Read Black Sheep's Daughter Online

Authors: Carola Dunn

Tags: #Regency Romance

Black Sheep's Daughter (10 page)

 "'Tis a brig, sir, with raked masts. I'll go bail she's the
Snipe
!"

 

Chapter 7

 

  Shouts and the thud of running feet woke Teresa. She had slept later than usual if it was eight bells already and time to change the watch. She snuggled under the covers for a few minutes, then sat up wide awake and full of energy.

 The Parrs and their abigail were still sound asleep, her ladyship with her open mouth issuing a ladylike snore. Teresa grinned, threw back the covers and started to dress. Her eyes went to the green-sprigged muslin, hanging between her cot and Kinsey's. By tonight it should be ready to wear. How surprised Sir Andrew would be to see her in a London-made gown!

 She was tying her shoes when a crashing roar shook the air. Lady Parr, Muriel and Kinsey all sat bolt upright, sleepy eyes filled with alarm.

 "Lawks, what was that?" cried the abigail.

 Teresa shook her head and shrugged. "I've not the slightest notion," she admitted, "but I shall go up at once to find out."

To the amazed horror of the other three, she took her pistols from under her pillow, checked that they were loaded, thrust them into their holsters and buckled the belt about her waist.

 "Muriel, I absolutely forbid you to leave the cabin," squawked Lady Parr.

 "Yes, Mama," whispered her daughter, looking as if it was the last order she was likely to disobey.

 "I shall come back to tell you what is happening," said Teresa, "but I suspect we have caught up with the slavers after all."

 When she stepped out of the cabin, she saw at once that the lower deck was cleared for action. All the guns were manned by watchful seamen, and one, right in the bows, was being reloaded.

 She expected to be told to return to the cabin, but everyone was too busy to notice her. After a moment's consideration, she decided it was probably no more dangerous on deck than below. If she found she was in the way she could always go back down.

 Marco, Andrew and Rowson were already on the quarter deck, with Captain Fitch and two of the officers. Teresa followed the direction of their gaze and saw a two-masted ship, considerably smaller than the frigate, a couple of hundred yards away. Its sails were being hastily lowered and a white flag waved from amidships.

 "Looks like they're surrendering," grunted the captain with satisfaction.

 As the
Snipe
lost speed, a boat was lowered over her side. Four men climbed down to it and began rowing towards the
Destiny
. The white flag went with them.

 They had covered half the distance when a hollow boom rang out. The
Snipe
shuddered visibly, though no damage was visible.

 "What was that?" asked Teresa. "Did we shoot at them?"

 The first mate turned to her, his face pale. "They're scuttling the evidence, ma'am. They've blown a hole in their own ship."

Shouts and yells could be heard across the water, and they saw men jumping overboard.

 "That'll be the rest of the crew," said Captain Fitch. "The officers—if such scum deserve the name--abandoned them. Lower a boat, we'll go and pick 'em up. Maybe they'll turn King's Evidence."

 "But what about the slaves?" demanded Teresa. "Why are they not jumping?"

 "They'll have battened down the hatches, Miss Danville," explained Captain Fitch grimly. "No use scuttling the ship if the cargo escapes to tell tales."

 "But we must rescue them!" she cried in agony. "Send a boat to release them!"

 "I can't order my men onto a sinking ship, ma'am."

 "Then I shall go!  Will no one go with me?"

 Marco moved to her side, followed at once by Andrew and Rowson.

 "We can try, captain," said Andrew. "Will you have the other boat lowered and give us a couple of men to row us over? They can wait for us in the boat."

 By the time the four of them climbed down into the captain's gig, held steady by a pair of sailors, the slaver captain and his three cronies were aboard the
Destiny
. Teresa looked up to see them staring down at her with puzzled faces.

 The
Snipe
had drifted closer and they reached her side in no time. Teresa looked at the dangling rope ladder and cursed her skirts. With a defiant glance at Andrew, she picked up the hem and tucked it into the waistband, carefully leaving her pistols clear.

 Andrew shook his head at her and grinned. "Considering the impropriety of this whole mad venture," he pointed out, "of what significance is a mere display of limbs?"

 They clambered up to the deck. The ship was listing slightly though it seemed steady beneath their feet. They heard cries and groans from below, thumps and thuds as the imprisoned wretches tried desperately to break out.

