Chapter Twenty-Six

J ack was quite right, as Harriet had been nurturing a hope he would be, and the voyage north from Roscoff was a far less bumpy ride, helped by being out on deck in the fresh air. He made a comfortable seat for her and Theo on the sails again, which also happened to be in the most sheltered spot in the ship, as the edging, which Jack told her was called the gunwales, rose towards the front. She settled there with a warm feeling of coming home that she couldn’t quite identify nor fathom. After all, The Fly was not her home, so why should she feel like this?

Their day passed in comparative comfort, as the weather held fine, and a following wind chased what clouds there were across the sky much as it was doing to The Fly on the azure surface of the sea. Somewhere in the middle of the voyage, just after they’d eaten a welcome noonday snack of barley bread and cheese, washed down with horn beakers of Cornish cider, a new experience for Theo, a school of dolphins found the ship. They followed her for some time, leaping out of the water or skimming just beneath the surface like sleek blue-gray bullets.

Theo knelt, on Harriet’s insistence, beside the gunwales watching this aquatic display with delight, and even the crew, who must have seen all this many times before, took time to ooh and aah over their followers. After a bit, with his friend, Will, taking a turn at the tiller, Jack came and stood with Harriet while Theo admired the dolphins from his position of safety, bringing with him a flask of much-needed water.

He’d removed his coat and wore only an unbuttoned waistcoat over a white shirt open at the neck to reveal his darkly curling chest hairs. Harriet averted her gaze and fixed her eyes on Theo, to whose waist she’d insisted on attaching a spare rope, much to his disgust and the laughter of the crew, especially young Clemo who’d been particularly mocking of what he called ‘the landlubbers’.

Jack settled on the sails a few feet away, stretching his long, boot-clad legs out in front of him. “We only take the tiller an hour at a time usually,” he said. “Because it takes it out of you to stand there for too long at a time, keeping her as close to the wind as possible. A man can have enough of steering a ship.” And there was she thinking a man liked nothing better than to pose with the tiller of his very own ship. She controlled the smile that threatened to appear.

Theo jumped up. “Can I go and help Cap’n Will with the tiller then? In case he gets tired?”

Jack nodded. “But no running on deck. Your mother’ll likely kill me if you hurt yourself.” He grinned. “Or fall in.” Wise words. He must have a good idea what being a mother was like. Perhaps Talwyn was responsible for that. They seemed to have a close bond, with him growing up hardly ever seeing his father.

Theo, having prevailed upon Harriet to remove the rope from his waist on his solemn promise not to go near the sides again, departed in as close to a run as he could manage without actually running, and Jack leaned back on the pile of spare sails. Harriet regarded him in silence for a moment or two. It might be a good idea, before he brought up last night, to get him talking about The Fly , then he wouldn’t be able to remind her of her reprehensible behavior. Or talk of anything else that might discomfort her. “She’s a beautiful ship,” she said. “How long have you had her?”

He was almost prone now, as though soaking up what warmth there was in the fast fading sun now he was out of the wind, and she had to look down at him. At the provocative hint of hairs on his chest, the shadow of stubble on his firm chin, the way loose curls of his hair flopped over his forehead… Good heavens. She was getting carried away here. She straightened her spine with determination.

He’d closed his eyes. “Not long. Will has his own ship, The Black Joke , which is off right now doing legal journeys. We have to let them do that as much as possible so as not to draw untoward attention from the authorities. As for The Fly , I’d wanted a ship of my own for a long time, so I had her built round in St Ives, in Thomas’s boatyard, to my own design. Well, I had input, but he had the final say as he’s the expert. She’s fast as she can carry so much sail, but she’s also capable of carrying a good weight in cargo. Like we have today.”

Having asked him about what was probably his favorite subject, she had to expect a full and detailed reply. “Why did you call her The Fly ?” She brushed strands of hair out of her eyes. A bonnet would have been useful. Her face was going to be very tan if she wasn’t careful, and Bertha would remark on it, for sure. A lady’s complexion should be milky white, not tanned like that of a man or a farm worker. Only working women looked like that.

