Regency Debutantes: The Captain's Lady / Mistaken Mistress. Margaret McPhee
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fill with saliva and could not help but lick her lips.
‘Come on, lad.’
The pie danced closer, calling to Georgiana with an allure that she had never experienced before. Her hand reached out and enclosed around the vision of temptation.
Burly Jack delivered an affectionate blow to her arm before the trio headed off towards the closest tavern.
Georgiana slumped against the wall. She bit through the pastry until delicious gravy spurted into her mouth, so hot that she could see the wisps of steam escape into the coolness of the surrounding air. Squatting down, she leaned her back against the rough-hewn stone behind her and chewed upon the heavenly chunks of mutton. It was strange just how contenting the simple act of filling one’s empty belly could be. Gravy trickled down her chin and she lapped it back up. She was just wiping the grease from her fingers down Francis’s brown woollen breeches when it happened.
Yells. Thuds. The sound of Burly Jack’s voice raised in anger and fear.
Georgiana started up like a scared rabbit, peering all around. The voices came from the other side of the wall. Darting through the gate she ran round and into the narrow alleyway. ‘Jack!’ Her voice rang out clear and true.
In the gloom of the alley her travelling companions had been set upon by several men. There was much flying of fists and kicking of legs, but Georgiana could just see that Burly Jack was being thoroughly bested. Without pausing to consider her own position, she launched herself upon Jack’s attacker, ripping at his hair and boxing his ears for all she was worth.
‘Run, lad!’ Jack’s voice echoed in her ear. It was the last thing she heard before she was felled by a hefty blow to the back of her head. And then there was nothing.
Georgiana awoke to a giddy nauseous feeling. There was an undoubted sensation of swaying that would not still whether she opened her eyes or closed them. Not that it made any difference to what she could see within the dense blackness of where she now found herself.
She tried to sit up, but the throbbing of her head increased so dramatically that she thought the remnants of the mutton pie would leap from her stomach.
‘George, is you awake yet?’ The unmistakable tone of Burly Jack’s voice sounded.
‘Yes, sir.’ She groaned. ‘Where are we? I can’t see anythin'.’
A hand landed on her thigh and she let out a squeak.
‘There you are, lad. Did them bastards ‘urt you? Looked like they landed you a right good ‘un on the ‘ead.’ Jack’s hand moved up to her arm. She prayed it would stray no further.
‘I’ll mend,’ she uttered, trying to quell the queasiness rising in her stomach, and struggled to a sitting position.
Jack’s hand patted her arm. ‘That’s the spirit. Tom and Bill’s ‘ere too. Bastards got us all, and two others by the name of Jim and Rad.’
‘The lad sounds young.’ Rad’s voice came out of the gloom. ‘Voice ain’t broken yet.’
‘He is young, so don’t be startin’ nothin’ with ‘im or you’ll ‘ave me to answer to.’ Burly Jack’s voice had lost its soft edge.
It seemed that Georgiana had found something of a protector within the smelly dark hovel. Would he remain so if he fathomed her secret? It was not a question that she wished to test. The rocking motion seemed to be getting worse, just as her eyes had adjusted to see grey shapes within the surrounding darkness. And with it grew her nausea. ‘Dear Lord!’ The curse escaped her as the retching began.
‘Easy, lad.’ Burly Jack’s voice sounded close. ‘You’ll get used to it soon enough and then it won’t never come back. Seasickness ain’t a pleasant feeling, but there ain’t nothin’ can be done about it.’
‘Seasickness?’ Georgiana questioned with a feeble tone.
‘Oh, aye, lad. What d’you think them fellows wanted with us? They’re the bloody Press Gang and you’re aboard ship now.’ Jack’s words had a horrible nightmarish quality about them.
She blinked her eyes into the darkness. ‘You must be wrong, sir.’
‘Nope,’ Jack replied with a definite cheery tone. ‘You’re a ship’s boy on the Pallas now, young George, whether you like it or not. Best get used to the idea before the bosun comes to fetch us.’
Georgiana let out a load groan and dropped her head into her hands. She was once again in a diabolical situation as the result of her own foolhardy actions. But this time there would be no handsome Lord Nathaniel Hawke to jump headlong in and save her.
‘You’ve interviewed them all, Mr Anderson. So what do we have?’ Nathaniel continued in his stride towards the small group of men standing at the far end of the main deck.
Lieutenant Anderson walked briskly alongside. ‘Good news, Captain Hawke, sir. There are five men, three of whom have plenty of experience at sea. I’ve rated them as able seamen, sir. The other two are landsmen, never set foot on a ship before, but I estimate that they’ll be quick to learn. All are now registered on the Pallas’ books.’
Nathaniel’s face was grim. ‘It sickens me to the pit of my stomach that I’m forced to resort to such a thing. I’d rather have them here willingly or not at all.’
‘You’re only following orders, Captain,’ the first lieutenant pointed out. ‘And I fancy that they’ll soon change their minds as to a life at sea once they’ve sailed on the Pallas.’
Nathaniel remained unconvinced, but he had a job to do and he had best get on with it, no matter that having pressed men aboard his ship left a bitter taste in his mouth. ‘Three able seamen, you say?’
‘Oh, and there’s a lad of fourteen as well. It seems that he was with the sailors when they were taken by Captain Bodmin’s men. We’re still short on ship’s boys, so I’ve rated him as a third class. Mr Adams is under the impression that the boy is dim-witted; indeed, I did notice that he keeps his head down and mumbles when spoken to. But I thought…well, with the need to leave port that …’ John Anderson struggled to find the words.
Nathaniel came to the rescue. ‘Given the right instruction I’m sure that the boy will learn. You did right, Mr Anderson. Better that he ends up here with his friends than alone aboard another ship.’ He pushed the stories of what had happened to lone youngsters on certain other ships out of his head. Not while Nathaniel Hawke had breath in his body would any such depravity take place on the Pallas.
The pressed men stood separately from the rest of the crew, forming a small distinct group. As Nathaniel and John Anderson approached, the group stiffened and stood to attention.
‘Stand at ease, men,’ Lieutenant Anderson commanded.
The men responded.
Nathaniel stood before his crew and surveyed the latest additions. ‘Welcome to the Pallas. Some of you may not be here by your own free choice, but you’re here to serve your king and country nevertheless. Our voyage may be long and difficult. Indeed, we will be exposed to many perils and threats. But as men of England I know that you will fight, as we all fight, to retain our freedom. For if our great navy does not fight, we may as well collect Bonaparte ourselves and deliver him to London’s door.’
He looked into each man’s eyes in turn.
‘This voyage is not an easy walk. I demand your obedience, your loyalty and your diligence.’
The first two faces in the line were pale, their skin tinged with a greenish hue—the landsmen, no doubt. They were listening despite their rancid stomachs.
‘In return I offer you adventure, and the chance of wealth. There are prizes out there, gentlemen, and they are ours for the taking.’
The next three were ruddy and vigorous. Two fellows of medium build and one large bear of a man. All