Her Heart's Captain (3 page)

Jenny had time for only one amazed look at the strange new world spread out on the bay before the coachman threw open the door of the carriage and let down the step. Robbie hopped down at once, but Jenny gave the coachman her hand and let him assist her to descend in proper, ladylike style.

“That'll be two shillin's, Miss,” he informed her as soon as she'd alighted. “Where do y' wish me t' drop the baggage?”

She turned to Robbie for advice, but the boy was already absorbed in scanning the coastline to catch his first glimpse of his ship, not in the least concerned with the mundane matters of finance and logistics which were occupying his sister. Nervously, she searched about in her reticule for coins with which to pay the driver. “Just leave the baggage right here,” she murmured helplessly as she pressed the coins into the man's palm.

“There she is!” Robbie shouted. “There! Out to your left. Do you see her? She's the large one with the black and yellow stripes on her side.”

The carriage lumbered off, and Jenny blinked at the sight spread out before her. The bay was dotted with what seemed like hundreds of sailing ships, most with their sails furled but some, their sails spread out to the breeze, moving majestically out to sea. Crossing back and forth between the ships and the shore was an even greater number of small, barge-like vessels, their flat surfaces covered with boxes, crates and bundles of all sizes, propelled only by men with poles and oars. And circling among them all, in far greater numbers even than the barges, were rowboats, skiffs, wherries and longboats of all descriptions, making the traffic on the port waters as busy and crowded as that on the streets. “Well,” Robbie prodded eagerly, “do you see her?”

Jenny shielded her eyes and peered intently in the direction in which he was pointing, but she was unable to single out the
Providential
from all the other vessels that lay at anchor in the bay. Besides, there was such a blur of color and movement that she could hardly distinguish
anything
. In all that confusion of sail and rigging, of motion and activity, of bright spring sunshine casting glints of dazzle from the water to her eyes, how could she possibly identify one particular ship? And then she saw it. “Oh,
my
!” she breathed, awestruck.

She couldn't imagine how she'd missed seeing the ship at once; it was indeed the most impressive vessel in the harbor. Even with the sails furled, the
Providential
looked tall. There seemed to be three decks visible above the water line, their size emphasized by the wide yellow stripes painted on the black hull. Even from the shore she could see the enormous number of gun-ports, the bewildering tangle of ropes and ladders that hung from the masts, and the golden gleam of the gilded carvings on the prow. Brother and sister, standing side by side in the midst of the bustle of the dock, both gaped at the sight with quite similar expressions of wonder.

But Robbie, too excited to stand motionless for very long, soon shook himself into action. “You stay right here with the baggage until I find out how I get to the ship,” he instructed and promptly ran off. Before Jenny could object, he'd disappeared into the crowd.

Jenny, somewhat disconcerted at being so abruptly deserted, sat down on the curved lid of the trunk, drew the other boxes protectively close and looked about her. People and vehicles milled about the area in a seemingly endless parade. There were sailors of all ages in a wide variety of styles of dress, men and women of all classes, carriages, carts and wagons of every kind, and even a mongrel dog sniffing around a pile of sacks looking for a tear or opening. She watched in some amusement as the animal found a tiny hole, put his tongue inside, tasted the contents and then trotted off in disdain. Whatever the sacks contained, they were beneath the dog's standard fare.

After many minutes of observing the passers-by, she became aware of being observed herself. A tall, well-dressed gentleman, standing some distance from her and leaning negligently against a huge stack of crates, seemed to be studying her with a rather rude intensity. Catching his eye, she felt her cheeks flush hotly, and she turned away at once. How awkward, she felt, to be unchaperoned in such a public place. She wished Robbie would return at once. Her eyes searched through the crowd in the direction in which he'd gone, but there was no sign of him. Nervously, she glanced back toward the stranger. Yes, he was still watching her. Again their eyes met, and again she looked away in keen embarrassment. Why on earth was he staring at her so?

