Sea Mistress (5 page)

Grateful for the night's darkness which helped shield her from the man's probing gaze, Bess bobbed her head. A sudden brainstorm prompted Bess to pretend to be sick, and she retched over the side rail. With the threat of discovery close at hand, she was beginning to feel nauseated again; she silently prayed for the feeling to pass.

Chuckling, the sailor slapped her on the back. “You'll come around, mate, when yuv rid yurself of yer long-shore
swash
.” His voice dropped to a low-pitched growl. “Mind that ya don't fall overboard—ya wouldn't want to ruin a good fish supper!”

The burly man was chuckling coarsely at his own joke when, to Bess's dismay, they were startled by the appearance of still another seaman.

“ 'aving problems with the whelp here, Alf?” the newcomer queried.

“Naw, Geoff,” Alf replied, grinning. “This here is Marlton, Metcalfe's
man
.” The seamen laughed at the jest that Marlton could be a man.

Bess glanced at the man slyly. She suspected that the newcomer was Geoff Conrad, the second mate. He was a young muscular man with a sarcastic tone and unattractive scowl. Of average height, Conrad was a few inches taller than John Reeves but he was a head shorter than the sailor, Feather.

Head down, cap pulled down over her ears to help shield her face, Bess scrutinized both seamen. They were dressed in garments similar to the ones she wore, their arm muscles solid beneath their striped shirt sleeves.

Both men were not only taller but more brawny than John Reeves. Her friend would be no match for either one of them, she realized with a sinking sensation, and she didn't like the way they were eyeing her, as if sizing her up as an object for sport. Geoff Conrad looked like a man who enjoyed picking on anyone weaker than himself, while the sailor, Feather, would be no help at all, she decided with alarm.

“What are you doing topside, Conrad?” John Reeves asked through tight lips. “I thought this was the mate's watch.”

Conrad narrowed his eyes. “So it is. But a man can get a breath of air, can't he?” His tone was challenging.

John grumbled something unintelligible but apparently in agreement, for Conrad didn't pursue the issue.

Bess didn't like Geoff Conrad, and she could see why John was concerned. She knew that the wisest course of action would be to leave now, before something terrible happened.

But how are we going to escape unharmed
? Bess didn't care for the man's behavior. If Conrad discovered she was a woman, then everyone on board would know, including Seth Garret.

The threat hung in the air like a thick pall, surrounding her, choking her. The outside temperature was warm. Bess felt uncomfortable in her heavy coat and woolen cap. She envied the seamen's light shirts and loose trousers. They wore black tarpaulin wide-brimmed hats with long lengths of dark ribbon that trailed down their backs and fluttered in the night's breeze.

Go away and leave us alone,
she urged them silently. She was more than ready to return to her cabin now. If only she and Reeves could get away. . .

She was hot. Beneath her coat her shirt was damp with perspiration and clung to her skin. Without thought, she started to unbutton her coat, and then froze, sensing she was being watched. Shocked by her own carelessness, she chanced a peek toward Conrad, and found him eyeing her closely as he spoke with Alf Feather. Conrad's eyes narrowed on her suspiciously, and she looked away.

“What's ailing ya, boy?” he taunted.

“Conrad—” Reeves warned.

“Keep your sniveling nose out of this, Reeves. I'm speaking to Robbie Marlton here.” His arm encircled Bess's slim shoulders, and she shuddered but resisted the urge to withdraw. Her struggles would only incite the bully, so she remained passive, hoping that Conrad would tire of the game and leave.

“Gawd!” the second mate burst out suddenly, removing his arm from about her. “A coat— jeezus—the stripling's wearing a coat! In this 'eat!”

His grubby thick-fingered hand fastened on Bess's coat collar. She swallowed and averted her face; she could smell the fetid odor of his breath and feel the heat of his exhalations against her cheek. “Such smooth skin, ya's got, boy. Don't ‘e, Alf?” Bess caught her breath fearfully when he caressed and then pinched her cheek. “ 'E don't even 'ave fuzz like a peach!”

Conrad tugged unexpectedly on Bess's collar, and she cried out as she jerked away.

