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CHAPTER 15
A very sleepy Lt.
Price was called to the orlop by a distressed Lt. Greengard.
"I'm sorry, sir, to awaken you, but…"
William looked down
at Dr. Powell kneeling over the body of what used to be Jeremiah
Pyke. "Well, Doctor?"
The surgeon looked
up. "It is what it appears to be, Mr. Price: Mr. Pyke stumbled
into the hold and fell, striking his head and drowning in the
water in the well." The well was the lowest part of the
ship - the bilges - and was always wet. "Strange how a man
may drown in but a foot of water."
Greengard was nervous.
"The captain ordered that Pyke not be chained to the bracing,
Mr. Price. As for the guard, he was taken sick and was at the
head for but a moment…" The guard would never admit
that he had been drinking on duty.
"A moment would
be all it takes, Mr. Greengard. A sad business." He turned
to a sailor. "Mr. Radle, my apologies for awakening the
captain and ask him to step this way."
"Aye aye, sir."
Anne was half aware
in her wondrous hanging cot. Nowak's awakening of Frederick did
not alarm her, as the ship sailed in a comfortable manner: the
waves against the hull and the sails creaking in the breeze.
In that foggy world between sleep and wakefulness she considered
her current situation and could find little wanting. Perhaps
a fresh-water bath…
Before she knew
it, she felt Frederick returning to their bed. Her first clue
that things were amiss was when Frederick pulled her into his
arms.
"Frederick?
Is anything wrong?"
"I just wish
to hold you, my sweet. Go back to sleep."
That woke her up.
"Frederick, you are troubled…"
"No, I am not."
"Yes, you are."
"Why do you
not believe me?"
"Because you
always seek my embrace when you are troubled."
"I do?"
"Yes, dear."
"But we have
been married less than a month! I always act so?"
"Yes, Frederick
- every time. Please tell me what is wrong." She stroked
his face.
"I do not wish
to disturb your sleep."
"That is already
done."
Frederick sighed.
"I was going to tell you in the morning. There has been…
an incident. The prisoner met with an accident…" Anne
tensed. "Pyke is dead."
Anne lay quietly,
lost in her thoughts. Finally, "How? How did it happen?"
"He fell into
the hold. The guard was indisposed - when he returned he found
the man at the bottom of the hold. He called for Dr. Powell,
but there was nothing to be done."
"And he was
by himself?"
"Yes. Just
an accident." Frederick held Anne close, kissing the top
of her head, when he felt wetness on his chest. "Anne? You
shed tears…for him?"
Anne wiped her face.
"I cry for the waste, Frederick. We are all born as innocents.
Why do some take the gifts they are given and not do good with
it? Life is so precious..." She wept.
Frederick was helpless
- he knew not how to comfort her. "Anne…Anne…"
He stroked her hair as he embraced her.
"Hold me, Frederick."
As if I would
ever let you go.
The morning dawn
revealed that they had reached the coast of Madeira. The ship
continued to make good time and the sailing master was able to
put the ship about and heave to just inside the harbor right
before the noon gun. No sooner had the Laconia made its
number than a jolly-boat was lowered over the side. In it were
the mortal remains of one Jeremiah Pyke, landsman, sown into
his hammock. Midshipman Dawsey took command of the detail; his
orders were to transport their gruesome burden and a private
letter to the Port Admiral, who would then take possession of
the body and insure that it met its final destination of a pauper's
grave. The letters "DD" (discharged - dead) were duly
entered into the roster book next to his name.
Wentworth, from
the quarterdeck, surveyed the ships in Funchal harbor. Sitting
at anchor were the Pomone, a 38-gun frigate, flagship
of the squadron; Surprise, 28 guns, Briseis, a
brig under repair; Dover, a troop carrier in the midst
of converting back into a warship; and Ganymede. He turned
to a midshipman. "Give Dr. Maturin my compliments and inform
him that the barge shall be at his service directly. Alert Mrs.
Wentworth, as well." To Price he asked, "How are the
stores?"
"Enough for
us to touch Bermuda and then some, Sir, as long we don't run
into a hurricane or the doldrums."
