Black Sheep's Daughter (6 page)

 Since Teresa's mount had run off with her sidesaddle, she was forced to ride astride one of the remaining horses. She had often done so at home, but with Sir Andrew riding alongside, carefully avoiding looking her way, she was very conscious of her skirts hiked up to her knee, exposing several inches of leg above her high boots. She couldn’t forget how he had taken her in his arms when she had run from the jaguar. A tiny smile curved the corners of her mouth and she glanced at him. His eyes were fixed rigidly ahead.

 They reached the point where their new track had diverged from the old to circle the fallen tree. Teresa's horse was standing by the barrier. It rolled its eyes nervously but came when she called. Rejecting Sir Andrew's assistance, she slid to the ground and tied the spare horse to a sapling, then used a stump to hoist herself onto the sidesaddle. She rearranged her skirts with great care, then grinned at her companion.

 "Better?" she asked.

 "Better," he agreed ruefully. "Of course it would be quite impossible to manage with an English ladies' riding habit in the jungle. You could never have escaped the jaguar without tripping over the train. I find it difficult to rid myself of old prejudices. You must forgive me, Miss Danville."

 "Willingly, sir, since you are willing to admit that they might be unwarranted. Now let us see if we can find the rest of the beasts. I hope they have not gone too far."

 They found the three missing horses milling uneasily at the near end of the last bridge they had crossed. As they calmed and caught them, they saw the reason for their halted flight. On the bridge lay three caimans, one an impressive six-footer that looked quite capable of drowning a horse if it tried.

 "I never thought to be grateful to a crocodile," said Sir Andrew.

 "Ugly brutes," shuddered Teresa. "I had rather meet a snake any day."

 "You doubt your ability to charm these creatures?  Come now, you must have more faith in your powers of enchantment."

Teresa flushed and looked away. Had there been an unexpected warmth behind his teasing smile, or had she imagined it?  She was thoroughly confused.

 Leading the recaptured animals, they rejoined the others. The new trail had rejoined the old, and they had not gone far when they met a train of ox wagons heading for the Meseta Central.

 Loaded with all the household goods of several immigrant families, the two-wheeled carts moved with painful slowness. Men and boys escorted them on horseback, but all the women and girls perched on top of their belongings on the wagons. They stared at Teresa as she rode past.

 Oscar spoke to their guide, a local man he knew slightly, explaining about the new detour, then the two groups parted. Teresa reined in until Sir Andrew drew level with her.

 "Had I insisted on travelling thus," she pointed out, "you'd not reach the coast for a month."

 "I'd not have allowed myself to be persuaded to escort you," he retorted. "A missish female could be nothing but an encumbrance on a journey such as lies ahead of us."

 That, she decided uncertainly, could be taken as a compliment of sorts.

* * * *

 They reached Siquirres as the sun set behind the mountains. Leaving horses and mules in the care of Juan and Jorge, they entered the public room of the posada, to find a Spanish family already ensconced there.

  Teresa was first into the room. Seeing a black-clad matron sitting in a corner with two girls, she nodded to them. "
Buenas tardes, señora.
"

 The woman looked her up and down, then eyed her companions. They were all travel-stained, weary, but only Teresa was liberally coated with mud, as a result of her encounter with the jaguar. Like a mother hen protecting her chicks, the woman gathered her daughters to her and, ignoring Teresa entirely, swept out of the room.

 Mortified, Teresa looked down at herself. Her clothes were filthy and uncomfortable. She had accepted it as an unavoidable hazard of travel, not considering her appearance. She brushed futilely at her skirt. "I had not realised what a disgraceful sight I am," she said with an attempted laugh. "How I long for a bath!"

 "You must learn not to heed the lack of manners of the ill-bred," drawled Sir Andrew. "A bourgeois, I make no doubt. A true lady must have realised that your condition was due to misfortune, not to willful disregard of the proprieties. I remember being in precisely the same shocking condition myself quite recently."

 Teresa recalled his arrival at the hacienda, and this time had no difficulty in laughing. "Shocking indeed," she said gratefully. How noble of him to remind her of a contretemps he must wish to forget!

