Chapter Fifty-Five

Ships That Meet At Sea

Claymore closed his eyes tightly and lay very still, groaning in agony. But it didn't help to be blind to his dreadful new situation. The world he now found himself trapped within, still moved and creaked. His head ached cruelly, and his revolted abdomen still burned. He knew there was no reprieve in sight for many onerous days. He already knew he wouldn't live that long.

He pressed the back of one shaking hand to his clammy forehead. "Why, oh, why did I ever get involved with that blasted countess? I could have died happily in my own bed…"

Claymore had hurried below decks before the ship had even left the shelter of the harbour. He'd locked himself inside his cabin and curled up into a small ball of abject misery within the narrow confines of the rustic bed fastened to the bulkhead.

Well, it was actually Captain Lacey's cabin. The old man had graciously surrendered it for Claymore's exclusive use for a few extra coins from the younger man's already depleted purse.

The old seaman had smiled as he'd pocketed the grudging payment. He could almost feel sorry for his passenger. Almost…

Claymore rolled his head from side to side. The main issue that further outraged his senses was that the Snow Goose was a cargo ship. She didn't usually carry any paying passengers. Therefore, her amenities were basic, and you took what you could get. If you were fussy about your needs and requirements, you would starve.

He dragged his kerchief from his coat pocket and pressed it to his offended nostrils. But no barrier could prevent the somewhat odorous nature of the smells coming from the barrels of cargo filling her holds. His roiling stomach heaved anew.

"Why, oh why did I ever agree to this?" he groaned as the ship breasted onto the rolling Atlantic waves and began to flee eastwards before the rising, offshore wind as the blackness of the approaching night closed in behind her stern.

※※※※※

"You seem overly subdued this morning, Carolyn." Emily Williams frowned at her daughter across the breakfast table. "Are you ailing for something? You came in at a rather unseemly late hour last night. We had begun to worry about you. You should not have been out and about the town. It is not at all seemly."

"I needed to see Uncle Claymore on some urgent business that couldn't wait until the morning," Carolyn replied. "I was safe enough. Schooner Bay is not the big city, Mother."

Her gaze shifted to the door of the dining room. The joyous sound of childish laughter coming from the kitchen tugged at her senses. Candy, Henry and sweet little Lucy were all enjoying their breakfast under Martha's care. No doubt Jonathan was also enjoying his meal abroad the Carolyn.

Their mother sighed, fiddling with her knife and fork. She longed for that informality and lighter mood of sunny smiles.

But Emily always insisted that the adults should take their meals in the stark formality of the dining room rather than the friendly, chaotic warmth of the kitchen. She'd decreed that was the place for the children and their dog. The adults needed more refined conversation and a leisurely ingestion of their meal.

Martha had served their food without complaint and appeared happy to keep to the kitchen and the company of the three Gull Cottage youngsters and their dog. She showed no keenness to remain in the cold, formal setting.

Carolyn glanced up toward the ceiling. Sally Hall had wisely decided to take a breakfast tray in her room. She had no mind to be caught up in the family's politics. She had said she would be leaving tomorrow morning on her way back to Boston.

Carolyn envied the other woman's ability to escape. The enforced inaction of waiting for any information was eating away at her ability to appear calm and in control. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Everything would have to wait until Daniel returned. And she prayed that would be sooner rather than later.

Of course, none of the past evening's doings could she impart to her mother. She was grateful their visit would be short this time, due to her father's pressing business dealings back in the city. In two days' time, Carolyn would be alone again and spend the time haunting the widow's walk in a fraught sense of peace.

"Well, I still say you're looking a bit pulled about." Emily sniffed. "In my day, a new mother did not leave the house for at least three months. And she certainly did not entertain visitors beyond her immediate family. This modern way of doing things is not at all seemly. You have lived away from us for too long. No doubt Jonathan has picked up all sorts of awful provincial manners that will have to be removed from him."

"I'm truly all right, Mother," she replied, pushing aside her barely touched plate. "I just didn't sleep very well last night, that's all. I… have a lot on my mind. And Sally is my editor and my friend. I count her as family. And Jonathan will make his own decisions about the future of his life. None of us will tell him what to do."

"Yes, well…" Her mother pleated and unpleated her linen napkin between agitated fingers. "But you miss going to sea with your husband," she replied with certainty. "You cannot deny it. I can see it in your eyes."

Emily clicked her tongue. "I will say again, a ship is no place for a woman. Especially one with young children. You must learn to be sensible. You always had too much imagination and now see where it has taken you. Into waters than are not seemly."

She pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "And now you have sent our only grandson with Captain Gregg, to who knows what watery fate that may await."

