Margaret McPhee - Regency Debutantes - The Captain's Lady / Mistaken Mistress

Lieutenant Anderson sensed the captain’s reticence in the matter. ‘Most of the ships that sail from here require Captain Bodmin’s services and a good proportion of their crews comprise pressed men. It’s no reflection on you, Captain. Be assured of that.’

‘Thank you, Mr Anderson.’ He clasped his fingers together. ‘It seems that we’ve no choice, for if we’re to sail we must have men, even pressed men who’ve never set foot off land before and lack any seafaring skills. Not that that is what presents the biggest problem. They’ve no desire to be on board and so will cause any manner of trouble to illustrate the point. Little wonder when they’ve been forcibly deprived of their freedom. God knows, Mr Anderson, the Press Gang is very much a last resort. Better one volunteer than three pressed men.’

Both men turned and looked once more out across the crowded harbour of Portsmouth.

Georgiana was not feeling at her best as she huddled in the yard of the Red Lion. She felt as stiff as an old woman and she’d long since eaten any vestige of food contained within the bag pressed against her chest. The delicious aroma of hot mutton pies wafted from the pie seller just beyond the courtyard gates.

‘George, fancy a pie?’ The gruff voice surprised her.

Georgiana looked down and shook her head. ‘No, thank you, sir,’ she uttered in as manly a tone as she could manage. Her stomach protested with a fierce growl.

Burly Jack, as she’d taken to calling him, although not to his face, whispered to Tom, ‘Lad’s not the full shilling, but he’s ‘armless enough. Reminds me of me nephew.’ He straightened up and raised his voice in Georgiana’s direction. ‘Come on, now, boy, don’t be too proud for your own good. You must be starvin'. I ‘aven’t seen you eat nothin’ all night.’ Jack advanced, carrying three steaming pies, and thrust one towards her.

An audible rumbling erupted from Georgiana’s stomach.

Tom laughed. ‘Don’t try tellin’ us you ain’t hungry. They must have heard that stomach growl in the streets of London!’

The pie loomed before Georgiana, all hot and aromatic. She felt her mouth fill with saliva and could not help but lick her lips.

‘Come on, lad.’

The pie danced closer, calling to Georgiana with an allure that she had never experienced before. Her hand reached out and enclosed around the vision of temptation.

Burly Jack delivered an affectionate blow to her arm before the trio headed off towards the closest tavern.

Georgiana slumped against the wall. She bit through the pastry until delicious gravy spurted into her mouth, so hot that she could see the wisps of steam escape into the coolness of the surrounding air. Squatting down, she leaned her back against the rough-hewn stone behind her and chewed upon the heavenly chunks of mutton. It was strange just how contenting the simple act of filling one’s empty belly could be. Gravy trickled down her chin and she lapped it back up. She was just wiping the grease from her fingers down Francis’s brown woollen breeches when it happened.

Yells. Thuds. The sound of Burly Jack’s voice raised in anger and fear.

Georgiana started up like a scared rabbit, peering all around. The voices came from the other side of the wall. Darting through the gate she ran round and into the narrow alleyway. ‘Jack!’ Her voice rang out clear and true.

In the gloom of the alley her travelling companions had been set upon by several men. There was much flying of fists and kicking of legs, but Georgiana could just see that Burly Jack was being thoroughly bested. Without pausing to consider her own position, she launched herself upon Jack’s attacker, ripping at his hair and boxing his ears for all she was worth.

‘Run, lad!’ Jack’s voice echoed in her ear. It was the last thing she heard before she was felled by a hefty blow to the back of her head. And then there was nothing.

Georgiana awoke to a giddy nauseous feeling. There was an undoubted sensation of swaying that would not still whether she opened her eyes or closed them. Not that it made any difference to what she could see within the dense blackness of where she now found herself.

She tried to sit up, but the throbbing of her head increased so dramatically that she thought the remnants of the mutton pie would leap from her stomach.

‘George, is you awake yet?’ The unmistakable tone of Burly Jack’s voice sounded.

‘Yes, sir.’ She groaned. ‘Where are we? I can’t see anythin'.’

A hand landed on her thigh and she let out a squeak.

‘There you are, lad. Did them bastards ‘urt you? Looked like they landed you a right good ‘un on the ‘ead.’ Jack’s hand moved up to her arm. She prayed it would stray no further.

‘I’ll mend,’ she uttered, trying to quell the queasiness rising in her stomach, and struggled to a sitting position.

Jack’s hand patted her arm. ‘That’s the spirit. Tom and Bill’s ‘ere too. Bastards got us all, and two others by the name of Jim and Rad.’

‘The lad sounds young.’ Rad’s voice came out of the gloom. ‘Voice ain’t broken yet.’

‘He is young, so don’t be startin’ nothin’ with ‘im or you’ll ‘ave me to answer to.’ Burly Jack’s voice had lost its soft edge.

It seemed that Georgiana had found something of a protector within the smelly dark hovel. Would he remain so if he fathomed her secret? It was not a question that she wished to test. The rocking motion seemed to be getting worse, just as her eyes had adjusted to see grey shapes within the surrounding darkness. And with it grew her nausea. ‘Dear Lord!’ The curse escaped her as the retching began.

‘Easy, lad.’ Burly Jack’s voice sounded close. ‘You’ll get used to it soon enough and then it won’t never come back. Seasickness ain’t a pleasant feeling, but there ain’t nothin’ can be done about it.’

‘Seasickness?’ Georgiana questioned with a feeble tone.

‘Oh, aye, lad. What d’you think them fellows wanted with us? They’re the bloody Press Gang and you’re aboard ship now.’ Jack’s words had a horrible nightmarish quality about them.

She blinked her eyes into the darkness. ‘You must be wrong, sir.’

‘Nope,’ Jack replied with a definite cheery tone. ‘You’re a ship’s boy on the Pallas now, young George, whether you like it or not. Best get used to the idea before the bosun comes to fetch us.’

Georgiana let out a load groan and dropped her head into her hands. She was once again in a diabolical situation as the result of her own foolhardy actions. But this time there would be no handsome Lord Nathaniel Hawke to jump headlong in and save her.

‘You’ve interviewed them all, Mr Anderson. So what do we have?’ Nathaniel continued in his stride towards the small group of men standing at the far end of the main deck.

Lieutenant Anderson walked briskly alongside. ‘Good news, Captain Hawke, sir. There are five men, three of whom have plenty of experience at sea. I’ve rated them as able seamen, sir. The other two are landsmen, never set foot on a ship before, but I estimate that they’ll be quick to learn. All are now registered on the Pallas’ books.’

Nathaniel’s face was grim. ‘It sickens me to the pit of my stomach that I’m forced to resort to such a thing. I’d rather have them here willingly or not at all.’

‘You’re only following orders, Captain,’ the first lieutenant pointed out. ‘And I fancy that they’ll soon change their minds as to a life at sea once they’ve sailed on the Pallas.’

Nathaniel remained unconvinced, but he had a job to do and he had best get on with it, no matter that having pressed men aboard his ship left a bitter taste in his mouth. ‘Three able seamen, you say?’