"Small chance
of that, William. We'll be too far north to be becalmed and it's
too early for hurricanes." He turned to the sailing master.
"Make your course for Bermuda, sir."
"Aye aye, Sir."
Stephen, having
been alerted that the boat was awaiting him, was just finishing
his packing when Nowak knocked on the door. "Beggin' your
pardon, sir, and Mrs. Wentworth would like you to step into the
cabin."
"Dr. Maturin,"
greeted Anne upon his entrance, "thank you, sir - I need
but a moment of your time."
"Ah, there
you are, sir," cried Wentworth as Maturin and Anne made
their way to the quarterdeck. "I must admit I approve of
your choice of escorts. Well, here we are. It seems the commodore
is on the Pomone - shall you repair there or to the Surprise?"
Stephen looked over
the harbor. Sure enough, the broad pendant flew over the Pomone.
"The Pomone, I should think."
"Very good,
sir. Stokes! Make sure the doctor's dunnage is stowed away. You
are to take him to the Pomone. Yes, a fine frigate, beautiful
lines," he said to Maturin.
"The frigate
of the world, for all love, but I admit I have an affection for
the Surprise."
"You own her,
I understand."
"Indeed, I
have that honor."
"Captain,"
reported Stokes, "everything's stowed away - we're ready
to shove off."
"Very good,
Stokes. Well, doctor, it is time to say farewell. Give my regards
to Aubrey, will you? Tell that sea-dog I expect another shooting
party at Woolcombe - I have to restore my honor."
"I shall do
so, and I hope to be a part of your party."
"I shall insist
upon it, my dear doctor." He gave the smaller man a very
hearty handshake. Stephen acknowledged the other officers on
the quarterdeck - Dr. Powell was quite loquacious in his farewell
- before turning to Mrs. Wentworth.
"Dr. Maturin,
I cannot thank you enough for all you have done," she said
as he held out her hand. "Safe voyage, sir, and may God
bless you."
Stephen took her
hand and bowed over it. "May Our Lady watch over you and
all of your family, madam." He released her hand and stood
up, looking at both Captain and Mrs. Wentworth, obviously fighting
with his emotions. "Goodbye, then." He then climbed
down the larboard accommodation ladder to the waiting captain's
barge, Stokes already in the stern. Within moments the crew made
sure that the doctor was safely situated in the boat before shoving
off and setting oars.
"Pull dry now,"
advised Stokes as the boat made its way across the harbor. Soon
the cry was heard from the Pomone: "AHOY THERE! WHAT
BOAT IS THAT?"
"FROM THE LACONIA
- BEARING DOCTOR MATURIN - REQUEST PERMISSION TO COME ABOARD!"
"PERMISSION
GRANTED - LARBOARD!"
Expertly the boat
pulled to the accommodation ladder. No sooner had it touched
than a tall, light-haired officer in an Admiral's uniform climbed
down to offer his hand to the passenger.
"Dear God,
Stephen - let me help you, my dear fellow!" cried Jack Aubrey.
Anne and Frederick
watched as the boat delivered Dr. Maturin. "Oh, Captain
Wentworth, I feel for poor Dr. Maturin. I pray he finds peace."
"I am sure
he shall, but I do feel for him. Mrs. Wentworth, shall we go
down for dinner? Mr. Price, will you join us?"
"Thank you,
Sir."
Wentworth turned
to the carpenter. "Strike Dr. Maturin's cabin as soon as
may be done." To Mumphrey he commanded, "Make sail
as soon as we recover the boats. Our course is west."
After an unremarkable
dinner of sea-pie and syllabub, Anne performed Mozart at the
pianoforte, to the delight of Lt. Price. "Oh, Mrs. Wentworth,
that was wonderful!"
"Mr. Price,
I thank you, but I have a bone to pick with you."
"With me, madam?
What…what have I done?"
Frederick grinned
as he saw what was coming. Anne went on. "Am I not the captain's
wife, sir?"
William was confused.
"Oh, yes, ma'am."
"Should I not
be afforded some of the same courtesies as the captain?"
"I…I would
imagine so, ma'am."
