Close to the Wind Page 7

  ‘And that’s not like the captain,’ Pete cut in.

  ‘Anyways,’ said Bert, determinedly ignoring the interruption, ‘next thing we knew, he was telling us we was off to New Zealand, leaving as soon as possible.’

  ‘Weren’t you surprised?’

  ‘Course we were, but he didn’t say any more and from the look of him, wasn’t about to either. None of us was going to ask any questions with him in such a mood. Now we knows of course that that’s because he’d made this enemy what’s got him worried. He went ashore next night to play cards and came back with you.’

  He bit down on his pipe, and shook his head. For a minute they were all silent, then Bert threw off his ruminative air. ‘Well, boy, are you going to cradle those cards all night or are you going to give me a chance to have my revenge?’

  After a few more hands, the last of which she deliberately lost to keep the older men happy, Georgiana escaped to the stern. She leaned her elbows on the railings, watching the wake foam white under the waning moon. Iver, Walsingham. Oh yes, she’d heard those names before and she shivered, despite the warmth of the night.

  Somehow Harry had insinuated himself into this fantastical story. He had seen Iver. He had been the carrier of Eddie’s papers – but surely nothing more. Yet something, someone, had suddenly set him on this path to New Zealand. The law was after him. Who was this enemy he spoke of? What had he done?

  Suddenly cold, Georgiana rubbed her arms as she remembered the admiration in Pete’s voice as he described Harry’s ability to fight. She herself had seen how easily he’d dispatched opponents in the tavern, had dispensed with Mack. The pirate king. Yet he’d been protective of a circus brat and his men trusted him. There were, after all, many reasons to go to New Zealand. Gold, for example. He might just be going for the gold. Nothing more.

  Georgiana shook her head, shutting down her mind to conclusions she couldn’t bear to think about; her every instinct cried against them. She felt sick to her stomach though, with unvoiced fears.

  Touching the griffin about her neck she whispered into the darkness, ‘Grandmother, why have you led me here? Who can I trust?’

  Chapter Eight

  Georgiana woke alert at dawn. Nothing seemed amiss. The ship was sailing an easy course. She looked along the rows of hammocks misshapen with their loads. One man farted as he turned over and another muttered in his sleep, but everything else was tranquil.

  Unable to get back to sleep, Georgiana slid out of her hammock and scaled the ladder to the decks. Burt was at the wheel, Dougal on watch. She nodded to them as she slipped up to the prow where she was hoping to enjoy the dawn in solitude. She was surprised, therefore, to find the captain sitting there, back against the foremast, arms resting on his bended knees.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, backing away as he glanced up. ‘I didn’t think anyone—’

  ‘—would be here, I know,’ Harry gave her one of his swift smiles. ‘Neither did I. But now that you’re here, come and take a seat, George. It’ll be a stunning sunrise.’

  At the sight of his smile, all the ugly thoughts of the night before evaporated. Impossible that he could be a murderer. She was being ridiculous. Even more ridiculous was the sudden urge to tame her curls which were dancing in the wind, to flatten them more becomingly behind her ears. Lord, she had to be so careful around Harry not to betray herself with unconsciously feminine gestures.

  Harry shifted over but still it was a squeeze for Georgiana to sit beside him. She could feel the warmth of his body and when he stretched one leg out flat next to her, the lean muscles of his thigh were hard against hers. Beside him she noticed a bottle of port. He took a swig and passed it over to her. She hesitated then took a sip. The port burned and she coughed.

  ‘You’ll have to get used to grog if you want to be a sailor, George,’ Harry mocked.

  ‘It’s a bit early for me.’

  ‘Me too.’ His smile was wry as he took another pull. ‘Why are you about at this hour?’

  ‘I woke and couldn’t go back to sleep – I don’t know why.’

  He nodded. ‘There’s a storm in the air.’

  ‘A storm?’ Georgiana was disbelieving.

