Chapter Seventeen

A full week later, Jack stood on the cliffs with Will Richards, outside Porth en Alls, the house Will shared with his wife, Eliza, and elderly mother-in-law. Raising a leisurely hand, he shaded his eyes from the brightness of the evening sun as they watched The Fly slip neatly into harbor in Bessie’s Cove. A narrow channel that was never empty even at low tide, ideal for a shallow drafted lugger, existed under the western cliffs, and it was to this berth that Daniel Bussow was expertly maneuvering the neat little ship.

As they watched, young Harry, holding a rope, stepped nimbly off the deck and onto the iron rungs of the ladder fixed to the rocks to swarm nimbly up to the makeshift quayside. The sailors furled the lowered sails, and The Fly settled into her temporary dock like a gull returning to its roost. Jack couldn’t deny that he was glad to see her back after so long away. His feet itched to feel her heaving deck beneath them.

He wrinkled his nose. “I hope they’ve got rid of the stink of fish down below.”

This remark made Will chuckle. “Don’t fret yourself. They’ll’ve been in barrels, as usual, so they won’t have left no stink on your precious ship. And anyway, Dan’l will’ve picked up a cargo of baccie from the Channel Isles, ready to take across to France. That’s strong enough smelling to overpower fish any day.”

Jack’s turn to laugh. “You’ve said that before, and it’s not been true. We’ve a long voyage to make tonight, over to Roscoff, and I don’t want the smell of fish oil disturbing it.”

Ignoring his friend’s fussiness, Will turned towards the cliff path. “Shall we go down?”

The two men strode down the narrow path, their booted feet scuffing up the dust and pebbles, and their view of The Fly vanished, hidden by the vegetation that edged the cliffs. They wouldn’t be able to see her again until they were on the path to her mooring.

Over to Jack’s right, a column of smoke wound up into the darkening sky from Keynvor Cottage’s chimney. Hopefully, Harriet and her brood would be safely indoors at dinner, and not intending to make any evening sorties. He’d seen the boy out and about with young Cado Bussell from the kiddley, but so far he’d been no problem.

Old Tummels came out as they passed his tumbledown cottage and fell in behind them without a word, as though, without having to be told, he knew the ship was back.

The three of them took the path opposite Tummels’ hut, where it performed a sharp switchback to run below the cliff path down into the rocky inlet, a steep drop to the rocks on its right. The Fly came back into view, her crew busy making her shipshape. No smell of fish as yet.

Over on the other side of the cove, more smoke and the top of the kiddley roof showed above the trees, but not a soul was in sight. Coming in to moor in the cove brought with it the risk of being spotted by someone unfriendly to their cause, but, as he’d said to Daniel a few days ago, it would be best to come in by night. Unfortunately, the tide had meant coming in by evening’s fading light, but at least it was the tail end of September, and full darkness would soon be upon them.

He and Will swung themselves down the ladder onto the ship’s deck. Daniel appeared from the stern and Jack shook his hand. “Good trip? Any trouble?”

Daniel grinned. “Sold all the fish. Got a good price for our friends in Penzance. Then we picked up the tobacco as planned over to St Helier. Paid a good low price for that, an’all. Didn’t see sight nor sound of a revenue cutter. It’s all down in the hold ready to set sail. Picked up a few trinkets, as well, to sell as a sideline.”

Jack didn’t ask what they were. If Daniel wanted to make a few extra francs selling things to the French that were still hard to get over on the continent, then that was up to him. No doubt all the crew had a few bits and pieces they planned to sell to supplement their wages.

“Lovey’s got a stew going for you men,” Will called. “Soon as you’re ready. Then we’ll be off about ten, as the tide goes out. Mind you don’t get tap-hackled. I don’t want no slubberdegullions on my ship tonight.”

A chorus of agreement echoed round the men, some of it a little unwilling as they all liked a drink when in port. “Can we go now, Cap’n Will?” Silas Finn asked. “My belly thinks as it’s bin cut off from my mouth.”

Will laughed. “Off you all go then. You, too, young Clemo. Cap’n Jack’s going to keep watch for an hour or so, as he’s been playin’ landlubber while you all were all off a-fetchin’ and carryin’ for him. You all go get your bellies filled.”

The men, Tummels and young Clemo included, wasted no further time and were up the ladder and gone in a matter of minutes. The sound of their voices faded away, drowned out by the rumble of the waves rolling up the beach and onto the rocks.

Jack checked The Fly’s ropes. A good captain always made sure for himself that his ship was secure, and the men knew it. None of the ropes needed adjusting. “You can get off too, Will,” he said. “I’ll be fine here on my own, and I’ve already eaten up at Rosudgeon.”

Will swung himself up the ladder. “I will that, and thankee for saying so. That stew did smell right fine when I was in the kiddley. Lovey’s a good cook.”

Jack laughed. “Better than your Eliza?”

Will leaned down from the height of the rocky wharf. “A lot better than Eliza, but don’t you dare go tellin’ her that. She’d have my guts for garters.”

Jack shook his head. “Sailor’s promise. Get off with you.”

