Chapter 10
The morning progressed much as Caroline expected, with a long, tedious, and ultimately unsuccessful search.
This time she descended to the hold with the gentlemen, the captain, and the first mate, too curious to deny herself.
There were several men asleep in hammocks—but they roused when the captain thumped a fist on the roof.
“Up and away, lads. We must search for Lady Marston’s amethysts. ”
The men had already heard about this, and they cleared out, though not without some grumbling about the interruption to their six hours of rest.
The hold was smellier than Caroline had anticipated, and the scent of unwashed men, caged animals, and boiled fish was extreme. She held a handkerchief over her face.
The storage portion was not as tidy as she expected either.
The mail bags were on their own special shelves, three rough planks nailed into the central wall.
Netting kept them anchored in place. The bags themselves were large, cylindrical affairs of oiled leather, tightly belted with metal buckles, and with an official seal of the British Royal Mail stamped in the top.
The room was low-pitched and cramped, and stuffed floor to rafter with crates, barrels, boxes, chests, and strong-boxes. It had a wooden, hinged door, but no lock. There was a smell of raw potatoes and grain, as well as mildew and dust.
“We can’t search within these packages,” the captain said, “but perhaps if we shift things about…”
“Surely a thief wouldn’t stow a necklace in this place,” Caroline protested through her handkerchief.
“They would want to be sure it was safe, and they would never know if someone chanced across it. Also it is just—” She didn’t know how to explain her second objection, but it was something to do with the sheer volume of packages.
Shifting all of these to find a nook or cranny looked exhausting for five men, let alone one.
But searching was their purpose, and Caroline could hardly argue.
She stayed for the first quarter hour, but as the dust and mold flew, she retreated to the door where the ship’s surgeon looked on.
“I don’t suppose anyone would hide the gems in a mailbag,” Caroline mused.
“Trusting that we would not look there?”
“Don’t even suggest to Captain Smythe that we open the mailbags,” he said. “He will never hear of it. And we shall all be subject to more lectures on the sanctity of the mail.” There was a glimmer of humor there.
“A fair point,” Caroline agreed. “And it really would be outrageous if someone tried. Like hiding a stolen horse in the neighbor’s barn.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lady Marston was predictably angry at the fruitless search, but after a few caustic comments at their midday meal, she restrained herself to long exhalations with a flared nose, and suspicious glares at any crewmember—even the steward, first mate, and cook—who came within her sight.
It was in the afternoon, after Lady Marston had gone to lie down, that Sophia tentatively mentioned the wager to the other ladies. “I understand if no one is in the mood, but we could play our cribbage tournament. I know it would take my mind off unpleasant things.”
“I don’t see any harm in it,” Caroline agreed. “Do you mind, dear?”
Richard kissed her cheek. “On the contrary, an excellent idea. I’ll watch.”
Anne and Wentworth were game, and Mr. Belvedere clapped his hands like he’d just won a game of lottery tickets. “Capital! We all need a little distraction.”
They sat in the middle of the long table, with Caroline placed diagonally from Mrs. Scott, who was to be her partner. Anne sat next to her, at a diagonal from Mr. Belvedere, her partner.
“I must apologize at the start,” Anne said to him. “I know I am not as adept as Caroline, but I shall do my best to give you a fair chance.”
“That’s all I ask, ma’am.”
Richard sat down on Caroline’s other side, and Wentworth sat by Anne. Sir Mark, at loose ends, plunked himself down next to Sophia. “Give him what-for, Sophie, that’s what I say.”
“I shall try, I promise.”
They placed Anne’s cribbage board—a lovely thing of red wood and ebony, with perfectly spaced holes and ivory pegs—in the center of the table. After cutting the deck, Sophia got first deal. She shuffled the cards expertly and dealt five to each player.
Caroline examined her cards, discarding a six into the crib. It broke one of her pairs, but discarding any other card would sacrifice a nine—which was worth more as they equaled fifteen with her remaining six—or a king, which was worth ten…
When the discard calculations were done, the pegging portion of the game began.
They moved their pegs precisely up the board with points for aces, face cards, and face value for the numbered cards as they played.
