following wind and leaped forward, leaving the frigate still plunging forward towards the rocks.
Meg could hear the cries and shouts from the frigate as they saw what was ahead of them. She had a fair sense now of what the scurrying, clambering sailors were doing as the enemy ship tried to go about, but she was much bigger, much more cumbersome than the dainty sloop and the turn took much longer. There was a great rasping and crashing of timbers filling the stillness of the night air, and the frigate came to a shuddering, straining halt.
The
Mary Rose
danced away towards the open sea and Cosimo after a minute handed the wheel to Mike and came over to Meg, wiping his brow with his shirtsleeve. Despite the cool wind the physical effort of the last fifteen minutes had made him sweat.
“What will happen to them?” she asked.
He smiled. “They’ll stay there nice and secure until the navy turns up,” he told her, sounding, she thought, rather smug. “There are two English men-of-war somewhere out there in the Channel. They’ll come this way sometime after dawn. And they’ll find a nice fat prize all wrapped up and beribboned awaiting them.”
He looked up at the sky, noticing the first faint graying in the east. Meg followed his eyes. “It seems to have been a very short night,” she said, even as she thought that an eternity seemed to have passed since they’d shared that electric supper under the stars.
He nodded. “You’re tired. Go below and get some sleep. We’ll be making for harbor within the hour.”
Meg after a second’s reflection decided not to say that she wasn’t particularly tired. Or even that she’d prefer to stay on deck. One of those looks in a night was quite sufficient. She made her way to the cabin, where Gus squawked a “G’day” at the sound of the door opening. She took it to mean that he was ready to face the light and removed the silk cover on his cage. He greeted her with a beady eye and hopped along the perch and out of the cage, then he swooped onto the windowsill and regarded the growing light with an air of intelligent interest.
Meg scratched his poll and then stretched out on the cot, careful not to jolt her bandaged arm. She didn’t bother to take her boots off; she’d go back on deck shortly.
She didn’t hear the door open an hour later, and was unaware as Cosimo removed her boots and spread the coverlet over her. He stood watching her sleep for a few minutes, a considering frown in his eyes.
Meg Barratt had carried herself well that night. She’d shown less wild exhilaration than Ana would have, but she’d managed her apprehension well. She would not cave under danger, he decided. But she showed some awkward scruples. Ana wouldn’t have spared a moment’s anxiety as to the fate of the enemy vessel and those aboard her. Like him, she had thought only for their goal. The enemy was just that, and all was fair in war.
Could Meg Barratt be persuaded to lend herself to the plan in hand? She had an unconventional streak in her, that much was very clear. She was no ordinary maiden lady. But that aside, she had been sheltered for the most part from the harsh realities of life at war. Could she accept an assassin’s task? Understand the need for it?
He pursed his lips. He couldn’t act precipitately. He needed to tread carefully, to take his time to learn her, but the devil of it was, he had no time to spare. He was scheduled to remain on Sark for no more than three days, waiting for any dispatches that he could pass on to Admiral Nelson’s fleet when eventually he caught up with it. And in those three days he would be hoping against hope that he would get some clue as to Ana’s fate. After that, come hell or high water, he had to continue his mission.
Chapter 6
M eg was aware of pain, at first vague and unspecific, as she swam groggily back to consciousness. She lay still for a minute with her eyes shut, feeling the deep throbbing ache in her arm. The
Meg could hear the cries and shouts from the frigate as they saw what was ahead of them. She had a fair sense now of what the scurrying, clambering sailors were doing as the enemy ship tried to go about, but she was much bigger, much more cumbersome than the dainty sloop and the turn took much longer. There was a great rasping and crashing of timbers filling the stillness of the night air, and the frigate came to a shuddering, straining halt.
The
Mary Rose
danced away towards the open sea and Cosimo after a minute handed the wheel to Mike and came over to Meg, wiping his brow with his shirtsleeve. Despite the cool wind the physical effort of the last fifteen minutes had made him sweat.
“What will happen to them?” she asked.
He smiled. “They’ll stay there nice and secure until the navy turns up,” he told her, sounding, she thought, rather smug. “There are two English men-of-war somewhere out there in the Channel. They’ll come this way sometime after dawn. And they’ll find a nice fat prize all wrapped up and beribboned awaiting them.”
He looked up at the sky, noticing the first faint graying in the east. Meg followed his eyes. “It seems to have been a very short night,” she said, even as she thought that an eternity seemed to have passed since they’d shared that electric supper under the stars.
He nodded. “You’re tired. Go below and get some sleep. We’ll be making for harbor within the hour.”
Meg after a second’s reflection decided not to say that she wasn’t particularly tired. Or even that she’d prefer to stay on deck. One of those looks in a night was quite sufficient. She made her way to the cabin, where Gus squawked a “G’day” at the sound of the door opening. She took it to mean that he was ready to face the light and removed the silk cover on his cage. He greeted her with a beady eye and hopped along the perch and out of the cage, then he swooped onto the windowsill and regarded the growing light with an air of intelligent interest.
Meg scratched his poll and then stretched out on the cot, careful not to jolt her bandaged arm. She didn’t bother to take her boots off; she’d go back on deck shortly.
She didn’t hear the door open an hour later, and was unaware as Cosimo removed her boots and spread the coverlet over her. He stood watching her sleep for a few minutes, a considering frown in his eyes.
Meg Barratt had carried herself well that night. She’d shown less wild exhilaration than Ana would have, but she’d managed her apprehension well. She would not cave under danger, he decided. But she showed some awkward scruples. Ana wouldn’t have spared a moment’s anxiety as to the fate of the enemy vessel and those aboard her. Like him, she had thought only for their goal. The enemy was just that, and all was fair in war.
Could Meg Barratt be persuaded to lend herself to the plan in hand? She had an unconventional streak in her, that much was very clear. She was no ordinary maiden lady. But that aside, she had been sheltered for the most part from the harsh realities of life at war. Could she accept an assassin’s task? Understand the need for it?
He pursed his lips. He couldn’t act precipitately. He needed to tread carefully, to take his time to learn her, but the devil of it was, he had no time to spare. He was scheduled to remain on Sark for no more than three days, waiting for any dispatches that he could pass on to Admiral Nelson’s fleet when eventually he caught up with it. And in those three days he would be hoping against hope that he would get some clue as to Ana’s fate. After that, come hell or high water, he had to continue his mission.
Chapter 6
M eg was aware of pain, at first vague and unspecific, as she swam groggily back to consciousness. She lay still for a minute with her eyes shut, feeling the deep throbbing ache in her arm. The
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