"Now, Emily…" Bradford warned as he finally lowered the morning newspaper. "Jonathan will be fine. The Captain will not allow anything to happen to him. They will both return safe and sound. You will see. All your tears will be for nothing."

"If only we could stay here until we are sure they are safely returned…" Emily sniffed, carefully watching her daughter's reaction over the lace edge of her kerchief. "I mean, it would not be as if we would be in the way or anything…"

Bradford shook his head. "Please leave it, Emily. We have already discussed this at length. I have my bank business I must get back to and Carolyn has enough on her plate, my dear," he soothed in a firmer tone. "And you know how much your church ladies would miss your guiding hand and sound advice. And our servants cannot be left alone for too long being idle. You will have the china to clean and the silver to count as soon as we return."

His eyes flicked to his daughter, and she nodded quickly. "Yes, there are others who need you more than I do, Mother. We will telegram you the moment they return. And return they will."

"Well, if you're sure…" Emily wiped her eyes. "Perhaps a voyage or two will cure our grandson of any desire to make his living from the sea. Then he will see that the family business in banking is really for him. We will gladly welcome him into our household."

She brightened as she picked up the little handbell at her elbow and rang it. "I think we could all do with a fresh pot of coffee…"

※※※※※

"The morn brings no solutions," Lucius complained, as he rubbed one hand across his eyes. "But they were some good cigars and a finer Madeira than mine. You must name your supplier."

"We will know nothing more until we reach France," Daniel replied as they walked the deck side by side. "Then we will keep a close watch on all who come aboard. This unknown shall not be allowed to succeed."

He placed the toe of his seaboot against the tightly wrapped pile of offending cargo beside him. "We can hope that our spy and cursed saboteur are one and the same scoundrel. It will make him easier to spot."

"If I ever get my hands around his worthless neck…" Lucius nodded as he swung his long legs over the ship's rail and prepared to climb down to his manned boat. "The Bey will pay handsomely for any such knowledge. I wish you good hunting, my friend."

He grinned as he saluted before dropping down the rope netting and landing neatly in his craft. He held his position in the middle of the boat with his hands balled on his hips as his men began to pull away with nighty heaves on their oars.

"Good hunting, indeed…" Daniel turned away from watching Lucius being rowed back to his own ship.

They had spent the night over wine and cigars and the morning had still found both ships riding side by side on the restless waves with their sails furled while they waited for their respective captains to end their conference.

"Somethin' tells me that someone's gonna be very sorry before this voyage be done," Old Alfred muttered, digging his elbow into the side of his apprentice. "The captain's forehead be stern indeed. It'll be the cat-o-nine laid across someone's back and no mistake."

He glanced sideways at his silent companion. "You got anythin' to say? You know anythin' about anythin' at all? Or you still got your head filled with that slip of a girl of yours?" He removed the unlit pipe from his lips and spat over the side. "I saw you two billin' and cooin' with her back at the docks."

"I don't know anything," Elroy replied, trying to look unconcerned. "We both know what the captains decide is for the captains to know and not us. We do as we're told."

"Aye, finally you have it in one, lad…" The old sailmaker chortled, digging his bony elbow deeper into the younger man's flesh. "If we do as we're told, then no trouble will befall us. Come along, now, I'm for my breakfast."

He rubbed his grumbling stomach. "We'll be underway soon enough and then there'll be a deal of work for us to do."

"Yes, coming…" Elroy concurred with his eyes fixed on that pile of cargo beside his captain's boots that looked inoffensive enough but held a mighty and dangerous secret.

He watched his captain turn away from the rail. He looked deeply annoyed and frustrated. Elroy ducked his head and quickly followed his master's lead below.

Oddly enough, he felt safest with the ship's stout timbers to cocoon him. There he could set his nimble fingers to work on the canvas and dream of taking Beth in his arms. Such dreams kept him from dwelling on what he knew about certain things that could blow his dreams wide open and sink them all.

Daniel sighed roughly as he ran a tired hand over his bearded chin. The rest of the three long weeks of their voyage stretched ahead before they would come within sight of the coast of France and their fate. If a fair wind carried them onwards more swiftly the voyage may be cut to two weeks.

Right now, he was too dog-tired to care and could barely keep his eyes open. He was for his cabin and a few hours of much-needed rest before he took his turn at watch again.

"The helm is yours, Mr Jarvis," he barked as he crossed the deck. "See to it that we make up for the time we've already lost. I want to reach France in good time and be done with this whole sordid affair."

"Aye, aye, Sir…" Jarvis knuckled his forehead. "No cowardly frog-eater shall ever manage to beat us, Sir…" he added quietly, for his captain's ears alone. "On my solemn word of honour."

