“Dutch East Indiaman put in here at Cape Town a few weeks past. Had a brush with a bunch of scoundrels. Soon sent them packing. That’s where my good lady with her poultices and bandages came from. The Captain, good fellow, well mannered, can’t remember his name, recommended her. Passenger on board, making her way here with her ward, bit of a rough child. Always up to something, little madam. You know her of course, you trudged her back to quarters did ye not? Has eyes that follow ye – gives me the shivers frankly. Let me at a pirate over a precocious young wench, any day eh? Ha, ha!”
Jesamiah’s skin crawled. He knew he had seen her before! He swallowed down the wine, suddenly finding it unpalatably sweet and sickly. Thought perhaps it might be prudent to get back to the Mermaid . Wondered how practical it would be to round up the crew.
Hell’s tits! If the little brat opened her mouth to sing…
Six
Aboard the Mermaid , men were slogging at the capstan, slowly winching the dripping anchor cable in and laboriously stowing it to dry on the slats raised above the bilge in the lower deck. Many pirates, Tiola had heard, did not bother; what did it matter if an anchor cable rotted? They could easily obtain another one. The crew of the Mermaid , however, appeared to take pride in their vessel. Was that his doing Tiola wondered as she shaded her eyes against the dazzle of the rising sun. Or did they have an exceptionally good captain?
Gulls were riding the swell of the sea, and waders were strung out along the length of the bay busy delving into the sand for shellfish, shrimps and small creatures left exposed by the ebbing tide. To the far side of the harbour men were preparing to take the fishing boats out, the red sails contrasting with the vivid blue of a new day’s clean-washed sky.
Clutching the rusting rail, she descended the weed-slimed stairway from the jetty and stepped on to the firm expanse of wet sand; walked, her head dipped against the bullying of the wind to where the surf was receding from the beach. Told herself she was a fool to be blinking away tears. Her cloak, gown and petticoats were flapping in the wind, the sea snagging at the hems, leaving them stained and sodden, making them a heavy weight about her ankles.
Hands were climbing the Mermaid ’s rigging, running out along the yards and dropping to the footropes below, mindless of the possible danger of falling. Tiola heard his voice carried by the wind across the bay.
“Let fall fore tops’l.” A pause as the sail mid-way up the foremast spilt with a rumbling crackle. Then, “Fores’l!” and the lower sail fell.
They were leaving! She had not expected him to sail away!
As the great expanse of the lower sail on the forward mast unfolded majestically, it sagged a moment then filled, and the Mermaid , free of the restraint of her anchor was gliding forwards, the canvas catching the wind as she began to lie over and gather way. Thrusting effortlessly into it, she met the first roller and a burst of spray sent a shimmer of rainbow colour across the spar of the bowsprit pointing ahead of her like a finger. She looked beautiful with the first rays of the sun striking on her white hull, sparkling on the churning foam of her rapidly lengthening wake.
Tiola was not a seer, the as yet immature ability of Craft that she possessed did not bestow her with such talent, yet she knew Jesamiah was meant to be with her. Although if he was leaving, perhaps she was wrong? He was handsome – a charming rogue. Was her attraction towards him nothing more than a young girl’s idle fancy? At least, now, she knew his name. Jesamiah Acorne.
The Mermaid was leaving. He was leaving! Irrational disappointment swamped her.
Confusing images had tumbled through her mind during the night. Some as dreams, some as half-remembered thoughts, so that she did not know on fitfully waking, which was real which was nonsense. Was this all nonsense, standing here
Jesamiah’s skin crawled. He knew he had seen her before! He swallowed down the wine, suddenly finding it unpalatably sweet and sickly. Thought perhaps it might be prudent to get back to the Mermaid . Wondered how practical it would be to round up the crew.
Hell’s tits! If the little brat opened her mouth to sing…
Six
Aboard the Mermaid , men were slogging at the capstan, slowly winching the dripping anchor cable in and laboriously stowing it to dry on the slats raised above the bilge in the lower deck. Many pirates, Tiola had heard, did not bother; what did it matter if an anchor cable rotted? They could easily obtain another one. The crew of the Mermaid , however, appeared to take pride in their vessel. Was that his doing Tiola wondered as she shaded her eyes against the dazzle of the rising sun. Or did they have an exceptionally good captain?
Gulls were riding the swell of the sea, and waders were strung out along the length of the bay busy delving into the sand for shellfish, shrimps and small creatures left exposed by the ebbing tide. To the far side of the harbour men were preparing to take the fishing boats out, the red sails contrasting with the vivid blue of a new day’s clean-washed sky.
Clutching the rusting rail, she descended the weed-slimed stairway from the jetty and stepped on to the firm expanse of wet sand; walked, her head dipped against the bullying of the wind to where the surf was receding from the beach. Told herself she was a fool to be blinking away tears. Her cloak, gown and petticoats were flapping in the wind, the sea snagging at the hems, leaving them stained and sodden, making them a heavy weight about her ankles.
Hands were climbing the Mermaid ’s rigging, running out along the yards and dropping to the footropes below, mindless of the possible danger of falling. Tiola heard his voice carried by the wind across the bay.
“Let fall fore tops’l.” A pause as the sail mid-way up the foremast spilt with a rumbling crackle. Then, “Fores’l!” and the lower sail fell.
They were leaving! She had not expected him to sail away!
As the great expanse of the lower sail on the forward mast unfolded majestically, it sagged a moment then filled, and the Mermaid , free of the restraint of her anchor was gliding forwards, the canvas catching the wind as she began to lie over and gather way. Thrusting effortlessly into it, she met the first roller and a burst of spray sent a shimmer of rainbow colour across the spar of the bowsprit pointing ahead of her like a finger. She looked beautiful with the first rays of the sun striking on her white hull, sparkling on the churning foam of her rapidly lengthening wake.
Tiola was not a seer, the as yet immature ability of Craft that she possessed did not bestow her with such talent, yet she knew Jesamiah was meant to be with her. Although if he was leaving, perhaps she was wrong? He was handsome – a charming rogue. Was her attraction towards him nothing more than a young girl’s idle fancy? At least, now, she knew his name. Jesamiah Acorne.
The Mermaid was leaving. He was leaving! Irrational disappointment swamped her.
Confusing images had tumbled through her mind during the night. Some as dreams, some as half-remembered thoughts, so that she did not know on fitfully waking, which was real which was nonsense. Was this all nonsense, standing here
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