Bean02, to tell you the truth, I have no idea how it's going to end up. I have an idea of what will happen when they get to the island, but after that it gets very vague. So, anything is possible! I just beta-read something incredibly sad yesterday and it made me cry. I didn't like it at all!
I actually wouldn't mind hearing what people think should happen. I certainly never would have set Rose Flint Stirling up as a possible romantic match for Tom Pullings unless Lady Legrace had made an excellent case for it!
Cheers, and enjoy – this second scene was the most fun to write in this whole story so far!
To Cut a Rose
The luncheon dishes were being cleared away, and Stephen sat shaking his head in amazement at the lieutenant's appetite. It always astonished him that someone with the voracious appetite of a wolf could remain thin. Having missed breakfast, and it being rather late for luncheon, both Rose and Tom had been excessively hungry, and even the excitement over the joyous news that Rose had accepted his proposal had not dampened the man's appetite. She, however, had not seemed so completely over the moon about their engagement, but she smiled and said nothing, just letting Tom's enjoy the moment. In fact, she had seemed shocked that he had spoken of it at all, and Stephen guessed that she was still reluctant to take the chance of ruining his career.
"My dear," Stephen said to Rose in a even, conversational tone. "With a casual air, I should like you to gaze at someone, but so that he knows not of any interest in him."
"Whom do you mean?"
"There is a fellow across the street, in the doorway beside the tailor's shop. Dirty green coat, brown hat. Cast your eye upon him and tell me if you recognize him."
As directed, she allowed her gaze to sweep casually over the street and fixed only for a moment on the man of whom he had spoken. "I have not seen him before," she assured him.
"Curious. He was outside the inn this morning and he followed us here."
"Doctor, why did you say nothing of this before?" asked Tom with a worried frown.
"Mr. Pullings, I pray you, keep your countenance," he said blandly, with a smile. "We have time and intelligence on our side if we keep our heads."
"I shall take Mrs. Stirling back to the ship directly," the lieutenant replied quite calmly.
"That would be best. And I shall see where this dirty fellow leads me."
"No," said Rose, looking stricken. "Stephen, I cannot let you put yourself in such danger."
"My dear Rose," he said with such a sweet smile that he seemed almost handsome. "The danger is to you, and to Mr. Pullings, who will protect you with his life, I am sure. I am a mere scrap and will easily fade into the background once we are parted. Fear not for me but rather for yourself."
"The doctor is right," sighed Tom. "He is in no danger. Come along, now, and I shall take you back to the ship.'
"Send a man to fetch me from the inn this evening," said Stephen. "I shall have the girl there pack up your things, my dear."
"I shall be in a fright for you until you return," she said quite seriously.
Stephen began to chuckle; when Tom echoed her sentiments, he shook his head at them. "What possible harm could befall me? I am no one and indeed know nothing of value. The fact of the matter is that you have the dangerous errand, Tom, to take this lady back to the ship where she will be safe."
"And I shall do so right away."
"My advice to you is to walk briskly but without any indication of hurrying, like two lovers on their way to an assignation. You are engaged, after all, I daresay you will be able to hide your fears and smile at one another." They both colored a little, but he stood up, and so did they. "Let us not waste another moment."
Rose grasped both of his hands in hers. "My dear sir, you must take no risks on any account."
"No, indeed," echoed Tom.
For a moment he stood regarding them, these two separate beings, so similar and yet so different. Both were creatures of the sea: true as the tide, strong and free as the swells and waves. Rose was also a being of fire and passion, obviously inherited from both her wild and unafraid dam and sire. Tom, on the other hand, was bred of the earth: powerful, steady, dependable, honest. How much easier life might be like that, like one of them: free, joyful, and little affected by man or nature.
"I give you my word that I will not, and we shall share a glass of port this night when I come aboard."
Reluctantly, they took their leave of him. As he watched from the shop's window, Rose's hand slipped into Tom's and they walked together, clasping hands, going towards the quay. Stephen was glad to see that they hid their worries and were able to appear as happy lovers as they went, though not quite as lighthearted as he would have liked
The man in the green coat followed, and after waiting several minutes, Stephen in turn followed him.
