Here's a tidbit to tide us over on the long voyage to Savannah.
Miss Flossy:
I think you would have much preferred Flint's Rose, which was the story where she meets Richard Stirling. It was bloody and violent, and their affair was torrid, but it was also horribly sad. (and it's also just written in longhand and will probably never be typed onto the computer.)
I think that any attractive woman on a similar ship would have the men jumping through hoops to please her. In addition, there is something that Jack hasn't quite realized yet. The action is a ways off, though. Things will have to unfold bit by bit, and since I haven't been able to determined who among them would make an appropriate lover for her, no real romance can occur.
Lady Legrace:
The oldest boy was probably born when she was about 19, so she'd be 29 in this story. As I said, I am still trying to work out if any of the men would suit her. Too bad Mr. Allen is old enough to be her father!!
Is this an example of the story told from Jack's POV and him not realizing exactly what's happening?
Aren't you the sharp one? ;-)
Charts and Strategies
Dinner was a merry affair now that they were quite accustomed to the presence of their guest. In the gunroom, Pullings sat at the head of the table; Mrs. Stirling was tonight on his right and the captain on his left. Jack kept his eye on her and made sure that her glass was kept filled, which did not escape the notice of the others, sitting as he was across from her. The gunroom was poor and served their best wine only for this guest. Other days, they drank inferior local vintages, which was one of the reasons that Stephen, who as surgeon was their messmate, often dined with Jack.
"Has any one of you sailed into Savannah?" Jack asked the table as they were finishing their pudding.
"I have, captain, many times," the lady replied. "Though it is more than a dozen years since I last did so."
"A tricky entry, it seems. Perhaps you will do me the honor of taking a look at the chart? I do have a few questions that you may be able to help me with."
"Of course, captain, I am at your service."
"Good, good." He got up. "I hope you'll forgive me, Mr. Pullings, for stealing away your guest so early."
"Now?" asked Mrs. Stirling in shock. To leave at this point would be a terrible insult to the officers, especially Pullings.
"If you please." Jack smiled his best.
For a moment, she looked uncertain as to what to do, and she was unnaturally flushed from the quantity of wine she had consumed. Getting up, she turned unhappily to the first lieutenant. "Forgive me, sir. I thank you for a most excellent dinner."
The gentlemen had all risen as well. "No apology is necessary," said Pullings kindly.
"No, we don't stand on ceremony here!" added Mowett with a laugh.
With a truly grateful glance at Mr. Mowett for that lighthearted remark, she took her leave from the officers and Jack escorted her to the Great Cabin. Since they had not dined there, the table was strewn with charts and papers, and he shed his coat before seating her beside him. "Here is the port of Savannah." He pointed out the position on the nearest chart. "Do you know Salter's Island?"
"Yes, sir. There's the Mud Fort there." She pointed it out on the map, her eyes studying the complicated maze of islands and waterways as her mind went back in time.
"My dear, isn't it time you started calling me Jack? At least in private?"
The unexpected segue brought her eyes up to his, and she looked at him in flushed confusion, being quite affected by the wine with which she had been plied. "Jack?"
"That's better." He smiled again at her, then turned back to the chart. "Now, about this port. All the channels of the Savannah River converge there and all vessels must pass it in and out of the harbor."
"Yes, sir, though I don't know – "
"Jack."
"Sorry – Jack. I don't know if the fort is still in active use." She looked up at him, then, and her brows were drawn together in a frown. "I do not think it is possible to slip in under cloak of night or fog."
"We need not slip in at all, my dear lady," he said with another winning smile. "We shall go by stealth, yes, but in the open. We are to rendezvous offshore with a merchant schooner and leave the Surprise with a skeleton crew while we sail into the harbor in perfectly legality."
When she looked at him in astonishment, he saw that Stephen was right, that her face was an open book where he could read her emotions, now, especially: warm, full, and wine-logged. "Better to blend in than to stand out?"
"Precisely. Those who go aboard the schooner shall give up their uniforms for civilian togs. I shall take you ashore under an assumed name, of course. I think Mr. Howard is the best choice to accompany us, and we shall have a leisurely stroll into the city."
Instantly, her face registered and he saw it at last – revulsion. "Not Captain Howard. Please, sir."
The strength of her reaction he certainly hadn't expected. "Has he insulted you? Or behaved with impropriety?" he asked very seriously.
"Oh, no sir! – Jack. He is a fine man and most gentlemanlike. Besides, if he had, you would have known about it right away, for I do not suffer men's insults in silence. The truth is, I.. I am not comfortable with him. That is all." She placed her hand on his wrist. "Please, Jack. Anyone else."
