Playing with Fire Page 9

  Martin laughed. “Have you ever heard of spooks, Miss Richardson?”

  “Of what? No. What are they?”

  “They are two things. The first is an undercover agent, which I have to say applies to me. The second is a ghost. So mayhap Cleo has seen both, hmm? First me. then a Nile specter.”

  Tansy gave him a look. “I think you are teasing me, Lieutenant. Spook is too silly a word to be either of those things.”

  “Silly it may be, but I am telling you the absolute truth.”

  Hardly had he spoken than rifles were fired from the following canja. Tansy gasped and whirled about. The other vessel was close enough to see in detail now, and she saw French uniforms and recognized the officer from Tel el-Osorkon. Another round of shots rang out. She heard something whine through the air; then Martin gave a grunt of pain as it glanced off his temple.

  She screamed as he slumped to the deck.

  Chapter 15

  Onboard the Lucina a week later, when it was still not known if Martin would survive his injury, Tansy kept vigil beside him as he lay unconscious in his cabin. He wore a shirt and legwear, his head was bandaged, his face was the color of parchment, and he had only come around for a few seconds since being shot. That had been when he was being transferred from the canja to the frigate. He had been lucid enough to make Tansy promise to tell Captain Castleton not to send him ashore at Gibraltar. If he was going to die, he wished it to be in England.

  Oblivion had claimed him since then. He felt cold to the touch, yet his entire body was damp with perspiration, and the soft dark hair at the nape of his neck clung to his skin, as did the gold chain and locket Tansy now knew he always wore. The locket was oval and beautifully chased, although whether it was empty or contained a memento of some sort, she did not know.

  She recalled the terrible minutes when the French had continued to bear down on the fleeing canja. Shots had seemed to fly constantly through the air, but somehow in all the confusion, Tusun managed to sail the canja to safety in the darkness where the Nile emptied into the sea. The French hadn’t followed. Maybe they knew the Lucina was nearby. The canja waited for the dawn light in order to sail around the hazardous sandbar into Aboukir Bay, but then the Lucina came, having arranged to rescue the stranded crew of the Gower. The frigate had received the message Martin left in the date palm, and over the following hour or so had taken on board the shipwrecked seamen and the passengers and antiquities from the canja. She was even stowing the three women’s sea trunks, which had also survived the shipwreck. So at least some fresh clothes were to be had. Thus Tansy was now no longer clad in black robes or a torn mustard merino gown, but in long-sleeved lemon fustian that felt very clean, fresh, and good after the horrors of Egypt.

  Tusun had remained on the canja, and the last Tansy saw of him, he had been waving from the tiller as he swung the empty vessel back into the mouth of the Nile. As he slid from view, his voice could still be heard wishing them well. “Ma’as sa-lama. Go in safety!” Tansy had continued to wave even after he had disappeared, and she hoped with all her heart that one day the Mameluke would regain all that his treacherous uncle had stolen from him.

  Martin’s cabin on the Lucina was eight feet square, with just over five feet of headroom, and like all cabins allotted to first lieutenants on frigates, it was situated at the stern, on the starboard side of the gun deck. The floor was covered with black-and-white-checked canvas, and the oak-framed bed was narrow and hard, with red cloth curtains tied back with thick string. The only other furniture was Martin’s sea chest, the wooden chair upon which Tansy sat, and a table suspended on ropes from the deck beams. His uniforms, dress and ordinary, were on hooks on the wall, protected by muslin bags. Also on the wall was a gimbal-mounted lamp that was only to be lit when absolutely necessary, because flames of any kind were used with caution onboard ship.

  The Lucina being a large frigate, the cabin enjoyed—if that was the word—the advantage of a gun port through which fresh air could be admitted, although the disadvantage of this was the presence of the gun, a thirty-two-pound carronade capable of inflicting awesome damage upon an enemy vessel. The cabin also possessed its own washroom and seat-of-ease, which greatly improved it upon the cabins provided for the rest of the ship’s senior officers, excepting Captain Castleton, of course, who had a much grander accommodation on the upper deck.