When Will had gone, Jack walked forward to the bows and checked nothing was chafing, running his hand over the gunnels as he went, reveling in the sweeping lines of his little ship. A boat was never silent, and the little noises she made served to give the impression of a living creature. The mooring ropes creaked, the waves slapped along her sides, and overhead the halyards groaned. Strong in his nostrils, the smell of tar from the rigging was enough to cover any remaining aroma of her previous cargo.

Jack loved his times alone on board The Fly . A sense of calm washed over him, and his worries about Fitz Carlyon’s nosiness drifted away. Very shortly, he’d be out at sea again, with his ship curvetting beneath him, as responsive and spirited as his horse and even if the revenue cutter hove into view, it would never catch them.

“Cap’n Jack!”

A piping voice disturbed his reverie.

He turned his head.

A small figure stood at the top of the ladder, gazing down at him out of earnest hazel eyes. Theo Penhallow.

Jack made his way back to amidships. “What’re you doing down here?”

Theo beamed, full of childish confidence that if he liked someone, they were bound to like him back. “I saw your ship come in from up there.” He waved his hand vaguely up towards the clifftop. “I asked Mama if I could go out after supper, and she said I could. So I came down to find you.” He paused, suddenly not quite so sure of himself. “You said the other day that when your ship came back, you’d take me on board and show me around.” His voice rose in question towards the end of his words.

Jack looked him up and down. “Come aboard, then, and I’ll show you The Fly .”

Theo needed no more encouragement. On nimble feet he scrambled down the ladder and landed with a thump on the deck in front of Jack. “Yessir, Cap’n.”

The boy’s evident enthusiasm made Jack smile. “I suppose I did say I’d show you my ship. What would you like to see first?” He well remembered the first time he’d been aboard one of the old King of Prussia’s ships, as a boy younger than Theo, and the impression it had made on him. Who was he to deny Theo the same pleasure?

It seemed Theo required to see everything, from one end to the other, and then, if he’d had his way, up as well. “Can I climb the rigging?”

Jack, thinking of Theo’s mother, who would have undoubtedly seen climbing the rigging of any ship as too dangerous an undertaking for her precious son, shook his head. “You’re not old enough.”

Theo put his head on one side. “How old do I have to be?”

How old was he already? Jack didn’t want to give him an estimate that was too close. Probably by the look of him about eleven. “Fourteen.”

Theo’s face fell. “That’s two years away.”

So, he was a small twelve. “When you’re a sailor, you have to learn patience. For instance, the wind doesn’t always blow, and when it does it’s not always the wind you want.”

Theo frowned. “But the wind’s hardly blowing, and I’m really good at climbing trees. And cliffs.” He paused. “Please don’t tell Mama that last bit.”

Jack shook his head. “Being good at climbing has nothing to do with it. I don’t take boys of… twelve… to sea. That’s too young. I didn’t go to sea properly until I was fifteen.” No need to mention the little single-sailed crabbing boat he’d sailed in by himself, or occasionally with Nat Treloar, from the age of nine.

Theo appeared to be digesting this information. Until the sight of the hatches caught his eye. “Can I go in the hold, then? Can I see what it’s like?” He grinned conspiratorially, as though accepting Jack into his coterie of young boys. “I’ve always wanted to see inside a hold, don’t you know.”

The baccy was down in the hold. Could Theo be relied upon not to mention what he saw? Suppose Captain Carlyon called at Keynvor and spoke to Theo? The boy might not mean to betray them, but it might come popping out of his mouth without thinking. Jack shook his head. “You’ve seen enough now, and the sun’s almost vanished. It’ll be dark in no time. You go on back up to your house or your mother’ll be coming down here looking for you, and I’ll be in trouble.”

Theo’s lower lip jutted in rebellion. “Will The Fly still be here in the morning? Can I come back and see her again?” He paused. “Can’t I just stay here a little bit longer? I love the way you can feel her moving under your feet. It’s like magic.”

As this was much how Jack felt about being on board a ship, he softened a little. “Well, I was going to sit here on the hatch cover and just look at the stars for a bit, as they come popping out. I suppose you can sit here with me. Stars are important things for sailors. You can navigate by them.”

Theo sat down with alacrity, probably in case Jack changed his mind. “You can? Will you teach me how to do it? I’d like to be able to do that.”

Jack shook his head. “Not tonight. Maybe another time.” He sat down beside Theo and gazed up at the stars where they were just beginning to prick out in the darkening sky. A few at the moment, but it was a cloudless night and very shortly the sky would look like sequined velvet. He heaved a sigh. Watching the stars come out had always been something he loved.

“Mama likes to watch the stars,” Theo said. “But in Bath we couldn’t see that many. Mama said it was because there was too much light. I wish I had a telescope so I could see them better.”

Jack rubbed his chin. “I can fix that.”

A minute later he was back with his own short telescope which he handed to Theo. “Lie on your back and take a look up at the sky.”

Seizing the telescope, Theo did as he was told. “Thank you, Cap’n. Oh my goodness. They look so close.”

Jack was watching the moon coming up in the east. She’d been on the wane a few days now and her pale hemisphere glowed like a lantern in the dark sky. “Take a look at the moon.”

