Sailing Ships and Nutty Wish-Lists

Tall Ships Regatta, Falmouth 2014 (Photo J Starnes)

Hello again! Soo, I’ve been hiding under the bonnet for a while, caught in a tug-of-war between two stories that want to be written: one short and happy, with pretty much all of Elizabeth’s reasons to dislike Mr Darcy cleared at the drop of a hat – and a longer one, where our favourite couple’s relationship see-saws between sweetness and angst.

Guess which of them grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. Yep, of course it’s the angst-fest! Why am I even asking? It’s an addiction. But if you prefer sweet stories to angsty ones (Hi, Glynis! 😀 ), I’ll just say that I’m not giving up on the short and happy WIP. It’s next in line and it’s coming! Just not in 2020.

Speaking of, thank goodness we’re coming up to the festive season, and about time too! Now, this post isn’t seasonal at all. (If anything, it’s summery rather than Christmassy). I just thought it would be a nice time to write a post about favourite things and wish-lists.

Tall Ships Regatta, Falmouth 2014 (Photo J Starnes)

I have just one crazy thing on mine, but it’s completely nutty: one day – not anytime soon, this is not a Christmas wish, just a wish for one fine day – I’d absolutely love to go for an outing on a sailing ship. I don’t mean a yacht, even if that might be great fun too. What I was thinking of was a proper, ‘tall ship’ kind of thing. The sort of ship they sail on in Horatio Hornblower or Master and Commander. Lots of flapping sails, lots of rigging, the works & Yo Ho Ho! (But not the bottle of rum, that’s OK, I’m fine without it).

Yep, I know, it’s a nutty idea (don’t judge me! 😛 ). For one thing, I might get seasick and hate every second of it. The other thing is that I’m not sure how to go about organising something like that. Some years ago, it was possible to sail on the Earl of Pembroke from Charlestown in Cornwall, but (pardon the pun) that ship has well and truly sailed. The Earl of Pembroke is no longer docking in Charlestown. Last I heard, it was on its way to Rio. So I guess I’ll just have to keep looking.

The’ Earl of Pembroke’, Charlestown, Cornwall (Photo J Starnes)

The Georgian Harbour of Charlestown, Cornwall (Photo J Starnes)

How about you? Do you have crazy things on your wish-list?

And if you do, do you feel like sharing any of them?

I’d love to share a scene from one of my WIPs, but it’s very early days and anyway there’s no sailing in either one, just some speedy carriage travel. (Thanks so much for the tips, Hazel, if you’re reading this!).

So I hope you won’t mind if I’ll finish off with a romantic sailing scene from an oldie – THE JOURNEY HOME TO PEMBERLEY.

I wasn’t picturing anything awfully big there, by the way. Just to give you an idea, that craft was more like one that’s nowhere near Dorset or Cornwall: the privateer Lynx, built in Rockport, Maine as a faithful replica of the 1812 original. (This is what it looks like, and it’s gorgeous!)

So, if you fancy a spot of romantic sailing with Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, here it comes:

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THE JOURNEY HOME TO PEMBERLEY

(Excerpt from Chapter 14)

The day was bright, the waves friendly, but the double-masted schooner was not quite as big a vessel as Elizabeth had imagined it would be. Not that it made her feel unsafe. But the small deck enforced proximity – and, contrary to her expectations, Mr Darcy had chosen to be of the party.

The sails flapped and swelled, catching the wind, as she sat with Meg, Bella and their gregarious friends on the roof of the elevated hatchway that stood amidships, much like a raised dais covered with thick canvas. Beside her, the young ladies chatted, only to break off and squeal in feigned or real panic whenever the sails flapped too loudly or the vessel swayed too much. Steady on their feet and more accustomed to the trials and the delights of sailing, James Monkford and the Lyndhurst brothers took turns in offering words of reassurance in response or, at other times, they merely laughed at the girls’ missish displays, just as fancy took them.

Mr Darcy said nothing as he stood apart by the parapet, staring into the distance, hat in hand, his hair swept back by the wind.

Elizabeth stole another furtive glance at him. Was that how he had stood staring blankly into space as he had sailed to the far reaches of the Mediterranean in search of oblivion? What was on his mind just now? Was he as forcibly reminded as she of that distant morning on Winander Mere, when they sat together – ever so close, ever so happy?

Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, and Elizabeth shifted in her seat in an effort to conceal them – although, if Meg or Bella asked, she could easily blame the tears on the wind. But when Darcy suddenly turned towards her to look her fully in the face, she knew he would not believe the feeble excuse for a single moment.

She scrambled to her feet, desperate for privacy. But there was nowhere to go – nowhere to hide, cover her face and let the tears run freely. Through her own misguided choice, there she was, confined aboard this ship. Nowhere to run. All she could do was retreat to the bow, where she might be allowed a few moments to herself and a meagre opportunity to regain her composure. But as she tried to dash past him and make her escape, the ship lurched and swayed more forcefully than ever – lurched so violently that she was flung sideways into the parapet.

A loud chorus of cries erupted from the others, in genuine alarm this time, but Elizabeth barely heard them as Darcy’s arm shot out to catch her. She gasped in shock – not at the belated terror of having so narrowly avoided the danger of going overboard, but at the glorious and devastating closeness. Clasped to his chest, her eyes lost in his. The dark gaze enveloped her, burned into her, scorching the edges of the world, and scorching heat instantly flared from every point of contact with his hard chest – hard as a rock, and just as steady. The only steady certainty in a swaying world.

His firm hold around her waist grew even tighter – a clasp so fierce that she could hardly breathe. Yet this was not the reason why her lungs struggled to do their office. If anything, the aching constriction in her chest only grew worse when he slackened his grip and slowly released her. The fiery embrace gave way to the civil and ever so bland support of his arm under hers, and he wordlessly guided her back to the seat she had so imprudently quitted.

Meg shuffled sideways to make room for her and Bella entreated, “Goodness, Lizzy, do sit! You are shaking like a leaf. Sailing can be a very dangerous business,” she added softly, seeking to make light of the mishap that might have had such frightful consequences. She protectively wrapped her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and looked up at her friend’s preserver. “Thank you, Darcy! And thank goodness for your fast reflexes,” Bella said fervently and shuddered. “Heavens, I dread to think what might have happened!”

Visibly shaken, Meg nodded in agreement and reached for Elizabeth’s hand as if to keep her safely seated, while the others eagerly spoke up to offer sympathy and comfort. The babble of anxious voices nearly drowned out Elizabeth’s when she finally regained the power of speech in sufficient measure as to add her own whispered thanks for Darcy’s timely intervention.

“Think nothing of it. I am glad I could be of service,” he evenly replied, then left her to her friends’ affectionate attentions and retreated to the spot Elizabeth still coveted – at the ship’s bow, away from them all.

(© 2019 Joana Starnes)

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Thanks for reading, and I’ll leave you now with a couple of dashing and absolutely adorable gentlemen and their playful music-practice (in the priceless final scene in Master and Commander).

All the best and have a lovely festive season! And calm seas, no matter if you’re actually going sailing or not.