  It was in the captain’s quarters that the three women were taking passage, officially as Captain Castleton’s guests. Makeshift cots had been erected in the light and airy great cabin, which stretched across the entire stern of the vessel. It enjoyed a fine view through a row of handsome glazed windows that also stretched the entire width of the stern. The captain, who was something of a martinet with his crew, but a more than gallant gentleman where the fair sex was concerned, had decided he had little choice but to keep his own private bed cabin for himself.

  It was all that he kept for himself, having sacrificed the rest of his quarters to the ladies, but even this left Amanda dissatisfied. She felt she ought to have the best bed on the frigate, and created quite a scene about it until Hermione pointed out that Captain Castleton had to have somewhere to sleep. Amanda was on very frosty terms with Hermione and had no intention of forgiving her the things that were said on the canja, but the point made about Lord Sanderby’s reaction to his bride’s conduct had not gone unheeded.

  It would be wrong to say that Amanda’s behavior had improved considerably, for such a leopard could not possibly change its spots to that extent, but there had indeed been an improvement of sorts. Thus, when the chaperone made it very plain that the alternative to Captain Castleton being permitted his own separate bed, would be for him to use the great cabin with his other two lady passengers, Amanda knew that such an arrangement was out of the question. She did not like having it pointed out to her, however, and remained at daggers drawn with Hermione. So Captain Castleton kept his own bed, but Amanda still managed to make it seem as if he were being far less than a gentleman. There was no doubt that hers was a generally disruptive presence onboard, but—as always—the eyes of all beholders saw only her astonishing beauty, not her meanness of spirit.

  That meanness had never been more apparent than at the moment Martin had been shot. Tansy had worked desperately to staunch the flow of blood from his temple, all the time screaming to the others for help. Hermione rushed to assist, while Tusun took the tiller, but Amanda, having a horror of blood, had remained in the cabin. Since then she claimed that as there were already two women fussing over Martin, a third was quite unnecessary, and as for helping Tusun with the canja, well, she knew nothing about sailing and would therefore be no use at all. Besides, she had such delicate wrists that all in all it was surely better all around if she remained out of the way.

  Tansy glanced around the cabin as she sat, hoping Martin would awaken. She had looked around it a thousand times or more since coming aboard, for she and Hermione shared the task of watching over him. It went without saying that Amanda did not bother with him at all while he was unconscious. Cleo was curled up on the bed, having now firmly established herself as Tansy’s pet, but the cat awoke with a little mew as there came sounds of new activity on the deck overhead. The frigate was lying in Gibraltar’s Rosia Bay, and was on the point of weighing anchor for the two-week voyage to Portsmouth. Whistles blew, orders were shouted, and bare feet ran across the ceiling as preparations quickened toward the moment of departure.

  Captain Castleton had received new orders that would take his ship out of the Mediterranean for the first time in over a year, and the crew, strengthened by the men rescued from the Gower, had been initially delighted at the prospect of going home again. However, their pleasure had been short-lived when they learned that on arriving in Portsmouth the vessel would take on military supplies for a regiment in Canada, to which dominion she would also convey a minor, unnamed royal personage. There was much resentment among both officers and men, who felt that at time of war, the brave Lucina wa
s demeaned by becoming little more than a mixture of army supply vessel and waterborne hackney coach for one of King George’s petty relatives.

  The disturbance overhead penetrated Martin’s private world, and he stirred, muttering something unintelligible. His eyelids fluttered, and for a split second she saw his eyes, but then they closed again. Hope sprang through her, and she quickly got up to hurry into the washroom. There she dipped a cloth into the bowl of water that was kept there, then hurried back to dab it gently to his forehead. She was only too aware that his life was hanging by a thread, and she was desperately afraid he would cease the struggle long before England’s shores were reached.

