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

She saw little of Jack and the others except at the odd meal time, when his hearty laughter allowed her to find him amidst the rows of rough wooden tables and benches set between the guns that transformed the upper deck into a mess each mealtime. As Georgiana grew accustomed to daily routine on board ship, she began to think that perhaps she might just survive the voyage in the guise of George Robertson, but she had reckoned without the interference of the second lieutenant, Cyril Pensenby.

‘Lieutenant Pensenby, sir!’ The gunner’s mate straightened and saluted the poker-faced young gentleman who had just strolled into the room.

‘Holmes.’ Georgiana watched as the officer’s snowy white breeches brushed inadvertently against one of the narrow wooden benches. The lieutenant glanced down and stopped dead still. He raised his eyes and looked accusingly at Georgiana, whose own gaze remained riveted to the discoloured smear that now sullied the material stretched across the gentleman’s leg. ‘Master Robertson,’ his cultured voice lisped, ‘you will scrub this room from top to bottom until it has not one grain of dust, not one smear of dirt. And when you’ve finished you shall scrub yourself clean in a similar fashion. There is a bathing cask up on deck. See that you make use of it. I shall return before the first dog watch to inspect the work you’ve undertaken. I hope for your sake, boy, that it meets with my approval.’

Georgiana stared wordlessly at the retreating figure.

The gunner’s mate eased his corpulent frame on to the bench. ‘Best get started, lad. The lieutenant ain’t a man to be trifled with and he won’t cut you no slack on account of your simple-minded ways. Gunner won’t be best pleased either.’

Three hours later the gunroom was shining like a new pin. Please don’t let anyone mess it up before he sees it , Georgiana prayed, before setting about cleaning the worst of the ingrained muck from her face and hands in a small wooden basin. Most of the dirt had been brushed out of her blue culottes and jacket before Lieutenant Pensenby returned.

He perused the gunroom down the end of his long thin nose, saying nothing, before turning his scrutiny to Georgiana herself. ‘Roll up your sleeve, Robertson,’ the curt voice commanded.

Georgiana did as she was told, holding one grubby arm up for inspection.

‘You have not bathed.’

‘Beggin’ your pardon, Lieutenant, sir, but I cleaned myself just as you told me.’ Georgiana tried to retrieve her arm from beneath the gentleman’s fingers.

Cyril Pensenby’s thumbnail scraped against her skin, releasing a layer of blackened grime. ‘The evidence speaks for itself, boy.’

‘No, sir, you’re mistaken, sir,’ Georgiana mumbled in as low a tone as she could muster.

Mr Pensenby’s brows lowered and he thrust Georgiana’s arm angrily away. ‘Are you calling me a liar, Robertson?’

What had started as a small matter was rapidly escalating out of control. ‘No, Lieutenant, sir.’ She bit at her bottom lip and focused on the decking around Mr Pensenby’s feet.

Pensenby turned to the gunner’s mate. ‘See that this boy is scrubbed clean in a cask bath. Immediately, Holmes.’

‘Aye, Lieutenant Pensenby, I’ll see to it personally, sir.’

Georgiana’s eyes widened in terror as she realised what was about to happen. ‘No!’ She made to run past the two men, but fat fingers closed cruelly over her wrist and dragged her back.

‘Come along, Master Robertson, ain’t nothin’ so very bad about havin’ a bath. Let’s be havin’ you up on deck, lad.’

Georgiana wriggled and squirmed, but nothing, it seemed, could dislodge the gunner’s mate’s firm grasp. By the time they had reached the deck she could scarcely catch her breath.

‘Hoist up the cask!’ the gunner’s mate instructed, and attempted to remove the simpleton’s jacket.

Georgiana yelled for all she was worth, her voice rising higher in her panic. ‘Jack! Jack!’ She plunged her teeth into the fat man’s hand and kicked as hard as she could at his shins.

‘Ouch! You little bugger!’ Holmes released the skinny arm to deliver a weighty cuff to the lad’s ear.

It was the opportunity that Georgiana had been waiting for and she needed no invitation. Before the gunner’s mate could recover, she legged it straight up the rigging of the main mast. She didn’t dare look down, just kept on climbing up towards the topgallant mast. The wind blasted cold and icy, contriving to knock her from her precarious perch, but she clung to the ropes until her fingers hurt. Voices murmured from far below, their words lost to the wind. Her heart pounded in her chest and she watched with rising misery as the light diminished in the surrounding sky.

‘What the hell is going on?’ The men scattered before Captain Hawke.

Lieutenant Pensenby stepped forward. ‘Ship’s boy Robertson disobeyed a direct command, sir. He attacked Holmes here when he tried to effect that order.’

‘And what exactly was the command, Mr Pensenby?’

Pensenby’s thin face flushed. ‘The boy and the gunroom were filthy, Captain. Indeed, it wasn’t possible to enter the place without soiling my own uniform. As I am adverse to having such a dirty specimen serve the food upon my plate, or, indeed, to sup in unclean surroundings, I instructed that he clean both himself and the room. He complied with the room, but is most reticent to bathe himself, sir.’

Nathaniel groaned to himself. This was the last thing he needed. That half the ship’s company was lacking in personal hygiene could not have escaped Pensenby’s notice. Indeed, most of the men saw bathing as something undertaken only by eccentrics. But flouting of any order was not something that could be taken lightly, especially when it had been issued by the second lieutenant. ‘And where is the boy now?’

All eyes looked up into the rigging.

‘Ah,’ the captain murmured by way of understanding. ‘Fetch able seaman Grimly.’

Someone was coming up to fetch her. She dared a look and saw Jack not far below.

‘What the ‘ell ‘ave you been doin'?’ the gruff voice queried. ‘Pensenby’s got his dander up about you and no mistake and I ain’t gonna be able to stop ‘im.’ Burly Jack sighed. ‘Bathin’ ain’t exactly my delight, but couldn’t you ‘ave just ‘ad a quick duck in and out?’

Georgiana’s hands wove themselves tighter through the ropes. ‘No, Jack. Don’t make me go down. I won’t have a bath. I can’t.’ The words were barely more than a hoarse whisper into the wind.

‘If you don’t come down with me they’ll just send someone else to get you. Come on, lad, don’t make it worse than it already is.’

He was right. Pensenby would never leave her be. There was nothing else for it, she would have to throw herself upon Nathaniel Hawke’s mercy and hope for the best.

‘Master Robertson, no man or boy on this ship is exempt from the line of command. To disobey an order from an officer is an offence, and one that merits disciplinary action.’ A chill wind blew hard across the deck, carrying in its wake the damp smell of rain. Darkness was closing in fast, and the lanterns were being lit. Nathaniel felt a pang of sympathy for the lad; nevertheless, it was the first direct contravention of an order and his response was likely to set a precedent amongst the men. ‘Lieutenant Pensenby has instructed you to bathe and bathe you shall. See to it, Mr Holmes.’

‘Aye, aye, Captain.’ The boy was so pale he looked as if all the blood had left his body. Holmes quelled the thought, he had a job to do. ‘You ain’t got nothin’ different from the rest of us, lad. Let’s get on with it.’