Ransome's Crossing (29 page)

The light coming through the gun ports waned, and Hawthorne lit more candles and lanterns. “You should rest, Mrs. Ransome. Return to your cabin, take some tea, and eat something. ’Twill be a long night.”

Julia pressed her fingertips to the sides of her neck. “Thank you, Doctor. I believe I will.” She retrieved Charlotte’s journal and made her way up to the open air of the quarterdeck and into the cabin. Dawling had replaced the bowl in the washstand and refilled it with fresh water. To try to get the sour smell of the air below decks from her nose, she washed her hands, arms, and face with the honeysuckle soap.

A noise from the day cabin startled her. Carrying the drying cloth with her, she stepped out into the room.

William looked at her in question. “How is Ned?”

“The doctor has not given his opinion yet.” She returned to the sleeping cabin, dunked a cloth into the water, and returned to the sitting room, where she used it to wipe the sweat from her husband’s face. He should at least be comfortable when she told him.

He caught her hand in his and kissed her palm. “Thank you.”

She nodded, afraid to open her mouth before she had organized her thoughts.

William called for Dawling to bring tea and some of the supper he and the cook had prepared earlier. At the dining table, Julia sat at William’s right hand, biding her time until he had eaten his fill.

“Two others aboard
Audacious
are ill. One cargo ship reported that they have one man with fever.” William pushed his empty plate back.

Julia had eaten as much as she could, taking heed of the doctor’s warning, though she had no appetite. “And is the first lieutenant of
Audacious
capable of commanding her to Jamaica?”

“I believe so. He is young but competent. And it will be for less than a fortnight. I am sending Lieutenant Campbell over to serve as his first lieutenant.”

“But with the threat from pirates…?”

“I spoke with Mr. Gardiner at length. He commanded a small brig during an engagement and lost none of his crew. He is aware of the increased security measures his crew will need to take once we leave Barbados.”

Julia could think of nothing else to ask him on the subject. She ran her tongue along the edges of her upper teeth, trying to determine how best to broach the subject of Charlotte.

William settled back in his chair. “I can see you have something you wish to say to me.”

She nodded and looked down at the half-eaten beef and onions on her plate; she shoved it away and stood. “When Ned paid his respects to me at Madeira, he confided a secret so great, I have been unable to find a way to tell you.”

William’s expression did not change. “I assumed he had spoken to you of his crew, of the problems he was having with some of them.”

Unable to continue to meet his unwavering, unreadable gaze, Julia walked slowly toward the other end of the table. At her chair at the foot, where she sat when others joined them for meals, she stopped and grabbed the finials adorning the back. “Ned wished to speak to me of one person particularly. One of his midshipmen.”

“I see.”

“Midshipman Lott, as a matter of fact.”

“The one who is even now in my sick berth?” The question conveyed no surprise, no indication of any change in William’s calmness.

“Yes. Midshipman
Charles Lott.”
Would her emphasis of the name make him understand? She finally looked up the table at him.

The slight raising of his brows indicated nothing other than a desire for her to continue.

“Midshipman Charles Lott is not who he claimed to be.”

“Is that so?”

She looked down at the chair before her. “Yes. You see, Midshipman Charles Lott is actually a young woman.” She glanced up at him again.

“A…woman?”

“Yes, William.”
Lord, give me strength.
“Yes. A young woman.”

“I see.” Still the same, calm intonation.

“But she is not just any young woman.” She took a deep breath. “Midshipman Charles Lott is your sister. Charlotte.”

Julia’s father would have exploded from his chair, face mottled red with fury, and started yelling. William steepled his fingers and pressed his forefingers to his lips.

Words of apology, of begging his forgiveness, flew through Julia’s mind, but she did not speak. Until William spoke, she needed to tread carefully so she did not anger him further.

“You need not explain why you have kept this from me until now.” William spoke through tight lips. “That is something we will discuss
at another time. Have you any idea why my sister would do such a thing?”

Her husband’s gaze met hers with such a piercing intensity that she could hardly breathe. She nodded. “While I have heard no explanation from her, I have a suspicion.”

“And that is…?”

“The day after our engagement, when I went to Charlotte’s room to dress for dinner at Collin and Susan’s home, I discovered a page from a letter that I believe belonged to Charlotte. It was not addressed nor signed, so I cannot be certain, but it seemed to be from a young man…who asked Charlotte to marry him.”

William remained still, his eyes still boring into hers.

“I believe Charlotte disguised herself as a midshipman and signed on to
Audacious
to marry this young man.” Silence stretched out after this statement. Julia chewed the inside corner of her bottom lip until it was raw.

“Is that all?”

“That is all I know.”

“Then I thank you for entrusting me with the information.”

“What…what will you do?”

“That is yet to be decided.” William stood. “But I can assure you. My sister will not be marrying anyone at the end of this voyage.”

