder.

He was reconciled, putting his personal frustrations aside. “Aye, I suppose you’re right, Smythe. I will put my faith in you and in these ladies.”

The conversation continued into the night concerning Captain Jackson’s ideas as to when and how he may have been poisoned. Sarah carefully took notes of the conversation with an ink quill. She made a list of the people with whom he’d spent the last fortnight, the inns he’d patronized, the food and drink he had partaken of. She wrote down all that he could muster from memory concerning the days leading up to his illness.

It’s going to be a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack,
she thought with a small weary sigh, looking over the notes when they finished. The sooner they began the search, the better. Captain Jackson and Gladys depended upon them unmasking this villain. She and the lieutenant must not fail. Far too much was at stake.
Muineann ga seift
.
Need teaches a plan.
Eventually, the lieutenant and she would have one.

She closed the notebook. She added it to the small stack of belongings she would take with her on the morrow. Once again she was ready to leave the safety of her childhood home.

*    *    *

The sun at last broke through bathing the island in its warming light. Sarah and her mother stood by the door of the cottage, her small traveling trunk sat at her feet. She said one final farewell to her mother, holding her close—hoping that the next time she saw her, it would be under happy circumstances with this danger behind them.

“Are ye certain that you’ll be able to handle him?” she asked her mother, glancing worriedly over at Captain Jackson who sat by the hearth.

“Have no fear,” her mother said, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder. “After a time we’ll be like two old slippers sitting next to each other cozily by a fire. We’ll warm up to each other and come to a mutual understanding. He may be cantankerous and proud, but as ye know, I’ve dealt with worse. Aye, I’ll manage him fine.”

“Aye, that you’ll do,” Sarah agreed with an affectionate smile.

It was true her mother had dealt with more difficult men than Captain Jackson. She trusted her mother’s abilities to cope with the proud officer. How the two would manage was in her mother’s capable hands.

Robert joined them. He picked up her small trunk, lifting it up onto his shoulder. He’d already said his farewells to the commander.

“Time we departed, Mistress Duncan. I want us gone before the next tide.”

Kissing her mother on the cheek, she bid her one final goodbye.

Once more she was leaving her family home for an uncertain future. Knowing the explosive situation aboard The Brunswick, she wondered what dangers lay ahead for her.

She glanced over at the handsome profile of the young English officer. Disturbing doubts ran through her mind. They almost caused her to turn tail.

Could this determined English naval officer be trusted to take care of her? What problems would she be facing in helping him find the one who poisoned Captain Jackson? And would she later come to regret her decision to go with him?

From here on she would have to rely upon him for food, shelter, and companionship. If in any manner he should fail her—it would be devastating. She was going to have to count on him for both her comfort and safety. It depended entirely upon him as to how she was going to be treated by the ship’s crew.

She chewed on her lower lip
. Indeed, I have cause to wonder if I mightn’t be walking into a lion’s den full of trouble.

But the lieutenant’s behavior towards her had been correct, entirely without fault, she reminded herself. Hopefully, he would continue to behave in a manner worthy of a gentleman when they were on board his ship, and he had promised her mother this morning he would take good care of her. Plus, if anything should happen to her, she suspected, Captain Jackson would, upon leaving her mother’s island, make full retribution on her behalf.

She glanced over at his handsome profile as they walked down to the beach.
Nay, I have no reason to be concerned. He will stand by his promise to protect and take care of me. The only one I need to worry about is that villain I have to ferret out. He’s the one I need to be wary of. Not this gentleman.

They sailed to the mainland in a pucan, a fishing boat built of oak. Sturdy and quick, it was about twenty-two feet in length. An experienced seaman, Robert had no difficulty maneuvering the small craft. The skies above them had cleared to a cloudless dark blue and a light breeze aided the sail.

Brought up on a tiny dot of an island, Sarah ably aided him by manning the rudder. In no time they were smoothly sailing into Dingle Harbor. Their voyage was a pleasant one until they started discussing the best way to introduce her to the crew.

At first she’d shaken her head in disagreement over the idea. Her arms tightly folded.

“You cannot possibly believe your crew will accept me as such,” she said, when he first proposed the manner in which to introduce her.

She enumerated her reasons. “I’m of uncertain origin, the lowliest of the low in Ireland. I don’t have either the family connections or wealth to entice you into doing me the honor of asking for my hand. You know, they’ll think you a right, blithering fool to do so, Lieutenant.”

