Chapter Twenty-Eight

S houts woke Harriet. She’d gone below on Jack’s suggestion and worked out, after one or two abortive attempts, how to get into a hammock. It had turned out to be the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in, and after a night of tension and more than twenty-four hours without sleep, she’d nodded off within minutes.

With reluctance, she struggled up out of the depths of sleep to a cacophony of even more shouting, although it didn’t sound as though it was coming from directly above her head, but rather, from somewhere not on board at all.

Getting out of the hammock proved just as difficult as getting into it had been, and it was a few moments before she had her feet on the wooden floor. She must look a sight. Having decided that putting on her nightgown in the morning, even if it was for a sleep, wasn’t such a good idea, she’d gone to bed in all of her borrowed clothes minus her shoes. A hand to her head told her how her once neatly coiffured hair had suffered, and she felt in general rather crumpled.

The hatch was slightly ajar, to allow fresh air to circulate, and through it she now heard a loud voice shout. “Heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

Whatever was going on? Should she show herself or stay hidden?

Theo. A quick glance told her he no longer occupied any of the other hammocks. Of course, he’d slept for a lot of their crossing and was probably now on deck with the crew. That answered her question. If her child was up there, then so should she be. She slid the hatch back enough to squeeze through it, and, hitching up her skirts while thinking that her previous boys’ clothes would have been easier for shipboard living, climbed the narrow ladder.

The day was cloudy with a chill breeze blowing, but that wasn’t what drew her attention. Towering over The Fly , or so it seemed, was a second ship, much bigger than she was and with grappling hooks holding the two ships close together. A man in the uniform of an officer stood with his back to her, facing Jack and Will. With a stab of shock, she saw he held a pistol in his hand, and it was pointed directly at Jack’s chest. Where was Theo? She didn’t move, but her eyes frantically searched for her son’s face amongst the far too many men now on deck. Sailors in blue jackets and cream trousers, all carrying pistols, Jack’s crew, and there, close beside young Clemo, she spied Theo’s pale face.

“Thought we wouldn’t catch you, did you?” the officer drawled, satisfaction in his every word. Wait. She knew that voice. That lazy intonation. Fitz Carlyon.

“Fitz?” His name was out of her mouth before she had a chance to prevent it.

He swung round, the pistol wavering. “Harriet?”

Never had she seen anyone so surprised. His mouth fell open and the tip of the pistol swayed about dangerously. Will’s anxious gaze followed its movement, but Jack had eyes only for her.

Bravery rose into her heart, helped by the confidence that the entire cargo was safely elsewhere. She spoke up loud and clear, emboldened by her adventures as well as her secret knowledge that they’d find nothing aboard The Fly . “Why on earth do you have a pistol in your hand? And why are you pointing it at Captain Trevelyan?”

Jack’s eyes met hers, twinkling with amusement and understanding. Will appeared to be just as confident, apart from his anxiety about the wavering pistol. Both of them stood with their feet braced apart, hands held a little out from their sides. Probably they didn’t want to be seen as making any aggressive movements while being held at gunpoint by one of His Majesty’s official preventative men.

“What are you doing here?” Fitz spluttered, once he’d overcome his shock. The pistol lowered until it was pointing at the deck.

Harriet bestowed her sweetest smile on him. “Why, Captain Trevelyan kindly offered to take Theo for a trip on his ship, and as Theo is only twelve, I thought it best to accompany him.” How glad she was now not to be clad in boy’s clothes still, despite how easy they’d make climbing steep ladders. Sleep crumpled she might be, but at least she had a gown on.

Fitz spun around to face Jack, whose smile had taken on a degree of well-deserved smugness. “Is this true?” He almost spat the words out.

“What? Did you think I might have kidnapped her?” Jack asked, his tone mocking. Harriet bit her lip to control the chuckle that wanted to escape. How close to the truth Jack liked to skate.

“I’ll ask again,” she said, enunciating her words with precision. “Why were you pointing a pistol at my escort? And why have you brought what looks to me like a squadron of armed men on board?”

Fitz raised the pistol toward Jack again, as if deciding this must all be a ruse. “I’m afraid I have to inform you, Mrs. Penhallow, that I’m empowered by His Majesty’s Government to stop and search all vessels suspected of smuggling.”

The fact that he hadn’t called her by her Christian name hadn’t escaped Harriet. She controlled that urge to laugh again, with difficulty. Jack appeared to be doing the same. Oh, how truly wicked this was. But she could quite understand why Jack had wanted them to catch up with him this morning. Or was it already afternoon?

“And you think we are smuggling?” Jack asked, his own voice a studied drawl. “Well, we are not. And you’re welcome to search my ship from bilges to crows’ nest. You won’t find anything illegal on board her, I can assure you.”

If only he’d stop looking so smug. Yes, he knew he’d outwitted Fitz and the preventative men, but he had no need to look as though he had and was well aware of it. She, at least, had managed to hide her own feelings. Feelings she wasn’t sure she should be having. Shouldn’t a respectable widow be on the side of the government? Not, it seemed, a Cornish one, at any rate.