Bertha . No. She would not think about Bertha until that worthy was standing before her. What would be the point? Lydia. No, she had to put off thinking of both of them for now, as dwelling on them would do her no good but make her feel guilty when none of this was her fault. Events had swept her up into this seaborne adventure. Adventure? Was she now seeing this trip through rose-tinted spectacles? Was she, heaven forbid, enjoying it as much as Theo?

Jack opened one eye. “When I was a boy, my father gave me a little crabbing boat to sail about in near the coast. Blue painted, with a red sail, just like the bigger fishing boats. I loved that little boat. She was called The Fly , so it seemed only natural to call the ship I commissioned myself after her.”

So his father had seen enough of him to furnish him with gifts. Maybe not such an absent father as he’d led her to believe, or rather, as she’d assumed. Possibly more active in his life than Ben had been with Theo. That wouldn’t have been hard. Somehow, the image of Jack as a boy of Theo’s age, off in his own little sailing boat, appealed.

“And did you fish for crabs with your boat?”

He nodded. “You don’t precisely fish for them. You put down baited traps and wait for them to crawl inside. A bit like lobster pots. I caught a good few and made myself a bit of money selling them round at the market in Penzance.”

At the stern, Will was allowing Theo to think he was in charge of the steering, standing behind him with his hand steadying the tiller where Theo couldn’t see. Young Harry was sitting on a coil of rope, whittling at something with his pocketknife. The boy Clemo was doing something to one of the sails that involved a rope. Goodness knows what, but the boat was fairly skimming along, water spraying up from the wake she was leaving. Harriet had never realized a ship could feel so fast—almost like a horse at a canter. From on land they appeared to crawl like snails.

“She is a sleek creature,” Harriet said, reaching out to touch the gunwale. “Like one of those dolphins. A wild creature of the sea.”

“A mermaid, maybe.”

She smiled. “Indeed.”

He’d closed his eyes again and now fell silent enough to be asleep, but he wasn’t, because after a bit he opened both eyes again and looked up at her. “I’m glad you told me all of that. Last night.”

Oh no. How could he bring it up and embarrass her so? Had he no sense of decorum? She bit her lip.

He reached out a hand and caught hers before she had time to snatch it out of the way. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.”

Oh. She stayed silent, longing to pull away but knowing that if she did he’d just hang on all the tighter. He was that kind of a man.

“Have you never told anyone else?”

What? Who did he imagine she could ever have told about this? She shook her head, keeping it turned away from him and staring out over the gunwales. His hand was warm and a little rough on hers. The hand of a man who worked with ropes and sails alongside his men.

“You were very brave to tell me.”

Would he not take the hint from her reaction and let the subject drop? Had he no sense of propriety? “It was the wine talking.” Her answer came out in a tight mutter.

“There’s truth to be had in the bottom of a bottle.”

He was right about that, but that didn’t excuse her for having imbibed too much. She’d shown herself up and now he was refusing to let her forget it. “I didn’t realize I’d drunk so much.”

“You didn’t. You’re just not used to it, I’d say. We only had the two bottles between us, and I drank the lion’s share.”

She gave a little shrug, part turning so she could see him better and peeking out of the corner of her eyes. “Nevertheless, I should have known better.”

He didn’t appear at all bothered. In fact, he smiled. “You did nothing to show yourself up, if that’s what you’re worrying about. You never could, in my eyes.”

What? Her eyes widened at his words. What did he mean? His words held deep sincerity, she was certain.

He rolled onto his side without relinquishing his hold on her hand. “Harriet Penhallow, I believe I am growing fond of you.” His golden eyes fixed on hers, trapping them in his gaze, so firmly she couldn’t drag them away.

She stared, unsure how to reply to this. The deeper she looked into them, the less she could read in his expression. She floundered, her cheeks heating. Only once in her life had a man ever declared himself like this to her, and that had been Ben. And his proposal had been so overbearing. She hadn’t thought it at the time, but now she knew it had been. He’d told her they would marry, that they would live at first in London, near to his aunt, from whom he hoped to one day inherit, and then, when he had amassed some money, they would move to Bath. She’d had no opportunity to refuse him. He’d spoken with her father already and her answer, had it been required, had been a foregone conclusion. And anyway, she’d fancied herself in love with the handsome officer.

