Fic: 'Harry & the Pirate VI: Blood and Treasure' (14/20)

[dwgm]

Chapter Fourteen: The Christiana

“This is an excellent example of the way in which the strange glamour of rogues and rakes will attract more civilized folk like moths to the flame,” Maggie observed drily as she, along with Harry, Elizabeth and Anne, sipped tea on the veranda and watched the crowd of children playing cricket on the lawn. Daisy’s injured arm was confined to a sling to prevent reinjury, making her an object of interest, admiration, and sympathy, but she was nevertheless busy bouncing, calling out directions, and cheering madly as William Weatherby, whose astonishing daring and fortitude were highly esteemed by every boy in the neighborhood, thanks to the Barker brothers’ and Kitty Chandler’s tattling tongues, scored a famous hit.

“Are you calling my son a rogue?” Elizabeth demanded, pretending outrage.

“If the shoe fits,” Maggie said, looking down her nose and successfully wrestling the smile from her lips. “My own children, of course, were paragons of deportment at every stage.”

Elizabeth and Harry both burst out laughing at this, as did one of the paragons herself.

Anne said, “Oh, Mother! What an untruth!”

Maggie chuckled. “My memory isn’t quite what it should be, perhaps.”

“It’s exactly what it should be,” Harry said. “There is no profit in dredging up the peccadilloes of the past, save perhaps as a source of amusement. My brother, of course, would have a different view of the matter. Perhaps we need not mention his niece and grandson’s lapse in judgment.”

“I’ve told William Weatherby there is no need to share everything with his grandfather, but Daisy’s injury can’t really be hidden,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“But it can!” said Harry. “We still have until the end of next week, and it looks much better already. The doctor says he’ll remove the stitches on Saturday, and she must continue to wear the sling for another few days after that, but I believe her sleeves will be long enough to cover the smaller bandage that will remain until it is quite healed.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I’ll wager anything you like that my father will ask questions within ten minutes.”

“A new hat from Grimble’s and done!” Harry declared.

“Grimble’s!” Maggie exclaimed. “Her creations are wonderful, certainly, but very expensive. Have a care, Elizabeth. Harry’s not above cheating you know.”

“Thank you for the warning, but I’m well aware of that,” said Elizabeth. She raised a brow at her aunt’s indignation. “Pirate?”

“Well, yes. But not in this case. And just look at Jack! Why, he is actually considering buying that yacht they’ve gone to see.”

“Rather than arranging a cutting-out expedition?” Maggie smiled. “James would have liked that, I think. I believe he misses active service, though he never says it.”

Harry nodded. “He and Jack are cut from the same cloth, in many ways. I do hope the yacht pleases Jack as much as he had hoped. It is doubly fortunate that it came on the market just at this time, for he needed something to distract him after Daisy’s mishap. They will all have such a grand time taking that pretty vessel out today!”

*

They were having a grand time, Jack and James, and Will, Tom, and Mr. Gibbs, too, for the Black Pearl was anchored just a few hundred yards from where the Christiana, a Dutch-built statenjaght, was tied up and ready for inspection.

Tom laughed aloud when they got close enough to really see her, and Jack’s eyes took on an avaricious gleam. The little ship was incredibly ornate, her bright blue hull ornamented with scrollwork and wonderful carvings bright with gold leaf. Red rails, and white frames on the gallery windows were also in evidence, and her decks were absolutely pristine. She was wide in the beam, like any Dutch ship, and fairly shallow in draft, so much so that an adjustable keel (adorned with a bare-breasted mermaid, painted in the classic manner) was used to prevent her from drifting, but the broker vowed she was fast and weatherly, perfect for pleasurable coastal sailing, yet able to cross an open ocean with perfect equanimity.


But when he led them below they were even more impressed. There was storage, a compact but well-equipped galley, and a comfortable area for the crew that was lit by a ‘lantern’, a construction with windows that was built on the deck above to bring in daylight – a most unusual luxury on a ship. Then, in the stern, there was the master’s quarters, actually a whole set of rooms on two levels. There was a good-sized, elegantly furnished salon with a prettily painted hearth and cupboard seating that could be converted to curtained guest beds; then, up a spiral staircase, there was a handsomely furnished bedchamber with quarter-galleries on either side, one affording seclusion for the use of the elegant close-stool, the other equipped with finely crafted drawers and cupboards for clothing and personal items.

