Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (257 page)

She took up her pen and let the calm logic of the numbers on the page before her ease her tension until he made his morning visit. When the captain entered the cabin some time later, she laid down her pen and cleared her throat.

“You have something you wish to say, Miss Shipley?”

Electra started at his tone, sharp and to the point. Ever since his slip of emotion days ago, he demonstrated a defensive aloofness toward her. “I wondered what you knew of Seaman Critchley. Do you trust him?”

He stiffened. “Why? What has he done to you?”

“No, please, you mustn’t be concerned,” she said hastily. “It’s just that he makes me feel uncomfortable and I thought you might know something of his background.”

His eyes narrowed. “The man is a piece of scum that Clarke dragged out of a pothouse two nights before we sailed. I know nothing of his background except that he knows ships. He is lazy, ignorant, and insubordinate. And of one thing I am sure, this will be the last time he sails on my ship.”

She chewed her bottom lip as she thought on her next question. The captain’s gaze did not move from her face.

“It seems you’re not done with your questions, Miss Shipley,” he said, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, there is something I wish to ask but I’m not sure how you will receive my question.”

“You can but try me, madam.”

She cleared her throat. “The men, they expect certain — er, favors from the women.”

He nodded, seeming unperturbed at her statement.

“Being a convict should not remove a woman’s right to protect her virtue.” She was aware of heat in her neck and face.

“A convict has no rights, madam. However, my observations indicate most of the women welcome the men’s attentions and in fact encourage them.”

“But what if — ”

“You may rest assured you are under my protection while on this ship and no man would dare lay a finger upon you. This subject is now closed.” He turned on his heel and left the cabin.

Electra sighed. She hated to cause the good captain pain but she knew she could not give him what he wanted.

• • •

Although Electra had the captain’s protection, young Mary Buckley did not. Four weeks after their transfer from Newgate to the
Liberty
, the seventeen-year-old had been forced to favour the bo’sun’s mate and not long after found she was with child. The girl’s belly grew as the ship drew closer to the colony.

As the lookout on the mizzenmast sighted the heads into Port Jackson after eight months at sea, Mary went into labour.

Electra had fallen into a restless sleep still recording supplies in her head, when she was woken by Mary’s unearthly wails.

“Help me, Jeezuz! It’s rippin’ me apart!” she screamed.

“It’s the babe, it’s comin’ an’ there’s somefin’ wrong,” hissed Lizzie Cranston.

The women, annoyed at their sleep being disturbed, yelled at Mary to “shut up.” Some threatened harm if she continued.

Electra, unable to ignore Mary’s screams, joined Lizzie who seemed to know what she was about.

“The babe’s facin’ the wrong way. We got ter turn it,” said Lizzie, as she massaged Mary’s belly and thrust her grimy hands inside to feel for the baby. She withdrew her hand and shook her head. “Whatever it is, it ain’t the back of ’is head. Might be I got ’is leg or face but it don’t feel right.”

One by one, the women gave up on sleep and gathered around Mary. Their faces were blank but their eyes betrayed their doubts that Mary or the baby would survive. Life and circumstances had desensitized them and they awaited the inevitable with indifference.

Mary’s mouth hung open as she gasped shallow breaths with each searing contraction. Her eyes, wide with fear, locked first on Lizzie and then Electra, soundlessly begging for help.

“What can we do?” asked Electra, desperate to help the young girl.

“Here, take her arm, she’s got ter walk. If we kin get her movin’, the babe might move an’ all,” said Lizzie, as she hefted Mary to her feet.

Electra encircled the thin, trembling body with one arm and held her close, as much for comfort as support. Mary’s hair and clothes were wet with perspiration and her dirty shift clung to her thin legs and enlarged belly. For five hours, she and Lizzie walked Mary up and down the airless hold, stopping regularly for the contractions to pass. Finally, they lowered Mary exhausted upon the rough bedding piled on the floor for the purpose. Lizzie once more felt for the baby and looked up at Electra with a nod and a thin smile.

In the long hours they worked side-by-side, Electra felt Lizzie’s eyes on her. She knew Lizzie, like the others, did not trust her and the few words exchanged while they tended to Mary were more than had been said throughout the entire voyage. As difficult as it was to accept, Electra understood why the women would hate her. For them, she represented the class they held responsible for their poverty and hardship. However, in the past few hours she sensed something had changed between herself and Lizzie and suspected she had found an ally.

The pains now came at closer intervals and at Lizzie’s instruction, Electra gently massaged Mary’s belly. The skin was stretched as tight as a drum and the baby had moved low onto the pelvis. Lizzie stroked her rough fingers over the hard lump to ensure it was the slope of the baby’s back. Then she put her ear to Mary’s stomach to listen to the baby’s heartbeat.

Electra watched, fascinated, until Lizzie lifted her head and pointed at Mary’s belly. “Here, put yer hand down and see if yer can feel the back of its skull.” Lizzie took Electra’s hand and guided it to where the birth canal began.

“Oh, Lizzie, I can feel it,” she gasped.

The older woman blinked at Electra then urged Mary to push. But the young girl had lost the strength to cooperate.

Finally, Lizzie turned and rubbed her aching back. “If she don’t do somefin’ right now, we gonna be buryin’ two bodies soon as we hit land.”

This sparked a reaction from Mary who lifted her head and screamed, “No you ain’t.” And with an almighty effort, pushed a pale, scrawny boy into Lizzie’s scrambling hands.

