Burning Bright (36 page)

Elinor’s heart warmed. Of course Ramsay would not have believed it. He had faith in her—faith past death, apparently. “I suppose losing me would have looked very bad.”

“You’re valuable as well as being an attractive young lady. Definitely wouldn’t want to lose you.” Horace smiled and patted her cheek, which to Elinor’s surprise did not make her feel patronized. She rather liked the man, though how much of that was due to gratitude for rescuing her, she was not certain. She chose not to dwell on it.

“Where are we going, Captain?”
Please say
Athena
.

“Port Royal, first, and I think someone’s meeting us there to take you to Admiralty House.
Syren
doesn’t have a Bounder, shame about that, but it won’t take long. We’re about a day out, maybe closer to thirty-six hours, but we’ll try to make you as comfortable as we can. I hope you don’t mind the uniform. Everyone understands, exigencies of war and that sort of thing, but I think we can find you something better in Kingston before you have to see Admiral Durrant.”

“Thank you, Captain, I do appreciate it.” The someone meeting her might well be Stratford, if they cared about her comfort at all, and she was going to march into Durrant’s office, denounce Crawford, and insist she be returned to
Athena
or…her plan stuttered into failure at that point.

“So, young lady, I’d love to hear what’s happened to you, but I imagine that’s something Admiral Durrant ought to hear first,” Horace said.

“No, Captain, you must send word to Admiral Durrant immediately. The Brethren of the Coast have their stronghold on that island, and if he acts quickly, they might be defeated!”

“The Brethren—?” Captain Horace furrowed his brow at her. “You must be mistaken. This island is right on a major shipping route. They could not possibly go unnoticed.”

“I assure you it is true, Captain. Please, have your Speaker communicate this to Admiralty House. The pirates must be given no time to escape.”

“Calm yourself, Miss Pembroke. After the ordeal you’ve suffered, you should not exert yourself. Of course I’ll send word.”

Now
she felt patronized. He did not believe her. He might send word, but it would not be soon enough, and the pirates would not be captured. If only
Athena
had come for her! “We’ll arrange for you to meet with Admiral Durrant as soon as possible,” Horace added, patting her hand in an infuriating way, “and you can make your report to him.”

She almost told him what Crawford had done, but realized in time it might be something the Navy would have to handle internally, and said instead, “Will it be that formal?”

“Oh, they’ll sit you down and have you tell your story. Not at all like a court-martial, which you won’t have to worry about. Not like poor old Crawford.”

“Is Captain Crawford subject to a court-martial?”
Did the Seer discover his treachery as well?

Horace nodded, leaned back and scratched behind his ear. “Any time a captain loses a ship, there’s a court-martial to determine whether he’s at fault for it. A formality, plenty of witnesses to say Crawford did everything he could, and now that you’ve been rescued—he’ll be glad to learn he was wrong when he thought you were dead.”

Oh, I am certain that is not true
. “I know he will be surprised,” she said.

“We all were, except maybe Ramsay. Well, my dear, let’s find you a place to rest. You look like you could use it. I regret I can’t offer you Healing, but probably there’s someone in Admiralty House who can do something about your injuries.”

Elinor thought of the stab wound on her arm that still hurt when she raised it too high, the cuts and bruises on her feet, the rough scrapes along her arms and left cheek, and nodded. “I will be fine with a hammock, sir,” she said.

“I can’t make a lady sleep in a hammock! You’ll take my bed and nothing more to be said about it.”

“No, I am accustomed—”

“Young lady, I’ve daughters older than you, and you’ll do as you’re told. Frankly, I don’t know what the Navy was thinking, bringing you into this, Extraordinary talent or not.”

Something that had been nudging at the back of Elinor’s mind finally drew her attention. “Do…have many people learned who I am?”

“Maybe a few. With all the stink Ramsay was raising, couldn’t help but reveal the secret to people like me, since I was going to retrieve you and all that. But don’t worry. No one thinks any the less of you just because you’re serving your country, female or not.”