Theo obeyed, gasping in appreciation as he focused in on it. “I can see its face.”

“That’s not a face. Those’re craters.”

“Craters?”

“Impact sites where meteors have struck the surface. A man called Johannes Hevelius studied the moon closely and made maps of it. They’re in a book he wrote called Selenographia . I have a copy in my library at Rosudgeon.”

“Might you show it to me?”

Jack chuckled. “I expect so.”

He lay on his back beside Theo, gazing up at the stars. What would it be like if he had a boy of his own to show the world to? That thought needed shrugging away. He would have to make do with showing Harriet’s boy instead. Which brought his thoughts to Harriet. Why not ask Theo a few gentle questions? He seemed the sort of boy who liked to talk.

“Do you miss your father?”

After a moment’s silence, Theo answered, his voice strangely taut. “No.”

Not the answer Jack had been expecting. “Oh. Why’s that?”

Theo shifted the telescope. “Well…” He paused. “He was hardly ever there.”

“I suppose as a soldier he was often away fighting.”

Theo nodded without removing the telescope from his eye. “It was nicer when he was away.”

Trust a child to be this candid. “Was it?”

Another nod. “Mama was happiest when he wasn’t at home.”

Things began to slot into place. “And when he was home, what was she like?”

Was that a shudder? Theo gave a grunt. “She was unhappy. No… she was frightened all the time.” He paused. “Is that one a planet? I’d like to see a planet. I know their names.”

Never mind planets. Jack wanted to know what had happened to frighten Harriet in that house in Bath when Theo’s father had been home. “What was she frightened of?”

“Of Papa.” Another pause. “She thinks me and Lyddie didn’t know, but we did. He didn’t like us getting in his way, so we were mostly upstairs in the nursery when he was home. But we’re not deaf.” He lowered the telescope and turned to look at Jack. “We heard him shouting at her.” Another pause. “Lyddie still liked him because he brought her presents, but I didn’t. He was nicer to Lyddie than he was to me. I don’t think he liked me at all.”

So her husband had been a bully. That he hadn’t wanted his children around was nothing new. A lot of men felt like that, and a lot of children were kept confined to their nurseries. And a lot of men bullied their wives. A woman in that situation had no recourse. She was her husband’s chattel and had to do as he said. Unlike his own mother, who’d always done as she wished and never even considered confining Jack to his nursery.

“And now he’s gone? How is she now?”

Theo sat up, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them. “She’s much happier, and so am I. Lyddie misses him, I think. He sometimes used to call her ‘his little angel,’ when he was in a good mood. But that wasn’t often. Mostly he was just cross all the time. I don’t miss him at all.” He set his lips together in a firm line and his brow furrowed. “I’m glad he’s gone because now I’m the man of the house and I’m never going to shout at Mama ever. Then she’ll be happy all of the time.”

Jack sat up too and held out his hand for the telescope. “A good resolution. I’d like to see your mama happy as well. It sounds like she deserves some happiness. Now, we’re off at ten, and my men’ll be back soon from the kiddley. I’m probably going to have to go and winkle them out, so off you go now, back to your mama before she gets worried about you out here in the dark. We’ve cargo to deliver. The Fly’s a working ship and has to earn her living.”

“What sort of cargo?”

Now he was getting too nosy. Perhaps befriending him like this wasn’t such a good idea, even if it had led to an explanation of some of Harriet’s wariness. “None of your business. And it wouldn’t interest you anyway. Now, off you go.”

With obvious reluctance, Theo climbed the ladder while Jack watched, just to make sure he didn’t slip and fall in. When he reached the top, he turned to have one last try. “I could come with you when you go? Be your cabin boy?”

Jack chuckled. Full marks for persistence. “No. I already told you you’re too young, and anyway, I already have a cabin boy. Go home and do some growing. I’ll take you out when you’re fourteen. Life on board any ship isn’t easy. Good night.”

Theo sighed deeply, and with shoulders hunched, he set off back up the path towards Tummels’ house, which would be empty now its occupant had repaired to the kiddley with his sometime shipmates.

Jack watched him out of sight, then sat himself down on the hatch again and took out his hip flask. All around him night was gathering, the lights of Porth en Alls a faint twinkle on the far headland. He could have been anywhere, so deep was the peace. From the little beach just over the rocks the deep swooshing of the waves pulling on the sand echoed over to him. A sound he loved to hear. He’d just have a quick swig of brandy then nip across to the kiddley and reclaim his men. They’d all be replete with Lovey’s stew and a few jars of ale and would no doubt have forgotten the time.

Once he had them back, they’d let The Fly slip her moorings and glide silently out into the night, her cargo of tobacco, something that carried a high tax in France, ready to trade in Roscoff for the barrels of brandy the local squires hereabouts loved.

Five more minutes and then he’d go.

Overhead, more stars sprang out in the blue-black of the sky, and Jack lay back on the hatch covers again, staring up at them as they blinked between the gently rocking spars and rigging. Best not close his eyes or he’d be asleep in the cradle of the sea and then they’d never get to Roscoff.