The only proper response to such boldness, she decided, was to ignore its existence, and so, by sheer exercise of will, she kept herself from glancing at him again, although the desire to do so was surprisingly strong. But after a few moments, something occurred to drive the stranger from her mind. There was a sudden shouting to her right, and a dirty little urchin of eight or nine came running by. When he'd gone no more than six paces past her, he tripped and fell. A woman in a garish dress and unruly hair trotted up after him, grabbed him by the neck and hauled him to his feet. “Y' rotten li'l filcher,” she shouted, beating him about the shoulders with a rickety umbrella, “I whiddled the 'ole scrap!”

“Ow!
Stop
!” the boy yowled. “I din't mean nuffin'.”

“Gammon! 'Ow many times do I 'ave t' tell yer not t' go liftin' wut ain't yours?” And she kept at him with her umbrella despite his cries.

Jenny couldn't bear it. She jumped up from her perch and ran up to the woman, catching her arm in a strong grip. “Don't, ma'am,” she ordered firmily. “You'll do the child an injury if you're not careful.”

The woman blinked at Jenny, her anger seeming to crumble. “'E staled a sweet right from under the baker's nose,” she said, breaking into sniffles. “'E's me very own brat, but 'e ain't no good. Beatin's too good fer 'im, m' lady, take me word on 't.”

“Oh, no, ma'am,” Jenny said earnestly. “I'm certain he'd listen to you if only you'd speak to him gently.” She released the woman's arm, knelt down and lifted the boy's chin so that the blue eyes in that grimy face were almost level with her own. “You're a good boy at heart, aren't you, my lad? You wouldn't have stolen anything if you'd understood that it's a very bad thing to have done, would you?”

“No, m' lady,” the boy mumbled.

“Of course you wouldn't. You'd like to be a good boy, wouldn't you? Especially if you knew how happy it would make your mother?”

“Yes, 'm.”

“I knew it.” Jenny smiled and patted the child's head. “There's a good lad. Now, tell your mother how sorry you are for what you've done, and promise her that you'll never again—”

“
Gawd
!” the mother muttered suddenly. Jenny looked up to see that the woman wasn't watching her at all but was staring off at something behind Jenny's back, all motherly concern wiped out of her face. “Gawd,” she said again, snatching the boy's arm with a warning yank, “let's 'op it. I think 'e's cotched it.”

“
Blimey
!” the boy swore in a tone of shockingly mature disgust, and the two of them dashed off into the crowd.

Jenny got to her feet and stared after them in confusion. Their behavior made no sense at all. The mother's tears and the boy's pathetic expression had dropped from their faces like those of actors when the curtain falls. Had they been acting a little scene for her benefit? But
why
? What did they hope to gain by—?

With a blinding awareness, Jenny gasped and wheeled round to where she'd left the baggage. Of the five pieces—the trunk, the portmanteau, the toilet case and the two hatboxes—only one hatbox remained. Everything else was gone!

Chapter Three

Jenny clapped her hand to her mouth in chagrin, but not before a cry of frustration and self-disgust escaped her. How could she have been so
stupid
? She'd let herself be duped by what must be the most obvious trick in all Christendom.

Her eyes searched the crowd for a sign of the baggage or a glimpse of the woman and the miscreant boy, but there was none. Her baggage, the person who'd stolen it, the woman and the child who'd distracted her—they'd all melted away into the throng which milled about on the dock. And of all the people surrounding her, none seemed to have noticed her distress or her predicament, so intent were they all on their own concerns. She could think of nothing to do, no one to call on for help. There she stood in the midst of the indifferent throng, transfixed, immobilized, helpless. How could she have let this happen? How would she ever be able to explain to Robbie what she'd done? How was he to begin his new career with only the clothes he wore on his back? There would be no time in which to order new clothing, and Robbie had told her that promotions in the Navy could hinge on an officer's dress and appearance. In one thoughtless moment she'd blighted his prospects for the future.