  The black of the night sky had already surrendered to deep blue, though fading stars still glimmered. The sea was as smooth as a satin sheet. Harry smiled and she watched the faint lines around his vivid blue eyes deepen. The half-light accentuated the planes of his face. Shadows lay under his high cheek bones, while the long, strong lines of his nose and jaw stood out in contrast. A breeze lifted his tousled black hair from his brow. Realising that she was staring, Georgiana hastily pulled her woman’s eyes from his face to look out over the ocean.

  ‘It’s hard to believe,’ Harry agreed, ‘but there’s a stillness I don’t trust and the barometer is dropping fast. I didn’t sleep much last night. I’ll get the men up soon to batten down the hatches and make ready. You’ll be surprised when you see how swift and fierce the storms are in the Bay of Biscay. Frightened?’ he asked, glancing down at her.

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied with all the confidence she did not feel.

  He looked to the horizon and took another drink. ‘You’re a fine actor, I’ll say that for you.’

  She went very still. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I felt you shiver when I spoke of the storm.’

  Georgiana became aware again of their touching arms and thighs. She must have leaned into him unconsciously and now tried to ease away.

  Harry smiled down at her. ‘You’ve nothing to fear, George. I’ve never lost a man overboard and I’m not about to spoil the record by losing a circus brat.’ He passed her the bottle and the port went down easier this time.

  ‘Have you been through many storms?’ she asked, then winced at the stupid question. Of course he must have.

  Harry laughed. ‘Oh God, yes. Thought I might die several times, especially when I went round the Horn a few years back. Didn’t think any of us would come out alive but we did. The thing to remember is storms always blow over eventually. Like life,’ he added, and Georgiana threw him a sideways look.

  ‘It isn’t just the storm, is it?’

  He looked down at her, his dark brows drawing together in question.

  ‘The reason you couldn’t sleep,’ she added.

  ‘Ah.’ He took another drink from the bottle. ‘No, it’s not just the storm.’

  She waited, willing him to confide in her. For a second he was silent then he asked, ‘How’re you fitting in with the crew?’

  ‘Fine, I think,’ she said, bewildered by this change in tack. His tone was almost too casual. ‘I like them and I think they don’t mind me.’

  It was impossible to read his face as he nodded. ‘They’ve certainly accepted you, but you are not of their world. Do you mind that?’ He turned to look at her and she wrinkled her nose reflectively. ‘Well?’ he prompted.

  Georgiana didn’t know how to answer. What would Harry say if she told him who she really was; that she felt more herself posing in boy’s clothing than she had ever felt dressed up at balls, trying to please young men for whom she felt nothing but scorn. Miss Bellingham of Ashton Hall. She hadn’t even been allowed her real name.

  ‘I didn’t fit my aunt’s world either,’ she temporised.

  ‘Because of the circus?’

  She nodded. ‘It made me think differently and no matter how hard I tried to appear the same as everyone else, they still knew I wasn’t and disliked me for it.’

  Harry nodded. ‘From two worlds and not of either,’ he said. ‘We are not so different, George.’ She couldn’t place his tone. It wasn’t bitter or angry but it had a distinct edge.

  They looked out over the flat sea and watched as the sun split the line between water and sky with a shaft of gold. Georgiana’s thoughts were not on the
sight in front of her, however, but on the books in the captain’s cabin, on Harry’s effortless charm, and his natural sense of command. She thought of herself sitting with her aunt at balls, her card only half-filled, and felt a surge of bitterness.

  ‘Not quite the same. You could belong to whichever world you choose,’ she said.

  Harry shook his head. ‘Not when I know myself that deep down I don’t truly belong to either.’

  Perhaps he was the illegitimate son of some aristocrat. It would explain the education and explain his inability to find a proper footing in England.

  ‘Is that why you sail?’

  He smiled. ‘It is why I first set sail. Then I found I liked it – I belong on Sally.’

  ‘But she’s a very small world,’ Georgiana said. ‘She cannot remain your world forever.’

  Yet even as she spoke, she thought of the sense of freedom she’d enjoyed these past few days, despite the long, unaccustomed hours of work. It was amazing how easily the world did indeed shrink down to the dimensions of the ship.