"Agreed, Mr, Jarvis. No cowardly spalpeen shall ever manage to do that," Daniel agreed with a grimace as he walked toward the forward hatch and disappeared below.

He didn't want to look at the horizon lying in their wake. It was useless to imagine Carolyn waiting patiently for his return. And return he would. Not all the demons in hell nor a bevvy of traitorous countesses could ever keep them apart.

"Be well, my love…" he whispered as the lower decks closed about his head and he slammed the stout, nail-stubbed oak of his cabin door behind him.

※※※※※

Martha whistled long and low in consternation. "So it was that confounded countess at the bottom of it all? And Miss Sally's father. A pox on both of them. That madam needs to be taken out to the woodshed and given a good thrashing."

"Yes, she does…" Carolyn sipped her late-morning coffee as she stared into the depths of the living room fire. "And Claymore too. Though his part in it all seems to have been quite unwitting. He was a pawn to her secret machinations."

"That's why they were together down at the docks, the day the captain sailed. Hatching a devious plot between them," Martha replied stoutly. "I would never trust that man to look after a single thing. He is never to be believed again that he could change."

"That is yet to be decided. But now that we know who our enemies are while they remain unaware that we know, is to our advantage."

"And your parents know nothing of this awful situation?" The housekeeper shook her head. "I guess you know best. You are being very brave, I must say. It's a good thing they left for home this morning. Though I think your mother would rather have stayed if you had looked half-willing."

"I could not worry my father," Carolyn admitted after she finished her coffee. "And we both know my mother would never leave if she suspected a single thing was wrong. I could not bear her smothering me until I couldn't breathe. I swear I would go mad."

"Yes, there is that about it," Martha concurred as she emptied her own cup and refilled it. "I will say I never expected one of your novels to come to quite such graphic life."

"Nor did I," Carolyn admitted honestly, with a slow shake of her head.

"Well, we shall muddle through," Martha said stoutly as she refilled her friend's cup. "The captain will triumph and come home with Claymore's craven hide nailed to the mizzen mast. See if he doesn't. I have more faith in him than Claymore."

"Martha…" Carolyn replied with mock dismay. "When did you become so bloodthirsty?"

"From reading all your novels!" The housekeeper smiled as the two women saluted each other with their coffee cups. "I feel I've become quite the salty old salt!"

An indignant wail penetrated the ceiling above them. Carolyn laughed softly as she put aside her cup and stood up. "In the meantime, our youngsters will keep us on our toes." She left the room to attend to her infant daughter.

※※※※※

Claymore spent three whole days and long nights penned up in his cabin before a gnawing hunger finally drove him out. His raging thirst he could slake from the greasy leather water bag hanging beside the door, but now even that had begun to taste foul on his critical tongue.

"No one seems to care if I live or die…" he grouched as he changed his clothing and tried to make the best of the untenable situation.

He dragged open the stout, nail-studded oak door and left the cabin, slamming the door closed behind him. He walked up on deck with very unsteady steps. He was a confirmed landlubber and extremely proud of it.

It irked him to see hardy and seasoned men going about their duties with practised ease as if they were walking across their front porches. Not one looked as green as he felt and not a single man Jack of them paid him any attention as he tottered to the rail and clutched it tightly as he stared down into the roiling ocean chuckling past their keel.

He managed to scan the horizon in glances, but there was nothing and no one in sight beyond the roiling waves and a very unsteady horizon. Claymore groaned and lowered his eyes back to his hands, holding so tightly to the stout wooden rail. When would salvation release him from this hateful purgatory?

"Ah, so Sleeping Beauty has finally stirred himself back into life," Captain Lacey commented as he walked up to stand beside his swaying passenger. "We've made better time than we expected. The moon gave us her grace so we sailed onwards through the night. We should catch up to your cousin's ships before the next day is out."

He grinned as he rubbed his callused hands together. "The men and I had a bet that you would not come on deck at all. You must be hungry."

"Please God, don't mention food…" Claymore groaned, laying the back of his hand dramatically to his damp forehead. "Who won the bet?" he asked grudgingly.

"I did, of course." The old captain shook his grey head. "I knew the age and level of the rainwater in my bag by the door. If you didn't reappear on this morn, then we'd know you'd finally succumbed to your mal-de-mer…"

His grin widened. "If that had happened, then we would have needed to sacrifice a barrel of good brandy to preserve your corpse to return you to your family once we sailed back into Schooner Bay." He chuckled richly at his own sick joke.

"Good brandy? The devil you say?" Claymore challenged, turning slowly to his companion. "I am a Gregg…" He heaved his shaky stance upright and regretted the impulse. "I'll have you know that salt water runs in my veins. I was merely gaining my sea legs. I am made of stouter stuff."