"Of course, my dear." Again, he smiled and put his hand gently over hers. "You can choose your escort. I shall take you m'self. You'd like Stephen along as well, I wager. Whatever you wish."
Relieved, she smiled back. "Thank you, sir."
"Jack."
"Yes, Jack." She slowly withdrew her hand. "There is one thing, though. Once we are in port, I am afraid that you may feel obliged to haul some of the men of Savannah off to appear before the assizes. If my recollection serves me, you will find all manner of smugglers and pirates there."
"Obliged or not, you have no cause for worry on that count," he assured her. "As I said, we are going ashore as civilians and under assumed names. Can you imagine a merchant seaman taking men into custody?" He chuckled. "No, my dear lady, you must not concern yourself, for we are to protect you. That is paramount."
A deep sigh of relief and she relaxed visibly. "Thank you, Jack." She beamed at him. The wine and the warmth of the cabin were lulling her, and she leaned back in the chair.
The substance of his erotic dreams hovered at the edge of his consciousness. He had never in his life set out with a plan to seduce a woman, but his mind was excited by the possibilities and the lady seemed fond of him. He chose his next words before he said them. "Admiral Bellows sent you with me because he has known me these many years. You can count on every man here. We shall get you there safely, upon my word." He reached to take her hand gently as he spoke.
"I am sure the admiral chose the right man for the job," she said with an affectionate look that further encouraged him. He decided to press his luck.
"It is only one day that we are to be in Savannah, is it not?" His thumb stroked the back of her hand.
"Yes, only one day."
"Where do you intend to go?"
"Oh, to a little public house run by my father's former steward. He retired to become an honest man and married a good woman. I shall also go up to the churchyard where my mother is. To pay my respects."
"And the papers you need? They are there? This man has them?"
She looked down. "We shall know more once we are there."
He paused and wondered if he might encourage her to say more; however, he was loathe to risk pushing too hard and ruining the warm and intimate mood they now enjoyed. Instead, man of action that he was, he decided in the moment to chance a storming of her defenses. "You know, the men are gossiping about us. About you and me." He reached to brush his fingertips against her collarbone.
"Gossiping?" At his touch, her breathing had become more rapid and she stared at him with her eyes widened. He could see the rapid beating of the pulse in her throat.
His fingers slid round to the back of her neck and he leaned closer. "It would be more useful to make the rumors true rather than just denying them. Don't you think?" Drawing her head forward with the light pressure of his fingers on her neck, he leaned to kiss her. The lady's hands fluttered to his shoulders and she was kissing him back. Jack's hand cupped the nape of her neck as his mouth caressed hers.
Then, she pushed him back. His fingers relaxed enough to allow her to lift her head, but he kept hold of her. "Sir…" she breathed. "Captain…"
"Jack," he reminded in a husky voice, smiling affectionately.
"Jack." Her hands ran over his chest, but there were tears in her eyes.
"What is it?" he asked gently. "My dear lovely Rose, my kisses have never before made any woman weep."
"By the stars! I am flummoxed!" She looked at him miserably. "Gossiping! I do not toy with men's affections, but I must have mislead you without realizing. Gossiping!" She closed her eyes and raised a hand to her heated face.
Jack had stopped smiling and felt the cruel stroke of disappointment at having misread the signals. Looking at how very wretched she was, he felt a strong need to reassure her. "Men will talk, as you know. It is the natural way of things."
Again, she looked at him with undisguised admiration despite her grave expression. "You are a well-made man – no woman could ignore that!"
His smile returned. "That's a good start."
The comment drew a tiny smile from her, but she gazed at him with a hungry, frustrated look. "You are very much like my husband was, both in size and cheerfulness. I am afraid that my heart is quite frail and would bear too much pain if I came to care for you."
It was easy to understand. Though she might have the courage of a lioness protecting her cubs, she had the tender heart of a woman. Despite the still keen disappointment, he felt the warmth of flattered vanity. The mistake had not been totally his, for she had admired him and wanted him in the way that he perceived. That it was not to be was now clear to him, but he had always greatly respected women who refused him kindly, and he did so now. He looked upon his pretty, half-drunken companion with great benevolence and some compassion.
"This simply will not do," he began with a smile. "I would wager that some air and light exercise would do you a world of good. The others have not yet retired, I expect, and I shall beg their pardon for removing you so rudely from their feast."
In the coolness of the night air, the hands were still dancing and singing on the forecastle with the officers watching, and Jack escorted her up to them and apologized quite sincerely for ruining the meal. After that, his eyes met Stephen's and he shrugged a little to tell the doctor that he had learned little.