  ‘No? Maybe not. I used to think she would, but just recently—’ he broke off.

  They sat for a few minutes. Georgiana bubbled with questions that George could not ask his captain. Was the smallness of his world beginning to irk? Was he bothered by his belief – a gravely mistaken one – that he had nothing to offer a woman?

  ‘If you could find a way to belong – would you take it?’ he asked.

  Georgiana could feel the importance of this abrupt question but did not know how to reply. She had been prepared to marry Jasper to escape, but she’d never imagined ever actually belonging anywhere.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I think it would depend on what I would be required to do.’

  Harry sighed. ‘Therein lies the rub,’ he agreed. Then softly repeated it, as if to himself. ‘Therein lies the rub.’

  Despite the rising sun, it seemed a shadow passed over his face as he tipped up the bottle and drained it in an angry, almost contemptuous movement, setting her instincts on alert.

  What have you done, Harry? her mind asked. What is it that you don’t want to do?

  Georgiana wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  When he turned to her, she knew any confidences he might have been on the point of sharing had been put aside. He smiled and tousled her hair.

  ‘Don’t look so concerned. I’m just talking. Now, you be off and raise the alarm. See, the first cloud’s already gathering on the horizon. The others will be massing soon.’

  The moment was passed and Georgiana hastened away to do as she was bid, though questions still burned inside her head. What was eating at him so?

  Touching her griffin through the fabric of her shirt, she stifled the words welling up. ‘Oh dear God, don’t let it be anything to do with Charlie.’

  These thoughts were driven out, however, as she scrambled with the rest of crew in readiness of the storm. By mid-morning the sky was black, but all sails were reefed, sheets secured and the men, though tense, were confident. The captain had acted in good time.

  At eleven o’clock, however, a fresh alarm was sounded. High in the crow’s nest, Eric cried out, ‘Captain, there’s a ship on the horizon headed straight for us.’

  Harry looked through the telescope. ‘A naval ship. She’s carrying a lot of sail in the teeth of a storm. I wonder what the hurry is.’

  Within the hour both storm and ship were bearing swiftly down upon the Lady Sarah.

  ‘What the devil is she up to?’ Harry demanded.

  ‘She’s signalling, sir. She wants us to heave to, Captain.’

  ‘The hell we will.’

  The ship continued to bear straight down on them.

  ‘I don’t like it, Captain,’ said Burt.

  Harry’s face was inscrutable. ‘Neither do I, let’s lose her.’ He turned and bellowed, ‘Loose the sails – we’ll have to run in front of her.’

  The men were alarmed but only Alec had the courage to voice their concerns. ‘It’s suicide, Captain, to carry heavy sail in these conditions. She can’t take it.’

  ‘We know what we’re up against with the storm, whereas we don’t with that ship. I know Sally well enough to keep her safe. Now move!’

  At the crack of his command, the men snapped into action. A wild wind presaging the storm hampered their movements and nerves made some fingers clumsy.

  ‘Come on!’ cried Harry, grabbing the wheel from Stephen. ‘She’s gaining on us fast.’

  With a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, Georgiana watched the ship bearing down on them. It was a huge vessel and its sails ballooned white against the black bank of clouds. Lightning lit up the sky and seemed to fork from the ship itself. The men were apprehensive.

  ‘It’s a man o’ war – why would she bother with us?’

  ‘No time for questions,’ Harry shouted. ‘Just get those sails up. She may be big but we’re more manoeuvrable.’

  The wind whipped and whined and as soon as the sails unfurled Sally leapt ahead. The sea was now heaving black waves laced with angry yellow surf and the valiant ship heeled as she ploughed through it with terrifying speed. Yet she was not fast enough. To the crew’s disbelief, the huge ship bore down on them with great speed and drew up alongside, even in the heaving seas. She was so close that they saw the cannons lined up against them. ‘She’s going to fire!’ someone yelled.

