19. Jonto
Jonto
As was her custom, Jonto remained on the quarterdeck after her guests returned to their quarters.
She’d been apprehensive about offering the breeches to the ladies precisely because of the reaction she’d been sure to get from Lord Fitzgerald.
Frankly, she’d expected the same from his wife and had been pleasantly surprised when Priscilla had asked for a pair herself.
The decision to make the offer so soon in the voyage had come on a whim.
She’d been silently arguing both sides ever since Lady Pierpont had suggested she take Isla away from Fachan’s Bay.
On the one hand, she needed to establish herself as a respected member of the upper classes, and if people knew all the women on board her ships not only wore breeches but were skilled in weapons and warcraft, they’d be appalled.
As far as most land-dwellers knew, the presence of women on board pirate ships was limited to the aberration of the more famous bloodthirsty lady pirates, namely Anne Bonny, Mary Read, and Charlotte de Berry. And, if Jonto were being honest with herself, for the most part, that was true.
Things were different in her fleet, however.
She knew what women were capable of, and nearly a quarter of the various crews on her many ships were comprised of women who’d been mistreated in their previous lives.
Any time she made port in a kingdom, word would spread, and soon, her sailors would knock on her cabin door with some unfortunate begging to be hired on.
Man or woman, if she thought they’d be a good fit, she’d take them under her care.
Her silent, internal debates vacillated between the need to court respectability weighed against the importance of safety where her guests were concerned.
She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d pointed out that, over the years, she’d come across tales of women being blown overboard.
Granted, most incidents had occurred during gale-force winds, such as that which had taken Morgan from her, but still, a concern.
It had been neither of those considerations that had decided her in the end.
The sheer excitement in Isla’s eyes when Jonto mentioned the name of the barque, The Red Rover, had told her exactly what this short adventure meant to her.
Three weeks was simply a short jaunt for Jonto and her crews, but to Isla, this was the adventure she’d craved her entire life.
This trip was the manifestation of the life she’d lived while reading adventures tucked between the pages of books like The Red Rover while safely nestled beneath the warm folds of her duvet.
That realization thrilled Jonto. She wanted to give Isla everything she’d yearned for, and an uncomfortable billowing skirt was absolutely unacceptable for what she had in mind.
Not only that, but she hoped that somehow she’d be able to bring her on many more adventures in the coming years.
That thought reminded her of the machinations Lord Montfort’s plans had set into motion.
With Montfort having the King’s ear, Isla’s fate might already be sealed.
At least Archduchess Pierpont was on her side, although it sounded as though, in this instance, the formidable Grande Dame wasn’t convinced she could change her nephew’s mind.
Jonto strode to where her helmsman expertly steered the Jest on a true course toward their destination.
Danilo Oliveira was an experienced sailor and navigator, a man for whom sailing was as natural as putting on a pair of well-worn boots as he climbed out of bed. “Beautiful day for a sail, eh, Danilo?”
“Aye, Captain.” Danilo’s sturdy, athletic build served him well on board a ship of the line.
Not only could he hold a course through the roughest of weather, but he could easily slip into the role of hauling rigging or repelling boarders should the need arise.
Although his dark complexion protected him from the worst of the sun’s rays, a lifetime at sea had given him deep wrinkles and a well-worn appearance that, combined with his dark hair and equally dark eyes, had many men crossing to the other side whenever Danilo walked through the streets of a port city.
Jonto bent over the three-foot-high binnacle to check their direction.
The binnacle, a glass dome housing the compass needed to keep them on course, rested on a mahogany, cylindrical pedestal.
The pedestal’s base was securely mounted to the deck, keeping the compass in place and available to the helmsman day and night, not to mention during weather that drove most non-sailors off the decks to the lower quarters below.
Danilo watched Jonto check their course.
“North northeast, Captain. Nico and I studied the charts last night. He said you wanted to take your guests to Leilow Island, so we’re on course to arrive in four days if the weather holds.
” Like Nico, the helmsman was an oddity among pirates.
His father had served on board naval vessels during Danilo’s childhood and had afforded his son the best education possible, expecting him to follow in his footsteps.
Danilo had, indeed, followed his father.