 "Marco, you and Rowson open this hatch," ordered Andrew. "Come, Teresa, let us see what we can do aft."

 It was the work of a moment to undo the fastening on the aft hatch. Teresa thought her arms would come out of their sockets as she struggled to help Andrew lift it. Marco and Rowson rushed to help as a swarm of dark-skinned, half naked women and children burst up from the forward hold and milled about on the deck.

The aft hatch swung open and another dozen women staggered out. No one else appeared. Teresa peered down into the gloom, hearing shouts in deeper male voices.

Behind her Andrew cried, "Break loose the railings, the spars, any timber you can find. Throw it overboard and make them jump. It's the only hope. Teresa, wait!"

 She was already half way down the stairs. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw rows of men lying shackled to the deck. They were packed close together like a hand of bananas, unable to move without knocking against each other. The smell was appalling and she thought she was going to vomit.

 She braced herself. The cries ended in a terrified silence as she moved to the nearest slave and drew her pistols. She shot off his shackles. The report was deafening. As it echoed around, the man realised that he was still alive. He jumped to his feet and headed for the hatchway as Teresa reloaded and moved on.

 Andrew was beside her, a pair of pistols in his hands. Eyes stinging from the smoke, she blinked at him and moved to the next, and the next, and the next.

 The ship shuddered and listed a little further.

 "She's going!" called Marco's scared voice. "Teresa, come up!  Teresa!"

 She moved to the next, shot, reloaded, moved on into the gloom.

 Andrew ran back to her from the depth of the hold. "That’s the last. Come on!" he said urgently.

Too dazed to comprehend, she started to reload again. He picked her up, sped to the hatch and pushed her through. Marco and Rowson grabbed her arms and hauled, then turned to help Andrew.

 The sailors had pulled several children into the captain's gig, but they had saved space for the rescuers. The boat was half way back to the
Destiny
when Teresa looked back to see the
Snipe
tilt over on her side and slide smoothly beneath the placid blue swells. The sea's gleaming surface was dotted with floating wood and bobbing heads. Among them crawled the boats from the
Snipe
and the
Destiny
.

 Numb with shock and exhaustion, Teresa had to be lifted to the deck in a sling. Willing hands helped her aboard. She stood in a daze until Andrew, his face blackened by powder smoke, appeared over the side, picked her up once again, and carried her down to the cabin.

 Between Kinsey, the cabin boy and the ship's cook, a hot bath was provided in short order. Teresa never remembered climbing into or out of it, but before she fell asleep in her cot she was aware of Muriel bending over her, tucking her in, her blue eyes wondering.

 "You are a heroine!" she breathed.

 

 Teresa slept till mid afternoon and woke ravenous. She sat up and said so. "I'm so hungry I could eat an ox, I vow!"

 "A lady ought to have a delicate appetite, and never to mention it," Lady Parr informed her. "I eat like a bird and so, I am happy to say, does Muriel. It is quite otherwise with gentlemen. Sir Archibald had an excellent appetite. I have decided, Miss Danville, to take you in hand. It will never do for you to present yourself to her Grace of Stafford until you have overcome certain odd notions of behaviour. I flatter myself that I am as able as anyone to teach you how to go on unexceptionably, though I daresay you will never be as pretty-behaved as Muriel. Muriel is exceptional."

 "Yes, ma'am, and thank you, but I missed both breakfast and luncheon!"

 "Kinsey, fetch some nourishment for Miss Danville. And you may tell Miss Muriel to come down. She has spent quite enough time with young Graylin for this afternoon."

 The abigail went off and Teresa dressed. In a few minutes a knock at the door announced Willy, the cabin boy, bearing a tray. "Cap'n's compliments, miss," he said as he set it carefully on the table, "and there's over a hundred Africans been saved. I seen 'em, miss. They's up on deck, wi' a bit o' canvas rigged to keep the sun offn 'em. And I seen them slavers too, in irons in the brig. Summun told 'em it was you as saved them Blacks and they was cussing something awful!"

 "That will do!" said Lady Parr severely, and Willy departed in haste.

 Muriel came in while Teresa was eating. "Captain Fitch wants to see you on the quarter deck," she said, "if you are quite recovered. Oh, Miss Danville, you were splendid!  I cannot imagine how you could be so brave. Why, it frightens me only to see their black faces at a distance."