  ‘Keep your heads down!’ Harry spun the wheel hard so the ship moved downwind to port just as the cannons went off and the heavy clouds burst directly above them.

  Georgiana could make sense of nothing. Cannon balls roared, lightning flashed, and torrents of rain swirled both vessels into the whirlpool of the storm. A cannon ball hit one of the upper yardarms, splintering the end and causing the topsail to flap wildly.

  ‘Secure the sail!’ Harry bellowed above the roar of the storm. The two vessels were so close now that musket balls began to rain onto the deck.

  Sally was dwarfed by the lurching man of war but the storm, initially so feared, now became their ally. More manoeuvrable, Sally skittered up and down the mountainous waters while the man of war wallowed. Despite the waves that rose high and crashed deafeningly on deck, and the rain which pelted in their faces with the power of small stones, Harry’s hold on the wheel never faltered. He seemed to move as one with the deck, the wind and the waves, his body always in balance. Sally ran the gauntlet of the storm valiantly and the distance between the ships began opening up.

  ‘Secure that bloody sail,’ Harry roared. Several of the crew sprang to the rigging, but Georgiana was fastest as she began scaling the treacherously slippery ratlines. Never had she been more petrified yet more focused. Hands slipping on the wet ropes, rain drumming her eyes, she climbed until she was on the level with the wildly flapping sail. It snapped and whistled like some wild creature. Holding tight with one arm, she swung out, caught a corner and wrestled it in. She had to fight to secure the rope, her legs wound around the yard arm, arms shaking with exertion. But her mind remained trained on the task in front of her. She scarcely heard the sounds of the storm and certainly didn’t hear the whistle of one of the last musket shots loosed before the naval ship lost Sally in the next huge waves.

  The ball scorched her arm and Georgiana jerked back in shock, her hand instinctively going to the wound. Blood. Then she felt herself slip. Ignoring the searing pain in her arm, she grabbed for a rope, but it was too late. Like a wounded bird, she fell, twisting and helpless, to crash onto the deck below.

  Chapter Nine

  The world was black when she came to. Disorientated, she began to struggle up, but Alec’s voice penetrated the mists in her mind.

  ‘Lie down, girl. You need your rest.’

  As she slipped back into oblivion, the word girl strummed in her head.
>
  The next time she opened her eyes, the world was light again, but blurred. Her head pounded, her arm still burned. Blinking, she tried to focus. Then a blessedly cool cloth pressed against her forehead.

  ‘Patience, lass. That was a quite a blow you took to your head. You’ve got a thick skull to survive that fall.’

  ‘My arm?’ Her voice sounded pathetically weak.

  ‘Aye, you were shot but it’s a flesh wound, no more than a scratch. It’ll hurt but it’ll heal.’

  These words gave her some comfort. ‘What about the storm and the man of war?’

  Alec gave a creaky laugh. ‘The storm saved the day for us. The captain is in league with the devil himself, the luck he carries with him. The storm pitched their ship just as the cannons fired which saved us from too much damage. Later we managed to outrun them. Eric swears he saw one of their masts go in one of the gusts for they were carrying way too much sail. We didn’t see them again in the next six hours of the storm and there’s not been a peep of them since it ended, so it seems that for the moment we are safe.’

  ‘Why were they chasing us?’

  ‘That the captain doesn’t know, girlie.’

  Suddenly it dawned on her and she flushed. ‘You know?’

  ‘Aye, well I could scarce not now, could I. They brought your body down like one dead and when I took a look at your arm—’ Alec broke off and shrugged.

  Her hand went to her chest but the binding was comfortingly in place.

  ‘Does the captain …?’

  ‘Aye, he does. Soon as we were clear of the storm he came down to see how you and the others were.’

  ‘Others? Are any badly hurt?’

  ‘No, I told you. The captain has a pact with the devil. Just bumps and cuts, most of them. But I had you moved to my cabin, away from the others. Said you was badly hurt – though I thought the concussion would lift. Anyway, I’ve explained the problem to him.’