Mistress Below Deck (8 page)

‘I didn't look.'

Her lips twitched in a smile. ‘No, you didn't. Not even when I scalded you with the coffee.'

‘I was in too much pain.'

‘I'm sorry. You would make an excellent nurse and lady's maid, by the way. You are much better at it than I am at being a cabin boy.'

‘As a new cabin boy, you must be broken in gently.'

‘Will you tell everyone—that I'm a woman?'

‘No. It is important that you continue with the deception. I would prefer the crew to go on thinking you are a youth for the time being.' He frowned at her, his expression suddenly sombre. ‘Have you any idea of the seriousness of your escapade? Every man aboard this ship knows what happened in Kingston harbour—some of them were aboard the vessel when it went up in flames—and lost comrades with families back home. They know who was responsible. Mason may have lit the torch, but they believe Matthew Golding to have been behind it.'

‘But he wasn't. He is incapable of such wanton cruelty.'

‘Maybe not, but if the crew should discover we are carrying a member of Golding's family on board, then being a woman will not save you. They would as soon toss you into the sea as have you on board.'

‘Then I promise to make myself as inconspicuous as possible and give them no reason to think of me as anything other than I appear to be.'

‘I hope not. I run an orderly ship and the men who sail on her are the cream of their profession, hard-bitten and courageous, but men will be men. Attired as a woman, you would test them to the brink and I doubt they would hold themselves in check. There will be the devil of a commotion if they should tumble to the fact that my cabin boy is in fact a woman.'

‘So what am I to do?'

With laughter twinkling in his eyes, he said, ‘When you are well enough you will resume your duties as cabin boy. You will be called Rowan, I think.' He chuckled low, his eyes narrowing when he considered just how pleasurable this might turn out to be. ‘I like having you at my beck and call, Rowena.'

When she raised her eyebrows in questioning surprise, he smiled, a smile that told her he would chastise her in his own way for having the audacity to deceive him. ‘I sincerely hope you have no objections to this,' he murmured smoothly. ‘You boarded my ship with the intention of being my cabin boy, and cabin boy you will be, performing all the duties of a cabin boy, until the time I decide to relieve you of those duties. Is that understood?'

‘So, you intend to punish me,' Rowena said, not in the least put out, for she really could not blame him for his firm stance.

‘Don't doubt it for a minute.'

‘Now you know who I am you can't make me be your cabin boy.'

‘Oh, yes, I can. As master of this ship I could have you clapped in irons for insubordination.'

Her gasp was one of mock horror. ‘You wouldn't.'

His eyes narrowed on her. ‘Try me. While you are on board my ship you will have to behave—to obey my every command.' He paused, considering. ‘I shall be an extremely hard taskmaster and afford you no special favours. You do not look too bad in your get-up, but you will not be comfortably accepted by the crew if they know you are a female in disguise.' He grinned wickedly. ‘If you do not improve as my cabin boy, there may be times when you have to share their quarters.'

‘I sincerely hope not,' Rowena gasped again. ‘I can't think of anything worse.'

He laughed softly. ‘I'll go and get you something to eat.'

‘Some bacon would be nice,' she suggested, surprised to find that she felt hungry, ravenously so.

‘Your wish is my command, my lady,' Tobias said with a mocking inclination of his dark head. ‘We might even stretch to an egg—or even two if cook's in a good mood. But don't get too comfortable in my bed, Rowena, otherwise I may find other duties for my cabin boy to perform to keep me happy.'

His implication, spoken softly and with more
meaning behind the words that she cared for, hit Rowena and she inhaled sharply. Taking hold of a pillow she hurled it across the cabin at him. ‘You can dream if you wish, Mr Searle, but that is all you will do.' Laughing softly, he caught the pillow and threw it back, hitting his target on the head, before he turned to the door. Rowena stretched her arms above her head, smiling to herself because she no longer felt seasick. ‘Thank you,' she said quietly to his back. He turned and looked at her.

‘For what?'

Those candid eyes locked on his. ‘For looking after me and staying with me all night.'

