My first meeting with Captain Sawyer had not been what I had expected. I was expecting hostility, distain even, but not this fawning adoration that dripped from his tongue. Many men of the Navy resented my gender, were suspicious of my presence on board, convinced that I would bring them bad luck- one way or the other- but Captain Sawyer was courteous in a manic sort of a way, falling over himself to make me feel at my ease, snapping at Mr. Kennedy for taking too long to pull up my chair or pour refreshments. Something was not right and I did not intend to leave it too long before I found out. I concluded our business as quickly as I could and hurried from the room, pleading tiredness from my long journey.
As Mr. Kennedy pulled Captain Sawyers door closed behind us I took his arm and pulled him a little way along the deck, making sure we were out of earshot of crew and Captain.
"Captain Sawyer, has he always been this...," I made a slightly manic smile at Mr. Kennedy, "odd?"
Mr. Kennedy let out a peal of laughter which was cut short as his expression changed.
"I must confess that some of us are uneasy with his changeable behavior," he said gravely, "I have never served under such an erratic Captain."
"What do you mean, erratic?"
"He is like a day on the channel, my Lady, sunny one minute, squalls the next. We, well I, fear he may turn violent."
"You mean not everyone shares your opinion of him?" I asked.
"Many of the crew served with Captain Sawyer in the Egyptian Campaign, they have known him as Nelson's bravest and are loath to cast shadows on his reputation. Some of my fellow officers share my concerns," Mr. Kennedy said in a hushed voice, "And speak of the devil and he shall appear! Mr. Hornblower, you have not yet met our guest!"
Mr. Kennedy turned to greet a tall young officer with unruly brown hair; he had the look of one who had grown much in the last few years and had yet to catch up with his body and was subsequently all long arms and legs. He smiled kindly and touched his hat.
"Horatio Hornblower this is our guest, Lady Evangeline Foster," Mr. Kennedy gesticulated from one of us to the other then lowered his voice conspiratorially, "This, Horatio, is our Lady spy."
Smiling at Mr. Kennedy's mirth, he offered his hand which I readily took.
"A pleasure, Lady Foster, and I must say this is the first time I have met one of your gender spying at sea. I can see the benefits of course."
"Indeed, I have heard of no other besides myself. But I suppose that is more to the good, I am less suspicious alone." Too many of us scampering aboard ships would give away the ruse entirely.
"You must excuse us, Horatio, I am to show Lady Foster to her quarters." Mr. Kennedy interjected.
"Of course," Mr. Hornblower again touched his hat to me, "I shall have your chest delivered to you as soon as it has been brought aboard. Good day."
"Good day, Mr. Hornblower."
Mr. Kennedy resumed possession of my hand and steered me away from the gunwales. He lead me below where the corridors were too narrow for me to continue holding his arm. Without anything to anchor me I could feel the gentle rocking of the vessel, hear the small harbor waves sloshing against the sides pf the ship. It was at once soothing and horrifying to consider how many leagues may soon be under the fragile wooden deck; how little that could be done should Poseidon set his trident against us. I had forgotten how unnerving the idea of sailing was, how lonely it could be. Better than being stuck in a lofty mansion with nothing but my own memories for company, at least here there would be diversion.
"What do you plan to do, when in France?" Mr. Kennedy asked, startling me out of my ruminations, "Or is that top secret?"
He looked down at me with a teasing gleam in his eye, I smiled back.
"It is no great secret, at least amongst ourselves," I replied, "We have so little information about the French population, I will just be there to be amongst them. To report what they really think of Old Bony. All very dull, but vital, or so I'm told."
"Your French must be first rate them?"
"Oui, certainement," I said with a wink, " and yours?"
"Mr. Hornblower is more for the language than I," he said with a grimace and no small hint of a blush, poor boy, "I much prefer Spanish."
"Then you must teach me some, my Spanish is very poor I fear. You never know when it might come in handy in my line of work."
We had reached what appeared to be my cabin door, and Mr. Kennedy turned the handle and ushered me over the threshold of a small but neat cabin. There was a sturdy looking desk and chair at the far end of the room underneath a port hole, candles and paper set out ready, a hammock strung across the wall to the right and a small fireplace, complete with a barrel of firewood and twists of touch paper, to my left. A room one could only describe as Spartan. Captain Sawyer had offered me his cabin in a fit of gallantry, which I had hastily refused, I didn't want to be anywhere the Captain could easily find me.
"This is wonderful, Mr. Kennedy, thank you."
"You are more than welcome, my Lady," again the blush, "I shall be back at two bells to collect you for dinner. The Captain has requested you dine with him and the Doctor this evening."
I rolled my eyes inwardly, an evening with the Captain was something I could do without.
"Two bells?"
"Beg pardon, five o' clock civilian time, you will soon get used to navy ways." Mr. Kennedy smiled reassuringly.
Yes, I was sure I would. I smiled in return and Mr. Kennedy closed the door behind him. His footsteps receding down the hallway I spread out my arms and turned in the room. If I stood facing the desk I could touch the walls with both hands, the wood smooth beneath my fingers as I walked forwards to look out of the window. This side of the ship was facing away from land and I could see nothing but the enclosing harbor walls and the open ocean beyond. It was turning into a fine day, the chill in the wind burned away by the sun approaching it's highest, and the waves were lazily slapping on the hull. A waterman would say it was calm, but as a landlubber standing alone in the middle of the room I was very aware of the movement. Brushing aside my niggling dizziness I sat down at my desk and pulled a bundle of letters from my coat pocket.
