16. Isla #2
After arranging the other two women so their weight would be evenly distributed on the thwarts, Jonto climbed in and settled himself between a set of oars. It was Celie who asked what they were all wondering. “You’re going to row us to your ship instead of raising the sail?”
Isla admired Jonto’s straight white teeth when he smiled at her friend, held up his hand as though testing the air, and said, “Wind.”
Since there was none, Isla jabbed Celie good-naturedly in the ribs.
“That would help, don’t you think?” This time, it was her turn to smile at her friend’s childlike giggle.
Even though Celie was always cheerful, it had been quite a while since Isla had seen such excitement and joy in her mother’s companion.
With that thought came the realization that she no longer cared what anyone would say about their unplanned trip with the infamous Pirate King.
Knowing that this trip would bring back the joie de vivre Celie had exuded whenever she’d been with Isla’s mother was more than worth any censure they might encounter upon their return.
Jonto sat between two oars in the middle of the skiff.
He’d placed Lily alone on the thwart in the bow while Isla and Celie shared one directly behind him in the stern.
His well-defined muscles flexed against the fabric of his linen frock as he pulled the oars.
Isla had to laugh at Celie when the older woman turned and raised sculpted brows over laughing green eyes sparkling with mischief, silently telling Isla how very much she was enjoying the view.
Hearing the laughter, Jonto glanced over his shoulder at the two women.
“If you’re enjoying this, wait until we reach the open sea.
It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.
The wind and the waves have a way of setting your spirit free.
You’ll forget all of your land-born troubles because you’ll realize there are so many places to visit or, even better, to escape to should you become overburdened with problems at home. ”
In her wildest imagination, Isla would never have dreamed that a pirate could be so poetically eloquent when describing his time on the sea.
As she watched Jonto’s back, feelings of gratitude and friendship rose and nearly overwhelmed her.
Here was an intelligent, educated man going out of his way to help her despite how difficult she’d been toward him after they’d first met.
The fact was, they hardly knew one another, and yet here he was, rowing them out to a sailing ship to find a woman he believed could restore her land.
Not only that, he was also risking the censure of King Jaydon, deliberately spiriting her away from Fachan’s Bay while he was on his way to steal her land out from under her.
The idea that her King would do such a thing angered her beyond measure.
She privately thought that if that should happen, she’d find a way to escape marriage to Montfort, even if that meant asking Jonto to sail her away from her home and friends to some magical place where women were respected as equals and men respected their rights, intellect, and business acumen.
As Jonto rowed them closer to his ship, the breasts of the beautiful, wooden woman fronting its bow grew larger and larger until a single rounded bosom took on the proportions of the smaller boulders fronting Windsong Cave.
The imposing yet exquisite figure emphasized the colossal size of the Morgan’s Jest. Enormous didn’t begin to describe this ship.
Since Fachan’s Bay wasn’t deep enough to accommodate a man of war, Isla had never been this close to such a magnificent sailing ship.
They approached from the bow, and Isla craned her neck, trying to guess the ship’s height. “How tall is she?”
Jonto glanced over his shoulder. “The Enchantress or the Jest?”
“The Enchantress?”
He indicated the masthead by lifting his chin in its general direction. “My lady, there.”
Isla glared at Celie when the latter jabbed her with a sharp elbow, and smiled at her irrepressible friend before asking, “Your ship, Lord Jonto, not your vixen.”
“My—” Jonto put his head back and laughed.
“Yes, I guess she is.” He quieted and gazed up at the Enchantress before finally answering Isla’s question.
“The Jest rises twenty feet from the waterline to the gunwales and another ten feet with the forecastle. So, all in all, you could say she rides thirty feet above sea level at her tallest point, apart from the masts, of course.”
There was a wicked glint in Lily’s eyes when she looked over her shoulder at the admiral. “And how tall is your mast, My Lord?”
“Lily!” Isla nearly stood up in the little boat when she admonished her saucy and flirtatious lady’s maid.
Celie covered her mouth to hold in her laughter, and although amused, Jonto pretended he didn’t understand the ribald comment and pointed out each mast in turn.
“As you can see, the Jest is a four-masted ship of the line. One of the largest ships of war sailing today. The main mast rises one hundred and eighty feet. The foremast, one hundred and sixty, the mizzen, one hundred and thirty, and the jigger ninety feet.”
The women heard the pride in his tone, and for the first time, Isla privately thought this man should be proud to be the master of this magnificent vessel, even though she counted nearly fifty gunports on this side alone. “She’s stunning, My Lord. I’ve never seen a ship this size.”
“Thank you.” It had taken nearly thirty minutes of rowing, but eventually, Jonto skillfully brought the little boat alongside the Jest. He safely stowed the oars by snapping them into grooves along the side of the skiff near the gunwales before moving forward to fasten a mooring line to a cleat on the Jest’s hull.
With that done, he turned and stepped over the middle thwart and then the one Isla and Celie were seated on as he moved aft and repeated the task.
A soft thudding above their head alerted the women that someone onboard the Jest was lowering a rope ladder.
When it was fully extended, Jonto moved back to the middle of the boat and rested his hand on a wooden rung.
“So, the safest way to help you aboard is for you to climb while I follow a rung or two below. I’ll have my arms on either side of yours to keep you firmly in place.
But first,” he shrugged as though knowing Isla wouldn’t like what he said next, “I’ve helped a few ladies up this ladder over the years, and I’m afraid you’ll have to tuck the top of your skirts into your waistbands to raise the bottom hem.
That way, you can place your feet on the rungs without the toe of your shoes catching on the skirt.
Lady Fitzgerald, who is already on board, said to tell you that if she did it, Lady Brighton, then so can you. ”
Isla glanced at Celie, who had the good grace to return her serious look with one of her own.
Celie cocked her head, “Better that than ending up in the water, I think?”
Agreeing with her friend, Isla pulled up the material directly below her waistband and, after judging she had enough, tucked it securely into place.
Turning to Jonto, she was surprised to see a slight blush on his cheeks. Of course, his cheeks were already pink from exertion and wind, but the rosiness had intensified after she’d raised her skirt. With a nervous sigh, Isla stood and gripped the ropes running on either side of the rungs.
The fibrous texture felt course against her palms, and she stiffened when Jonto moved in close and placed his hands on a rung above Isla’s head.
Sensing her sudden tension, he backed off to give her time to adjust to the idea of his positioning and distracted her by pointing to cylindrical blocks attached to the ropes at regular intervals.
“As you can see, these spacers hold the rope away from the ship. That allows you to have a better grip with your hands without scraping your knuckles on the hull, and it also gives you more room for the balls of your feet. And,” he gently pried Isla’s grip off the rope and placed her hand on the rung, “it’s easier on your hands if you use the rungs instead of the rope. ”
He held his free hand out, palm up, but left the other resting gently on hers. “I have callouses, while your hands are—” He swallowed, removed his hand from hers, and grabbed the rope instead. “I’ll be right with you, so there’s nothing to fear.”