Preview of Persuaded to Sail #5

Preview of PERSUADED TO SAIL, Chapter 7, Part 2

Greetings, everyone. Jack Caldwell here, celebrating a milestone.

Not only is this the final preview of my upcoming novel, PERSUADED TO SAIL: Book Three of Jane Austen’s Fighting Men, this also marks my fiftieth posting in Jane Austen Variations. I hope you have enjoyed my little entertainments over the last six years, beginning with the release of my third published novel, The Companion of His Future Life, in February of 2014. I have many people to thank, more than can be fitted into this posting, but it would be a sin not to single out Abigail Reynolds and Maria Grace. You both have my undying gratitude, my friends.

Don’t worry, there’s a lot more to come, as long as the lovely ladies of AuVar continue to put up with me.

Back to the matter at hand, this is a continuation from the last post. The first posting of these previews may be found HERE, the second one HERE, the third HERE, and the fourth HERE.

Back aboard the Laconia, Captain Wentworth finally meets his mysterious and unexpected passenger.

From Chapter 7

THE LONG BOAT APPROACHED from the larboard side, as arranged. There was never any ceremony when one boarded from the larboard side. As the boat touched, a bosun’s chair was lowered swiftly to it. A minute later it returned bearing a passenger. As crew members began transferring the baggage, Mr. Price escorted the man to Frederick.

The gentleman was of average height. He moved like an old man and looked as though he had eaten ill for several days. His blue coat was a bit thread-worn and could use a good brushing, and his breeches were stained with what appeared to be dried blood. His shirt needed laundering and his face needed shaving. Colored spectacles hid his eyes, but his skin had a sickly pallor. On top of his head he wore a small wiry gray wig.

He bowed to Frederick. “Captain Wentworth?” he asked. His voice was rough and low. “I am Rohan Aiken.” He glanced at the railing. “Ah, here he is! My manservant, Emile.”

Emile was even shorter than Mr. Aiken, with dark black skin and short-cropped wiry hair.

“I am afraid Emile knows only French, Captain. I hope his presence is not an imposition.”

“Not at all, sir. Mr. Price, please see Mr. Aiken to my quarters and his manservant to Mr. Aiken’s cabin. Once that has been accomplished, you have the quarterdeck. Prepare to set sail at the turn of the tide. Mr. Aiken, I shall join you in a few minutes. Stokes, see that our guest’s dunnage is placed in his cabin.”

~~~

(FUN JUMP 1)

~~~

Frederick entered his cabin and found Mr. Aiken sitting in a chair opposite his desk. He had removed the wig and spectacles. Without them he seemed ten years younger. His reddish-blond hair, framing a round, ruddy face, fashionably touched his soiled collar.

“Do not get up, sir—pray remain seated. I hope your trip here was not too unpleasant?” he asked as he sat down behind the desk.

“I have no complaints, sir. Forgive the disguise, but my superiors thought it necessary. Emile is preparing my usual clothes—that is, if the rascal is not taking his ease.” Mr. Aiken’s voice was completely different. What was once a low, gruff whisper was now pleasant with a slight, lilting Irish accent.

Frederick looked at the man, resentment building in his breast. This man could attract danger to his Anne!

“Sir, I must tell you that Sir Carson was very complete with the information he relayed to me regarding you. I will, of course, keep that conversation confidential. For your comfort and your privacy, I have had a cabin constructed adjacent to mine, just outside these doors. You shall not have to endure the closeness of the wardroom. My guard is your guard, you are free to use my quarter-gallery, and you shall eat from my stores. Your servant may eat with the idlers. Is this acceptable to you, sir?”

Mr. Aiken nodded. “You are exceedingly kind, sir.”

“Nevertheless, it is done.” There was a knock on the door. “Yes, what is it?”

Nowak entered. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, Miz Wentworth and the carpenter are here to see you.”

“Oh, just a moment, Nowak. Mr. Aiken, may I introduce my wife to you?”

“I should like it of all things,” he said, rising to his feet.

“Nowak, show Mrs. Wentworth in. Tell the carpenter I shall be along shortly.” A moment later Anne entered the room. “My dear, this is our other passenger, Mr. Aiken. Sir, my wife, Mrs. Wentworth.”

Mr. Aiken gallantly made his leg. “It is a pleasure, ma’am.”

Anne offered a curtsey. “Sir, welcome aboard. Will you be able to sup with us tonight?”

