The Jezebel (14 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The autumn sky on the following morning was glorious, and as the
Libertas
sailed out of Lowestoft Harbor, Maisie breathed the air in, reveling in the moment. Her body felt sated, womanly, and rich in carnal magic, and the elements seemed to reflect her vitality.

Gulls wheeled overhead, circling above them as they made their way out to sea. They were on their way once again to Dundee, and as the distance between her and London grew and she spent more time with her Scottish captain, she anticipated the onward journey and the reunion that she hoped waited at its end. She watched in awe as the land appeared to slide away from them as the morning breeze caught the sails. She would have fond memories of Lowestoft.

Turning, she looked up at the deck above, where Roderick directed the ship’s path through the waves with his strong hands on the wheel, issuing instructions to the men and watching over their actions. He’d attempted to get her to go below deck when they came aboard that morning, but she had insisted on aiding Adam in his chores. Roderick didn’t fight against her too hard, most likely because the men had already given her a good scrutinizing as she mounted the rail and landed on their deck again.

No sooner had she turned Roderick’s way than he noticed and smiled across at her, acknowledging her stare. His attention kindled her passions afresh. Now that she’d begun to understand his ways and she had gained the measure of him, she’d even begun to enjoy bantering with him. Being wary and cautious was still foremost in her mind. She couldn’t risk him learning about her secret nature, nor the true reason why she had left London. So long as she kept that in mind, she was able to enjoy his company. Even when he was arrogant and demanding. Perhaps even more so then.

The notion made her blood heat. Why was that so? She had vowed never to be cowed and controlled by a man again. It was different with Roderick, though. His demands were borne solely from his passion for her.

That was no small thing.

When her stare lingered on him, his smile became brooding, as if he was thinking of the bed they had shared the night before, as she was. It had been a long night of passion. Yet when they had risen that morning he had been most debonair and gracious. Their long night of lovemaking had apparently mellowed his gruff humor, as if being with a woman directed his life force onto a steadier course.

Before they left the privacy of the room at the inn, he’d kissed her—her mouth, her forehead, her cheeks and eyelids—then he’d sighed deeply. When she had started to ask him why he’d done that, he’d put his finger on her lips, then told her they had best get back to the ship.

Moving into action now, she set about her tasks aiding Adam. Whenever she could, she stole a glance in Roderick’s direction, watching him and his easy manner as he strode about the place, checking on the men individually as well as issuing orders from above. He had gained their trust. That was no small thing, she knew. Perhaps these men had never had reason to mistrust others. She certainly had, yet she recognized in Roderick a quality that she hadn’t found in the only other man she knew well. A forthrightness that was not only admirable, it appealed to her immensely.

Over the course of that morning Maisie learned how to milk the goats. As Adam demonstrated, she recalled watching her mother do the very same task in the Highlands, when she was but an infant and stood in the croft with her twin at her side, waiting for the warm milk. The memory, unbidden but welcome, touched her, and made her grateful once again that she’d been brave enough to break from her sheltered life in London to undertake this journey.

Under Adam’s guidance she managed to coax forth one eighth of a pail of milk. It took a great deal of time to master the ability, but she was determined to do so and not resort to magic or assistance. Adam chuckled at her failed attempts, but encouraged her on, and eventually the wondrous sound of the milk hitting the side of the pail gave her cause to cry out in delight.

“You have done well. It took me much longer to learn. The milk will be used to enrich the porridge for the morning.”

“I had a good teacher.” She smiled up at him as she continued with the task.

“If you were to stay with us beyond Dundee, I could help out with the sails.” He shielded his eyes from the bright morning sunlight and looked upward, and she could see that he longed to be climbing the masts.

Maisie had overheard the other men teasing him about his woman’s work. It hadn’t occurred to her that someone must do it until a new ship’s hand enlisted. Adam would never move on if there wasn’t a new lad to take his place. It made her think about what it would be like for a woman to live a life at sea. A strange life indeed. When Maisie looked back at Adam, she could see that he was following his own thoughts, too, looking longingly at the young lad who was currently keeping watch from the nest high above.

