Burning Bright (27 page)

Elinor looked at the men surrounding the table. “But I am certain this is not what the First Lord wanted,” she said.

“So am I, but there’s nothing I can do about it until Whitehall wakes up. Arthur, I want you Speaking to your contacts in seven hours—that should give them time to take their morning coffee. Mr. Fitzgerald, find Mr. Hervey and tell him to be ready to Bound when I have an appointment. Miss Pembroke…” Ramsay took her hand and squeezed it, almost painfully tight. “I will resolve this. Until then, well, Crawford may be an ass, but he’s not a bad captain, and I’m certain he’ll treat you well.”

“Your face makes your mouth a liar,” Elinor said.

He released her. “What am I supposed to tell you? I have no idea where Crawford’s going or what instructions Admiral Durrant’s given him. I don’t even know if they understand your capabilities!”

“I am certain I will be able to endure whatever this new…adventure…brings,” Elinor said with a wry smile, and he laughed once, bitterly. Elinor pushed her chair away from the table, prompting the men to stand, and Ramsay said, “You’re finished already?”

“I find my appetite is not what it should be. Please excuse me, gentlemen.” Ramsay looked as if he wanted to protest, and Elinor had to flee to her room because she had an unexpected urge to start crying.

She lifted her battered trunk to the bed and tossed her clothes into it, including her new gown, still in its paper wrapping. She looked at her evening gown, fingered the rose-figured white gauze over dark pink silk, and left it hanging in the cupboard like a promise she would return. Then she put out the lantern and returned to the great cabin, where Ramsay sat alone, eating chicken and boiled potatoes as if they were enemy ships he could dissect and consume. “Will I…is the boat ready?”

Ramsay nodded, not raising his head. “You’ll take my gig. The coxswain has his orders.
Glorious
isn’t anchored far away. I expect, from what the admiral said, you should be shipping out in the morning.”

Elinor set her suitcase down with a thump. “Then why could they not allow me to stay the night?”

Ramsay laid his knife and fork down on his plate, neatly crossing one another, and finally looked at her. “This is every bit the power play you suspect it is,” he said in a low voice, as if he feared eavesdroppers. “Your display convinced Admiral Durrant he needs your very valuable talent, and he doesn’t want me taking all the glory of it when his nephew—yes, Crawford is his nephew—might benefit instead. This ‘Scorcher ship’ he’s proposed sounds noble and tactically sound, but it’s actually an excuse to promote Crawford’s interests and, incidentally, give me a metaphorical poke in the eye. Miss Pembroke, I sincerely apologize for your being caught up in what is essentially a political battle.”

“I did not realize I was a pawn,” Elinor said, turning away toward the window. The sun had set fully and the air was a deep-blue haze that mingled with the darker blue of the water. “I had thought, having so much power, that I had some control. But I see how naïve I have been.”

“What I fear is that the First Lord intended this all along. I swear to you, Miss Pembroke, I
will
return you to
Athena
if it’s within my power to do so.”

“I have faith in you, Captain.”

He laughed that short, bitter laugh again. “Someone has to.” He pushed back from the table and Moved her trunk into the air. “May I escort you to the gig, Miss Pembroke?”

She took his arm and, feeling as if she were walking to her own funeral, went up the companionway and across the deck for what might be the last time. Seamen came forward from the depths of the lower deck and crowded close to where the companionway opened up, their faces grave. Whispers grew to full-voiced murmurs, and then men were calling out farewells. Elinor couldn’t stop herself shedding a few tears, struggling to keep them from turning into a flood.

By the davits that held the captain’s gig, she turned and waved as it was lowered into the water. Now they were shouting “
Hip hip hurrah!”
and the coxswain and crew clambered over the side, then Ramsay himself helped her into the bo’sun’s chair and she was lowered into the boat. She kept her eyes resolutely ahead, this time not out of fear, but because she dared not look up at the friend she was leaving. She took her seat, her trunk was settled, and the oarsmen began pulling with long, smooth strokes, taking her toward a new ship that could never be her home.

The ships in the new, partially finished harbor were visible only as gleaming lights high above the ocean’s surface. “Hoy, the boat,” someone called out from the first one.

