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‘Oh dear, I hope they will not be too uncomfortable.’
‘No fear of that, ma’am, do them good, toughen them up,’ the boy said stoutly with all the confidence of a sixteen-year-old confronted with a charming and sympathetic young lady.
Hebe looked round her new home with interest, while Maria, who had had visions of a cabin much like that to expected from a Spanish galleon of romance, was aghast. ‘Miss Hebe, we cannot sleep here! It is like a cupboard. And what do we do if we want…I mean, all those men…’
Hebe who was exploring, opened what was no more than a wardrobe and disclosed a close-stool with a chamber pot. ‘There you are, Maria, every comfort.’
‘Comfort! Miss Hebe, a lady like you cannot live like this! I do not wish to live like this! How do we wash?’
‘Look.’ Hebe hinged down the pewter washbasin, which was set into a plank. ‘I expect you will be able to get hot water from the galley.’
‘Galley? What is this galley?’
Hebe left the maid lamenting and went to see how Sara was faring. Her stepmother already had her valises open and was shaking out some gowns and trying to decide what to put in the one drawer under the lower bunk and what to leave in the cases.
‘Shall I send Maria to you, Mama? I warn you, she is having the vapours. I think she imagined gilded carving, brocade sofas and great sterncastle windows.’
‘No, thank you, dear, keep her with you. I am used to life on board, and I would rather you had her with you at all times. Not that I have any worries about this ship, it appears a well-disciplined command, with respectful men.’
There was one on board whose behaviour had not been respectful in the past, but Hebe bit her lip and made no comment. Alex Beresford would be taking no liberties with her now.
Her bitter musings were ended by the midshipman again. ‘The Commodore’s compliments, my lady, and we are about to cast off if you wish to come on deck.’
‘Thank you,’ said Hebe. ‘What is your name?’
‘Murray, ma’am.’
‘Then would you tell my maid, please, Murray? She is in my cabin.’
They made their way up, successfully negotiating the companionways, and found the dockside a bustle of activity as the lines were cast off and sailors laboured to coil the dripping ropes on deck.
Captain Wilson walked over and asked them if they would like to come up on to the quarterdeck as the frigate sailed out and they readily agreed. ‘Never go on to the quarterdeck without an officer inviting you, Hebe,’ Sara warned her, low-voiced, as they took their places at the rail, well out of the way of the officers who were shouting orders to the men. The longboats were out, towing the frigate out of Dockyard Creek into the Grand Harbour, and familiar as they were with the scene, both women gasped at this view of it.
‘Dramatic, is it not?’ The First Lieutenant paused beside them, then leaned over to shout at a sailor who had dropped a line. ‘Beg pardon, ma’am. Yes, you can just imagine the Knights’ great fleet at anchor here, or the Turkish ships attacking, when you look at those massive walls.’ He touched his hat and walked on.
Hebe’s gaze followed him and she saw Alex standing alone, hands on the rail, staring down the length of the deck. All at once he straightened and turned to look at her before she could glance away. His eyes were dark and his expression severe, then, as their eyes locked, he smiled at her before turning back to contemplate the view.
Hebe breathed out as though she had been holding her breath, then realised that was just what she had been doing.
Hebe was particularly dreading meal times, for she was sure the Captain would invite his passengers to dine with him each evening, and that was exactly what he did. But to her relief he also invited a selection of his officers every time and Hebe found herself seated between them, and not in a position where she had to make conversation with Alex.
The first three days soon settled down into a comfortable routine. The Captain had a sail rigged in one quiet part of the deck to provide shade for the ladies and the ship’s carpenter produced chairs that were a mixture of armchair and hammock and swung comfortably to and fro with the motion of the ship.
The weather was good and there was enough to watch to prevent the ladies being forced back on the books or sewing they had prudently included in their cabin luggage. Hebe managed to complete the first two chapters of Sense and Sensibility, but more often than not it stayed closed while she watched the sailors climbing high in the rigging, or eavesdropped on the midshipmen’s navigation lessons.
Alex had stopped to exchange a few words with Lady Latham as he passed, but he seemed to spend most of his time with the marines and Hebe overheard snatches of what sounded like a particularly technical discussion of artillery.
The only problem appeared to be that the winds were
unseasonably light and they were not making the progress the Captain had been hoping for. He and Sir Richard disappeared below for a while and emerged to talk to the first mate. All three men appeared anxious, and, following their gaze, Hebe saw banks of cloud massing from the south.
‘Is there a problem, Sir Richard?’ she asked as he paused beside them on his way along the deck.
‘Nothing to worry about, my dear,’ he reassured her. ‘But we might be in for a bit of a blow from an unexpected quarter.’
‘Will that not take us too close to the French shore?’ Hebe queried. She knew they had safely rounded the southern tip of Sardinia but there was a way to go before they had the archipelago of Balearic islands between them and the French coast.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Sir Richard repeated, but Hebe could not help feeling a little uneasy. At least they did not appear to be in any danger from the French fleet. Sir Richard said they were believed to be close in to Toulon and, given the weather, he did not expect them to be beating south into the teeth of the coming wind. There was the odd brigantine about, causing the masthead lookout to alert the quarterdeck, but everything they sighted was far too small to risk the Audacious’s bristling guns.