A
fter sunset beat-to-quarters inspection, William finally made his way to the sick berth. Since Julia had made her confession more than an hour ago, the thought that Charlotte might be dying had kept his mind—and his heart—frozen. Performing the routine action of inspecting his crew at their battle stations enabled him to clear away everything but the cold, hard facts.

Charlotte had lied to her family and put herself, the crew of
Audacious,
and the entire convoy in danger.

Ned had known since before making port in Madeira and had not immediately told him; rather, he confided the information to Julia.

And Julia had feared telling him.

When she began her tale, his annoyance rose at her seeming nervousness and fear of him. Anger quickly conquered the annoyance. How often had they talked about trust? She had promised she would not keep anything from him. A secret fiancé? Charlotte stowing away—in plain sight—on a warship of the Royal Navy? Not important?

William stopped just outside the sick berth and calmed himself. Revisiting his anger benefitted no one. How many times had he seen Admiral Witherington explode with the passion of his ire? And if he recognized the admiral’s tendency to react in anger, how could he blame Julia for being fearful that he would behave the same way? With a resolve to show his wife he was unlike her father in that respect, he opened the door in the removable bulkhead that cordoned off the infirmary and entered.

Both Ned and Charlotte were in the midst of emptying their stomach contents into buckets held by the doctor’s mates, while Julia and Hawthorne held them upright.

He waited until they were cleaned up and once again resting in their hammocks. He moved to the opposite side of Charlotte’s hammock from where Julia stood, wiping Charlotte’s neck and arms with a damp cloth.

Pain constricted William’s chest. Eleven years ago, he had stood beside Charlotte’s bed and scolded her for climbing a rotted rope ladder and dislocating her shoulder. She had announced then, at six years old, her intention to join the Royal Navy.

Now, as then, the only sign of pain Charlotte betrayed were the tears that streamed from the corners of her eyes. “Mama…and William. You have to tell them. They won’t know I’m here…”

Julia leaned over and whispered comforting words to his sister. When Charlotte closed her eyes and appeared to sleep, Julia straightened. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure the doctor and his mates were out of hearing range. “She fears she will die and no one will know her real name so they can let your family know of her death. I try to reassure her that you do know, that you have been told, but it plagues her mind.”

“The fever?”

“Still high.” She bent to dip her cloth in the bucket of water beside her feet, wrung it out, and began wiping Charlotte’s face with it.

“I want her moved to our cabin. Tonight.”

Julia looked startled. “But…what about Captain Cochrane?”

“Hawthorne and his mates can tend to him.” He passed his hand through his hair and settled his hat back on his head. “Have the doctor and his mates prepare her for transport, and I will have Dawling hang my old hammock in the great cabin for her.”

“Yes, William.” That she acquiesced without asking for a reason he took as a sign of her remorse.

He returned to the cabin and, rather than summoning Dawling, set about hanging the hammock himself. He was none too quick in
doing so; just as he secured the last knot, Julia entered. Hawthorne followed, carrying Charlotte in his arms. William helped him settle her into the hammock.

Though he hoped the doctor would not spread word about the midshipman who had turned out to be a girl, he could not bring himself to ask Hawthorne to keep the information secret.

“I had already released the mates to their supper and a time to rest before rotating the watches all night in the sick berth,” Hawthorne said. “Mrs. Ransome understands my instructions for treatment, and I know she will send word for me if this…patient takes a turn for the worse.”

“And what will you tell your mates when they return to only one invalid?” Julia asked.

“That the second is no longer with us. That is all they need to know.” Hawthorne nodded. “Now if you will excuse me, I must return to Captain Cochrane. I do not wish to leave him alone longer than necessary.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hawthorne.” Julia walked him to the door of the dining cabin and closed it behind him.

William stood over his sister’s inert form. He understood the implications of Charlotte’s living as a boy on a ship for more than a month. And he would do what he could to minimize the ruination of her reputation in society—if anything could be done. But he also understood the damage her action could have on Cochrane’s career as well as his own. For any woman to have been found masquerading as an officer, even a midshipman, and giving orders to men was bad. But for it to be a commodore’s younger sister—William’s career might never recover, no matter that he was son-in-law to Admiral Sir Edward Witherington. Even Sir Edward might not be able to keep William from being drummed out of the navy over this.

“William?” Julia stood in the middle of the cabin, her hair hanging in a limp braid down her back. She didn’t look at him as she tied a fresh apron around her waist.

“Was she truly so unhappy in England that she thought her only recourse,
at seventeen years old, was to run away to the far side of the world and marry someone of whom her family would not approve?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“How do you know you would not approve of him?”