“
Athena
,” the coxswain replied, but the captain’s gig didn’t slow. Elinor watched them as the boat glided past each twinkling constellation, thinking,
This is the one
, and then,
No, this one
, when the first fell behind them.

After they had passed three ships, each hailing them and receiving the same response, the oarsmen turned toward a set of lights more numerous and higher up than the others, lights that resolved themselves into a ship quite a bit larger than
Athena
with the word GLORIOUS barely visible in the glow from the stern lanterns. “Hoy, the boat!” someone called out.

The oarsmen brought the boat up against the hull with a tap, and one of them shouted, “
Athena
for
Glorious
!”

After a moment, a shadowy head looked down at them. “Who’s there?”

“Miss Pembroke from th’
Athena
wants to come aboard!”

“Wait a bit.” The head disappeared. Elinor looked up in time to dodge a flying bundle that landed on the seat next to her: the bo’sun’s chair. With the oarsmen’s help, she disentangled the cords and settled herself. As she was jerked and tugged into the air, she closed her eyes and breathed in deep lungsful of briny, warm air tinged with the now-familiar smell of tar and lacquer and, more distantly, the musty smell of damp canvas. This was temporary. Ramsay would have her assigned back to
Athena
and Durrant would be put in his place. She could endure for a few days, or a week.

She opened her eyes in time to see the rail and the netting full of canvas bundles, then she was over the deck and alighting as easily as if she rode in bo’sun’s chairs every day. “Good evening,” she said to the sailors, unexpectedly crisp in their striped shirts and brown trousers.

Glorious
smelled different from
Athena
, though Elinor could not identify the difference beyond noting that someone was cooking cabbage somewhere below. The upper deck was not flush the whole length of it; three steps on both the larboard and starboard sides led up to the quarterdeck, with the wheel centered in front of the mizzenmast. The deck was quiet, almost empty except for the handful of sailors who’d hauled her up. Everyone else would be at supper. Now these men stood in a rough semicircle around her, shifting their weight and staring as if they’d never seen a woman before.

“Could one of you please take me to see Captain Crawford?” Elinor said, and had a flash of déjà vu as she recalled having made the same request upon first boarding
Athena
, all those weeks ago.

The men exchanged furtive glances, and just as Elinor worked out they were each trying to pass an unpleasant task off on someone else, a lieutenant came quickly down from the quarterdeck, a little out of breath. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “we didn’t expect you quite so soon.”

Elinor ground her teeth. He insisted on disrupting her life, but was unprepared for her arrival? It was one more way Crawford exerted his power over her. “Captain Crawford?” she said, not caring about politeness. The lieutenant’s face flushed. He tipped his hat to her and indicated that she should precede him below.

The companionway looked much like
Athena’
s—
how long will it take me to stop comparing this ship to her? Will I be here that long?—
but the door to the captain’s quarters was farther away from it and less finely crafted. Elinor felt obscurely gratified on
Athena’s
behalf. The lieutenant passed the Marine sentry on duty at the great cabin door, knocked, and received no response. With a furtive glance at Elinor, he knocked again.

This time the door was yanked open by Crawford, who shouted, “What the devil—” before recognizing her. “You,” he said, less angrily. “I suppose you should come in.” He turned and walked away without waiting for her; Elinor closed the door behind her. She hadn’t liked Crawford before, and she liked him even less now he was the executor of Durrant’s plan.

“Captain Crawford,” she began, just as Crawford said, “Miss Pembroke—”

“Please go ahead, Captain,” Elinor said. “I am certain you were going to answer whatever questions I might have.”

Crawford sprawled on a three-sided settee in one corner beneath the windows. The great cabin was larger than
Athena’s
, though its windows were the same, and the walls were bare except for the captain’s swords, hanging on the starboard side near the quarter cabin’s sliding door. The remnants of the captain’s supper lay on the table; he had dined alone, but by the number of dishes remaining Elinor guessed he ate enough for two. How he kept that slim figure was a mystery.

He was an attractive man, with fine, strong cheekbones and a well-shaped mouth and straight nose, though his looks were spoiled by scowl lines etched into his face, and there were grease stains on his uniform. That Ramsay had won that young woman’s heart over Crawford’s blandishments made perfect sense to Elinor; Crawford might be objectively more handsome, but Ramsay’s self-assuredness and quiet air of authority made him far more attractive on the whole.