Fitz emitted a growl of pure fury, and turned to the armed sailors who were standing guard over the rest of the crew, Theo included. “Seeing as Captain Trevelyan has so kindly invited us, we’ll accept his invitation, which I’m sure he won’t be happy about.” He shot Jack a piercing glare. “Search every corner of this ship. Leave nothing unturned. Poke into every crevasse.” His gaze returned to Jack’s amused face. “If there’s so much as a flake of tobacco or a bottle of brandy on board, we’ll find it, mark my words.” His lip curled. “Else why would you have run from us last night when we fired across your bow and stern? Only the guilty run from the preventatives.”

Jack laughed out loud. “That was you firing on us? We took you for privateers after our ship. These waterways are still not safe, even though the war with France is supposed to be over.”

Fitz spluttered with fury, his face reddening. “A likely story.”

Harriet stepped up beside him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Captain Carlyon. Fitz. It’s obvious no one on board this ship is resisting you, still less Jack or Will. And your pistol, and those of your men, are making me quite nervous. None of us are armed. Please put it away. Have a thought for Theo, who is quite overcome by your attack on us.”

To be honest, Theo didn’t look in the least bit overcome but, instead, brimming with excitement.

Fitz lowered the pistol and stowed it away, albeit with some reluctance. Maybe he thought Jack and his seven-man crew, nine if she counted herself and Theo, two of whom were mere boys, might suddenly all leap into the attack and overthrow his much bigger ship.

Fitz’s men disappeared down into the hold and the cabin, making Harriet glad she hadn’t slept through the shouting. Being awoken by several large, armed strangers arriving in the cramped space of the cabin would have been something of a shock.

Jack gestured at the gunwales. “Do you mind if we sit while we await your men’s findings?”

Fitz glared at him. “Please yourself.” He must realize that neither Jack nor Will would be so offhand if anything remained on board to incriminate them, and that Jack’s claim they’d thought his ship a privateer was a barefaced lie.

With studied nonchalance, Jack leaned against the gunwales as The Fly rose and fell gently in the swell, her fenders rubbing against the hull of The Dolphin . On an impulse of solidarity, Harriet sat beside him, both hands hanging onto the ropes, just in case. She wasn’t nearly as confident at sitting with her back to the sea as she wanted Fitz to think.

From the far side of the deck, Theo’s eyes met hers, and the scamp grinned at her. He must know full well that what they’d been doing was illegal and was enjoying every minute of this delay.

A lot of banging ensued from down in the empty hold as the men fulfilled their duties and poked into every hole they could find. But the tobacco had been well-wrapped, and the brandy had been in barrels, so there could be nothing to find. Eventually, looking disgruntled, the men reappeared on deck. “Nothing, Captain.”

Fitz shot another glare at Jack. “Don’t for one moment assume that I’ve been fooled by your little charade, Captain Trevelyan.” He nodded to the men who started to climb back on board their own ship. “And don’t think that I won’t be stopping you again if I come across you and your ship out at sea. I’m going to catch you red-handed in the end, mark my words.”

Jack grinned at him. “The day you catch me red-handed doing anything will be a long time coming.”

Dislike crackled between the two men, but Fitz was the one who had to give way. On this occasion. He pivoted on his heel, grabbed a rope and swung himself aboard his own ship, followed by the last of his men. The crew of The Fly hastened to unhook the grappling irons and the two ships drifted apart at speed.

“Hoist the sails,” Jack called to his men. “Let’s get Mrs. Penhallow back home again, shall we?”

Harriet stared at the rapidly diminishing deck of The Dolphin , where Fitz was standing staring at them as his own men readied their ship for departure. There went a man scorned and humiliated, something she doubted he would want to put up with.

*

It must have been the middle of the afternoon when The Fly finally tucked herself in to the narrow inlet in Bessie’s Cove. The journey back had been uneventful, after the amusing hold up with the preventative men, but long, as the previously fresh wind had diminished and they’d had to raise more sails to catch it. Tired after no sleep in nearly thirty-six hours, and ready for his bed, Jack watched the men tie her up to the metal mooring rings in their little rocky channel. The crew would have time to get over to the kiddley for an hour or two before taking her round into Penzance to do some much needed honest carrying. With Fitz sniffing after them, and having brought the revenue sloop all the way round from St Ives to do so, they’d have to lie low for a while.

Not that Jack minded. He had other things on his mind, and one of them was Mrs. Harriet Penhallow and the interrupted kiss they’d shared.

With her and Theo’s clean clothes wrapped in a bundle and tucked under her arm, she was now preparing to disembark.

“Couldn’t I stay on board and go round to Penzance with you?” Theo asked, his face bright with hope. “I’ve quite got my sealegs now so I won’t be sick again, I promise. You need another cabin boy. I could help Clemo lots.”