"Then how is
it that my husband calls you 'William' and I have not been granted
the same privilege?"
"Ummm…that
would be fine…" he turned to Wentworth, "…if
that meets with your approval, sir."
Frederick laughed.
"Permission, granted, William."
"Thank you,
William," said Anne gaily.
"But….but…
Oh, Mrs. Wentworth, I cannot call you anything but Mrs. Wentworth!"
She was not finished
teasing. "Hmmm… That is a problem. He cannot call me
'Anne', my dear?"
Frederick got into
the spirit of the jesting. "Oh, no - regulations, you see."
Price was unaware
of any such regulations, but he was not going to gainsay
his captain.
"Then, William,
you may call me 'Mrs. Anne'."
"Capital, my
dear!"
"Thank you,
captain."
Price finally realized
he was being made sport of, but did not resent it. He felt instead
the complement that they would consider him friend enough to
tease. However, as a younger man and as a subordinate, he knew
he could not tease back. "Very well, Mrs. Anne, thank you
for a wonderful concert."
There was a knock
on the door; it was Nowak. "Beggin' your pardon, sir, and
Colonel Tarleton here to see you."
It was expected.
"Sir! Do you know the carpenter is striking the cabin outside?"
the Marine asked after greeting the others in the room.
"Yes Colonel
- at my order. Thank you for noticing. I like my orders to be
carried out without delay. Was there anything else?"
Tarleton was finally
learning the captain's manner. "No, sir. Forgive me for
disturbing you."
Anne could not resist.
"Oh, Colonel, if you have nowhere to go, I was just preparing
to play one last piece. Would you like to hear it?"
The vain officer
puffed up his chest. "I should like it of all things, madam."
He took his seat as Frederick looked on nonplused.
Anne began. "It's
a little thing I learned at school - a folk dance. I believe
it is Irish…"
Frederick and William
both bit their tongues as Tarleton's face turned as red as his
jacket.
Later, William Price
walked the weather-side of the quarterdeck, having this watch.
They had caught the trades, and the wind was freshening. He called
out to a bo'sun's mate: "Look lively there! Light those
fellows aloft - reef up the gallants and courses."
As the men hurried
to shorten sail, William had a moment to reflect upon his late
dinner. He could not but admire Mrs. Wentworth for her kindness
and charity. To be truly interested in his life beyond the sea
- it was a great complement. He did not mistake the look in his
captain's eye. Wentworth was enamored greatly of his wife, and
she to him. They seemed to live in perfect harmony; not cloying
or grasping, yet constantly aware of the other's mood and opinion.
It was a delight to be in their company.
His hand stole to
his locket. Would Margaret come to sea with him? Would she fit
into his life as well as Mrs. Wentworth did for the Captain's?
Like a glove, she was. Was Margaret such a glove? How does one
learn to do that? He meant what he wrote in his last letter -
that it was his decided opinion that a captain should bring his
wife with him, if he could. Did Margaret understand his message
- that he was talking to her?
"Mr. Price,"
the mate reported, "All done - mains and gallants reefed."
"Very good.
Carry on." His musings would have to wait for another day.
That evening after
supper, Anne and Frederick were once more sitting nestled on
the bench looking out the stern gallery, her in her nightclothes,
him in his shirtsleeves, watching the moon rise over the waves.
"We could not see this before, as we were heading south,"
Frederick explained.
"Shall we see
it every night, dear?"
"Alas, no;
the phases of the moon, you see."
"Of course;
I knew that - how silly of me."
He kissed her ear.
"'Tis beautiful, though."
"How fortunate
for you, to be able to see such a sight as you sailed the oceans.
I am glad I am here."
"I would have
you nowhere else."
"Then begin
your lessons, my tutor. How must I act aboard ship?"
He hugged her as
he thought. "I feel we must be as two people each. Here,
in the cabin alone, we are Frederick and Anne."
"An agreeable
proposition." She kissed his hands.
"But outside
- I must be Captain Wentworth to you, Mrs. Wentworth." He
felt her shudder in his arms. "This displeases you; forgive
the necessity."
