Usual disclaimers… sob!
Thanks for all the reviews… kissies to you all!
Moulin – you are mental, but I love you for it! You are the first of my regulars to re-review the first story in the Kitty saga. I was beginning to despair that nobody would and wondering why I bothered to re-edit and improve it. Thanks!
Has anybody seen Pen? She has gone awol again!
Chapter 16 – Departure
Bessie stood with the children on the deck, watching the town of Port Royal slowly disappear as the ship, The Jolly Maid, rounded the headland. They had boarded quietly, their farewells to the Turner family said in private at Captain Groves' house for fear that her departure would be noted by too many eyes. Will had assured her that he would, somehow, get a message to Joshamee and the other pirates.
She turned, herding the children to the small cabin that had been assigned them. Extra blankets had been found, for the older children would have to sleep on the floor of the deck, but at least they were heading to safety. She wondered what London was like, if it had oak trees such as Chaucer had described.
"What's England like?" Pearl asked, rescuing Frances from a curl of rope in which she had become entangled. Even to her young eyes, the ship was poorly run – her father would have flogged a man for leaving any hazard on the deck.
"I don't know," Bessie admitted to the children. "I suspect it will be cold… I've heard tales that it gets so cold that the rain freezes and comes down as white flakes…"
"That's daft!" Jack snorted.
"No… I think they call it snow," Bessie corrected. "I read about it once…" She hoped that it would not be too cold for the bird, but he had refused to be parted from it.
"You can't believe all you read in books, Mother!" Jack retorted, sounding for a heart-breaking moment like his father.
"Well, perhaps when we get there, we'll see who is right, young man," she sighed, making her own way carefully across the deck. The captain of the ship had seemed a good man, and had been courteous to her when she had boarded, but she suspected the presence of Captain Groves had something to do with his manners. Time would tell – but she held little hope as she gave a judgemental glance around the deck. Her eyes met with Pearl's – clearly their thoughts had been the same. "It is just for a month," she said, assuring them as much as herself. "And then we'll find your grandparents…"
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Bessie's opinion of the captain did not improve over the following weeks as the trading ship headed north-eastwards through the Windward Passage and out into the Atlantic Ocean. The food consisted of a glutinous slop that was barely edible, but eat it they did for fear of going hungry. She kept telling herself it was only for a month or so, dependent on the weather… but the weather was a different matter. Several times that day she caught Jack and Henrietta staring southwards worriedly. The twins had always been close, and their eyes mirrored each others fear as they approached her.
"Mother…" Jack said quietly. "There's a storm coming… Hetty agrees."
She nodded, trusting their weather-sense. All the children had a touch of Jack's gift, but it was strongest in the twins, and she knew it would be wise to heed their warning. "I'll speak with the captain," she assured them. "There may be a port we can reach in time…" Her eyes followed theirs southwards. "How bad Hetty?"
"Bad Mother," Henrietta said. "Enough to make Papa worry…"
This, more than anything, urged Bessie up the stairs to the small quarterdeck where Captain Daxon stood next to his helmsman. "Mistress Smith," he smiled. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"There is a storm coming, Captain," she said, glancing over his shoulder. "Are we near any port?"
"There's nothing here for many miles, Mistress," he shrugged. "Nearest land is west – Bermuda... but there's no need to worry yourself. They sky is clear and we'll not be bothered by storms at this time of the year. Do not distress yourself needlessly…"
"Captain Daxon," she insisted. "My husband was a Captain and he taught my children well. If they say there is a storm coming, then it is coming…"
George Daxon looked at her frowning., his eyes caught by the two children standing at the foot of the stairs. "I have sailed these seas for a number of years, Mistress. There is no cause for alarm…" He smiled, his tone condescending. "Now, why don't you return to your cabin and not worry yourself over this…"
Bessie looked at him in disbelief. "You're a fool, Captain!" she hissed, turning and storming down the stairs, missing the worried face of the helmsman as he looked over his shoulder.
"Maintain this course," George Daxon ordered.
"Aye, Sir," he acknowledged, wishing he could shake the certainty of the woman's tone from his mind.
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Captain Daxon stared at the darkening skies in disbelief, incredulous that the storm had come upon them so fast, and with no warning… well, apart from the words of their passenger and her brood of children. He had heard of people having a sense for storms, but had never believed it… until now. He turned to his helmsman. "Head due westwards," he ordered, watching momentarily as the man, unspeaking, changed course, his hands eager on the wheel. He strode to the railing, staring down at the men on deck. "All hands aloft!" he ordered. "I want every inch of sail possible!" He stormed down the stairs, shouting and cursing the men who reacted too slowly for his liking.
Mark Taunton sighed to himself, relieved that at last they were heading towards a port. The Jolly Maid was not a fast ship, nor was she large. The assurance of the woman's tone had unnerved him and he had wanted to turn westwards several hours earlier, but the captain's instructions had been clear. He kept the ship on course until his duty ended and he went below, meaning to seek his hammock, but he paused by the cabin door of the woman and her family. He knocked.
"Mistress Smith?" he asked, smiling when she opened the door. "You'll be relieved to hear that the captain has ordered us to make for Bermuda…" He faltered on seeing the children wrapped warmly in their coats, as much as possible of their scant belongings taken from the chest and tied into manageable bundles. Even the cat was readied, sitting in it's crate in the middle of the cabin. "Your son has the gift?" he asked.
"All of them have a touch of it, but the twins are the strongest," she replied. "Possibly more so than their father…"
"It is a rare gift, to sense a storm," he pressed, watching her closely. "I've heard of but a few men that have it, and only one of them sailed these seas…"
Bessie looked at him warily. "Their father is dead…" she stressed.
"Aye, I'd heard that too," he said, smiling at her response. "The captain won't hear your names from me… but if it is going to be as bad as you fear, then I'd best prepare for the worst as well…" He nodded courteously to her. "Mistress," he said, before turning and leaving.
Bessie shut the door. "He knows us?" Pearl worried, knowing that they were meant to be leaving in secret.
"We will have to hope he is a better man than his captain," Bessie sighed, fastening the final few buttons on Emily's coat. Her heart lurched as she felt the first winds of the storm reach for the ship, praying that they would reach shore safely.
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