Chapter 14
Luckily for all the passengers, who were almost as one in their reluctance to think on unpleasant matters again after the trials of the storm, another distraction came to divert them.
The only one who resented this interruption was Lady Marston, who would have been happy to keep everyone searching for her amethysts; but “what odiously short attention spans the youth had!”
No, they were all glad when another ship was spotted behind them in the mid-day haze on the horizon. The ship flew British colors, and it was traveling south-south east, “much on the same line as us,” the first mate explained. Everyone came up to see—even Lady Marston.
“A ship of the line!” Captain Wentworth grinned. “Shall we make a race of it—at least until they overtake?”
“By Jove, we shall!” answered Captain Smythe. “They’re bigger, but you see how their square sails don’t let them run as close to the wind as we with our center rigging! We’ll see how we compare.”
He gave the orders, and it was a fine, breezy race as the larger British ship slowly grew on them.
Smythe knew he couldn’t prevent them drawing abreast, nor did he want to, but he was proud to give them a merry chase.
Eventually it was ship against ship, with barely a tow-line distance between their two sides.
Caroline and Anne were at the starboard gunwale with everyone else, and they waved at the passengers on the other ship as they drew close enough to see them.
There were two ladies in jewel-toned cloaks and capes who waved merrily back at them.
It was wonderful to see other faces after two weeks of only themselves.
By mutual agreement, the captains made signals to draw up to one another.
“Why, it’s the Queen Charlotte herself!” Captain Wentworth exclaimed. “This is the second Queen Charlotte, you see, the other was lost, but they relaunched this beauty a few years ago. I wonder if Admiral Hood—why, yes, it is he!”
Caroline had never seen this procedure of drawing near a ship amid sea, and she now appreciated the great skill in bringing these great ships within a few feet of one another.
Cries of halloo! and Good race! were heard from the other ship.
The Lady Mary rocked strangely under their feet now that it had ceased forward motion.
There was less sway, but the deck moved more erratically.
Caroline held onto a rope for balance as she craned her head to look up. The other ship’s deck was some eight feet above their own. Someone on the other ship let down a rope ladder, which their men secured on the Lady Mary.
An officer shimmied down to them, somehow not smashing his fingers or splashing into the water below as both ships rocked on uneven waves. Admiral Hood followed, and clapped Captain Wentworth on the back. “Mary thought she saw you, but I said she must be mistaken! And yet here you are on a packet!”
It was determined that Admiral Hood’s wife and daughter were with them; those were the two ladies they had seen.
“I know, I know,” he said ruefully to Wentworth.
“I wouldn’t have brought my women-folk, but my lady decided to plant herself in Cadiz for the next year.
I won’t deny it’ll be merry to have them nearby. ”
His wife and adult daughter descended next, and there were general introductions. Their ship had left directly from the Port of London, nearly a week after themselves, but they had got very good wind and had missed the storm which blew the Lady Mary about so much.
Caroline suggested they should stay for dinner, but Admiral Hood shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we cannot! We are not stopping at Lisbon at all. We will swing around the point and get to Cadiz as fast as may be.”
Anne found herself the subject of intense scrutiny by Admiral Hood’s wife.
She must have passed inspection, for that lady—who looked quite as good-tempered, kind-hearted, and intelligent as Mrs. Croft—suddenly embraced Anne.
“I cannot tell you,” she said quietly, drawing her apart from the general conversation, “how happy I am to see Frederick Wentworth married! But I had no notion of this when I last saw him. Was it a whirlwind romance?”
“Er—sort of.” Anne felt herself blushing.
“I am glad. I always fancied he must’ve experienced a disappointment in his youth or something of that sort—so implacable and cynical he has always been! And I told the Admiral, it is a dreadful shame for such a fine man to turn his face against us poor creatures.”
Anne hardly knew what to say, for she was certain that she was the great disappointment the lady referred to.
But Mrs. Hood mistook her face. “Oh, I am an idiot! Please don’t take my words to heart, dear.
See him look at us and smile! He is wondering what I am pouring in your ears.
And I do have several good stories I could tell you, but I want to hear about you.
When did you meet, my dear? Was it in Bath? ”
“Yes, it was—that is, most recently, yes. We were acquainted some years ago in Somersetshire.”
“Oh, I love a reunion. I—” She stopped short with twinkling eyes surrounded by fine wrinkles. “I have stepped in it, haven’t I? You were the past love. You must forgive my blunder, for I am so pleased that you should both have a second chance. I can see already how happy he is.”
“Thank you, I hope he is. It has indeed been a blessed second-chance to me.”
“Ugh, and we must away so soon to Cadiz! I wish I could further our acquaintance at once, for I can tell by your face that we should be great friends. Do you stop in Lisbon?”