"I hate the
thought of treating you as I would the most indifferent acquaintance;
but I do understand why."
"Perhaps…"
"What, love?"
"Anne…let
us agree upon some private signals - our own secret codes."
"What would
this accomplish?" She was intrigued by the idea.
"This way we
may speak to each other as husband and wife, yet not upset the
propriety we must maintain aboard."
She snuggled closer.
"I like your thinking, sir. Have you any examples?"
"Well…say
I am on the quarterdeck, and you come up to enjoy the air. Normally
I am busy and must not be disturbed. But say I am at my leisure
and wish for your attention. I could… touch my hat so…"
he demonstrated, "which would say to you: 'I am available
if you wish to speak to me.'"
He could not see,
but he felt the smile on Anne's lips. "And if you are too
busy?"
"If you should
catch my eye, I should tip my hat to you. That would mean: 'I
love you.'"
Anne pulled his
arms tighter about her. "I could tug on my bonnet or kerchief;
it would mean the same to you."
"I like it.
It shall be so."
"Do you have
any other signals, Frederick?" She wiggled her bottom in
his embrace, which had the desired effect.
"Belay that,
woman, or you shall see a signal - aye, a mighty one too."
"Indeed? I
must be careful," as she wiggled again.
Groaning, he reached
around her and turned her body to his, seeking her sweet lips.
The two lost themselves in their mutual desire, she gliding his
hands as she kissed him more deeply. To her breasts was the destination,
and there he amused himself and her.
"Frederick…can
we not…make love here?"
"Here?"
"The moon…I
would like to watch the moon…"
An interesting
proposition. He looked
around and saw his chair. "There is a way; trust me."
With that he rose and moved over to his chair. He moved it, back
against the bench, then began removing his shirt and trousers.
Naked, he sat upon the chair, holding out his hand to Anne. She
had been watching the whole time, curious as to his solution
to her request. She rose, undid her gown and allowed herself
to sit astride him, facing him and the window. She wrapped her
arms about his neck and kissed him hungrily, mashing her breasts
against his chest. His hands moved with a mind of their own to
her buttocks, squeezing and caressing.
She could feel his
desire, straining between her thighs. She lifted herself slightly
and with one hand to guide her impaled herself on his member.
She found that her feet could just touch the floor, and so she
began moving in a most agreeable manner.
They found their
rhythm and Frederick spent his time assaulting her neck and throat.
Anne gazed at the moon reflecting off the waves - that is, when
her eyes did not roll back into her head. While he could not
achieve the depths inside her that more proper locations for
lovemaking afforded, the unseemliness of their current location
for this occupation only spurred her libido. She felt wanton,
but she knew her husband enjoyed her aggressiveness.
She contemplated
her current happiness. She found their physical compatibility
as enjoyable as she could expect; the difference in their respective
heights meant that she could easily enjoy his neck and lips when
they made love. What she found most satisfying was the feeling
of oneness that physical congress offered. She knew she was lost;
she belonged to Frederick body, mind and soul. To know that he
desired her - not just her body but her presence, her mind, her
opinions - filled her tender heart to overflowing. She was drowning
in her love for him. That it was apparent that he returned her
affections in equal measure made her dizzy with love and lust.
For his part, Frederick
could not believe his luck. For so many years her loved Anne
in vain. Now she was here, in his arms, and she was much more
than a dream come true. He too longed for the oneness that love
offered. At times as these, he was not the towering sea-captain
or affectionate husband, but her devoted slave. He would do anything
for her - to retain her favor.
"Frederick…"
She was close. "Frederick…touch me…please."
"Wh…where,
love?"
She guided his hand
to her secret place. She gasped as he took the hint and allowed
his digits to entertain her. It quickly became apparent to him
that the kindness he offered was appreciated, as his wife began
trembling in a now-familiar manner. Remembering another encounter,
his other hand stole to the cleft of her buttocks. It served
- she would have screamed had not their violent kiss muffled
their voices.
It was all delightful.
Nowak walked by
the Marine guard outside the cabin as the sound of a chair scratching
across the floor come from the other side of the door. The two
looked at each other with a grin, sharing a common thought: They're
at it again.