“What ya need is some'um to builds up a sweat if yur so cold!” he growled. With a hard yank, he threw Bess to the decking, where she lay, gasping, fury replacing her fear.

“Leave him alone!” Reeves lunged for Conrad, but Feather grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck.

Laughing at the helpless Reeves, Conrad kicked a bucket in Bess's direction. “Scrub, boy, and y'ull be warm in no time.”

Water sloshed over the sides of the pail, splashing onto the hem of Bess's trousers. Anger burned in the pit of her stomach as she scrambled to her feet. How dare this ruffian treat her and Reeves this way! She glared at Conrad, her hands clenched into fists, uncaring at that moment if Conrad saw that she was a woman.

“You boorish oaf!” she shouted. She sprang at him, her hands hammering on him wildly, but the man chuckled with delight. He caught hold of her flailing wrists, locked her hands tight to her sides, and pinned Bess solidly against his chest.

“You'd best take care who ya hit, stripling,” he murmured in her ear silkily. “A lad like ya could easily slip and fall overboard if he wurn't careful.”

“
Con-rad!
”

Conrad froze. The captain had seen the fracas as he'd come up on deck, and his tone was furious.

Releasing Bess, who hastened toward Reeves's side, Conrad snapped to attention. Alf Feather freed Reeves.

“Seth,” Bess breathed, clutching hold of Reeves's arm.

There was a charged moment of silence as the two crew members tensed at their commander's approach. Garret eyed his men sternly, then his gaze touched briefly on Reeves before settling on Bess with probing intensity.

She swallowed and turned away, checking to make sure her cap remained in place. Did Seth recognize her? Or suspect that something was amiss? If so, he gave no clue. After several long, fearful seconds, during which Bess felt her heart must surely be heard, Seth returned his attention to the sailors.

“I warned you, Conrad,” he muttered.

“Sir—I—”

“Silence!” he thundered, and Bess gasped, stunned to see his hardened expression. There was nothing in the captain's features at that moment that resembled the gentle young officer whom Bess had loved. The captain's face was more mature than Bess had remembered—harsh, angular. His steely blue gaze seemed to pierce through to a person's soul.

He stood, feet apart, hands braced on his sides, a powerful, threatening figure. Garret wore a double-breasted jacket that hung open, revealing his white linen shirt beneath. Fawn-colored breeches gripped his long, muscular legs, disappearing into the tops of polished black calf-length boots. There was something frightening, ruthless, about Captain Garret, as if he carried with him the dark aura of the devil himself.

Bess shivered. She experienced her first niggling of doubt. Could she best this man and win? As she'd dreamed so often in her worst nightmares, she imagined the soft wail of a baby's cry . . . and the deathly silence that followed.

Damn him! She wasn't afraid of Seth Garret! After all, he was just a man.

“Feather!” the captain bellowed, “get below. I'll deal with you later.” He watched as the man left, before he impaled the second mate with his cold, blue gaze. “As for you, Conrad—take the scallops out of the fore top stays'il.”

Conrad's eyes widened as he looked toward the ship's stern. “But, c-capt'n,” he sputtered, “ther' no scal—”

“Are you questioning a direct order, sailor?” Seth's tone was clipped, annoyed.

“No, sir!”

“Then, get to it, man!” he barked. From beneath lowered lids, the captain watched Conrad hurry to do his bidding. He turned away then, seeming to have forgotten Bess and Reeves's presence.

As he walked toward the quarter-deck, Garret appeared preoccupied, his hand lifting to tug on his right ear. Bess stared at him in fascination. The younger Seth had done so whenever he'd been dismayed or deep in thought.

She was transported back in time, and her heart softened at the memory. Abruptly, she returned to the present, feeling chilled.

Garret glanced back. “Reeves, Marlton—I take it that it is Marlton—are you all right?”

“We are fine, sir,” Reeves was quick to answer. Satisfied, the captain nodded and moved away.

As Seth went to the rail and stared out to sea, Bess found she was unable to look away. For five years, her only feeling for this man had been an overpowering, blinding, mind-consuming hate. But now, seeing him again after all these years, Bess felt confused, uncertain, and she didn't like it one bit.