The steady gaze he directed at her told her he would not be changing his mind.

She tried to remain calm and not lose her temper.
Aye,
though there is no bone in the tongue, it has frequently broken a head. If I’m not careful, it will surely be my own I’ll be hurting today.

“You’re an English naval officer with a promising future in the Royal Admiralty,” she said aloud, trying to reason with him. “You, deciding to marry me—why ’tis far too incredible to be believed! They will think you’ve gone stark raving mad to tie yourself to someone so far beneath you. It would be plain ludicrous and—”

“You will pose as my betrothed,” he cut in, determination lacing his speech. “I cannot explain to the crew this sudden change of attitude towards having an unmarried lady aboard, unless she be mine own.”

He eyed her up and down. For some reason, he was angry at her remark. He didn’t want her to belittle herself. She was a brave woman and he admired her for her healing skills and her intelligence. The circumstances of her birth mattered not to him. But the reaction of his crew did. She was too pretty by far to come aboard as a spinster. Just sitting there in the bow of the ship, he was having a hard time keeping himself from reaching out and touching her. He had to keep himself in check and set an example for his men to follow. “The men will think me hypocritical, making up rules to suit myself if I do otherwise. At the present moment, I cannot afford to have any of them questioning my actions. As acting master and commander of The Brunswick, I must be above reproach in everything I say or do if I want to maintain order and avoid a mutiny.”

“Ye mean to say, you’ve never had any female companionship during your last two years at sea?” she asked, amazed.

She peered up at him. She couldn’t fathom it. He was far too attractive and virile to be alone. She could discern no sign of any present illness about him. Nor had he indicated he did not enjoy female companionship. Gazing at his handsome face, she thought that any lady, unless she had a couple of loose tiles in the upper story, would want to spend time alone in his company.

Perhaps he kept a mistress? For some reason this made her upset. Of course he wouldn’t just engage in dalliances with light-skirts. No, he was the kind of man who, no doubt, would keep a lover in a comfortable cottage or rooms for his return to port.

But not all men were so disciplined. Having been around busy harbor ports her entire life, she knew seamen brought not just their wives and sweethearts aboard their vessels, but also mistresses and prostitutes. Frequently, unable to get shore leave because of the Royal Navy’s legitimate fear of the noncommissioned and impressed crew swimming for land, sailors sent for the soiled doves to come to them aboard their overcrowded warships.

Desperate for female companionship, they paid the trollops of the port to visit them. Small enterprising vessels, known as “drab tail trulls” were loaded with friendly strumpets and made frequent calls upon the visiting vessels. A seaman simply had to scrounge together enough coin to pay for the services the women provided.

Firsthand she had witnessed the after effects of these thoughtless indulgences of the flesh. She’d tried to cure the sexual contagion that ravaged these short-lived liaisons. Often she was called upon in the last stages of the disease to provide laudanum to ease some of the painful suffering of the dying.

The end result of these relationships was a temporary reprieve from poverty and hunger for the women, many of whom were seamen’s widows. Untimely deaths were common. She’d estimated that the career of a harbor strumpet walking the streets lasted no more than three years.

“My men may frequent such loose company, but I do not,” he said bluntly. He did not look her directly in the eye. His statement made her smile inwardly. Clearly, his preference in ladies was not a subject he desired to discuss at length with her, but she was pleased that he was careful all the same.

“The practice of having ladies aboard is one I’ve been trying to persuade Captain Jackson to cease. They bring nothing but disruption aboard. The men grow careless when the fairer sex are around and catch diseases of the foulest kind. Not to mention they behave foolishly. I’ve lost count the number of times one of the hands has drunkenly climbed the topsails to impress a tittering female, only to fall off, and break one or more bones in his idiotic body.”

There had been times he wished he could have prevented some of the more outstanding stupidities. “Ladies interfere with the running of the ship. They smuggle aboard strong spirits, get under foot, and in general make a ghastly nuisance of themselves. They’re nothing but trouble.”

In his younger midshipman days he’d been a bit reckless with his relationships. He’d met ladies of questionable virtue on his many voyages in different ports and island harbors throughout the British Empire. However, he’d quickly seen the foolishness of engaging with any of these light-skirts.