Since the captain had gone ashore to dine with friends, the officers left, Pullings, Howard, and Allen, were more than pleased to beg Mrs. Stirling to join their meal in the gunroom that evening. The exotic fresh fare was prepared with skill by the gunroom's cook, and with some fine wine that the lady had gifted them in Savannah, they were a small but merry party.
Captain Howard was not a fool and could perceive easily enough the currents running between Lieutenant Pullings and Mrs. Stirling. Still, there was some quite serious danger in the air, for the Royal Marines had been set to guard the deck since Mr. Pullings had returned unexpectedly early: eight men with loaded rifles and bayonets fixed. It was unheard of in a friendly port, but in the captain's absence, the lieutenant was in command and he impressed the serious nature of the threat with gravity that was highly unusual for him.
Their dinner was an intimate success. With a little wine and the feeling of familiar safety, with all those armed men, Captain Howard noticed that the lady was able to relax quite a bit after the gloomy worry of the afternoon. Now, she glowed and seemed to encompass the whole room. He grinned to see the way that she and Pullings looked at each other. May innocents be protected from such looks! he told himself with a glance at Allen, who was grinning broadly as well.
Basking in the brilliance, Mr. Allen told his entertaining sea yarns with great aplomb. Mrs. Stirling clapped, pressed his hand, and begged to hear another. There were few things she enjoyed hearing about more than whales, she told him. Mr. Howard smiled and shook his head. Poor Allen had had only a moderate amount of wine but was drunk on the magnificent sweet joy and attention.
"Gentlemen, you are the first, after the doctor, to share in our happy news," Pullings began with a fond glance at the lady.
"Indeed!" said Allen, setting down his glass with a thump.
"Yes, Mr. Stirling has done me the honor of accepting my offer of marriage," he went on, grinning at both of them.
"How wonderful!" enthused Howard, though he saw that the lady's smile did not reflect the boundless happiness that a newly engaged woman might be expected to feel.
"I'll be damned! Mr. Pullings!" cried Allen, reaching to shake his hand enthusiastically. "Why, you sly dog! I wish you joy! Ma'am, what news! What momentous news!"
Howard leaned to refill their glasses. "Let us drink to your health, Mrs. Stirling, and a long and happy marriage! And congratulations, Tom." He too shook the lieutenant heartily by the hand, and beaming Mr. Allen clasped the lady's hand much more gently.
"Boarders!" came a loud shout from the deck as they drank their toast. "Arm yourself! Repel boarders!"
Not even a second's hesitation: the three officers leapt up and snatched up swords and pistols from their places on the walls. Gunfire sounded from above and shouts as well as running feet.
"They've come for you, no doubt," Pullings said to Mrs. Stirling, grasping her by the shoulder. "You are to stay in your cabin till one of us comes for you, d'you hear?"
"Tom, be careful," she managed, looking ghastly pale.
He kissed her mouth then let her go. "Get hidden, now."
Once up the companionway, Howard was shocked at how many of them there were. There seemed to be fighting everywhere, and the shadows cast from the lanterns were terrifying silhouettes. He went to the right, aft, with Allen, and Pullings went left, forward.
Quickly, Howard discharged one of his pistols, hitting one of the boarders in the chest: a fatal wound. The next man met the same end, and he was able to take the time to glance around for his next target as he unslung his riflle. Shouldering it, he took aim at one of the brigands at the capstan and hit him in the shoulder. His second shot finished the blackguard.
Men were battling and more were clambering over the sides. When he was out of ammunition, Howard drew his sword to join the hand combat. Some of the forecastle lads were fighting with cutlasses, and the battle seemed even, or rather slightly in the favor of the boarders. Drawing out his dagger as well, he fought harder. They had to turn the tide!
As he finished one opponent and turned to look for another, he felt both angry and afraid when saw Mrs. Stirling appear up the companionway. What was that woman up to? These criminals were here for her, Pullings had said!