What should she say? Something that wasn’t trite and missish. Not that she’d ever been missish. What had Bertha once said to her? If in doubt, be honest. Was honesty the best bet here? She swallowed. “I own I am growing to like you a little too.”

Those golden eyes flashed for a moment with something like triumph, but he had them guarded in an instant. “Something I am happy to hear.” He smiled, relaxed once more. “I had feared initially that you held me in dislike and scorn. For my trade and for my manners in kidnapping you like this and taking you to France.”

“It was hardly kidnapping.”

He chuckled. “But I thought you assumed it was.” He pushed himself into a seated position, a little closer than he had been when prone, still with her hand captured in his own. And now, of a sudden, she no longer wished to snatch it back. Her heart, which had been gradually speeding up, began to pound. This was so silly. She wasn’t a green girl like Lyddie. She was a woman grown, married, widowed and mother to two children. She was not the sort of woman a gentleman of means, by-blow or not, would even consider. And yet here he was, staring at her out of his mesmerizing golden eyes as though she was something he greatly desired.

Another thought rose to the forefront. “I am not a woman to be trifled with,” she managed, a little stiffly. “I am no man’s mistress, and do not intend to be.” There, she’d said it, even though it had made her cheeks flame.

“And nor do I want you to be.”

“Oh.” What else was there to say? Conscious that her mouth was hanging open, she closed it with a snap. What did he mean by that?

He took a deep breath. “Harriet.” He closed his other hand around the first, her own hand trapped between the two, his thumbs gently massaging her skin, something that sent undeniable shivers coursing through her body.

“Yes?” She found she was breathless, her heart increasing its rate even more.

“Might I kiss you?”

The sails flapped overhead in the wind, a gull called and the wind whipped across the deck. Harriet stared at him in a state of absolute wonder. Ben had never asked for permission to kiss her. He’d just taken what he wanted when he wanted it with no thought to whether she shared his desires at that moment in time. But that was what men did, wasn’t it? And in return for the safety of a home, a woman complied. That was what her mother had told her before she died, advice she’d not been able to repeat on the morning of her wedding but which had hung over the ceremony and what had come after. “There’ll be things to put up with that you won’t like, Harriet. But grin and bear them, because they won’t last long, and in return a man will give you a home and children and keep you safe.” Not all of which had come true. Hardly any of it, in fact.

She stared at Jack’s slightly parted lips. Oh, she wanted him to kiss her, but that would mean she was doing just what Ben had always accused her of doing. If only she could take a swig of wine, or better still, strong spirit, right now for confidence. If only she could find it in her to say yes and let him fold her into his arms against that strong chest like he’d done last night. Only then might she feel safe. But she had to make a decision, because he was waiting for her.

“Yes.” It came out as a strangled whisper, startling herself with her own boldness.

He shifted closer, but he didn’t attempt to hold her. Instead, he leaned in, his face drawing closer.

She glimpsed his dark lashes, the stubble on his chin, a look in his eyes she didn’t recognize, before she closed her eyes, feeling like a girl about to experience her first kiss. Which, in a way, she was. Ben’s attentions had not often been so personal as to begin with kissing.

His lips brushed hers, soft, gentle, undemanding. Warm.

A little shiver of excitement ran through her. For just a fraction of a second, she was able to enjoy the sensation, and then, from nowhere, the specter of Ben’s last visit home before embarking for the continent, Waterloo and his death, leapt into her head. The embraces he’d forced upon her, taken by right because, as he so liked to inform her, she was his chattel and nothing more and he could do with her what he willed. The embraces she’d had to steel herself to bear in silence, lest her cries woke the children or servants.

Suddenly, those weren’t Jack’s lips on hers. She jerked back from his kiss, her heart hammering with fear this time.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” His golden eyes showed only confusion.

“I’m sorry,” she gabbled. “I shouldn’t have let you do that. It’s all my fault. I-I—” Her words trailed away and she felt a sob rising in her throat. She’d spoiled the moment. Ben had reared his ugly head and driven a wedge between them before anything had even begun. He always would. She could never escape him.