  The ship’s surgeon, Mr. Cathcart, a man hardened by many a sea battle, held out little hope, even going so far as to declare that it would be kinder to let the injured man fade away. But Tansy would not hear of such a terrible thing. Nothing would persuade her to give up on Martin, and she remained at his side as much as possible, often going without sleep herself because she was so distraught about him. So this was love, she thought as she gazed down at him. The emotions kindled that first moment at Tel el-Osorkon had strengthened inexorably, binding her to him more and more until now there was no going back to the innocent, uncomplicated Tansy Richardson who had set out from Constantinople.

  This man had captured her heart completely, and while it was in his possession she was no longer her own woman. Tears stung her eyes as she continued to pat the cool cloth to his skin.

  There was a tap at the cabin door. “Yes?”

  “It’s Mr. Pettigrew, Miss Tansy. I’m due on deck in five minutes, but I thought you’d like a mug of hot, sweet tea.”

  She smiled, having quickly come to like the Lucina’s boatswain. “Please come in, Mr. Pettigrew.”

  The door opened, and he stepped inside with the mug. He was a craggy man of about fifty, with great bushy eyebrows and a bulbous nose that was as red from navy rum as the blast of wind off the sea. “It may not be the finest Pekoe, miss, but it will do you good,” he declared as he pressed the mug into her hands. “How is the lieutenant?” he asked then, taking the cloth from her to apply it to Martin’s forehead with a surprisingly gentle touch.

  “I thought he was going to come around a few moments ago, but there is no real change, I fear,” she replied, sipping the tea gratefully. She did not as a rule enjoy sweet tea, but right now it had an agreeably restorative effect.

  “Just like the Frenchies to shoot a brave English fellow from behind,” the boatswain muttered.

  “I think they were very angry that we stole their antiquities.”

  “Which they stole from someone else in the first place,” he pointed out.

  “True.”

  Mr. Pettigrew looked at her. “You really should get some sleep, miss. Mrs. Entwhistle will gladly take your place; she said I was to tell you so.” It was noticeable that he made no mention of Amanda. That young lady was at the moment getting in the way on deck, but received no chastisement because she fluttered her eyelashes at the ship’s officers. Even strict Captain Castleton was inclined to indulge her.

  “Mrs. Entwhistle is kind, but I’d rather stay here,” Tansy said.

  The weathered sailor looked shrewdly at her. “Well, the lieutenant is a handsome devil, is he not?” he said kindly. “Don’t look so embarrassed, Miss Tansy. I have daughters of my own, and I have been around long enough to observe such things. Lieutenant Ballard is more to you than just an injured man who needs nursing. And on that account he is very fortunate.” He bent to stroke Cleo, who got to her feet and nuzzled his hand. “Do not fear that my tongue will clack to all and sundry, for Uriah Pettigrew knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

  Tansy smiled. “I’m sure he does, sir.”

  “The lieutenant is a strange one. This is his last voyage, and he’ll be a great loss to the navy, for there’s no better intelligence-gathering officer. He’s a very popular fellow, and no mistake, yet at the same time he’s what might be termed an outsider.”

  Tansy looked at him in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he’s not one of the others. You’d never find him drinking and laughing with his fellow officers in the gun room. While they are socializing, and most likely imbibing too much, he’ll be out on deck gazing at the horizon, or in here reading some foreign book or other. A man of many tongues is Lieutenant Ballard.”

  “Yes, that I do know about him.”

  “You do? Then he’s confided more to you than to most. I’m just about the only man on the Lucina who knows anything about him, yet for all his reticence, he’s very well liked. You won’t come across his name at any fancy London gathering, almost as if his background’s too lowly for that, yet no one looks down his nose at him. The likes of Admiral Nelson and Sir Sidney Smith will happily sit down to dine with him. He’s a mystery, and no mistake.” The boatswain dabbed Martin’s forehead again, assisted by Cleo, who continued to rub against his arm.

  Tansy gazed at Martin’s face, and the bandage that was once again slightly stained with blood. “He told me he was brought up on Minorca,” she said.

  “Did he now? Well, I didn’t know that. There’s no fellow on this earth I’d rather have at my side in battle. I’d trust him with my life, as would every man jack onboard this ship. I cannot speak too highly of our first lieutenant, and if he dies from a bullet fired from behind, it will be a great crime the French have committed.”