"More like your veins are full of milk water," Lacey replied, totally unimpressed. "How you came to be born a Gregg at all is beyond me. Your cousin is worth a thousand of you. It's for him that I do this. To see his face when he finally sees you…" The old man whistled softly.

He waved one hand toward a hovering crewman. "Take our passenger below to the galley and instruct the cook to make him something soft and easy on the stomach. Let him sit by the fire and get warm."

"Make sure there's no hard tack nor raw onions in sight," Claymore instructed as he pressed the back of his hand to his lips. "A nice soft gruel and some fresh bread to dip in it. Maybe a mug of hot tea…"

"Aye, Sir…" The young seaman saluted just as Claymore seized his strong arm in a vicelike grip.

"Very well…" Claymore whined as he tottered away in the young man's care. "Take me to my last meal, if you please. I do not plan on enjoying it…"

※※※※※

Daniel walked across the bridge of his ship and back again with his hands clasped in the small of his back. The day had dawned fair and he'd eaten a good meal. The hot food warmed the icy anger that was tight around his mind and heart.

The steady routine of sailing side by side with their sister ship drove the demons into the back of his mind. The inaction of not being able to come to grips with those at the bottom of the plot to destroy him nibbled at him day and night, not allowing him good rest. But it would be sufficient until the coast of France was sighted and they could get on with the business of exposing the dastardly plot.

"Ship ahoy!" the man high up in the crow's nest suddenly shouted down. His long arm and stabbing finger pointed beyond their stern as he shouted out the coordinates.

"The devil you say!" Daniel picked up his telescope and pressed it to his eye.

He stared astern, trying to discern the flag and identity of the following vessel. Memories of Turner's cowardly attack prickled along his heightened senses. He did not need further entanglements.

"I think she be the Snow Goose, Captain!" the crewman in the crow's nest shouted down. "Comin' along at a fine clip, Sir! Almost like she's chasing us down!"

"I believe the man's right, Captain…" Mr Jarvis had his own glass pressed to his eye. "It's for sure, the Snow Goose out of Schooner Bay and she means to catch us up as soon as may be. She runs a deal faster than us and higher."

"I wonder what she wants…" Daniel lowered his glass to frown at the much smaller ship.

"She's sendin' us signals, Captain!" the crow's nest shouted.

Daniel returned his glass to his eye and watched the various coloured flags being raised on the other ship's lines. He read them with a low whistle and a muttered expletive.

"I don't understand…" Mr Javis muttered as he too read the signals. "Her captain requests that we heave to immediately and she will do the same. It seems they've carried a passenger who wishes to come aboard to speak with you. They wish us to lower our boat."

Daniel lowered his glass thoughtfully. "Then let us accommodate the good Captain Lacey's wishes. I'm very keen to know who this mysterious passenger is, but I do have my suspicions."

He turned to his hovering signalman. "Send my compliments across to Captain Beaumont and bid him to sail on without us. We will catch him up soon enough. Then signal our acknowledgement to the Goose."

The signalman knuckled his forelock. "Aye, aye, Captain." He hurried away to the ship's rail.

"I swear, this confounded intrigue is all too deep for me…" Mr Jarvis rubbed his honest brow. "Espionage, dynamite and Frenchie spies I care not a thing about. Our ship and the men, they're all that matters."

Daniel grinned hard at him. "Then we had better heave to and lower the boat, Mr Jarvis. And then let us find out who has such an urgent need to pursue us halfway across the Atlantic."

"I suspect you already know, Captain," Mr Jarvis complained grimly as he hurried away to do his captain's bidding.

Daniel waited and watched as the ship's boat was lowered and his men pulled away mightily toward the Snow Goose. Over the distance between, he saw a tall, thin man climbing very gingerly down the rope netting thrown over the side of the other ship before he fell into the boat and lay at the bottom as it bobbed on the choppy sea. Several bags were tossed after him, to land soundly, all around his cringing form.

"Claymore…" Daniel breathed as the small boat turned and began to row its way back to the Carolyn. "I never thought I would live to see the day you ventured out upon the ocean once more, Cousin..."

A wave and a mocking salute from the other ship's captain on her bridge and the little merchant ship hoisted sail and carried on her way. She obviously did not intend to linger and wait for the return of her passenger.

"Fair thee well, my friend…" Daniel raised a hand in reply.

He descended from the bridge, taking the steps two at a time before he landed on deck. He walked slowly to the rail and waited for the ship's long boat to pull back alongside and his cousin to be brought aboard to face his simmering wrath.

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