 Meanwhile, Oscar had made the acquaintance of the head of the family and learned that they were stranded in Siquirres by a sick ox, one of those they had hired in Limón to take them to the Meseta Central. "My sister will look at it," he offered. "She is a curandera, and always takes care of our sick animals. Teresa, you will see what you can do for their ox, will you not?"

 Teresa was tempted to refuse, in revenge for the snub she had received. She saw Sir Andrew watching her curiously, as if he could read her mind. What would a true lady do in such a situation, she wondered.

 Sighing, she nodded. "All right. I had better go before I bathe, but please order a bath for me before dinner."  As she turned to go out, she caught a look of approval in Sir Andrew's eyes and raised her eyebrows at him.

 He followed her to the stables. "Admirable!" he said, leaning against the wall and watching as she examined the eyes and ears of the huge, placid animal.

 "I am delighted to have done something right for once," she retorted tartly. "However, I take leave to doubt that many English ladies are thoroughly acquainted with veterinary medicine. Will you be so good as to tell me what I have done to earn your approval?"

 "Resisted the urge for vengeance. Not necessarily a ladylike trait, but admirable nonetheless."

 A wave of weariness overwhelmed her. "I am too tired to try to be ladylike. Do go away." She turned to the servant. “Juan! 
Tráeme mis hierbas, por favor.
"

 Thanks to Teresa's herbs, the ox was clearly on the mend by morning. The Spaniard was duly grateful when they met at breakfast. His wife, however, sat at table with her back to the room, rigidly disapproving. Teresa was inclined to take a pet until Sir Andrew murmured "coals of fire" in her ear.

 "Coals of fire?  Whatever are you talking about?"

 "Another expression you are not familiar with?  It's from the Bible, I believe, unless it is Shakespeare. Everything is one or the other. Something about feeding your enemy and thus heaping coals of fire on his head."

 "That's all very well," grumbled Teresa, "but
la señora
seems to have a fireproof head."  All the same, she felt better.

* * * *

 It was a long day's ride to Limón, but nothing occurred to slow them and once again they reached shelter as dusk was falling. Oscar led them to an inn where he was well-known, a large, two-storied building with extensive stabling for horses, mules and oxen. It was too dark to see much of the town or the harbour, but Teresa looked forward to exploring in the morning.

 It rained all night, a ceaseless drumming on the roof tiles that was irritating to begin with but soon became soothing. By the time they gathered for breakfast it had stopped and the sun, already hot, had chased away the clouds.

 Andrew was anxious to establish contact with the Royal Navy frigate that had been sent to meet him. The Danvilles walked with him through the little town down to the harbour to view the situation.

 Limón appeared to consist of several inns, a carpenter's shop making ox carts, a number of warehouses and, near the quay, a customs house that was little more than a shed. In this ramshackle building, Oscar explained, were stationed a pair of customs officers whose job was to prevent the Costa Ricans from trading with anyone but Spain.

 "If they were more successful," he went on, grinning, "we should have started fighting for our independence long ago. As it is, British and American traders come and go more or less at will."

"I gather the Admiralty does not care to risk offence by sending in a Navy ship," said Andrew. "I was told to signal from that little island, just offshore."  He pointed to where, sheltering the harbour, a small island rose from the sparkling blue swells of the Caribbean.

 "The Isla Uvita," said Oscar. "We must find a boat to take you there, then. How are you to signal?"

 "With a lantern, at night."

 As the two young men discussed their plans, Teresa gazed out to sea. Waves lapped gently at the wooden quay and fork-tailed frigate birds wheeled high overhead. Suddenly it was real to her, the fact that she was about to leave her native land, to sail thousands of miles across the ocean to a world she could scarcely imagine. A rising bubble of anticipation made her breathless, and she held tight to Marco's arm, very glad that he was to go with her.

 He looked down at her and she saw by his shining eyes that he was feeling the same excitement. "What an adventure!" he breathed.

 Sir Andrew and Oscar had settled matters between them and turned back towards the town. Teresa and Marco followed reluctantly, unwilling to leave the inviting shore for the muddy streets.

 The day dragged endlessly. By mid-morning it was raining again, and the occasional pauses in the downpour only allowed a swarm of vicious mosquitos to attack. The heat and humidity made every movement an effort. Even Gayo was listless.