“A man who would carry on a secret correspondence with a young woman? Who would ask her to marry him without first gaining her family’s permission? How can he be someone worthy of her affection?” He stopped, calmed himself, and modulated his tone. “In the past two years, my mother has written me only once in concern over Charlotte’s forming a serious attachment to a young man. Mother did not approve of him. Not simply because he was poor with no prospects of future wealth—and thus after Charlotte’s legacy—but because Mother believed him to be duplicitous, deceitful, and manipulative, toying with a young girl’s eager affections.”

“And your mother forbade her to keep company with him?”

“That was my advice. But months later, when I received her next letter, she told me the problem had resolved itself—the man had moved on. Gone…to the Caribbean as a steward on a sugar plantation.” He cocked his head, and frowned, trying to remember if his mother had ever said exactly where in the Caribbean the man had vanished to.

“Did your mother mention this man’s name?” Julia began to unplait her hair.

“Henry…something. Henry…” He tried to picture his mother’s letter in his mind. Ah, yes, there it was. “Henry Winchester.”

Julia froze, fingers still twined in her hair. “Henry Winchester—are you certain?”

“Yes. I have her letter in my lap desk if you wish to see it. Why? Have you heard of him?”

She glanced toward her desk, where the plantation’s ledgers and the letters from Jeremiah lay in a drawer. “Henry Winchester is the name of the steward I hired at Tierra Dulce before I left for England.
He had just arrived in Jamaica and had a letter of introduction from another plantation owner with whom I am acquainted.”

“Your steward—the one you believe is cheating you?” For once, William could not hide his incredulity.

“Yes, the very one. Could there be more than one man on this side of the ocean bearing that name?” She finished unbraiding her hair and reached into the top drawer of the wardrobe for her brush.

“I find it unlikely. Mother indicated in her letter the man had left England to seek his fortune. He apprenticed as a clerk for a wealthy merchant in Liverpool.”

“Mr. Winchester said he received his training in Liverpool.” Julia sank onto the bench seat under the stern windows, dropping the brush to her lap. “Could he have known of our families’ connection? Do you think that is, perhaps, why he sought employment at Tierra Dulce?”

William shook his head and crossed the cabin to sit near her. “I doubt it. The connection is not known outside of naval circles. Or Portsmouth. It may simply be a coincidence. You were in need of a steward at the same time he was in search of a position.”

She turned and studied his profile. “Forgive me.”

He looked down and then at her. “Why, Julia? Why did you feel you could not tell me of the peril my sister had put herself in?”

Julia told him everything Ned had said to her in Madeira. “I knew I should tell you. I wanted to tell you. But…”

“But you were afraid I might behave out of character and act before considering all the ramifications and possible outcomes?”

“When my father learned Michael’s ship had been attacked and the crew either killed or held for ransom, he took his ship, and the two under his command, and left port without orders, without permission to search for him. He almost lost his commission…he could have lost much more than that if he had been court-martialed for treason for stealing three ships from the Royal Navy. But he brought back information on several other pirates operating in the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico whom the navy was then able to apprehend. I was afraid… worried that if you found out about Charlotte, you would row the
jolly boat to
Audacious
yourself to retrieve her and bring her here, and that both crews would learn what happened.”

William turned his face so his profile was once again to her. “Have you not yet learned that while I highly regard your father, I am not like him?”

“I have been his daughter for almost thirty years, and I feel I know very little about him. I have been your wife for six weeks. There is still much we both need to learn about each other.”

He reached over and twined his fingers through hers. “Aye, there is that.”

They sat, holding hands, for a long while—until Charlotte’s groans reminded them of her presence.

Dawling knocked and gained permission to enter just as they settled Charlotte back down into the hammock. William sent the steward away with the bucket of sick.

“What will you tell him? What will you tell everyone?”

“Not much. Tomorrow we will go ashore, and you will buy clothing—dresses—for Charlotte. I am not mistaken, am I, that your dresses will not fit her?”

She smiled, picturing Charlotte trying to wear one of her dresses. “No. Aside from being too long, my dresses would be too large all over for her. She would look like a child sneaking into her mother’s wardrobe.”

“Make a tracing of her foot and we will get proper shoes for her as well. When she emerges from this cabin after she recovers, she will no longer be Midshipman Lott but Miss Charlotte Ransome. And if the crew want to speculate how she came to be on board, they are welcome to do so.”

Charlotte awoke staring at an unfamiliar, whitewashed ceiling. Her head spun and her ears rang, but her stomach had finally settled, and her back no longer ached. She lay still, enjoying for the first time
in—hours? days?—the lulling rock-and-pitch motion of a ship under full sail.

She tried to remember everything that had happened and why she was in an unfamiliar berth. Ned. Ned had ordered her to command the boat transporting him from
Audacious
to
Alexandra.
She had boarded
Alexandra
—had she not? Yes, she vaguely remembered hanging on to the slots in
Alexandra’s
side, trying to not fall off. Midshipman Kennedy had taken her down to the midshipmen’s berth. They had just sat down to supper when…