More people who knew…and if one of them made the right (or wrong) connection…it would not take much for word of this to reach her father’s ear. She squared her jaw. The secret couldn’t last forever; she would simply have to endure when it came out. “Thank you again, Captain.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Now, if you’d like to come on deck, or nap, or I have some books—anything you like. It sounds as if you had a rough time of it. But then in books like that
Robinson Crusoe
it’s always starting a fire that’s the hardest, and I guess you wouldn’t have any trouble with that!”

He roared at his joke, and Elinor, despite her irritation, laughed at his enjoyment. She felt freer than she had in a month.

The
Syren
made good time, arriving in Port Royal two hours after sunrise the following day. Elinor was standing at the bow, urging
Syren
to move faster with her thoughts, when they passed the famous gibbets, from which two pirates hung in chains, blackened and still stinking. Elinor watched in fascination as a large black bird landed on one of the cages and pecked at some body part inside. She felt only a little disgusted at herself for not being horrified at the sight.
But
, she told herself,
I have killed many men and I am not disgusted with myself over that, so I suppose death itself is no longer terrifying or gruesome to me
.

They sailed past the tip of the island that was formerly the city of Port Royal and came into the Royal Navy dock. Across the bay, Elinor could see the brown and red roofs of Kingston. Its harbor had so many little wooden docks jutting into it that it looked snaggle-toothed, with a fringe of brown-roofed cottages butting up against the shore. Dozens of one- and two-masted boats rowed or sailed across the bay, some of them tacking out of the entrance past
Syren
and out of sight around Jamaica’s coast.

The Naval outpost, by contrast, had a random look to it; Elinor recalled that all attempts to resettle the place after the earthquake had ultimately failed. It spoke to British tenacity that they were able to hold on here, in this place where the foundations could shift and drop them into the sea at any moment.

She stood at the bow, one hand on the rail, as
Syren
came about and dropped anchor, looked out across the harbor, and her heart gave a hard, painful thump as she saw, some distance away, a ship whose figurehead and masts and longboat suspended over the waist of the deck were as familiar to her as her own fingers.

She leaned far out over the rail and saw a small figure Skipping toward them, growing larger and larger until it turned into Stratford, who made one last Bound and came running toward Elinor to pick her up around the waist and spin her around, chanting her name until she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.

“You are no doubt destroying my reputation,” she said in his ear. “Or possibly your reputation for sanity.” Tears were spilling down her cheeks, and she was fairly certain Stratford’s eyes were moist as well.

“Don’t care,” he said, squeezing her once before releasing her. “A month with no word, and then the word is you’re dead—Elinor, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”

“I was hoping you were the one waiting to meet me here, Stratford,” she said, wiping her eyes. “May I come back to
Athena
, do you know?” She leaned around him for another look at her beloved ship, so very close now. The paint was different, black with white trim, as if such a thing could fool her.

“I think I should demand an explanation, or possibly an introduction,” Horace called out, approaching them with his hand outstretched. He pretended to frown at Stratford, and added, “And just what are your intentions, young man?”

“This is my good friend Midshipman Stratford Hervey, and he is carried away sometimes by his enthusiasm,” Elinor said. “Mr. Hervey, Captain Horace.”

Stratford shook the captain’s hand. “Very much obliged to you, sir, and Captain Ramsay’s compliments. I’m to take Miss Pembroke direct to Admiralty House.”

“You are to do nothing of the sort, Midshipman,” Horace said just as Elinor said, “Mr. Hervey, I cannot possibly appear at Admiralty House in this attire!”

Stratford looked at her in astonishment. “I can’t believe you can care about what you’re wearing after all this time, El—Miss Pembroke!”

“Nevertheless, I have been forced to wear men’s clothing for far too long, and I insist on being properly dressed before I greet the admiral.”

“
I
think you look fine,” Stratford muttered, then sighed. “All right. We can go into Kingston, but you buy the first dress we find and then we’re Bounding away. Lots of people are anxious to see you.”

Her own anxiety threatened to choke her. “We will hurry,” she said.
I have someone I need to thank for my survival.