 Dusk brought a cooling breeze, and the town came to life. Men gathered at the posadas to drink chicha beer, and among them Oscar found a fisherman willing to take Andrew out to the Isla Uvita without asking too many questions.

 The Englishman returned disconsolate at dawn. There had been no response to his lantern waving.

 Teresa made good use of the delay. She and Josefa went out to the little market behind the posada and purchased several yards of black cotton cloth. They retired to their chamber, which being upstairs caught the slightest breeze, and sewed on flounces to lengthen all Teresa's skirts. If Sir Andrew was willing to admit that a habit with a train was impractical for riding in the jungle, she was willing to admit that short skirts were inappropriate in public. Besides, the contrasting black was quite striking.

 Even upstairs, the heat was hard to bear. When she went down to dinner, everyone was crotchety and no one commented on her improved appearance.

* * * *

 Three miserable days passed. Each evening Andrew was rowed out to the island, each morning he returned more worried. The first week of July was past. If for some reason the ship did not make the rendezvous, it might take months to find other transportation and his reports were urgently awaited in London. It was too hot to sleep properly during the day and at night he dared not close his eyes lest he miss a signal.

 On the fourth night, he nearly sent Rowson in his place. His man was just as able to wield a lantern. However, he could not expect the servant to talk the captain, if he arrived, into allowing the Danvilles on board. Not for the first time, Andrew wished heartily that he had not taken on the responsibility for seeing them to their destinations.

 For the fourth time he disembarked on the island and climbed wearily up the hillside facing the sea. Setting his lantern on a rock, he checked his watch. Every hour, on the hour, he must swing the light three times, pause, and again three times.

 At eleven o'clock, an answering spark showed briefly to seaward. It could have been a firefly, but no, there it was again:  a triple flash, pause, and three more flashes.

 Half an hour later, he was clambering up a rope ladder to the dimly lit deck of HMS
Destiny
.

 "Sir Andrew Graylin?"  The officer of the watch saluted. "Captain Fitch requests that you join him below, sir."

 Down a steep companionway, between rows of half-seen hammocks, ducking his head beneath guessed-at beams, Andrew followed the cabin boy to the captain's cabin in the stern of the frigate. He had spent enough time afloat to adjust automatically to the uneasy motion of a ship at anchor.

 The boy tapped on a door.

 "Enter," called a thin, reedy voice.

 Captain Fitch was a tall, skinny man with greying hair and the mournful, wrinkled face of an underfed bloodhound. He stood up from his chart table as Andrew entered his cabin, and shook hands with a preoccupied air. "Happy to have you aboard, Graylin. Excuse me while I give orders to weigh anchor."

 "You mean to sail into Limón, then?"

 "No, no. Mustn't let the Spaniards know what we're about. I need to find a quiet spot to take on fresh water and supplies." The captain sat down again and studied his chart anxiously.

 "I fear we cannot leave immediately, sir. My servant and all my belongings are still ashore. And I promised to ask you if you would mind conveying to Jamaica a couple of young gentlemen of English descent..."

 "Yes, of course, we shall find a spot for them to sling their hammocks."

 "...And their sister."

 Captain Fitch looked up in shock. With dropped jaw and raised eyebrows, his long, weatherbeaten face became a maze of furrows in which his horrified eyes nearly disappeared. "Females on my ship?  Never, sir, never!  Quite out of the question. Now, I don't suppose you know of any deserted cove where we might put in for water, fruit and a bit of fresh meat?"

 Andrew felt a rush of relief. He had asked, and had been turned down. His responsibility for Teresa was at an end. With a clear conscience he could leave her disturbing presence behind him and rediscover his usual composure.

 He looked down at the chart, but what he saw was Teresa's face, full of hurt disappointment, bravely fighting back tears. "Her uncle, their uncle, is the Duke of Stafford," he heard himself say. "I believe his Grace's brother is a Lord of the Admiralty. Miss Danville and one of her brothers are travelling to London to stay with the duke."

 "Danville?" said the captain absently. "That would be Lord Frederick Danville. D'ye think we could put in here, Graylin, at the mouth of the Rio Colorado?"