Captain and Mrs.
Wentworth would be mortified in the extreme had they any inkling
on how badly they had failed to keep their more romantic activities
secret from the crew. They were more successful with the officers;
as gentlemen (or at least men desired to be considered gentlemen)
they knew how to shut their eyes and ears; how to ignore and
overlook. If any boorish midshipman broke the unspoken rule -
what happens in the Captain's cabin was no one's concern - he
was dealt with promptly and harshly.
Below decks it was
different. It was common knowledge that the Queen of the Barky
fancied the ship's captain; fancied him quiet thoroughly and
regularly. In fact, though no one was keeping actual count, if
questioned most men before the mast could hazard a quite accurate
guess as to the number of times the gentleman and lady in question
merrily hocked about the place.
There were those
who took it badly; envious that the captain had someone to keep
his bed warm. But they were a very small minority - and quiet
about their opinion of the matter, if they wished to escape a
beating from the other hands. Captain Wentworth was popular with
the men, and Mrs. Wentworth became a mother figure to them all.
Was it not to be expected that mother and father should engage
in a bit of tickle now and again? Those that were married hoped
that their reunions would be as amorous. Those who had doxies
and "port-wives" (girlfriends) awaiting them in Bermuda
could only sigh in anticipation. And if there were any of the
"other" persuasion aboard they were exceedingly careful
to keep their activities surreptitious, as a hangman's noose
awaited any convicted of violating Article 29 - "the
unnatural and detestable sin of buggery or sodomy with man or
beast."
It could be safely
said that the crew took pride in the affection between the Wentworths.
The couple would not know of it; it would not do for the crew
to so embarrass them as to let them know that they knew. But
should Wentworth ever become aware of it, he would probably like
it better than the new nickname for him below decks: Ready
Freddy.
Anne lay by her
husband's side in their cot, she gazing at his long, lean body.
She knew many seamen showed the results of their years at sea.
Frederick was fortunate - to her eyes he looked the same as he
did in 1806. Was she blinded by her love for him? She cared not.
"Anne? Are
you awake?" came a groggy voice from the other side.
"Yes. Did I
wake you? I am sorry."
"No…what
is amiss? Are you in discomfort?"
"No, Frederick;
but I am happy you are awake. I must tell you something."
"What - what
is it?"
She reached over
a stoked his chest. "Before he left, I had a private word
with Stephen - Dr. Maturin..."
"Are you on
a first name basis with him now?"
"Yes, he has
been a good friend - to both of us. I needed his advice
about something I could never share with Dr. Powell."
"What advice
was that?"
"Frederick…it
is very early, but… I wanted to know what my…duties
should be if…I am…"
"What? You
are what?"
She smiled. "If
my darling husband has got me with child."
Frederick jumped
up, rocking the bed. "Anne! Are you certain?"
"No - no I
am not. Frederick please…I will not know for certain for
some time… It may be nothing. Frederick, has Sophy told
you anything about what women experience each month?"
"Yes, I know
about it. Has your…blast it, there's no other word for it!
Have your courses ended?"
"I don't know.
Frederick, this is mortifying…"
"We are married.
You can share anything with me."
"Frederick,
not all women are…consistent."
"Oh… But
you suspect?"
"I wanted good
advice…in case I am."
"And what advice
was that?"
She touched his
face. "That I may remain a wife to you."
Frederick was puzzled
until realization filled his brain. "Oh! Anne, is it not
dangerous? I mean, for the child that may be?"
"Not according
to Stephen."
"Truly? I have
heard stories…"
She laughed. "About
frightening the child? I asked about that. He assured me that
it does no harm, as long as we are gentle."
"I do not know…should
we take any chances?"
She moved her hand
lower. "Do you still think so? Ah, I think you are changing
your mind."
"Anne! That
is unfair! You know I cannot resist you when you…"
"I know,"
she whispered as she kissed him.
"Should I lower
the cot, dear?"
"No…"
a kiss, "I think we may attempt it."
Frederick's last
thought before surrendering to his wife's attentions was: If
you are right, then you are truly my friend, Stephen.
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