In abject misery, compounded by her humiliation at her shameful naivete, she picked up the hatbox and began to move through the crowd in the direction in which Robbie had gone. She'd not walked very far, however, when someone tapped her shoulder. With a frightened little gasp, she turned to find herself face-to-face with the stranger who'd been eyeing her a little while before. He was even taller than he'd seemed from a distance, his face lined and weatherbeaten, and his dark eyes disconcertingly piercing. He looked down at her with an air of unconcealed disapproval. “I beg your pardon, 'ma'am,” he said as, unsmilingly civil, he removed his hat, “but I believe these belong to you.”

She gaped at him in bewilderment until she noticed that he was followed by a sailor trundling a wheelbarrow into which Robbie's trunk, portmanteau, toilet case and missing hatbox had been piled. “Oh, my
baggage
!” she cried in delighted relief. “However did you—?”

“I saw the fellow steal it,” the gentleman explained curtly and turned to help the sailor unload the barrow.
Of course he'd seen the fellow steal it
, she said to herself in sudden comprehension.
He'd been staring at me all that time
. She felt herself flush again. He
had
been watching her, and with quite blatant impropriety. Therefore, he must have witnessed the entire incident. He'd stood there and observed her foolish behavior in every humiliating detail. For a fleeting moment she felt a flash of anger at his rudeness in having stared at her and thus having been witness to her stupidity. But the feeling passed in a wave of gratitude. If he hadn't been watching her, he wouldn't have seen the thief, and he wouldn't have been able to save her from a most difficult fix. “How did you manage to recover it?” she asked, unable to mask her admiration.

The gentleman shrugged, tossed a gold coin to the sailor and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “It wasn't a difficult feat, ma'am. The thief was not aware that he'd been observed, and since he was burdened by the baggage, he was easy game.”

“It doesn't sound at all easy to me,” Jenny said, trying to find a graceful way to express her gratitude.

“You may take my word on it, ma'am. I simply blocked his path, knocked him down (which took very little effort, since his arms were burdened with his loot), and sent for the warehouse guards. At least he won't be free to play his games any more—not for a long time. I wish I could say the same for the woman and the boy who assisted him in his chicanery. Even though I gave the guards their descriptions, I very much doubt they'll be caught.”

“I hope they aren't,” Jenny murmured, half to herself.

His eyebrows rose in surprised disdain. “You hope they aren't caught?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I know that what they did was very dreadful, but since you so very courageously restored my things to me, I find I can't wish them harm.”

“I think, ma'am—if you permit me to be blunt—that you're much too tenderhearted,” he said coldly. “These docks are infested with thieves—so much so that they are creating serious losses for the shipping companies. If many of them escape punishment, the problem will be exacerbated beyond repair.”

“Nevertheless,” Jenny said shyly, “I wouldn't like to think of a poor woman and a little child languishing in prison because of me.”

“It would
not
be because of you.” He frowned at her in disgust. “It would be because of their own moral turpitude. Don't you realize, ma'am, that if society is to function smoothly, the law must be upheld? Criminals, if judged guilty, must be made to face the full weight of retribution which the law specifies. Otherwise, society will be overwhelmed with undiscipline and disorder.”

Something in his tone made Jenny glance up at him with interest. She noted that his square jaw was set in firm, forbidding lines and that his eyes glinted with a cold implacability. She was sure he could not be more than five-and-thirty, but his voice and expression bespoke such authority and self-possession that he seemed older. He was not a man who would easily be crossed, she realized, or who would readily forgive a transgression. He seemed very sure of himself, as if he were accustomed to having his own way. Even in this instance, he was looking down at her as if he expected instant agreement. “In theory, sir,” she said in her quiet way, “I'm sure you're quite correct, but I, myself, would find it very difficult to sentence anyone to prison after I'd looked into his eyes.”

“Fustian, ma'am. Pure fustian. You're expressing the most blatant sentimentality.”

“Yes, I'm afraid I
am
given to sentimentality at times,” she admitted with a small sigh.

He stared down at her for a moment as if he were about to scold her, but suddenly his expression softened. “Then I'm very glad, ma'am,” he said, a smile appearing on his hitherto forbidding face, “that you aren't a judge or a magistrate. We'd find ourselves in a pretty pickle if you were.”