Chapter 16
Sixteen
Rhys had poured the tar into the cast iron cookpot that had been left in the hut, and hung it over an open fire. While it melted, he nailed the pieces of wood together then affixed it to the boat. All the while, the four youngest sisters sat on a log and watched and pestered him with questions.
“Do you love Tempest?” Ellen asked.
He could, but that was not how he answered. “I hardly know your sister.”
“You carried her the other night. That was being familiar,” Ann insisted.
“She fell asleep. What did you expect me to do, leave her outside?”
“Wake her!” Margaret announced and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I have treated your sister with respect. I like her. We get along, which is better than it was. That is all there is to it.”
“That stinks,” Ellen complained and waved a hand in front of her face when he lifted the cookpot from the fire and carried it over to the boat.
“Then stay away.” But she was not wrong.
“I will help you paint. The smell does not bother me,” Margaret offered.
“Go back and sit over there.” He pointed to the log they had settled on. “This does not come out of clothing and I do not need you borrowing more of mine. And I do not want you to get burned. This is hot.”
She forced out a heavy sigh and returned to her seat as he set to coating the inside of the boat where the boards had been nailed in place and around the seam and then the outside where it had been patched with a liberal amount of tar.
He covered the new wood, seams, and where nails had been hammered in, while letting the tar seep into the cracks, then adding more until he was certain that it was covered and that water couldn’t get in, then set the cookpot aside.
“Now what do we do?” Ellen asked.
“Wait for it to dry.”
“That is boring,” Ruth whined.
“Yes, it is, but there is not much else to do.”
They sat in silence, him lost in his thoughts and the girls staring at the boat as if they could actually see it dry.
Tempest, the bane of his existence and the woman whom he might just love, and certainly wanted to kiss, was who filled his thoughts.
She was beautiful, strong, stubborn, and everything a man could want in a wife.
Or, everything he wanted in a wife—someone whom he did not need to worry about offending her sensibilities, or tread carefully about because she might turn into a watering pot.
She hadn’t even cried when she was injured except for one tear that ran down her cheek when he stitched the gash in her hand. Not even a word of complaint, nor did she faint away.
They would either make a fabulous match and be happy to the end of their days or kill each other within a month of marriage because they were both stubborn and determined to have their way and that was what frightened him.
He needed to know how they were in ordinary circumstances. He was fairly sure that he already knew what he needed, but reminded himself again, this was not the time for a courtship.
“Is it dry yet?” Ellen asked.
“You can touch it and see,” he suggested.
She frowned and approached. He could tell from where he sat that it had at least begun to cool, whether it was dry was another matter.
“Quick, hide,” Nicoll said as she ran forward. “Under the boat.”
Right behind her was Tempest carrying the bag where they had stored the belongings that would prove that there were women in the hut.
“Where are they?” he asked quietly.
“Too close and headed here. Nicoll was approaching the stream when she saw them down the path and ran back to warn me.”
“Was she seen?” he demanded.
“She does not believe so.”
“Get under the boat and stay silent. I will get rid of them.”
He would hide too but if they were coming in this direction, he needed to be present. It wasn’t as if those who lived in Fort-de-France did not already know that he lived somewhere along the beach.
Had all the dishes been put away? Had they left evidence that more than one person slept in the hut?
He assumed all was as it should be because Tempest and her younger sister were diligent in making certain no evidence of their existence was left out because they all feared situations like this could happen.
He hoped they hadn’t been lax today.
He was just stepping onto the terrasse when three soldiers came around the side of the hut.
“Search the hut.”
He stepped in front of the door. “Hold up. For what reason?”
“To search your house.”
“Why?”
“A woman and her sisters.”
“Woman?” He hoped his question and surprise fooled them.
“An informant told us they were here.”
“I can assure you that they are not.” He stepped aside so that they could enter then nearly held his breath as they tore the place apart and prayed nothing had been left behind.
“Where are they?” a soldier asked after they returned outside.
“I have no idea who you are talking about,” Rhys insisted. “I have not seen a woman or her sisters. That is something I would remember.”
“You are?” another asked.
“Rhys McNaught.”