“Ah, how very kind of you. But I must admit to a certain weariness. Travel, you see. A bit of bread and wine tonight in my cabin is all I require.”

“Oh, then you must rest!” cried Anne.

“Nowak! Please show Mr. Aiken to his cabin,” Frederick ordered.

“I must thank you again for all the kindness you have shown me,” he said. He then followed the steward out of the cabin.

Anne watched him go. “Poor Mr. Aiken. Well, we shall show him every courtesy.”

I doubt he will need it. Frederick turned to his wife affectionately. “Where had you gotten off to, by the way?”

“Mr. Mumphrey was kind enough to give me a tour of the ship.”

“Ah, a most obliging gentleman.”

“I found him so.”

“That is well—I expect my officers to be extremely courteous and helpful. However, you must not keep them from their duties.”

Anne lost some of her good cheer. “Frederick that was not my intention!”

“I am sure you did not—” Frederick’s attention suddenly changed. “The carpenter! Oh, pardon me, Anne.” He strode to the door. “Come in, come in! I do beg your pardon. Right this way.”

Carrying bundles, the carpenter and the carpenter’s mate walked into the sleeping quarters. Frederick stood at the doorway. As they labored, he could not help himself from saying, “Yes, capital! That is exactly what I wanted. Very good indeed!”

After a quarter-hour, the men exited the sleeping quarters. “Nowak! Pass the word that these two shall get an extra ration of beer tonight.” The carpenter and his mate grinned in anticipation of their reward.

“Very good, sir,” answered Nowak and the three men left the cabin.

Frederick looked at Anne expectantly. “Anne, would you please come and see?”

Anne walked over and peered into the room. Set on the floor was a frame of wood and rope, forming a reinforced bed, one approximately six feet by four-and-a-half.

“They are bringing in the mattress soon. Horsehair, I am afraid. Feathers will not do aboard ship. The wet, you see.”

Anne stared at the bed—a bed for two.

“In very rough weathers we may need to use hammocks for safety and comfort. But otherwise—Anne, do you approve?” Frederick asked hopefully.

Anne’s answer was to throw herself into her husband’s arms with a squeal of joy.

~~~

A few minutes later, Frederick escorted Anne to the stern of the quarterdeck and approached the wheel.

“Mr. Price, we will make sail, if you please. Tops’ls and courses.”

“Very good, sir.” Mr. Price answered. “Mr. Stokes! All hands to weigh anchor and make sail!”

“Aye aye, sir!” Mr. Stokes raised his bosun’s whistle and blew a series of notes.

At once the ship became alive as men rushed to their positions. The topmen dashed up the rigging to the sails as others began working the capstan on the forecastle. The anchor cable became taut, then with a groan, it moved ponderously up and through the deck.

Anne sat upon a bench built into the stern railing, watching the exercise. Once it was apparent the anchor was free of the bottom, the call went out and the topsails were unfurled. The ship began moving slowly out to sea. Within minutes, the forecastle men were able to fish the anchor and secure it to the cathead. The capstan bars were stowed as the main sails were dropped and Laconia picked up speed. The quartermaster at the ship’s wheel kept his eye on the channel makers as Frederick stood impassively upwind of the wheel.

“Anchor raised and stowed—mainsails and topsails set, sir,” reported Mr. Price.

“Very good. Not as sharp as I would like, but not bad for the beginning of a voyage,” replied Frederick. “Once we make the marker, set your course south by southeast.”

“Yes, sir.” Mr. Price stopped then turned back to his captain. “South by southeast, sir?”

Frederick stared straight ahead past his lieutenant. “That is your course, Mr. Price.”

“Aye aye, sir.” He turned to the sailing master and the quartermaster at the wheel. “South by southeast once past the marker.”

“Mr. Price,” said Frederick, “would you be so kind as to inform the master and all officers not on duty to join me in my cabin? Mr. Mumphrey, you have the deck.” He turned to Anne. “Pardon me, my dear.”

~~~

“Madeira, sir?” asked Mr. Price.

Frederick sat at his desk, looking at his officers. “Yes—our orders are to transport Mr. Aiken to Funchal and thence we continue to Bermuda. Any questions? Mr. Price, how are we for stores?”

Mr. Price was clearly confused. “There should be no problem, as long as we don’t run into the doldrums. Any plans to replenish at Funchal?”

“Not if we can help it, William.” Frederick hoped the use of Mr. Price’s Christian name would repair any damage that he was sure was inflicted by his failure to share his secret orders until now. “We will be behind our time as it is.”