 Teresa looked at her in surprise. "They are people," she said gently. "I could not let them drown without trying to save them. If you will excuse me, ma'am, I shall go up to see the captain."

 Captain Fitch wanted to know what she expected him to do with her protégés. Andrew leaned on the rail, grinning at her disconcerted expression.

 "I'll impress a score or so of the men," the captain went on. "We've lost that many of the crew to Yellow Fever and such, and there's enough of the Blacks healthy. The rest, there's the women and children, and a lot of them sick."

 "Then the first thing is to attempt to cure them," said Teresa. "After seeing the conditions they were kept in, I should say fresh air and decent food will be enough for most of them. However, I shall fetch my herbs and see whether I can help any of them. Perhaps the doctor could meet me there?"

 As Teresa joined the ship's doctor amidships, she looked round at the rescued slaves. Some of the children were sufficiently recovered from their ordeal to run and play, and a number of the men were standing and stretching, or walking about. Others sat huddled or lay sprawling. She imagined they must enjoy simply having space to breathe.

 When they saw her, many of them called out in incomprehensible words. A young girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, came towards her. She was clad only in a piece of white cloth tied above her breasts and hanging to mid thigh.

 "They are blessing you, miss," she said in excellent English. "They know that without you they would be dead. I am Annie, miss, and I too bless you and thank you."

 Teresa felt her cheeks grow hot and quickly asked, "How is it that you speak English?"

 Annie explained that since she was a small child her mother had lived with a white man, who had treated her as a daughter. Both her mother and her adoptive father had died of some nameless tropical disease, and she had been sold to the slavers by the local chief.

 She made herself useful interpreting as Teresa and the doctor moved among the others, cleaning and binding wounds, dosing fevers, washing inflamed eyes with herbs.

 When they had seen all the sick, Teresa went to report to Captain Fitch. As she climbed the steps to the quarter deck, she looked up to see Andrew watching her. She gave him a weary smile. "I think they will all survive," she said. "I must tell you how grateful I am that you went with me to the
Snipe
. Without your support I could have done nothing."

 "Without your initiative, nothing would have been done, Miss Danville. I was prepared to take the Captain’s word that they could not be saved. There are times when a disregard for convention is estimable."

 His voice was serious, and when Teresa looked for a teasing light in his eye, she read only admiration. She turned away to hide her flushed face.

 Captain Fitch had decided to set his unwanted passengers ashore at Grand Turk, in the Caicos Islands, which they would pass close to in a few days. He assured Teresa that it had a healthful climate and that the men would certainly find work in the salt industry which flourished there. She had to agree that it would probably suit them better than England, had it been possible to convey them thither.

 She went down to the cabin to dress for dinner. After all the adventure of the day, she was ruefully aware of a ridiculous feeling of excitement when she remembered that she was to wear her new gown.

 She watched Kinsey help Lady Parr and Muriel into their finery and arrange their hair. The first thing she must do when she arrived in London, she decided, was to find a competent abigail. There was clearly a definite art to it, far beyond the services Josefa had rendered her, which had amounted to little more than mending and laundry. Muriel, whose blond ringlets had been sadly disarranged by the breeze during her visit on deck, emerged from Kinsey's clever hands fit to grace a ballroom.

 Then it was Teresa's turn. She held her breath as the sprigged muslin slipped down over her shoulders. It fitted perfectly. Kinsey took the captain's tiny mirror off its hook and held it tilted while Teresa twisted and turned, trying to see herself in her new finery.

 At last she gave up, laughing. "I shall have to take it on trust," she said, then added with unwonted shyness, "Do you think you can do anything with my hair?"

 Kinsey sat her down at the table. Muriel obligingly sat opposite holding the mirror while the ebony tide was loosed from its bounds and brushed vigorously.

 "It's beautiful," Muriel assured her, "but you will have to cut it shorter to be à la mode."

 "Not a bit of it," Kinsey said. "We'll take the most of it and wind it up on top of your head, miss. Add a bit of height, like. Then this that's left, it'll lie over your shoulder like so. We'll put a curling paper in it tonight and 'twill drape even better tomorrow, but isn't that fine as fivepence right now, Miss Muriel?"

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