Unfortunately, he’d had the misfortune of serving under a vicious, egotistical captain who’d nearly killed him during a drunken tirade where he’d tied the twenty-two-year-old midshipman to the mainmast and whipped him until the demon had fallen to the deck in a rum-induced stupor.
After being unceremoniously dumped with a healer in a port city, Danilo quickly changed allegiances, joining one pirate crew after another until, after eight years of never quite fitting in, he’d landed on Jonto’s ship.
He quickly verified the rumors he’d heard over the years.
Here was a captain whose belief in morality and fair play closely matched his own.
Seven years later, he’d earned his place as Master Helmsman on board the flagship of Jonto’s fleet.
“I heard you talking to the gentleman. Do you expect trouble from him? I mean, we’re not exactly your typical naval vessel, are we? ”
Jonto responded while still bent over the binnacle. “I’ll handle Lord Fitzgerald, Danny, and you take care of helming my ship.”
“And the ladies? I never liked having women on board. Well, apart from the ones in our crew. That’s different from those blue bloods.”
Jonto straightened, and as she stared out over the horizon, she idly asked, “Do you know where that term came from?”
“No, can’t say I do.”
She, Nico, and Danilo enjoyed testing each other’s knowledge of obscure facts about every subject under the sun.
It was an enjoyable pastime they’d fallen into over the years.
Jonto rarely let a comment, like the one about blue bloods slip past without capitalizing on an opportunity to expand her helmsman’s education.
“Members of the aristocracy are called that because their blue blood vessels can be seen through their fair skin, which rarely sees the light of day. It’s a good, descriptive term.
And no, I’m not worried about the ladies, except perhaps for Lady Fitzgerald, the nobleman’s wife.
She takes her responsibility as Lady Brighton’s chaperone seriously, and I’m hoping she doesn’t keep us from giving her the exciting adventure she craves. ”
Danilo made a course correction. He was Jonto’s best helmsman, a man who instinctively knew the four cardinal directions simply by the feel of the sun on his face or the positions of the stars in the night sky.
“I can’t imagine living my whole life locked inside a castle or a mansion and rarely going outside.
But I know what you mean. My cousin always looked like a ghost wandering the hallways as he moved between his room, the library, and the dining hall.
He only rode a horse the short distance between his family’s home and the collegium, where he’d hole up until nightfall and ride home again.
Come to think of it, he really did have a blue hue to his skin. ”
They turned when the door to the wardroom opened, and Isla and Celie stepped out. Since Babette hadn’t had time to deliver the breeches, both still wore their long skirts. Jonto murmured, “I’d hoped they’d rest for the next hour.”
“Apparently not.”
Pulling in a deep breath, Jonto regretted the end of her short, relaxing interlude. “Ladies. How can I help you?” To her surprise, Celie moved away from Isla, acting as though she was interested in something off the starboard side.
Isla hesitated, glancing at Celie and then looking toward Jonto and Danilo. Relief crossed her features when Jonto beckoned her to join her at the helm. With a lift of her chin, Isla strode over. As she drew near, she lost her balance as the ship rolled on a wave.
Jonto growled, “Danny,” as Isla fell into her arms. There was no doubt in her mind that her helmsman had rolled the Jest on purpose, but she didn’t have time to chastise him because she was too busy setting the lady on her feet again.
Blushing furiously, Isla gently pushed off Jonto. “I’m sorry, My Lord. It seems it will be a while before I acquire…oh, what’s it called?”
“Sea legs, My Lady.” Jonto glanced at Celie, who watched them with her signature good humor. Not wanting to give the impression that she’d enjoyed having this beautiful woman falling into her arms—which she had—or that she enjoyed the soft breasts pressing against her, Jonto quickly stepped back.
When she regained her balance, Isla asked, “And you said, Danny?”
“Yes. Master Danilo Oliveira is my helmsman, and I was asking him to keep the ship on an even keel if at all possible.” Jonto glared at the man whose mischievous smile irked her no end. “Danilo Oliveira, this is Lady Brighton.”
Danilo pulled his bangs without taking his eyes off the sea. “Pleased to meet you, My Lady.”