“I don’t know how Ramsay’s put up with having a woman on board,” Crawford muttered, then in a louder voice said, “I expect you to obey orders when you’re given them. You won’t get any special treatment here. Don’t expect me to go offering you my arm all the time; I have no use for pretty manners on my ship. You’ll be issued a uniform, and you and the other Scorchers will mess and bunk in the gunroom. In the morning I’ll explain what the admiral’s ordered us to do.”

Elinor missed the last part of this speech because her mind had caught hold of a key phrase. “Issue me a uniform, Captain?”

“You’re a member of my crew now, and you Scorchers will have your own uniform, something to set you apart from the rest. Durrant’s orders. Besides, you’re too conspicuous in that gown.”

“I
beg
your pardon, Captain, but I will not sacrifice my modesty like that!”

“You’ll do as you’re told or suffer the consequences,” Crawford said.

“And what, pray tell, would those consequences be? You cannot have me flogged, Captain!”

“No,” he said, his voice going low and vicious, “but I can have you sent home, dismissed without pay. I think you don’t want that.”

The blood drained from her face. “You would not.”

“I would. Now get down to the gunroom and talk to Lieutenant Fischer. I expect you to be properly clothed when I see you in the morning. Dismissed.”

Furious, mute, Elinor hurried away, afraid she might not be able to control her tongue. Yes, Crawford would most certainly send her home if she refused to obey, and Elinor was beginning to understand how much power Admiral Durrant had over her. Home, with nothing to show for it—her reputation might not be ruined, but she would once again be trapped in a life of slow suffocation. She had no choice.
Oh, Captain Ramsay, find a solution quickly.

She found the stairs leading down to the lower deck, where the noise of supper rose to meet her; the steps were battered, scarred from years of service the way
Athena’
s were not, but they were also smoothed from the passage of hundreds of feet, and she stopped for a moment to breathe in the cabbage-scented air and calm herself. She would do herself no favors by being angry and recalcitrant.

She continued her descent more slowly, moving quietly so as not to draw the attention of the talking, shouting, laughing men pounding the tables. At least the deck was familiar in that respect; the men on
Athena
would be having their supper now as well, and afterward there was to have been music—she forced herself not to think of it, to focus her thoughts on the worn planks that creaked beneath her weight.

The gunroom had no door, only a great opening through which Elinor found a table, as well-used as the stairs, and a handful of men laughing over after-supper drinks. They all went silent and leaped to their feet when she appeared at the edge of the circle of lamplight over the table. “Miss,” said one of the lieutenants, “uh, good evening, Miss.” He was a little portly, with greying hair, and he didn’t meet her eyes.

“I was told to report to Lieutenant Fischer,” Elinor said.

“That’s me, Miss. I, uh, there’s a room for you, and I’ll get you one of the new uniforms.” He made no move to leave.

“She can share my hammock any time,” one of the men said, none too softly, to his neighbor, who chuckled. Elinor’s heart sank. How had she gone this long without threat of assault from her fellow officers?

“I thank you for the compliment, sir,” she said, extending her hand as if offering to shake his, “but I fear you would find me an…overly warm companion.” She lit her hand on fire and let the gem-colored flames spread across her palm and up her arm to the elbow.

The man swore and fell out of his chair backward in his attempt to get away from her. The others drew a breath in unison, making a sound like the wind sweeping through the sails. Elinor held onto the fire for a few seconds longer, then put it out. “Mr. Fischer, I believe you mentioned a room?”

“Uh,” Fischer said, his eyes as wide as the plate at his left hand, and made a gesture with his hands that Elinor interpreted as meaning “follow me.” He opened one of the doors, which was actually a rectangle of canvas hung crookedly within the frame, and showed her a cube of a space with nothing but her trunk in one corner and a bundled hammock and a small unlit lantern hanging from the ceiling. Elinor caught her breath.
I cannot sleep in a hammock.
She opened her mouth to protest, remembered Crawford’s pleased, vicious smile, and shut it again. “Thank you,” she said. “I am surprised you keep spare clothing aboard. I believed the men were required to provide for themselves.”