Tobias was touched by her gratitude. Inclining his head in the mockery of a bow, he gave her a bold, wicked grin. ‘That is the first time I've been thanked by a beautiful woman for spending the night with her. The next time, Rowena, I will make sure it's more pleasurable,' he said quietly, gently reminding her of their bargain.

As Tobias headed to the galley, he felt elated for the first time in days. Rowena was on the way to recovery. Strangely, her transparent machinations didn't surprise or upset him. He couldn't help it. The girl amused him, intrigued him, even though he knew he was letting himself in for a whole heap of trouble by becoming party to her subterfuge.

 With all sails set the ship buffeted its way south, the grey white-capped sea suffused with a deep blue. The horizon was clearly visible and there were no ships to
either the larboard or starboard sides. Rowena leaned against the rail, inhaling deeply. A fair, warm wind was blowing and the
Cymbeline
was an eager, happy ship.

Feeling much better now she had got over her sickness and acquired her sea legs, she settled down to the shipboard routine, relieved that no undue attention was directed at her, for everyone became used to Rowan the cabin boy in his floppy hat and shapeless garb going about his duties. Her days were regulated by the watch bell. When it sounded, seamen exchanged places. Those who had done their watch went to their hammocks. Others were posted fore and aft, while the young apprentices on the morning watch scrubbed the decks.

The seamen were kept hard at it. As they climbed the rigging their sea shanties rang out, and when darkness fell and they drank their rations of rum, the ship's fiddler scraped away vigorously at a jaunty tune, to which several sailors danced whilst others played dice or sat about telling tales.

Rowena's duties were confined to Mr Searle—mopping and polishing and seeing to the general tidiness of his cabin and making sure his meals were brought on time. It was with some amusement that Tobias would watch her perform her duties, and on several occasions she was sorely tempted to wipe the mocking grin from his lips with her wet mop.

The sun was high and the noon hour was near, the heat of the day having increased. It was almost three weeks since they had left Falmouth; having finished her
chores, Rowena perched on a stool at the window in Tobias's cabin, looking out at the vast sea, calm as the
Cymbeline
sailed down the Portuguese coast, getting ever closer to North Africa. One knee was raised and she hugged it to her chest. She had removed her sandals and her feet were bare, as were her shapely calves exposed beneath her short cropped trews.

Tobias was seated in a high-backed leather chair, facing her, content to sit and look. Lazily she stretched her back like a sleek, contented feline, and put her foot to the floor. Reaching behind her, she massaged her waist, letting it sooth her aches and pains.

‘So, Rowena,' he murmured at length, ‘your disguise seems to be holding out.'

She turned her head and looked at him. ‘It's not as difficult as I thought it would be to pass myself off as a youth. Although I take care not to converse too much with the crew in case they begin to suspect I'm not what I seem. As a result they probably think I'm quite brainless.'

Tobias grinned. ‘They're easily fooled—unlike you, for I imagine you're not fooled by anyone.'

There was a teasing, secret light in his eyes, which made Rowena think he was laughing at some inner joke at her expense.

‘I hope not, and I hope that's a compliment to my good sense.'

‘Of course. I do not mistake you for being brainless. Far from it. In fact, I find you to be a proud young woman of remarkable intelligence.'

‘Why, that's compliment indeed, coming from you.'

‘That was not a compliment,' Tobias corrected.

Rowena shot him a disgruntled look. ‘No?'

‘No. Were you a woman of ordinary intelligence, you would not be on this ship with me and all the possible consequences of being so. You'd be at home concerning yourself with your forthcoming marriage and thinking about matters of interest to a woman—running a house, children, fashion—instead of torturing yourself about your sister.'

Rowena stared at him with angry disbelief. ‘Jane's disappearance is paramount to everything else. It is a situation I cannot—will not—accept. It's all well and good for you to sit there looking all smug and self-important and recommend that I should be at home concerning myself with matters that have never interested me, such as children and keeping house, you can keep such advice for your own wife—'

‘Rowena,' Tobias interrupted, biting back a smile, thinking she looked so damned lovely perched on the stool by the window, with her liquid bright eyes and soft, desirable mouth, ‘I do not have a wife.'

