Page 62 of The Cornish Widow

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Shouts woke Harriet. She’d gone below on Jack’s suggestion and worked out, after one or two abortive attempts, how to get into a hammock. It had turned out to be the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in, and after a night of tension and more than twenty-four hours without sleep, she’d nodded off within minutes.

With reluctance, she struggled up out of the depths of sleep to a cacophony of even more shouting, although it didn’t sound as though it was coming from directly above her head, but rather, from somewhere not on board at all.

Getting out of the hammock proved just as difficult as getting into it had been, and it was a few moments before she had her feet on the wooden floor. She must look a sight. Having decided that putting on her nightgown in the morning, even if it was for a sleep, wasn’t such a good idea, she’d gone to bed in all of her borrowed clothes minus her shoes. A hand to her head told her how her once neatly coiffured hair had suffered, and she felt in general rather crumpled.

The hatch was slightly ajar, to allow fresh air to circulate, and through it she now heard a loud voice shout. “Heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

Whatever was going on? Should she show herself or stay hidden?

Theo. A quick glance told her he no longer occupied any of the other hammocks. Of course, he’d slept for a lot of their crossing and was probably now on deck with the crew. That answered her question. If her child was up there, then so should she be. She slid the hatch back enough to squeeze through it, and, hitching up her skirts while thinking that her previous boys’ clothes would have been easier for shipboard living, climbed the narrow ladder.

The day was cloudy with a chill breeze blowing, but that wasn’t what drew her attention. Towering over The Fly, or so it seemed, was a second ship, much bigger than she was and with grappling hooks holding the two ships close together. A man in the uniform of an officer stood with his back to her, facing Jack and Will. With a stab of shock, she saw he held a pistol in his hand, and it was pointed directly at Jack’s chest. Where was Theo? She didn’t move, but her eyes frantically searched for her son’s face amongst the far too many men now on deck. Sailors in blue jackets and cream trousers, all carrying pistols, Jack’s crew, and there, close beside young Clemo, she spied Theo’s pale face.

“Thought we wouldn’t catch you, did you?” the officer drawled, satisfaction in his every word. Wait. She knew that voice. That lazy intonation. Fitz Carlyon.

“Fitz?” His name was out of her mouth before she had a chance to prevent it.

He swung round, the pistol wavering. “Harriet?”

Never had she seen anyone so surprised. His mouth fell open and the tip of the pistol swayed about dangerously. Will’s anxious gaze followed its movement, but Jack had eyes only for her.

Bravery rose into her heart, helped by the confidence that the entire cargo was safely elsewhere. She spoke up loud and clear, emboldened by her adventures as well as her secret knowledge that they’d find nothing aboard The Fly. “Why on earth do you have a pistol in your hand? And why are you pointing it at Captain Trevelyan?”

Jack’s eyes met hers, twinkling with amusement and understanding. Will appeared to be just as confident, apart from his anxiety about the wavering pistol. Both of them stood with their feet braced apart, hands held a little out from their sides. Probably they didn’t want to be seen as making any aggressive movements while being held at gunpoint by one of His Majesty’s official preventative men.

“What are you doing here?” Fitz spluttered, once he’d overcome his shock. The pistol lowered until it was pointing at the deck.

Harriet bestowed her sweetest smile on him. “Why, Captain Trevelyan kindly offered to take Theo for a trip on his ship, and as Theo is only twelve, I thought it best to accompany him.” How glad she was now not to be clad in boy’s clothes still, despite how easy they’d make climbing steep ladders. Sleep crumpled she might be, but at least she had a gown on.

Fitz spun around to face Jack, whose smile had taken on a degree of well-deserved smugness. “Is this true?” He almost spat the words out.

“What? Did you think I might have kidnapped her?” Jack asked, his tone mocking. Harriet bit her lip to control the chuckle that wanted to escape. How close to the truth Jack liked to skate.

“I’ll ask again,” she said, enunciating her words with precision. “Why were you pointing a pistol at my escort? And why have you brought what looks to me like a squadron of armed men on board?”

Fitz raised the pistol toward Jack again, as if deciding this must all be a ruse. “I’m afraid I have to inform you, Mrs. Penhallow, that I’m empowered by His Majesty’s Government to stop and search all vessels suspected of smuggling.”

The fact that he hadn’t called her by her Christian name hadn’t escaped Harriet. She controlled that urge to laugh again, with difficulty. Jack appeared to be doing the same. Oh, how truly wicked this was. But she could quite understand why Jack had wanted them to catch up with him this morning. Or was it already afternoon?

“And you think we are smuggling?” Jack asked, his own voice a studied drawl. “Well, we are not. And you’re welcome to search my ship from bilges to crows’ nest. You won’t find anything illegal on board her, I can assure you.”

If only he’d stop looking so smug. Yes, he knew he’d outwitted Fitz and the preventative men, but he had no need to look as though he had and was well aware of it. She, at least, had managed to hide her own feelings. Feelings she wasn’t sure she should be having. Shouldn’t a respectable widow be on the side of the government? Not, it seemed, a Cornish one, at any rate.

Fitz emitted a growl of pure fury, and turned to the armed sailors who were standing guard over the rest of the crew, Theo included. “Seeing as Captain Trevelyan has so kindly invited us, we’ll accept his invitation, which I’m sure he won’t be happy about.” He shot Jack a piercing glare. “Search every corner of this ship. Leave nothing unturned. Poke into every crevasse.” His gaze returned to Jack’s amused face. “If there’s so much as a flake of tobacco or a bottle of brandy on board, we’ll find it, mark my words.” His lip curled. “Else why would you have run from us last night when we fired across your bow and stern? Only the guilty run from the preventatives.”

Jack laughed out loud. “That was you firing on us? We took you for privateers after our ship. These waterways are still not safe, even though the war with France is supposed to be over.”

Fitz spluttered with fury, his face reddening. “A likely story.”

Harriet stepped up beside him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Captain Carlyon. Fitz. It’s obvious no one on board this ship is resisting you, still less Jack or Will. And your pistol, and those of your men, are making me quite nervous. None of us are armed. Please put it away. Have a thought for Theo, who is quite overcome by your attack on us.”

To be honest, Theo didn’t look in the least bit overcome but, instead, brimming with excitement.

Fitz lowered the pistol and stowed it away, albeit with some reluctance. Maybe he thought Jack and his seven-man crew, nine if she counted herself and Theo, two of whom were mere boys, might suddenly all leap into the attack and overthrow his much bigger ship.

Fitz’s men disappeared down into the hold and the cabin, making Harriet glad she hadn’t slept through the shouting. Being awoken by several large, armed strangers arriving in the cramped space of the cabin would have been something of a shock.