Clemo, engaged in sweeping down the decks, glanced up. “I c’n learn’im how to be a cabin boy.”

Jack chuckled. Probably Clemo thought that if he managed to gain an apprentice of his own, his role would be improved. He’d no longer be the ship’s dogsbody.

Harriet shook her head. “Thank you, Clemo, but no. Theo has his lessons to do and isn’t old enough.”

“I’m nearly as big as Clemo,” Theo, ever hopeful, tried.

“But not so old,” Harriet retorted. “And what I say goes. There’s to be no more sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

Jack caught hold of the mooring rope and pulled the ship in closer to the ladder. “Do you need a hand?”

Harriet shook her head. “Now I’m an experienced smuggler, I feel I should be able to disembark by myself.” And with that, she hitched up her skirts and climbed the ladder with aplomb. Theo swarmed up it after her.

Jack followed. “Let me carry your bundle, at least.”

She eyed him with a slight renewal of wariness. “Very well.”

He took the bundle from her as Theo raced up the track ahead of them and disappeared around the bend. At least if he reached home before her, Bertha and Lyddie would have advance warning of her arrival and not be quite so shocked. Guilt swept over her once again that she’d given them so little thought while she’d been away.

Jack smiled. “You look none the worse for your adventures.”

They started up the path. “And what adventures they were. I feel I might keep them to myself though. And don’t worry, I’ve already instilled into Theo that we have merely been out for a sail in your ship. He won’t be telling Bertha and Lydia anything of what has occurred. He’s quite pleased to be a keeper of secrets. I can only hope Captain Carlyon doesn’t raise the subject in front of them.”

“You think he’ll call upon you again?”

She chuckled, the first time he’d heard her do so. “I imagine not. He probably thinks me a willing party to your smuggling. Although, I dare say he might return expressly to question me on what I know. There is that.” She paused. “But I shall reveal nothing, have no fear.” Her hazel eyes twinkled with amusement.

They reached the junction of the paths by Tummels’ house. He was sitting on the bench outside it with a pewter tankard in his hand and a greasy, well-worn hat jammed onto his head. “Mornin, Cap’n.” He glanced at Harriet. “If’n you’re lookin’ for your boy, he’s gone runnin’ home. And as for you,” he nodded at Jack. “Your ma’s bin searchin’ for you high and low. Somethin’s afoot over at the Castle, but her man dint say as what it were. He come here an’ asked me but I dint tell him nothin’.”

Jack shrugged. “If it’s that important, I’ll find out soon enough.” Probably something to do with his father’s other family. One of the girls. His sisters. He’d think about that later. Right now, he was far more interested in the woman beside him. On an impulse, he reached out and caught Harriet’s hand. “Come along. I’ll escort you home and help you face the music.”

For a moment, he felt her stiffen as if to pull away, then she relaxed and fell in beside him, her hand warm and pliant in his. Just a short walk would take them to Keynvor Cottage, and he was just beginning to wonder if he dared renew his request to kiss Harriet, when Bertha and Lydia came racing up the path to meet them. Thwarted.

Harriet wrenched her hand free of his and stepped away from him, leaving his hand cold and empty, as well as his heart. A missed opportunity.

Lydia flew into her mother’s arms. “Mama! Theo said you were back. Where have you been?” She shot a furious, accusatory glare at Jack. “Theo said you’d gone out sailing with Captain Trevelyan, but you must have left in the middle of the night! And you went without telling us. And Bertha said you’d gone in your nightgown .”

“Miss Harriet, thank God you’re safe.” Bertha fixed as forbidding a glare on Jack as he’d ever seen, no doubt condemning him as someone who took ladies out in his ship in their night attire. Oops, he’d gone right down in her estimation at one fell stroke. But etiquette forbade her from berating him with more than that death stare. It was going to take a while to win her over again. Did he care? The person whose approval he craved the most was her young mistress.

He stepped back from the family group. “I’ll leave you to it.” Best to beat a hasty retreat before Bertha decided to search for a weapon. There were a number or rocks within easy reach. He touched his forehead in a small salute, and executed a deep bow to the thunderous Bertha.

Leaving them to their tearful reunion, he turned up the track for Rosudgeon, striding out in his haste to be back. Whatever news his mother had, he supposed it might have been more important than what dress to wear for the Assembly Rooms for her to have sent the servants searching for him. Well… possibly, but he never knew with her. Fifteen minutes later, his feet crunched the gravel as he approached the house.

The front door flew open as he stepped into the porch, and his mother catapulted into his arms, grasping at him much as Lydia had grasped at Harriet. “Jack! You’re back! Thank goodness!” And she burst into floods of tears.

Odd behavior from her, as she was more than used to his prolonged absences.

He struggled to extricate himself but she hung on like an octopus. “Whatever’s wrong, Mother?”

She gazed up at him out of eyes swollen with grief. “It’s your father. He’s suffered an apoplexy and Dr. Rescorla has pronounced him near to death.”