Chapter 5 #2
Ann rolled her eyes and went back to scrubbing a seat.
“Who wrote these documents?” Rhys asked.
“Likely an explorer,” Margaret answered.
“Not a pirate,” Ann added with disappointment, which he understood. A pirate’s chest would be more exciting than one belonging to an explorer.
“It was filled with journals, papers, drawings and books about plants and trees. That is how I learned that the island had been called Madinia, or L'?le aux Fleurs long ago.”
“In these drawings, were there any maps?” he asked.
Margaret frowned. “No. Why?”
“Just because he was an explorer didn’t mean that he also did not have a pirate’s treasure map and maybe that was why he was really here.”
“Now you are being ridiculous, Mr. McNaught.”
Her condescending tone was exactly the same as her eldest sister.
Nicoll, who had been at the end of the boat, stood and quietly whistled and before he knew what had happened, Ann had taken his bottle of rum and hid it under a bush just as Miss Driscoll stepped between the trees.
Rhys could only grin. The girls were on his side.
* * *
Tempest stopped and took in the scene of Mr. McNaught sitting on a log, measuring a piece of wood while her sisters scrubbed the boat that had brought them ashore.
“So, this is where you are. What are you all doing here? Look at their clothes.”
“They are my clothes,” Mr. McNaught reminded her.
“They are also filthy.” In the process of cleaning the boat, some had gotten blood on them, and others dirt. They had just finished the laundry and she would now need to wash five shirts and two pairs of trousers in addition to what Mr. McNaught was wearing.
“All of you, get back to the house,” she ordered her sisters. “We have a meal to prepare and more cleaning needs to be done.”
“We have cleaned everything from top to bottom,” Ruth argued.
“It does not take six of us to fix a meal,” Margaret insisted.
“We also need to make a list.”
“What kind of list?” Mr. McNaught asked.
“A list of supplies for when you next go to Fort-de-France.”
He stood. “I never said anything about going back into the town.”
Tempest fisted her hands on her hips. “You will need to if somebody does not come for us soon because we are soon to be out of eggs, bread and dried meats.”
“Why don’t I just bring back a cow and some chickens while I am at it.”
It was a sarcastic gest, of course, but that did not stop her response. “That would be more efficient, Mr. McNaught. Thank you for the suggestion.” She then smiled. “Come along girls.”
“We are helping Mr. McNaught clean the boat,” Ann whined.
“I am certain he will excuse you,” Tempest insisted, not certain how she felt about her sisters abandoning her to join him, especially when they had complained about cleaning the house but were quite happy scrubbing blood from a boat.
Was that jealousy?
Certainly not.
It was because he was new, and the situation was unusual, and cleaning a boat was something they had never done. That was all.
And really, why should he object. He may be unpleasant, some of the time, but he wasn’t drinking because all the bottles of rum were hidden, she had checked just that morning.
“You can help him later, if he requests your assistance. For now, we need to return because you now have more laundry to do.”
With reluctance, her sisters followed her back to the hut and once inside, she began issuing instructions.
“First, change your clothing. Next, I need Nicoll and Margaret to take the shirts to the stream and see them laundered. Ruth and Ellen, please collect coconuts from the beach, but try to stay near the trees.” Not that she was worried about them being seen because there were only British ships out there, blockading the island.
Maybe one of them would notice the girls through their spy glass and investigate, though it was unlikely. “Ann, you will help me prepare dinner.”
Why was she so irritable toward Mr. McNaught? It was not like her at all. Usually, she was a most agreeable person but there was something about him, or maybe it was their circumstances that put her on edge.
He wasn’t the friendliest of fellows either, but he couldn’t blame her for their current circumstance.
And why had her sisters gone to help him with his boat?
There had been plenty for them to do here…
except there wasn’t. The place had been cleaned top to bottom and they each lacked something to occupy their minds and hands.
It was no wonder that they were willing to scrub blood from a boat and it had nothing to do with them liking Mr. McNaught more than her.
He needed assistance, whereas she could not even offer entertainment because they quickly grew bored of the games that they could play.
Maybe she should have helped clean the boat too and it would have taken her mind off their current predicament.
Instead, she spent her time worrying about her father, and how he was getting on when they had not returned in time, or her uncle’s concern when the boat didn’t return.
How soon before a ship was sent looking for them, or would they be given up as lost?
Worse, what if the French returned.
Or, what if the British invaded before they were gone?
What if the battle came to this beach and she and her sisters were too close to be safe?
Those were the fears that kept her awake at night, and ones that she could not share with her sisters.
They had also put her on edge and made her prickly, which she did take out on Mr. McNaught and even though she did not approve of his drinking so much rum…
it wasn’t that, she didn’t want to have him drunk…
and he had not invited them, so no wonder he would be irritated with them.
She had kicked him out of his house and she still didn’t know if he was here because he wanted to be or because he was spying for England.
Oh, this situation was frustrating and she hated not having answers, but it was also no reason not to be more friendly toward Mr. McNaught.
The door banged open and she looked up.
Mr. McNaught stood in the entry; his frantic gaze scanned the room.
“Where are the girls?”