Everyone seemed to be relieved to temporarily forget the unpleasantness of the morning.
It was a high-scoring round, for Caroline was not the only one who had been dealt a good set.
Richard occasionally twitched when she played, but he raised his hands in surrender when she gave him a look. “I said nothing! It is your game.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Belvedere said. “No outside help, even from husbands! You must let your better halves play.”
Richard agreed, although he was too expressive not to grimace or grin at Caroline’s potential plays. “Richard,” she finally said, with severity, “you will give my entire game away if you keep on!”
“I know, I know,” he said. “I’ve never been a good gambler. My fellow officers could always see right through me.”
“I thought you were exaggerating about that, but apparently you were not,” Caroline agreed.
He covered his face the next time she played. “I will give nothing away, I promise!”
The others laughed at him.
Anne refrained from looking at her husband, admitting that she would be tempted to follow his lead if he looked skeptical or disapproving.
Mr. Belvedere crowed when he was able to play the card that summed their total to thirty-one—a large bonus for him and Anne—but Sophia hummed happily when she turned over the dealer’s crib which turned out to be quite good for her team.
The play circled, with each of them dealing in turn, until Sophia, with a happy squeal, managed to end the first game by passing a hundred-twenty-one. “Lurched! Caroline and I have it.”
Richard kissed Caroline’s cheek. “Well done! Despite my interference.”
“I suppose you cannot help your face,” Caroline said fondly.
Mr. Belvedere shook his head sadly. “ A loss! And more than half of my points were pegged by Mrs. Wentworth! A poor showing I have made so far. But we agreed: best of three. I don’t give up hope.”
Anne congratulated them, and Sir Mark laughed and flicked Sohpia’s cheek. “I think we need something to drink with this next game. I’ll fetch the steward.”
The following game was shorter, with port for Sir Mark and the gentlemen, and it went to Anne and Mr. Belvedere.
While that gentleman was perfectly polite to all the ladies—and gallant towards Anne, as his partner—Caroline noted a particular look that was reserved for Sophia.
It was partly competitive but also admiring.
While he complimented all the ladies, he verged on flirting with Sophia.
But as she was the only unattached woman on the ship, besides being quite pretty, Caroline supposed it would be amazing if he didn’t.
At any rate, Caroline was disappointed at their loss because she was competitive also. For the last game, she shuffled with aplomb, years of drawing room card games under her belt. However, before she could deal the first hand, there was a disturbance above.
“Ship on starboard,” the call was heard. “Colors dark.”
They looked at one another, and Captain Wentworth explained, “Colors dark means they cannot see what flag the ship is flying, if any. But it is just as likely to be one of ours—or an American or Portuguese ally—as anyone else.”
“But what if it is French?” Mr. Belvedere asked.
“Then the captain will either outrun it or—worst case—fight.” He rose. “It would do no harm if we went up to look now. The ship cannot be close if it was just spotted.”
They went up as a group, and the sky was covered in high puffy clouds with bits of blue here and there. “What you might call a perfect summer’s day,” Mr. Belvedere said.
They went to the western side of the ship, the starboard, and stood a little distance from the captain and first mate.
In the mid-afternoon, with the light on the water, it was hard to look steadily in that direction.
Caroline’s eyes watered until the sun went temporarily behind a cloud and the glare lessened.
Even so, the ship was so far distant that Caroline did not see it at first. It was little more than a speck, a small blob on the horizon.
The first mate had a glass, and he closed his right eye as he looked. “It is too narrow for a frigate or galleon, sir. Square sails, three masts—none of your American sloops or schooners.” He twisted the glass slightly. “Yes, square sails—two decks. I think it is a seventy-four.”
“French?” Captain Wentworth put in.
“It could—no, I see green and red! The Portuguese flag,” the first mate confirmed. “Plain as sailing.”
The tension eased and Caroline’s shoulders relaxed. The Portuguese were also at war with Napoleon, who had invaded both Spain and Portugal as well as making himself onerous to the English and the Russians.
The first mate passed the glass to the captain, who nodded sharply. “Yes, indeed! Portuguese, not to worry.” He chuckled complacently. “They must be running southwest on the same wind, but they can’t sail as close to it as we can.”