“Bess?” Reeves murmured. “You all right?”

Stirring from her thoughts, she gave him a wan smile. “I'm fine. You?” He nodded. “That other man—” she said. “Not Conrad, but—”

“Alf Feather. He was second mate until a few months ago when he pilfered another man's food rations.” Reeves hesitated. “The cabin boy's.”

Bess was appalled. Did all sailors have no morals, no conscience? Had they just made enemies of the most lowly of men?

John grabbed her arm when she started to walk away. “Where are you going?” He scowled at her.

“Back to the cabin.”

His eyes flashed angrily. “Then tell me, damn it! How do you expect me to protect you, if I don't know your every move!”

“I'm sorry,” she muttered, feeling properly admonished. John was right. As long as she was on board the
Sea Mistress,
her situation was potentially dangerous. She was a lone woman amidst dangerous men. John knew the way of this ship better than she did; it would behoove her to remember it.

The man's expression softened. “I don't want you harmed.” He paused. “Your uncle would never have forgiven me.”

She nodded in understanding. “It won't happen again,” she promised.

 

 

After her first taste of freedom on the upper deck, Bess found it difficult to remain below. It had felt wonderful being out in the fresh air, experiencing the peaceful quiet of the night.

Three days later, her fear of discovery had dissipated, and she'd become heady with the knowledge that thus far, she'd escaped unscathed. She was feeling bored, daring, and her old healthy self again. Emboldened by her earlier success, Bess was anxious to try again. For a time, she thought of confronting Garret with her true identity, envisioning the meeting as one would savor a tasty treat.

Why not?
Seth couldn't turn back to Wilmington at this late date. Time was precious to the sea captain, and the
Sea Mistress
was now more than several days into her journey.

Bess had been cautious these past three days. But she was tired of playing the coward and being jailed in her cabin like some sentenced criminal. Even as Bess dressed, Reeves's warnings to stay below came back to haunt her.

“I want to go up,” she'd told him earlier when she'd confessed how restless she felt.

He nodded, his brown eyes softening in understanding. “I believe the mate has the watch toni—”

“I mean now!” she'd interjected.

Reeves had looked shocked. His thin face had turned pale and he'd stared at Bess, his mouth gaping with astonishment. Color infused his features as he vehemently shook his head.

“That would be foolish, Miss, and you know it!” He drew himself up, prepared to do battle.

Bess defiantly raised her chin. “I'm not afraid of Captain Garret.”

“Perhaps you should be.”

A frisson of alarm traced Bess's spine. “Explain yourself.”

“You are forgetting that Garret is the captain. His word is law on this ship.”

Bess relaxed. “
You
are forgetting that Garret is under contract with the E. Metcalfe Company, and I am E. Metcalfe.”

“Ah, but does the captain know that?” Reeves had raised his eyebrows. “He believes the company in the hands of your cousin, George Metcalfe. Will you tell him the truth now?” He shook his head as he sat down on a chair nailed onto the decking. “Miss Metcalfe, for reasons of your own, you wanted to keep your identity a secret. How will Garret react when you confess? I doubt he'll be happy to learn of your deception.”

Reeves's comments gave Bess pause. Did her employee know more than she told him? Did he suspect that this voyage had two purposes—one to expand to the west coast; the second, her quest for vengeance? She bit her lip. How much did her uncle tell this trusty employee of four years?

“Are you implying that Seth Garret would harm me?” she'd asked.

“I don't know,” Reeves replied. “But I think it's wise to remember that while we are on his ship, we are virtually at the mercy of Captain Seth Garret. Miles out to sea and on a vessel with a disreputable crew puts us at a distinct disadvantage. I don't believe you should tell Garret that you've deceived him.”

“But, John—”

“A woman on board ship is considered bad luck by some.”

Bess had sighed. “Tonight then,” she'd murmured. “We'll go up tonight.” Reeves had nodded, relieved.

Now it was early afternoon, and the ship was quiet. Alone in her cabin, longing for the freedom of topside and a cleansing breath of fresh air, Bess decided that captain or no, she would go topside. Reeves tended to worry needlessly; surely she'd be safe for a few short minutes.