Chapter Four
“Lola, he’s even more wonderful than I thought.”
The parrot didn’t so much as spare her a glance.
“He’s the man of my dreams.” Josephine strode to the window and leaned out, straining to catch a glimpse of sails in the harbor. “The most handsome, most perfect gentleman in the whole world.”
Of course, Lola didn’t answer. She never did. But years with nobody but Colette to confide in meant that sometimes, one needed to have a single-sided conversation with a bird.
“Oh, you’re so happy for me?” The sunlit sea beyond the ships blurred as the warm haze that had lingered since the waterfall began to fade. “Well, don’t be. You see, he leaves any minute. And I’ll never see him again.”
Saying the words aloud made the reality of it sink in all the more.
It wasn’t fair. She’d finally met someone worth pursuing, and he would be gone in the blink of an eye, yet another opportunity slipping away.
If she didn’t do something, the cycle would continue the rest of her life until she was an old spinster—or her father married her off to the elderly Wentworth. But what could she do?
She began to pace in front of the window. “You know, Lola, maybe I’ve been doing it all wrong. My whole life, I’ve been waiting for something good to happen. Maybe that’s the problem. Being patient has gotten me nowhere. Maybe I need to take my destiny into my own hands.”
Silence surrounded her as she wrung said hands.
How did one take control of their destiny?
If only she could find a way to spend more time in the company of the lieutenant.
Short of sabotaging his ship—which, considering the Tempest’s size and might, she wasn’t sure would even be possible—there were no other options.
Unless…She stopped short.
He said he was taking on more men and supplies once he returned to Savannah.
That would surely take the lieutenant several days to organize.
Plenty of time, then, for her to make an impression.
Her lips tingled at the memory of his searing gaze beneath the spray of the waterfall.
They had come so close to kissing while the thunder of the falls echoed the wild rush of her blood.
A flush of heat prickled up her neck as she imagined his strong hands pulling her in and closing the distance.
A few more meetings, a few more conversations, and she maybe could convince him she was worthy of his attention.
But having the chance to do so meant she had to go to Savannah, and the only way to do that would be on the Tempest. She snorted.
A military ship would not lightly take on passengers.
Finding another ship heading that way that would take her on could take a month or more, and Lieutenant Caldwell would be long gone by then.
Not to mention, her father would never allow it—especially with Wentworth’s impending visit.
“Blast it.” Her shoulders slumped and she turned to her bed and sat with a huff.
So much for taking her destiny into her hands.
She’d enjoyed herself today. More than she had in a long time.
Her fingers curled into fists in her sheets, brushing against a pile of folded laundry she had neglected to put away.
The velvety lambskin of her breeches stuck out amongst cotton and linen.
She glanced down and picked them up. If she were a boy, she could perhaps get hired onto the Tempest’s crew.
No. They wouldn’t hire non-American sailors.
But, as a boy, she could walk around the docks unnoticed. And if she were unnoticed, maybe she could get onboard the sloop. Surely on such a massive ship, there would be plenty of secluded spots for one to hide. Her pulse quickened. She was absolutely not thinking of stowing away on a ship.
Or was she?
She stood and shook out her breeches, eyes drifting to the window.
From here, the sails of the Tempest gleamed in the midday sun, rising above the harbor like silent sentinels.
A hush lingered over the town, the usual clamor of Main Street dulled in the heat.
Even the gulls seemed quieter, circling lazily above rooftops.
Could she do it?
A nervous laugh broke free. No, it would be too daring—too bold.
And then a familiar sound broke through the sun-soaked silence. The mockingbird’s trill. Her heart began to race. Was it a sign?
Everything happened for a reason.
The compelling words she’d thought of the night she first met Lieutenant Caldwell burned through her until she nearly vibrated with the thought.
If she stayed, she would have to endure the pursuits of Mr. Wentworth.
And if she thwarted that match, who knew whom her father would bring next.
If she went to Savannah, she had a chance at something else, something she would never have here on Tortuga.
She spun and yanked open the door to her wardrobe.
An old leather satchel stuck out from beneath a stack of her straw hats.
She tugged it free and gave it a shake, sending a cloud of dust flying.
The small interior gave her little space to work with.
She could buy things in Savannah, but should bring at least one nice outfit.
Her single ball gown—never used—would take up too much space.
Even her day dress, with its ruffles and flounces would be too much.
Drat. Maybe just a couple of her newer skirts and blouses then.
She folded them and stuffed them into the bag along with stockings and slippers with enough room left to press a nightgown on top.
Her reticule, full of coins she’d won at the tavern, followed, hidden between layers of clothing.
At her vanity, she swept a pile of hair pins, some ribbons, and a brush on top of the nightgown and began to pull the drawstring closed. Lola gave a loud squawk and Josephine paused her frenzied packing. “You’re right. I can’t leave you behind.”
She scooped a handful of seeds from a box on her shelf.
Dropping the feed into a small pouch, she ran her fingers over the treasures laying there.
In light of what she was about to do, they suddenly seemed so small and inconsequential.
Yet, she couldn’t help picking up the key, the comforting weight a subtle temperance to her racing pulse.
Pressing her lips together, she slipped it onto a ribbon and tied it around her neck—a good luck charm for her voyage.
She undressed and pulled on her breeches.
A long linen strip was folded with her men’s shirt and she wound it tightly around her chest, wincing as her breasts protested the sudden containment.
After shrugging into the shirt, she picked up Lola and tucked the bird in the outermost layer of her binding, flipped onto her back.
She’d learned over the years that the position would nearly put Lola into a trance. Hopefully, it worked for long periods.