The afternoon air was pleasant, and no one was eager to go below, even with the enticement of the last game. “What if we put off that last game until tomorrow?” Richard said. “It seems a pity to squander this fine sunshine, and it will give us something to look forward to.”
They were even more glad they had stayed when Mr. Belvedere, who had gone to the port side of the ship, suddenly called. “Come! Dolphins or some such thing. Come look!”
They hurried to the other side, avoiding tie-downs and ropes, and leaned over the bulwark. Caroline and the others gasped and exclaimed. It was a swarm of ten or twelve black fish like small whales.
“Black porpoises,” Captain Wentworth said with pleasure. “Quite a large pod.”
The ship ran under a light wind, the water a gray-blue broken with cloudy foam. The porpoises could be seen just under the surface of the water when the sunlight illuminated it.
“Oh, look,” Sophia cried as one of them leaped out of the water, displaying large white patches on its side. “How beautiful.”
“Aren’t they just?” Mr. Belvedere agreed. “This is something like.”
“Do you see those holes?” Captain Wentworth said. “That is how they breathe. They breathe air just as we do.”
Even Lady Marston came up, since the porpoises stayed with them for some time. Sir Mark, perhaps overfull of port, declared the sun scorching and went below soon after, but the rest of them stayed for some time watching the display.
“I shouldn’t like to fall in there,” Mr. Belvedere said. “Porpoises have teeth, do they not?”
“Yes, but I have never seen them savage someone,” Wentworth said. “Although I did once see a pod attack a right whale. Those have no teeth, you know, and are slow.”
“Did they win?” asked Mr. Belvedere.
“Yes, they did.”
“That’s sad,” said Sophia, leaning on her elbows. “But they are very beautiful.”
That evening, Caroline noticed a particularly thoughtful look on Richard’s face as they got ready for dinner. “What is it?” she asked. “Your face is being expressive again.”
“I daresay it is. I am wondering if I ought to say something to Mrs. Scott. Mr. Belvedere has begun to breach the line with her.”
Caroline felt a little defensive on Sophia’s behalf. “It is hardly her fault if he flirts with her. She does not exactly encourage him.”
“No, that is true. It’s his interest in her that concerns me.”
“I don’t think he means any harm. He is barely more than a schoolboy. Don’t they tend to develop tendres for older women?”
“Calf-love, you mean?”
“It is hardly real love.”
“If it was just a case of calf-love, I’d leave it be—but I don’t have that impression either. If he was a little older, I’d suspect him of giving her a slip on the shoulder.”
“Oh, surely not. She may not be well-born, but she is genteel enough, and employed as a companion, after all.”
“That’s true, and I don’t think he’s bold enough to offer a carte blanche to a respectable woman while on a ship like this—but I should hate her to get hurt.”
Caroline kissed his cheek. “You are so kind. I don’t know how you survived the army.”
“I can be harsh enough with my fellow men, I promise you.”
“Well, then save your words of warning for Mr. Belvedere. I think it would only make Sophia uncomfortable when there is little she can do to check him.”
“A well-deserved set down would probably do the trick.”
“But if she is Sir Mark’s side slip—his daughter, I mean—she may not feel she has the upper hand to give a proper set down.”
“Hm, true. I may be kind, but you are insightful, Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”
“Why, thank you, but I suspect you are offering me Spanish coin.”
“Never.” He looked down at her and cupped her cheek. “You are a little red—I’m afraid you got too much sun today.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I wore my hat.”
“I know. I think the light was bouncing off the water.”
“Ugh, I shall have both wrinkles and freckles by the time we reach Lisbon.” She caught herself on the complaint. “Not that I begrudge the trip or—the damage to my complexion.”
He grinned. “You don’t have to be so stoic all the time, my dear. I didn’t fall in love with a paragon of patience and humility, I fell in love with you. Besides, I didn’t mean that your complexion was ruined. You look more beautiful than ever this evening.”
Caroline smiled and took his kiss, but it did not quite reach her heart. His words were meant to be reassuring, no doubt, but instead they stung. She knew she wasn’t a paragon of perfection of any sort, but it hurt to be reminded how clearly he saw that.