The top letter was from the Admiralty, accepting my offer of service and assigning me to His Majesties Ship Indefatigable. The second was a coded message from the 'Alien Office'. Officially the Alien Office was a subdivision of the Home Office, set up to relocate immigrants from France and Spain, it's main purpose was far more secretive. The Alien Office was a hub of espionage and surveillance, keeping tabs on everything and everyone foreign, employing spies of various persuasions to assist in the current war effort. It was to them that I reported all my information and received all my orders. The letter was sending me to Paris, or at least the surrounding settlements to ascertain the general ilk of the population. I would only be there for the span of a week, collecting what I could before reporting to an exploring officer in Rouen. This letter would be burned as soon as I got a fire going.
The three letters underneath were my most precious belongings. They were from my late husband. Late, like he had failed to arrive for a meeting, I hated saying it. They weren't letters of great import, they weren't protestations of love or great sentiment, they were just everyday salutations. A letter to say he had arrived safely in London, a note to ask me to have a supper ready for his visiting friends and the last one to say he would return early from his northern estate. That was my favorite, it was signed with love and filled with promises, it was well thumbed and getting a little tatty at the corners. I ran my finger over ink that still looked fresh despite it's many readings, I half expected the ink to fade a little more with each look, like the memory of the man. I remembered a little less faithfully each day, a point that caused me more grief than I could say. He had only been gone a year, but it felt like a week, I felt I should remember him better.
I remembered the way his chestnut hair felt between my fingers, straight and thick, slightly longer than was fashionable. I remembered the warmth of his chest through his riding jacket and the way his whispered my name in the heat of passion. But I was forgetting the colour of his eyes, were they as green as spring grass or the deep green of verdant summer leaves? I remembered his beautiful Grecian profile but was forgetting the feeling of his embrace. It felt like I was losing him anew. Marriages of love in the upper classes were rare, and in times of sadness I wish I hadn't loved him the way I did. I could be home now, considering the imminent harvest and when I could decently set aside my mourning.
A soft, almost apologetic, tap on the door jarred me from my reveries and I opened the door to find a young midshipman standing next to my chest.
"You didn't carry that down here yourself, did you?" I asked incredulously.
"That I did, Madam," he said with no small hint of pride in his voice and a sweet blush on his face. How long would it take the gentlemen of this vessel to stop blushing in my presence? I suppose it had been a while since any of them had seen a woman, let alone a Lady.
"I'm most grateful, Mr...?"
"Midshipman Wellard, Madam." he replied.
"Thank you Mr. Wellard. Oh and you should probably call me 'Lady' on deck, the Captain seems the particular sort."
"Right you are, my Lady," he corrected himself, "That he is." It seemed Mr. Kennedy wasn't the only one to take notice of the Captain's irregularities.
Wellard bowed himself from the room in a touching display of reverence and I opened my chest to find something suitable for the Captain's table. I had bought a few gowns worthy of a banquet, just in case, but pushed them aside for now. It wasn't worth troubling myself with the difficult undergarments tonight. I chose a simple wool gown in a dark blue and set about making myself presentable. Once finished I lit a candle I found in one of the desk draws and used it to set light to the letter from the Alien Office. I dropped it in the grate and watched it curl and crumple to ash with some satisfaction. Content the letter was destroyed I tucked my remaining letters in my chest and closed the lid.
A tap at the door reminded me of my imminent dinner with the vacillating Captain. I opened the door to a smiling Mr. Kennedy and followed him down the corridor and up on to the deck.
"Will you or the other officers be joining us for dinner?"
"Sadly, no my Lady," he didn't look too sad, "I shall be eating with the other officers in the mess. I do wish you a pleasant evening with the Captain and the Doctor though."
"Liar," I mumbled causing him to chuckle.
The dinner itself was uneventful, both Captain and Doctor falling over themselves to compliment me. The Captain commented that my hair was the most beautiful russet and the Doctor said how unusual it was to find a lady with my colouring and grey eyes. I have hazel eyes but I suppose you can't blame a chap for trying, he did seem distinctly worse for drink by that point. They made a suitable couple, the Captain and the Doctor, both a little manic and full of stories of war. Not that they weren't fascinating, just that you wouldn't really want them in charge of a ship. Still, they weren't malicious at least.
I graciously thanked the Captain for his kindness and bowed out of his cabin after more time than I would have liked. As I walked across the deck in the fading light I could hear shouts and singing below deck, along with the rhythmic stamping of feet and more bawdy sounds. The men must be in high spirits. I made my way to my cabin, surprised to find my door already ajar. I crossed the threshold cautiously, but the room was empty. I looked around the room, the desk seemed undisturbed but my chest was another matter. The lid was askew and when I lifted it I found the contents disturbed. Someone had been looking for something. A closer inspection revealed a missing pair of stockings- silk I might add- but seemingly little else. A pervert aboard was hardly surprising but a sudden thought occurred and I scrabbled for my bundle of letters. One was missing. Bloody bastards, one was missing. Suddenly the bawdy sounds from below deck made sense. I paused only long enough to draw a stiletto knife from my chest. The leather handle was a reassuring weight in my hand as I stormed toward what I assumed was the common mess. I felt like I was wading through a haze of red, everything was heavy and I felt as though at the same time I couldn't breathe and I was breathing too heavily.
I crossed into the mess to see a rather scruffy individual waving my stockings above his head, ribbons trailing behind in a rather comical fashion. At least it would be comical if the bastard hadn't stolen them. I strode across the mess and pushed the surprised man over the nearest table, pinning him with his necktie and pointing the dagger at one wide eye.
"Where is my bloody letter?" I screamed, twisting his necktie.
He didn't say a word but his startled eyes flicked to the right. I followed the direction on his eyes to a fireplace where my precious letter was balling and crumbling to ash.