It took some time to find an acceptable gown; Kingston was not nearly as accommodating to English sensibilities as Hamilton was, and Elinor had to depend on Stratford’s wheedling charm to convince a shopkeeper to help them, but eventually Elinor was dressed, if somewhat haphazardly, in a respectable brown cotton dress and proper undergarments, though the chemise she purchased gave her no support and made her regret the loss of her old wardrobe.

She felt an unexpected pang removing her borrowed uniform, remembering how her old one had been such a protection while she was shipwrecked, but was determined never to wear one again, since most of the memories associated with it were tied up with Crawford and
Glorious
. She was going to confront him and make him pay for abandoning her to her death. The thought filled her with a fierce pleasure.

She emerged from the great cabin to find Captain Horace waiting with his thumbs tucked into his waistband and Stratford jiggling back and forth with impatience. “I don’t know why it takes women so long to dress,” he said.

“It is a mystery of the ages, I have no doubt. Good-bye, Captain Horace, and thank you again for coming to my rescue.”

Horace clasped her extended hand and bowed over it. “Think nothing of it, my dear. Best of luck with the admiral.”

Elinor had barely withdrawn her hand before Stratford clasped her around the waist, and in a blink of insubstantiality they were in
Athena’
s Bounding chamber. “But,” she said in some surprise, “you said, directly to Admiralty House.”

“Well, those were my orders from the Admiralty, but my orders from the
captain
were to bring you here first,” Stratford said with a cheeky smile. “Didn’t think you’d complain much.”

“No, indeed,” Elinor said, her heart pounding for no reason she could understand. She was eager to see Ramsay again and thank him for not losing faith in her, but how on earth could she possibly convey her gratitude?

That was it.
Gratitude
. She did not mind owing him her life, but the word made her skin crawl. It was what her father had always demanded of her. Feeling that way toward her dear friend—it was a barrier between them, and it made her feel awkward about seeing him again. She would simply have to pretend it did not exist. She would not let it ruin their friendship. Her heart would not stop pounding.

She strode through the mess deck behind Stratford as quickly as her narrow skirt would allow. Perhaps there were things she would miss about her uniform, after all—no, showing her legs to anyone who cared to look was not worth the freedom of movement. The lower deck, the door to the gunroom, the stairs to the upper deck—they had seen more fighting, the formerly pristine planks of the deck were scarred from the gun carriages recoiling against the blast, but it was all so familiar she wanted to cry again.

“Milady! Miss Pembroke!”

She couldn’t tell who had shouted first, but in an instant the deck was trembling with the shouts and cheers of dozens of men, and then she really did cry. Feet pounded above and men crowded in at the companionway, waving and laughing, and she waved back and wiped away tears of happiness, then laughed at herself for being so moved by the cheer and approbation of a ship’s worth of sailors.

“Come along, Elinor,” Stratford said, pulling on her arm, and she waved one last time and let him draw her through the lobby and into the great cabin, where Beaumont stood looking out the windows and Ramsay sat at the table, going over some papers with a pen in his hand. He looked up as they entered, and a burden she didn’t know she was carrying fell away as he greeted her with one of those wry little smiles. “Miss Pembroke,” he said, “welcome back.”

“It is… it is good to see you, Captain,” Elinor said, feeling unaccountably weepy again. She stretched out her hand to him. “I understand I have you to thank for my rescue.”

He clasped her hand, put his other hand over both of theirs and squeezed briefly, then released her. His firm, warm hand gave her more comfort at that moment even than seeing
Syren
on the horizon, and she wanted to cling to it. “I knew you weren’t dead. Everything else was merely detail. Sit down, please. Mr. Hervey, thank you for your services. You’re dismissed.”

“Sir,” Stratford said, then turned on his heel and left, but not before tipping his hat at Elinor.

Ramsay watched him go with a look of amused exasperation. “That young man has entirely too much exuberance,” he said.

“That’s probably for the best, if you can harness it,” Beaumont said.

“No doubt.” Ramsay met Beaumont’s eyes, and the two traded looks Elinor could not read. Beaumont looked back out the window again, then said, “Let me know how it—those lists work out,” and left the room.

“What lists are those?” Elinor asked.