That afternoon she and Adam sat on short stools either side of a large pot, peeling and dicing root vegetables.

“We’ll add salt beef, then I’ll take it below,” he informed her.

“Is there a scullery with a fire, below deck?” Maisie had not even wondered about the actual cooking.

“An open grate. We can only use it if the conditions are right.” He shook his head, his eyebrows drawing together. “If the sea is rough it is too dangerous to risk lighting the fire.”

Maisie nodded. Now that she thought on it, she saw that the ship would be vulnerable to fire.

“With luck it will be calm enough to prepare a hot meal for tonight.”

“If it isn’t?”

“Salt meat and oatcakes again. If the captain thinks the voyage will be smooth enough the men’s bellies start to rumble. I must sit with the pot the whole time, watching in case the fire catches the boards.” He looked rueful, and she knew it was because he preferred observing the activities above deck.

“In that case,” she said, “I will finish the vegetables and you can do something else, until you have to go below deck with the pot.”

He stood up, smiling gratefully. A moment later he joined a group of men who were discussing which of them would wet down the boards that day. Adam volunteered.

Once he was gone, Maisie returned to her work and sharpened her hearing in order to listen to Roderick instructing the men. Even though she didn’t understand many of the terms he used, his voice made her feel warm. It also made her remember how the timbre changed when he was making love to her. At those times his voice seemed to vibrate right through her, an intimate call that she alone could hear. Once again she thought how lucky she’d been with her random lover. Roderick had stirred her affections as well as her passions. That she could no longer deny. She cared for him, for his safety and happiness. Could she halt that? Probably not, but she would leave his side quickly at Dundee, unwilling as she was to put him in danger by association.

During the course of that day the men seemed friendlier toward her. Clyde, who had been suspicious of her at first, and had asked her to sing, stopped to talk to her.

“Not many women would brave this deck. You are a strange one.”

Was that a note of admiration she heard in his voice? “I am trying to make myself useful. Tell me, have you decided whether I am a good woman or a bad one?”

“I’m still thinking on it.” He ran his fingers over his beard as if suddenly concerned for his appearance.

“The captain told me you carried a woman passenger once before.”

“Aye. She was nothing like you, though. She would never have sullied her hands preparing food or milking the goats. She did try to order the captain about, both him and Master Ramsay who was aboard ship then. Treated them as if they were her servants, or tried to.”

“It’s little wonder the captain was reticent when I requested passage.”

Clyde’s eyebrows flickered. It clearly interested him that the captain had not immediately agreed to her plea.

“It took some persuading,” she added, “and I was most eager to travel north, to my family.”

Clyde nodded thoughtfully. “The captain is a generous soul and you appealed to his good nature. It is his first term as captain of the ship without Master Ramsay at his side to discuss matters. It is important that the men do not doubt him.”

Was that a warning? When Roderick told her to keep out of the crew’s way, she hadn’t realized it would reflect badly on him if she didn’t. It was too late now, but because she was particularly wary of Clyde she took his words to heart. “Do the crewmen think I have brought disrepute on the captain?”

She hoped that was not the case.

“Some of the men believe it is bad luck to have a Jezebel flaunting herself about. Others merely think it is no place for a woman.”

“And you? What do you think?”

“Sometimes I see the captain watching you, when he ought to be watching his men.”

Maisie swallowed. That definitely sounded like a warning. This man doubted her, recognized her Pictish tongue and thought her a Jezebel.

Before she had a chance to respond, he broke into a grin. “I cannot blame him, for you are much prettier than the men.”

With that, he limped off, leaving Maisie to think through what he had said. The man clearly had his misgivings about her presence. He was a riddle, though, because she knew he was trying to get the measure of her, but he was giving nothing away. Had he known the words that he overheard that first morning? She still wasn’t sure. What she did know was that he was watching her closely. It reminded her all too readily of Cyrus’s threats and warnings. Icy fingers flitted over her spine. She braced herself and pushed the thoughts away, fixing her attention on the work at hand.