It served, as Mr. Price’s habitual good humor reemerged. “We’ll make do, sir.”

“Good. Any other questions? No? Well, gentlemen, let us return to our duties,” Frederick dismissed the men.

“Sir,” Nowak peered in as the officers filed out. “Colonel Tarleton is wishin’ to speak to you.”

Frederick sighed as he stood. “Show him in, Nowak.”

Lieutenant-Colonel Tarleton of the Royal Marines walked in with a determined stride. “Captain Wentworth, I must protest—”

Frederick held up his hand. “Colonel, pray, a moment. Nowak, thank you.” After the door closed, Frederick turned his eyes back to his guest. The red-haired, broad-chested Tarleton was not very tall, not quite five foot four, but his arrogance was disproportionate to his height.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Frederick said as he sat.

“What is this I hear of another passenger on board?” Colonel Tarleton demanded. “Some sort of clerk?”

Frederick narrowed his eyes. “What of it?”

“I understand he has his own special cabin on this deck. Is this true?”

The gall of the man to question me! “May I ask what business is it of yours?”

The marine blustered. “Then it is true! Sir, I marvel at it! A civilian of no note is given all consideration, while I, the second-ranked officer on board, am regulated to a small closet on the mess deck! It is not to be borne!”

“And what is your solution?” he asked in a dangerous voice.

Colonel Tarleton sputtered. “Why, it should be obvious! Rank is rank, sir!”

“Yes, it is.” Frederick looked at the man for a moment. “Get out of my cabin, sir, before I lose my temper.”

“Captain Wentworth, I must protest! Do you know who I am?”

Frederick slammed his hand upon his desk, sounding for all the world like a pistol shot. “Do you forget who I am, sir? I am captain aboard this ship—and NO ONE speaks to me in that manner!”

Frederick took a breath, then in a lower tone, though no less threatening he said, “Yes, I know who you are. The grand-nephew of a man who helped us lose the Colonies. Your uncle did good work there, I have no doubt—especially at Cowpens.” He spoke of General Sir Banastre Tarleton, “Bloody Ben” as he was known in America, who had been head of the pro-slavery party when he had been in Parliament.

“But it would make no difference to me if you were the bastard son of the Prince Regent. You are a guest aboard this ship. You have no authority, I am your superior officer, and I do not explain myself to subordinates. One more word out of you, sir, and I shall return Mr. Price’s cabin to its owner, and you shall bunk in with the midshipmen. That would make your voyage to Bermuda most interesting, I can assure you.” As was the custom, Colonel Tarleton had been given the First Lieutenant’s cabin, which caused all sorts of shuffling around below decks. “Have I made myself clear, Lieutenant-Colonel?”

Colonel Tarleton’s face was bright red with anger. “Yes sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

As the marine turned towards the door, Frederick added, “Oh, by the way, Mr. Price’s rank, according to the Admiralty, is Commander, but he is serving as my First Lieutenant while aboard this ship. I believe that makes his rank equal to yours. I thought you might want to know. We would not want any misunderstandings in the wardroom, now would we?”

Colonel Tarleton stopped and half-turned to Frederick. After a moment he murmured, “No, sir,” and left the cabin.

Frederick slumped in his chair, feeling very ill-used.

First my officers are disappointed in me, and then this fool starts chewing on my arse. And, on top of that, my wife is endangered. Damn the Admiralty! Damn Sir Carson! Damn Mr. Aiken!

~~~

(FUN JUMP 2)

 ~~~

The next morning, Emile silently slipped into his master’s cabin. “Monsieur?” he whispered.

Mr. Aiken’s eyes cracked open. “What is it?” he responded in French.

The servant stepped closer. “They have brought the breakfast. Do you wish for it?”

The diplomat rubbed his face. “Coffee and toast are all I can stomach this morning.”

Emile eyed the empty wine bottle on the floor. “Oui, the ship, it takes time to adjust to the motion.” He collected the bottle and turned away.

“Have you learned anything?”

“Not much, monsieur, except le Capitaine, he is well-liked.”

Aiken threw an arm over his eyes. “Keep your ears open.”

Well, that’s it for now. The good news is that PERSUADED TO SAIL is in final edits and being prepared for publishing. I will let y’all know when she’s ready for the big launch!

By the way, which cover did you like? Let me know!

Until next time, this has been the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles.

It takes a real man to write historical romance, so let me tell you a story…