Once she buttoned up, she went to the vanity and used the remaining hairpins to twist her damp hair into a bun at her crown.
She used the last pin to fasten one of the straw hats in place and stood in front of the mirror.
The shirt hung loose, which might raise some eyebrows, but the one time she’d tried tucking it in, Colette had stopped her and told her if she swayed those breech-clad hips in public, she’d have a whole line of men following her home.
With one last look around her room, she tiptoed out into the hallway and down the stairs. A moment later, she stepped onto the porch, clicking the door shut behind her.
Her throat had gone thick and she forced herself forward.
Don’t look back. If she did, her resolve would crumble.
Even now, the hot sting of tears pressed at the corners of her eyes.
Leaving without saying goodbye seemed so cowardly.
She straightened. No choice if her plan was to work.
She would write to her father once she arrived in Savannah.
With a deep breath, she hurried down toward the harbor. The sun stood high now, casting sharp shadows across the rooftops, and she quickened her pace. Please let the cargo still be loading. She picked her way down the familiar shortcut, heart pounding harder with each step.
What if she was too late? What if the sails were already raised and he was gone—
She broke through the last row of palms, breath catching.
There it was. The Tempest. Still tethered to the dock.
Once there, she stopped, catching her breath. The day’s heat pressed around her, sweat dripping down her forehead. She craned her neck up. Down here, the ship seemed impossibly large. A wave of nausea burned through her gut.
Turn back.
She ignored the warning thundering through her mind.
Getting onto the dock had been easy enough.
But sneaking onto the ship? That was another matter.
She shivered, eyeing the multitude of sailors posted along the Tempest’s deck.
These weren’t rough-and-tumble pirates—they were some of the new nation’s best. Trained.
Disciplined. Men who could hunt Thorne and stood a chance of capturing him.
No way she could slip past them.
Lola shifted against her chest and Josephine stilled her with one hand.
A group of dockhands carried crates over to a gangplank leading up to the main deck.
At the bottom, a uniformed sailor checked off a list as the men carried them onto the ship.
She pulled her hat low and made her way closer.
This might be her only chance. She frowned as she looked up and down the dock.
There were no unclaimed crates left, which meant she had precious little time.
She pulled her lip between her teeth as the dockhands walked past—she couldn’t just waltz up to the ship with no cargo.
“Stop standing around, boy!” The harsh shout made her jump as a man with two large crates stacked atop each other slowed. “Make yourself useful and take one of these onboard.”
A slow smile curved her lips and she patted her shirt. “See, Lola, destiny is already on our side.”
She hurried over and took the top crate. Its weight threw her off balance and it slid into her chest, prompting an angry squawk. The man wrinkled his forehead and she coughed, trying to mimic Lola.
Her arms burned as they slowly made their way to the gangplank, and by the time she reached the bottom, her entire body trembled.
“Contents?” The sailor taking inventory held a quill poised over his paper.
She blinked at him. Lead bricks perhaps?
He glanced up when she didn’t answer, sharp green eyes reflecting from a nearby lantern.
“We’ve two crates of sugar.” The gruff voice of the man behind her saved her from disaster and the sailor nodded and checked off a line.
When she stepped onto the gangplank, she stumbled, nearly tossing the crate into the water.
“Perhaps someone else should carry that.” Those green eyes had followed her progress and she bit back a curse.
“I’m fine.”
To prove it, she hefted the crate higher and forced herself to take long strides.
It worked and she made it onto the ship without further issue.
Onboard, they were directed down to the hold, where all the food was being stored.
When a sailor in a crisp uniform took the crate from her, she nearly fell over.
The man behind her gave her a push. “No tarrying, off the ship with ye.”
They climbed through a hatch and made their way back through the berth deck. Once they got up to the main deck, there would be no opportunity for her to sneak away. Even down here, multiple sailors stood guard.
She stopped short. “I…I dropped something. I’ll be right back.”
The man rolled his eyes but continued. “Better hurry, wouldn’t want to make this lot upset.” He jerked a thumb toward one of the sailors standing near a shot locker before leaving her.
She hurried back toward the galley. Once in the hallway, she slowed. Nowhere to hide. At the end, a sailor with a crate stepped down into the hatch leading to the hold. Don’t look suspicious. With her head held high, she followed, resisting the urge to look behind her.
The steps led down into a dark cargo hold, where the man had gone to one side and was tying his crate down with ropes.
A lantern sat next to him, the light bathing the cargo with a warm glow.
She crept to the opposite end, following the shadows, until she found a space between two stacks to slip into.
Footsteps sounded as another man descended. “Are you finished here?”
After a grunt, the sailor answered. “Last one secure.”
“Is anyone else down here?”
“Just me.”
More footsteps as one of them climbed the steps.
Silence stretched through the room, light still flickering from the walls.
Then, the click of boots echoed around her.
They grew louder and the light drew nearer.
She shrank into her hiding spot and held her breath as he came to a stop mere feet away.
Lola shifted against her skin and she reached through the rough linen to stroke the parrot’s soft head.
After a long pause, the man turned and the light grew dimmer.
She blew out her breath and a moment later, the sailor climbed from the hold.
The hatch covers banged shut and Josephine flinched as darkness surrounded her.
She blinked, her eyes slowly adjusting until the silhouettes of nearby stacks of crates were visible.
Thank goodness. A ray of sunlight slanted through a single small porthole, giving the cramped space just enough light to see.
At least the journey would not be made in complete darkness.
She flopped her satchel onto the floor and unbuttoned her shirt. “Alright, Lola, this is our home for the next few days.” The parrot climbed free, hopped from her shoulder onto a nearby crate, and began preening green feathers. “Now, be a good girl and stay quiet.”