She was saved from further explanation by an excited shout. “Ship to starboard side, Cap’n.” Young Clemo, who’d rather daringly climbed onto the gunwales, stood pointing out to sea, one hand on the ropes that held the mast up, his bare, almost prehensile feet gripping the wooden railing.

The aborted kiss forgotten, Jack leapt to his feet, pulling a short telescope out of an inside pocket in his waistcoat. “Where?”

“There, Cap’n. East-nor’east.”

Her dilemma also forgotten, Harriet scrambled up and stared in the same direction as everyone else. Sure enough, there, on the hazy, early-evening horizon, was the distinct shape of a ship with many sails up.

From down below came the sound of running feet, and in a moment the rest of the crew were on deck, rubbing sleep from their eyes. One of them took the tiller from Will, who then joined Jack.

Jack passed him the telescope. “That’s a revenue sloop if ever I saw one.”

A revenue sloop? Wasn’t that like seaborne Bow Street runners? Heading their way? Wasn’t Fitz Carlyon in charge of them? And The Fly had a hold full of contraband.

Will peered through the telescope. “Aye, it is that. I’d say it’s The Dolphin , out of St Ives, by the cut of her.”

“ The Dolphin ?” Harriet echoed. A nice name but for a ship with something not so nice on the minds of its captain and crew.

Will passed her the telescope. “She’s a seventy-five-foot sloop with fourteen guns on her, heading our way. Here. Take a look.”

She’d never used a telescope before but set it to her eye and peered through it. A moment or so later she found the ship, a little blurry in the gathering dusk and difficult to keep in focus as their own vessel bobbed up and down. How they could tell her name and intent from such a distance and in such poor light escaped her.

Theo appeared at her side, quivering with excitement. “Can I look?”

She handed him the telescope.

“With those fourteen guns, she’s bloody dangerous,” Will said. “We’d best hoist the spare sails and hope she don’t reach us before full darkness falls. We’ve a head start and a good chance of outrunning her if we’re lucky. It’s the only chance we’ve got.”

Harriet’s heart did a little leap of fear. No, a large one. The authorities were on their tail.

“Sit here on the hatch and keep out of everyone’s way,” Jack said to Harriet. “We need the spare sails now. Theo, sit with your mother and make sure she stays there.”

Harriet did as she was told. Sixteen years of marriage to a bully had inculcated obedience into her and it came in useful now. She put an arm around Theo’s shoulders and pulled him as close as she could. “You stay with me, you hear? I don’t want you getting in anyone’s way. We have to do as we’re told by the captain.”

He nodded, somewhat overawed by the whole incident and forgetting that it was he who’d been asked to look after her and not the other way around.

The crew hauled up the extra sails with amazing speed and dexterity and the little ship cut through the darkening water, heading like an arrow towards the Cornish coast, as yet not visible on the horizon.

To their right, which Harriet had worked out by now must be the starboard side, the revenue sloop inched closer, growing steadily larger but no clearer as the gloom of evening drew in. That Jack and Will wanted to use nightfall to hide themselves from her was obvious, but did they have enough time to get far enough away?

She glanced about The Fly’s open deck in anxiety. Only the hold and cabin offered any sort of hiding place and those would be searched by the revenue men if they caught up with the ship. Nowhere for even Theo to hide. If the sloop’s crew boarded them, they’d assume she and Theo were smugglers too, and she’d be slapped in jail, or worse, transported to Botany Bay, or worst of all, hung in Truro and left in an iron cage to rot and put off other would-be smugglers. And Theo would be treated the same way. Age was no barrier to punishment.

The newly raised sails filled with wind and the little ship strained on as the sun sank towards the western horizon, blazing a golden path across the top of the waves and no doubt silhouetting them as a target for their pursuers. Harriet hadn’t prayed since before she was married, but she did now, muttering under her breath and holding Theo fast against her. He must have picked up on the urgency of the situation, because he didn’t wriggle.

At last, the sun sank out of sight, just the few clouds above where it had vanished tinged still with pink, suggestive of a fine day to come. When she looked to starboard, their pursuer was all but invisible, just a dark blob on the sea, much closer than it had been and sporting a light fore and aft. Needless to say, neither Jack nor Will had ordered the lighting of any lamps on board The Fly .