“Only very briefly, ma’am. Our aim is Istanbul, where Captain Wentworth and Colonel Fitzwilliam—our good friend—have work for the Foreign Office.”
“Ah, I see. I wondered that Captain Wentworth could sell out, but between you and this other work—yes, I see. Well, perhaps Julia and I—my daughter—may visit you there! I have always longed to visit the Orient. Either way, I hope I may write to you.”
“I would love that, thank you.”
Mrs. Hood kissed her cheek. “Thank you. Wentworth is a little too old to be my son, but I have always had a maternal feeling for him. I hope I may extend that to you.”
“I’d be honored.” Anne felt confirmed that the naval community was the most welcoming and genuinely good-natured in the world.
The guests had to take their leave all too soon, but at the last minute, the first officer, a handsome lieutenant, called down to them.
“Hold a moment! The Admiral says his wife is finished with all the latest papers from London, and your passengers may enjoy them.”
The possibility of newspapers operated powerfully on several members of the party, and nearly everyone asked to read them.
“Do allow me the society pages,” Caroline requested. “Until this trip, I have read them every day for years.”
“You can hardly claim as long a loyalty to them as I,” put in Lady Marston regally, “for I have been reading them these forty years, at least. Would you allow me?”
Caroline pursed her lips. “Of course. I—I am always willing to put others first.”
“If no one minds, I’d like to see the racing pages,” Sir Mark put in. “If I’d’ve been at home, I would’ve dropped a monkey on Grapeshot at Ascot. I must know how he placed!”
Even Sophia ventured quietly, “When it is convenient, I should like to look at the births and marriages.”
Mr. Belvedere laughed. “You may all share the paper with my good will. I’m happy to read it second-hand.”
The lieutenant on the ship above them reappeared with a large bundle of newspapers tied with a ribbon. The rope ladder had already been stowed.
“Here they are!” he shouted. “I’ll toss ‘em down to you, sir. We have six or seven—the Star, the Courier, two Gazettes, a London Chronicle—”
He tossed the papers down in a light underhanded throw.
It should’ve carried the bundle safely to Captain Smythe’s outstretched hands, but—the greatest mischance!
The boat tipped astern and sent Sophia stumbling into the captain.
He bobbled and exclaimed, clutching futilely as the bundle glanced off his outstretched hand toward the dark water below.
Richard—standing closest to the captain—lunged forward and grabbed at it. The ribbon came free—and he was left with one newspaper in his hand. The others fluttered to the gray waves in the heavy shadow of the Queen Charlotte.
There was a sudden silence as they all watched the majority of the papers float on the water, swiftly becoming water-logged and then shifting into the deep like leaves in a pond.
Sophia pressed a hand to her mouth. “Forgive me! I am dreadfully sorry.”
“Jolly bad luck!” the officer called down.
“It can’t be helped,” Captain Smythe said. “Safe sailing!”
The accident left the party subdued and a little dispirited as they watched the Queen Charlotte drift away. Smythe’s first mate began the orders to “haul sheets.”
It took the Queen Charlotte a little longer to get back up to speed, so at first the Lady Mary pulled ahead, but soon, off to their right, the ship of the line passed them like strong man to run a race.
Richard unfurled the one paper he’d managed to save. “It’s The London Gazette, dated Friday a week ago. I know everyone is eager to catch up on news, but I really must let Caroline have first dibs. I am a newly married man, after all—no one can blame me for a little favoritism!”
“Well—” Lady Marston looked primed to object, but she could not seem to come up with an excuse for such brazen rudeness.
No one else was petty enough to gainsay him, and Anne drifted back to the railing as they dissipated. She slipped her hand into her husband’s. There was a slight look of regret on his face.
“Was it pleasant to see Admiral Hood? Do you wish you had not sold out?”
“No, hardly that. Only—in another life I would have stayed longer. But I don’t in any way regret this.” He kissed her forehead. “I made my fortune and my happiness, and there is still much I can do for my country.”
“But you love the sea.”
“And I always will; but it does not follow that I love nothing else.”
“If you want to go back—I’m sure the admiralty would take you in a heartbeat.”
“You’re the best of women, but I don’t see myself returning.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we go? And as we do, you must tell me what Mrs. Hood said to you! She is a delightful woman, but sometimes her tongue runs ahead of her.”
“She—told me you had suffered a disappointment in your youth.”
“Oh, did she? How excessively accurate of her; particularly considering I never told her.”
“She said you were bitter and cynical.”
“The more I was.”
“I wish I had chosen differently then,” Anne said. “I decided long ago that if another young lady was ever in such a situation, I would counsel her very differently than I was counseled.”
“And I wish I had come back to speak to you sooner—when I knew I could support a wife! I wish my anger hadn’t stolen years from us.”
“Not so many years. And I liked Mrs. Hood excessively. I hope we shall be friends.”
“I’m sure you will.”