Isla inspected Danny’s profile with narrowed eyes.
“And you, Master Oliveira.” She paused, not taking her gaze from the suntanned face.
“I understand it can be challenging to keep the ship from rolling, especially if the helmsman is new at his job. I’m sure it will become easier the longer you study your craft.
” Her tone was dry and seemingly innocent, but Jonto knew better.
Danilo nearly choked on his indignation before he, too, realized his nose had been tweaked.
With a good-natured grin, he nodded amiably, “A well-aimed and well-deserved jab, Lady Brighton. I can see I’ll need to watch myself around you.
” He glanced at the sails before adding, “The captain mentioned that you’re interested in all aspects of the ship.
Would you like to try your hand at the helm? ”
“Oh.” Isla looked over her shoulder at Celie, who’d turned her back to them again. “I….” she looked at Jonto. “I mean, yes. I would.”
Jonto gently placed her fingers on Isla’s elbow and moved her to the spot Danilo had vacated. Taking hold of a spoke, Jonto motioned for Isla to do the same. “I’ll keep my hand on it until you get a feel for the ship, but you should still hold the spokes with both hands.”
Isla put her hands higher than Jonto liked but moved them down when Danilo quietly said, “About the level of your chest, My Lady. That allows you to have better leverage and maneuverability.”
Jonto also spoke in a quiet, soothing tone.
“And widen your stance. It won’t feel ladylike, I’m sure, but you’ll have better balance.
” She waited for Isla to get settled and then continued with her instructions.
“Now, feel the ship beneath you, but more importantly, watch the sails. See how Danny keeps them taught? Now watch.” She turned the wheel enough to have the sails go out of trim.
Isla gasped at the soft luffing, released the spokes as though she’d been burned, and jumped back. “You take it.”
Placing a gentle hand on the small of Isla’s back, Jonto eased her forward again. “No, don’t be afraid. Hold the wheel.”
With hesitation born out of an insecure fear of being judged, Isla lowered her hands down onto the spokes. “Now, notice how different this feels from when you first took over? Which direction do you think we should turn to tighten the sails?”
Trimming the sails on a four-masted ship looked easier than it actually was.
Jonto waited patiently while Isla stared at the massive sheets and then turned to look at the weathercock on the foremast. The slight pucker when the lady’s brows drew together was more than adorable, and Jonto almost missed Isla’s question, “To the right?” She overcorrected, and Jonto gently pulled the wheel back again.
“Right is starboard onboard a ship, and yes, to starboard, but it takes very little movement of the wheel when correcting.” Hoping not to cause offense, she stepped behind Isla and took hold of the spokes near her hands.
If she moved in closer than was actually necessary, well, that couldn’t be helped, could it?
“Feel the ship and watch the sails.” Together, they adjusted the ship’s position until the canvas became taut again.
“There. Hold it just like that.” Jonto’s cheek brushed against Isla’s soft hair, and the scent of her perfume lingered in the air around them.
With more reluctance than she cared to admit, she released one hand and stepped to the side again.
Jonto’s breath caught when she saw what could only be described as exhilaration in Isla’s wide, radiant eyes.
The wind pinked her cheeks, and a smile danced across her face with the joy of a flower opening to the sun.
Jonto’s delight was short-lived, however, because Priscilla stepped next to Danilo and clasped her hands behind her back.
Her signature single raised brow was enough to stop Jonto’s hands-on approach, and for the next quarter hour, she kept her position next to the wheel, verbally correcting Isla whenever necessary.
Of course, she had to give Celie a turn, and after that, both Priscilla and Lily tried their hand at steering the massive ship. By the time the lady’s maid took her turn, Babette had delivered their clothing, and the other three women returned to their cabins to try on their breeches.
Not surprisingly, Danilo stepped forward to show the beautiful ex-courtesan the finer points of his job.
Jonto was amused at how skillfully, with a single wink and a come-hither look, Lily conveyed an offer of friendship, if not something more, to her genial helmsman.
Funny, she’d never flirted with her that way, making Jonto wonder why.
She dipped her chin and excused herself.
“If you’ll excuse me, Lily, I’ll leave you in Danilo’s capable hands. ”