‘You may not have a wife now,' she argued, ‘but you will, one day.'

‘Yes, I will. I cannot argue with that.'

‘Where do the Barbary corsairs land their captives? Where do you think they have taken Jane?'

‘It could be to any of a dozen or more places.'

‘As long as it's not Sale,' she murmured, more to herself than to Tobias.

‘And what do you know about that?'

‘One of the apprentices was telling me that Sale is the worst place of all where captives are taken, where slaves are shackled with chains so heavy they can hardly walk, and put in filthy underground pens where they remain until they are sold.'

‘I told you your sister could have been taken anywhere,' Tobias said gently in an attempt to alleviate her worry. ‘And I have already told you that women captives are treated differently from the men. We'll go to Algiers and I'll make enquiries.'

‘Have you been there before?'

‘Several times. I trade there with cargoes of timber, which the Algerians need to build their ships.'

Rowena's expression was one of scorn. ‘Ships that prey on our own. It is difficult to agree with what you do. Do you consider that a noble occupation, Tobias?'

He shrugged. ‘It's a vicious circle. If I don't supply the timber, then some other trader will, and the Arsenal at Algiers is always short of timber. Besides, trading with the Algerians offers some degree of safety to my ships in whichever country they ply their trade. My pennant is well known and attacks on them by the corsairs are rare.'

‘Then I suppose we must be thankful for that. Anything that could obstruct our progress would be a hindrance.'

‘I agree. The
Cymbeline
is a sailing vessel built for speed, not a merchantman. In these waters we often encounters corsairs, but when the ship's lines are recognised—its long menacing hull, its broadside of cannon
and its long platform of fighting men, so not a vessel filled with merchandise—we are left unmolested.'

‘Then, taking this into account, we will get to North Africa sooner. I only hope that if we find Jane we can obtain her release.'

‘If we find her, there is always the possibility of a ransom. The Algerians demand high ransoms and when an envoy arrives from England to negotiate their release on behalf of their families, he often has insufficient funds to meet their demands. You must understand that the Algerians love to barter. Fresh negotiations take place until an agreement is reached and the captive is freed.

‘Sometimes if the captive is important in his own country or holds a title, the ransom money can be enormous and may take several years to raise. The families of these people will advance what they can in a down payment, which will be followed by annual payments until the full amount has been paid.'

‘And what happens to the captive while all this is going on?'

‘He will be confined, but treated well—until the payments dry up. Then his imprisonment will worsen—although it is in the gaoler's interest that his prisoner is kept alive. This is when the captive is encouraged to write to his family informing them of his sufferings, and the payments begin again.'

‘What a dreadful, cruel business slavery is. I'm ashamed to say I have given little thought to the capture of my fellow countrymen until now.'

‘Slavery, in many guises, flourishes all around the
Mediterranean, with places in the Muslim world where unfortunate Christian captives are either set to work or held for ransom. Yet there are thriving slave markets in Malta and Livorno where Muslims are bought and sold—the Knights of St John being at the forefront of the trade in much the same way as the corsairs provide white Christian merchandise for the markets in North Africa.'

‘And is there no condemnation of this hideous trade from the rest of the world?'

Tobias shook his head. ‘The turbulence of politics in the Mediterranean encourages the state of affairs to continue.'

‘Rather like the cross versus the crescent,' Rowena murmured with a hint of irony.

‘Exactly. And among such disarray the Barbary corsairs thrive.'

Deflated, Rowena looked at him. ‘You spoke of male captives, but what about the women? What do you think a woman as young as Jane will be worth?'

‘I recall your sister as being fair. Blondes with pale skins bring high prices in the slave marts of Algiers. The Muslims treat their women with respect, so you need have no fear for her safety. As I have just explained, for those who come from wealthy families, their demands for large sums for their release are great. Generally it is the same for both men and women.'