“Lord, wouldn’t Harry love this,” Jack muttered, running his hand across the soft velvet coverlet that graced the bed.

“I’ve never seen anything like it!” Tom exclaimed.

James nodded. “Oh, yes. The Dutch began making these about a hundred years ago, for their aristocrats, and the great men of the VOC. Charles II was given one as a gift on his restoration, if I recall my history correctly.”

“They’ve certainly brought their craft to perfection,” Will said. “She’s a lovely ship, Jack. Are we going to take her out?”

“Just what I was about to ask,” said Mr. Gibbs with a smile.

The Christiana had a single tall mast, gaff-rigged with a staysail for a jib, and was further enhanced by a square red topsail for use when the wind was just right – “As it is now,” said the broker. “A crew of seven or so is adequate, but she can easily house thirty, if the need arises.”

They were out on her for more than four hours, for Jack quite naturally wanted her proven seaworthy before expending the not-inconsiderable sum the owner was asking. A caretaker, his wife, and two other seamen had been living on the yacht, and these, along with the broker and Jack’s friends and relations, made an adequate crew for him. Admiral James stepped into the role of Able Seaman with remarkable ease. Will showed that he had not forgotten the skills Jack had taught him long ago. And Tom reveled in the simple but strenuous tasks required in sailing the little ship, trying to keep his enthusiasm at bay even as the fresh sea air and the wind in his face prodded his hopes and made him want shout for joy.

But when they brought the Christiana back in and tied her to the dock, and Jack announced that he would certainly buy her as a most worthy consort for his darling Pearl, Tom slipped away, back into the privacy of the master’s cabin and threw himself on the wide bed, smothering a shout of triumph. The moment he’d laid eyes on this bed he’d seen Annie adorning it, seen her golden hair, the delicate, untouched pink and white of her skin, the curves of her slim figure: all for him, bare against the blue velvet coverlet. For several minutes, while the others assisted his father in negotiating the purchase, Tom allowed his mind to dwell on that delicious scene, itemizing in detail the things he and his Anne would do, their explorations, the delights he would show her. He vowed then and there she would never regret marrying him, he would care for her always, like the treasure she was.

They were friends again, but there was still a distance between them, a coolness, and he knew she would say him nay if he told her she must throw over the earl. It was that bloody aunt of hers. The woman had had far too much influence in recent years. Anne seemed convinced that even an unofficial promise of marriage was a fine point of honor and that breaking that promise would bring shame upon the whole Norrington family.

Tom turned over onto his back and stared up at the neat plank ceiling above him. That he must force the issue he knew very well, he’d become reconciled to that. And there wasn’t much time left. A week and a half and they’d be heading back to London to announce her engagement to Hartfield. But the way was clear to him at last.

His grin could not be suppressed, thinking about it. Stealing her away, having her all to himself, here, in this cabin. He had friends among the Pearls who would help him. He’d get a couple of them assigned to watching the Christiana, and the rest could come aboard when he brought Annie down from Fleet Hall. A bit of that physick the doctor had left for Daisy would ensure Anne’s initial cooperation, and after they were away at sea for a couple of nights, her virtue would be thoroughly compromised whether he touched her or not (and it would likely be not, of course, until they were safely wed). Oh, she’d be upset, no doubt, but he had faith in his ability to talk her around, to sooth her fears and explain that he’d had no choice in the matter. That it was for the best. That it was impossible for him to stand by and watch her marry another. That he’d wanted her even before he’d known what the words love and cherish meant.

There might be hell to pay in some quarters – her father, for example. But it would be worth it. Anne Norrington was his, and his alone. Just as he was hers.



Continued in Chapter Fifteen: Abducted

Comments

[geekmama.livejournal.com]

I was fascinated to run across all that info on the Dutch yachts. Here's some more links with pics!


http://statenjacht.vanuitmuiden.nl/index.html

http://www.statenjacht.nl/het_schip/foto_interieur.htm

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Utrecht_%28statenjacht%29


Thank you so much for commenting!