Maisie was nearly at the end of her task, with only two turnips left to peel, when a commotion broke out overhead. One of the ropes that harnessed the sails had become entangled with the material, and a young man was climbing the mast, his intention apparently to free it. There were mutterings and shouts, and a moment later she realized the young man in question was Adam. He had taken it upon himself, even though the older men called him back.

One man in particular, a fellow Dutchman, shouted up in his own language.

Adam called back, and as he did he lost his grip and swung in an ungainly manner from the rope he had been working on, his legs coming free from the mast. The rope rapidly unraveled and the lad descended, his body twisting on the descent.

Maisie’s heart thundered in her chest, fearing as she did for his safety. Instinctively, she mustered an enchantment, but there was no time to prevent the accident. Adam hung precariously in a tangle of rope like a great fish caught in a net.

Maisie covered her mouth with her hand and rose to her feet. Men swarmed to his aid, two climbing the rigging to assist from above, while others eased him down to the deck. Adam cried out in pain on occasion, and Maisie could see the hand that held him tight to the rope was twisted and bloodied.

“Take the wheel,” Roderick shouted to Brady, then darted over to the scene to examine the lad. “Take him below and tend him,” he instructed two of the men.

The sailors moved quickly, lifting the lad. One of them shifted his injured arm, laying it across his chest so it would not dangle as they carried him, and Maisie saw the extent of his injury. Blood ran down his forearm from scraped knuckles, but that was not all. Two of his fingers were badly misshapen, in all likelihood dislocated.

Turning on her heel, Maisie made her way quickly below deck to the captain’s quarters, where she retrieved her bundle from under the bed. Checking through it quickly, she reassured herself that she had dried agrimony leaves, a vulnerary herb that she could bind around his fingers in a dressing to aid healing.

When she returned to the deck, the men who had been tending Adam had disappeared, taking him with them. The hatch at the far end of the deck, where the men emerged when they came up for their watches, stood open. Without a second thought, she hurried over and clambered down the ladder, clutching her bundle as she went.

The ladder was longer than the one that led to the captain’s quarters, taking her deeper into the ship. She found herself in a dark and crowded place, where the air was stifling and wooden bunks were stacked one upon the other on the walls. It took her a moment to become accustomed to the gloom, and when she did she saw that the slots acted as beds for the men.

Beyond them, she saw hammocks lined up at the far end of the space, as well. There were only a couple of lanterns here and there to light the way, and she stepped carefully around piles of clothing, goods and boots littering the floor.

As she passed, a man stuck out his head from one of the slots and she jumped.

He gave her a grin and settled to watch her, apparently amused by her appearance in their quarters. She was just about to ask the man where to find Adam when she heard a frightful scream from beyond. Whatever they were doing to him, it was not good. She hurried on.

Half a dozen men surrounded the spot where they had Adam stretched out on the floorboards. His head was propped up on one man’s knee while another poured rum down his throat. The liquid spilled everywhere, staining Adam’s shirt and making him cough.

Maisie grumbled to herself when she saw that his hand appeared to be in worse condition than the last time she’d seen it. Marching over, she quickly instructed the men to leave him alone. “I will see to him. Leave the task to me.”

A couple seemed dubious, but one of them was agreeable and he took charge. “His hand needs to be strapped tight.” He gestured at a pile of tattered fabric beside Adam’s body. “His fingers must be made straight now, or they never will be again.”

Maisie nodded. “Have you a small splint I can use?”

The men mumbled amongst themselves and one walked off and returned a few moments later with some spliced pieces of wood to offer her.

“Thank you.” She stared at them, waiting for them to leave.

“If he gives you any trouble,” the man in charge added, “call out for us and we will feed him more rum.”

Rum was their answer to everything, or so it seemed. Maisie Taskill had more than that to help his recovery, though, but it was important they did not observe her. She jerked her head, indicating they could go.