  Tansy swallowed. “Mr. Pettigrew, do…. Do you think he will survive?”

  He put a quick hand on her shoulder, then hastily removed it again. “I don’t know, Miss Tansy. If there’s any justice, then he will.”

  “Mr. Cathcart doesn’t think so.”

  “Mr. Cathcart is as hard as nails. He’s had to be. These are bad times, miss, and when a ship is on active service, the surgeon can’t allow sentiment to come before expediency. It’s no good having a hold full of badly wounded men who’ll be an age—if ever—recuperating. They’re a liability.”

  “Is Lieutenant Ballard regarded as a liability?” she asked.

  The boatswain smiled and shook his head. “No, miss, for he has you to look after him. If you’re strong on his behalf, I think he’ll see England safely.”

  “I suppose there is a naval hospital of some sort at Portsmouth?”

  “Yes, across the harbor at Haslar, miss, although Portsmouth is no longer the lieutenant’s destination. Didn’t you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “That Mrs. Entwhistle suggested to the captain that when we sight England, it might be better for the lieutenant if you and he are put ashore at Chelworth, which we will reach before Portsmouth. She believes, and Captain Castleton is in complete agreement, that the quiet of a country estate would be more beneficial than the noise and undoubted crush of a large and busy hospital such as Haslar.”

  Tansy stared at him. “Am I to understand that just the lieutenant and I are to land at Chelworth?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “But…why?” What of Amanda and Hermione?

  The boatswain cleared his throat. “Well, miss, it seems that your cousin wishes to go on to Portsmouth; in fact she is insisting upon it. Mrs. Entwhistle tried to reason her out of it, but then said that she too would continue to Portsmouth, in order to be your cousin’s chaperone. It was felt that once you were at Chelworth, you would be safe under your uncle’s protection.”

  Tansy could have hugged the boatswain for imparting such news, but most of all she could have hugged Hermione for suggesting the stop at Chelworth. She would see more of Martin after all! And for a while at least, there would be no Amanda, who was determined to go to Portsmouth simply to meet the royal personage who was to board the frigate for the voyage to Canada. Until now Tansy had resigned herself to parting from Martin at the hospital in Portsmouth. Of course, it was all assuming he survived the voyage from Gibraltar anyway….

  Mr. Pettigrew was thinking about Amanda, and after a moment simply had to speak his
mind. “Begging your pardon for saying this, Miss Tansy, but your cousin is a hard young woman, full of herself and no one else. She created a great scene when she heard of the suggestion about stopping first at Chelworth. You see, she thought she would have to go ashore too, and that did not suit her at all. She began to insist that the lieutenant belonged at Haslar, until Mrs. Entwhistle declared that she would go on to Portsmouth too. I know I should not express an opinion, Miss Tansy, but Miss Amanda is the most unamiable creature it has ever been my misfortune to meet. She looks like an angel, but she has the character of a gargoyle.”

  The frank criticism came so out of the blue that Tansy found herself choking back her first laugh since Martin’s wounding. “Mr. Pettigrew, you are full of surprises!” A gargoyle? Yes, that was indeed a good description of Amanda!

  There was more noise overhead, and the boatswain gave a gasp. “I should be up there now! Captain Castleton will nail my hide to the mainmast!” He scooped a rather surprised Cleo from the bed. “Come on, cat, you can earn your keep. No ship is without rats, four legged and human.” With that he left to return to his duties.

  Tansy finished the tea, then set the mug aside. Martin continued to be disturbed now and then by the ever-increasing noise overhead, but just as a chantey rang out for the hauling of the anchors, he lay very still indeed. Too still. Tansy leaned forward anxiously. “Martin?” Oh, how easily his first name slipped from her lips at a time like this; were he to open his eyes and know her, she would call him Lieutenant Ballard….

  Suddenly his eyes did open, but they were sadly changed from the bright, penetrating brown gaze of before; now they were dull and almost lifeless, seeming to see and yet not see at the same time. A frown creased his forehead as he tried to focus. “Amanda…?” he whispered.