“The English fellow whose mother was from here,” another soldier answered.
The soldier in charge studied him and nodded.
“My family is from Antigua. My father just happened to be English.”
“You attended school in England.”
“That does not make me English and why I am here.”
The soldier turned and shouted. “Search the area.”
His heart pounded. What if they discovered the boat? Worse, what if they looked under the boat?
Rhys hurried after the soldier as he marched in the direction of the very place he did not want them to go. “Why do you think a woman and her sisters are here to begin with?”
* * *
Tempest prayed that her sisters remained quiet and that they were fully concealed.
“An informant told us they were here.”
That must be a soldier.
“Informant?” Rhys demanded. “Nobody has been here but me.”
“He was recently on a cutter out of Barbados and the woman and children were being taken back to Dominica. Their father is an English diplomat. When the cutter began to sink, they were put in a boat and sent here.”
“Are you certain?” Rhys asked. If she did not know better, she would be convinced that he was perplexed.
“Where did this come from?”
“Do not touch that boat,” Rhys yelled.
“Why?” another demanded.
“I just patched it and the tar is still wet.”
“Why do you have a boat?”
“I found it.”
“Where?”
“On the beach. It was washed up so I decided to fix it.”
“This hole?”
“The tar is not dry.”
“Answer the question,” someone ordered.
“Yes, that hole. It was upside down when I found it and dragged it up here.”
Oh, she hoped that they believed his tale and went away.
“It is just like the boat that the man described,” someone said.
“If it had a hole that big it would have sank and they would have drowned.”
“The man said they wanted to find this section of the beach.”
“Maybe they knew it was abandoned,” someone suggested.
“Or they knew someone would be here waiting.”
Tempest held her breath as her heart hammered as sweat broke out on her brow.
“It was not me!” Rhys insisted.
“It does not look like anyone else is here or has been,” another soldier said.
It was the first time she had heard his voice so he must have searched the area with others.
“No women or children?” someone asked again.
“No. I would have known if there was a woman around.”
“They must have drowned,” another person determined.
“This still wasn’t a wasted visit.”
“Why?” Rhys asked slowly.
Oh dear, what if the man who said that they were here had also identified Rhys as a spy?
“We are here to also arrest you.”
“For what?” Rhys demanded.
“Theft of lumbar and the tar. You were seen and identified. After the man we fished out of the sea talked, we decided that we would come get the woman, children and the thief.”
Tempest could not let him be arrested but there was nothing else she could do without bringing attention to herself and her sisters. Rhys could deny that he had taken the things but they were standing by the newly repaired boat and a pot of tar near the boat.
“Bloody hell!” Rhys grumbled. “What if I pay you for what I took, and extra, will you leave me alone?”
“No,” a man answered. “You are coming with us. We do not want English on this island, especially thieving Englishmen.”
Tempest and her sisters remained quiet and listened as the voices drifted away until they could not be heard any longer.
“Stay here,” she whispered and peeked out from under the boat. When nobody was seen, she snuck around bushes and trees, then to the house, inside, then looked all around the front before she determined that Rhys and the soldiers were truly gone before she rushed back to her sisters. “It is safe.”
She then grabbed their bag and rushed to the house, her sisters following.
“At least he wasn’t arrested for being a spy,” Margaret said as she sank down on a bench.
“Why would he be?” Tempest demanded because she was certain that her sisters did not know the truth of why he was here.
“I overheard the two of you talking. I snuck out to listen.”
“You should not have done so,” Tempest scolded as she opened the cloth bag and dumped everything out until she picked up her dress, shook out the wrinkles then folded it. She then set it aside and found her reticule and counted her funds.
“All of you need to stay in the house. Do not leave for any reason.”
“What are you doing?” Nicoll demanded.
“I am off to save a spy.”
“How?”
“That I have not figured out yet, but I need to follow to find out where he is taken.”
“What if you are caught?”
“Then you need to take the girls and leave. As soon as that tar is dry, get into the boat and row as far away as you can and hope to encounter the Royal Navy.” She prayed that the tar dried quickly, just in case. “Keep them quiet and in the house. I will return as soon as possible.”