Before another thought could materialize, he saw her raise a pistol, aim, and take out one of the brigands with a shot to the head. Right between the eyes! It was a shot that he forbade his sharpshooters from taking unless they were absolutely certain of their target, for a shot to the head was too easy to miss. One shift and the ball would miss its mark. No, he instructed his Marines to always aim for the chest, if they could. Recocking, she took careful aim and shot another man right between the eyes, then tossed that pistol down and drew out another, primed and loaded.
At that point, he was forced to turn his attention to one of the boarders close at hand. The brigands fought bravely but without real training, and there was not much of a contest, Howard knew. After parrying a few wild blows, he knew that he greatly outclassed his opponent. There was a cry of pain from Mr. Allen. Howard gritted his teeth, redoubled his efforts, and ran his opponent through with a great sword thrust.
When he turned, he saw that Allen had fallen and was clutching his left arm or shoulder where he lay while a powerfully built blackguard in striped trousers and a black waistcoat stood over him raising a cutlass to deliver the coup de grace. Knowing that he could not possibly be in time to save the man, Howard rushed forward, shouting, "No!" but pulled up suddenly when the villain was grabbed from behind. A hand seized his forehead and jerked his head back, a wicked blade flashed from left to right, and his throat opened with a gaping wound. In horrible fascination, Captain Howard watched as the big man collapsed backwards, and Mrs. Stirling, quickly becoming saturated with the brigand's lifeblood, toppled back with his much heavier weight on top of her.
In another instant, it was over: the men of the Surprise had wounded or killed the boarders. When he was sure that it was safe, Captain Howard rushed to Allen's side. "T'is naught but a scratch," the master assured him, but he was pale and his breathing was unsteady.
"Mr. Allen." Breathless, grieved, Mrs. Stirling crouched beside them. "Where are you hurt?"
"Just a sword slash on the arm. Nothing serious." He blinked at her and squinted.
"My dear sir, we shall have the doctor here presently." She looked at him with concern so incongruous to the rest of her appearance now. From her left eye downwards, her face was coated with a triangle of dark blood, and her lavender frock was soaked and ruined with the man's blood. She resembled some wild island warrior in warpaint. "The men shall take you below and bind your wound until the doctor is able to stitch you up. I shall attend you presently."
"No need to fret for me, ma'am," he managed, but they could both see he was obviously in pain.
Straightening up, she ordered some men to take Mr. Allen below, and they stared at her, openmouthed in shock and unmoving. The sleeve of her gown had been torn clean off, leaving her shift exposed and her bosom half-uncovered by fabric though coated with blood, and she still carried a bloody, heavy-bladed knife in her right hand. "Get moving, you infernal sons of grass-combing lubbers!" she roared, sounding more like the captain than not, and the men leapt nearly out of their skin but obeyed without a word.
Taking off his coat, Howard helped her put it on for modesty's sake. "Thank you, captain," she said, not seeming to notice the irony, for here she was wearing a red coat!
When they found Pullings, he was completely businesslike, sending some men off in the gig to fetch the captain from his dinner. "Hang the captain! What bloody use is he?" she cried vehemently, coming up beside him. "We need the doctor!"
"My God! Rose! Where are you hit?" he asked, going quite pale under his tan when he saw her.
"Not me – it's Mr. Allen. He's injured and I know not how badly."
They all stared at her. Her hair was partly tumbled down, and she looked like some surreal nightmarish creature saturated with the blood of its prey. Half her face and neck were covered, and her pretty summer gown as well; the red officer's coat completed the bizarre picture.
"The doctor is on his way. We sent for him before our dinner and he should be here any moment," Pullings assured her, still looking gravely concerned for her. "Rose – ma'am – you looked savaged. Are you not hurt somewhere?"
"Just a powder burn on my hand." She held up the massive, wicked-looking knife she held, still dripping with blood. "It is not my blood."
His eyes widened, and he gazed at her in silence. There was comprehension between them, as there always was, Captain Howard had noticed several times before, and he nodded a little. "Ma'am, you must go below and tend to Mr. Allen now. Captain Howard and I have the deck, and you are safe. I shall be there as soon as I may."
"Yes, sir," she answered and turned to follow his orders. He watched after her for a second with a frown, before turning to the men who awaited his orders. "Caine," he called, "fetch the captain back, tell him what has occurred."