There was a moment’s silence from the incredulous onlookers. Then with the realization it was done, they cheered the courageous new mother and fussed over the squirming newborn. Lizzie wrapped him in a strip of her skirt and put him back into his mother’s arms.

With weary effort, Electra wiped a stray tear from her face as she pondered the miracle she had just witnessed. To think that even in the filthy hold of a prison ship, an innocent baby could move the hearts of the most implacable women. She sucked in a deep breath and savoured a moment of euphoria for the first time in many months.

The dark, cramped quarters were silent. The only sound was the raspy wheeze of old Lizzie Cranston, exhausted after her night’s work. Distracted by hours of Mary’s screams, no one at first noticed the ship had ceased to roll until Hetty Bender jumped up and squealed with excitement.

“It’s the cove. We’re here. Jeezuz, it’s bloody over.”

“Nar, lass, it’s just startin’,” croaked Lizzie. The old woman glanced over to Electra and nodded her thanks.

A deep chill skittered down her spine.

They had arrived.

Chapter Two

Sydney Town, Australia

“Sir. Mister Radcliffe, sir. The
Liberty
is after being ready to unload. What be your orders?”

William Radcliffe flexed his tanned arms to ease the ache in his back and rubbed at his stubbled chin.

“Move the wagons closer to the ship, Sean. Then you and the other two board and wait for me on deck. I don’t want any of those light-fingered dockworkers near my goods.”

“Sure now and I remember the last time, sir.” The man, about to move off, paused and turned back, “And I saw the new lamb. A grand wee thing she is too. Ye’ll not have had much sleep I’ll wager.”

William Radcliffe smiled. “Yes, she is perfect. The first from my new stock of Spanish Merinos. Damned ship could have picked a better day to dock; I’ve only had two hours’ sleep.” He yawned and as Sean moved off, William made the mistake of glancing toward the road.

“Helloo, Mister Radcliffe. Over here,” called the older of two women standing by a carriage.

He groaned as he recognised Mrs. Litchfield and her daughter, Wilhelmina. The woman was desperate to find a husband for her very dull daughter and had targeted William. Mrs. Litchfield waved her fan and with the other hand pushed her daughter toward him.

It was too late to ignore them. “A delight to see you both, but unfortunately, I must unload my goods and cannot stay a moment longer.”

Mrs. Litchfield tapped him on the arm coquettishly and looked sideways at her daughter. “Every handsome man can find time for a lovely young woman. What say you, Mr. Radcliffe?”

He tried to hide his irritation and with a nod to them both answered, “Not today Mrs. Litchfield.” He ignored the startled gasps behind him as he strode toward the ship.

As well as his long-awaited cargo, he heard the
Liberty
was carrying over one hundred women convicts. How many men would have their lives turned upside down by this load of doxies? He could only imagine. At least he would not be one of them. As he approached the ship, his cheek was pinched by two long crimson fingernails.

“Allo blue eyes, my darlin’, where have you been hiding yourself? You ain’t been to see us for a while. Our Molly misses you,” pouted the red-lipped speaker.

William flashed her a grin and flipped the tight curl sitting on her shoulder. “Good to see you, Nora. I’ve been busy on the farm, but you can tell Molly I’ll be in to see her very soon. Are you down here to strip these poor sailors of their hard-earned money?”

“Oooh, ’ow could you think such a thing?” She winked and disappeared into the crowd. He shook his head and laughed.

His mind back on business, William Radcliffe boarded the ship and joined his three workers. After a complete inspection of the cargo on deck, he found two of his crates were missing.

“Where the hell are they, Sean? See what you can find out.”

“They be below decks, accordin’ to the bo’sun, sir. Shall I seek them out then?” Sean asked.

William frowned and flexed his arms again. “Let’s just get these loaded and then I’ll attend to the others.”

Despite his lack of sleep, William Radcliffe moved with energy and purpose. He had waited more than eighteen months for his cargo and was eager for the farm implements, clothing, books, wine, and most importantly, for the look on Shelagh’s face when she saw the piano. It had been a spur of the moment decision when he’d ordered the more necessary items. Even Callum had not been told it was coming. But the grief of her past was so deeply etched in Shelagh’s face that when she let slip how much she loved to play, he had thought to bring some pleasure to her life.

He caught sight of Captain Hawley and acknowledged him with a curt nod as the captain disappeared into his cabin. The captain was well known in Sydney Town and seemed to be popular with the ladies, but William had never seen him in the company of any one woman in particular. Not that he cared. He jerked his head, flicked the hair out of his eye and called to Sean to indicate another crate.

• • •

Electra had been summoned to the captain before they were to disembark. As she crossed to his cabin, she noticed Seaman Critchley ensconced behind the chicken crates, probably to avoid the first mate. He held a tin of lard out as the seaman next to him rubbed the animal fat down the lower section of the mast and onto the tackle. Critchley watched, his lip curled in distaste, but did not stir himself to assist with the task. Electra tried to slip past but his eyes, sharp and watchful, caught her movement. He grinned, rubbed his groin and licked his fat, wet lips suggestively. Electra looked away, hurried to the cabin and closed the door behind her.

She stood inside the doorway and waited for Captain Hawley to speak.

The captain stood as she entered, put the top on his inkbottle, straightened his coat, cleared his throat, and looked over her shoulder. “I — ah, wanted to say farewell and — ,” he looked down, a flash of irritation on his face.

“Yes, captain?”

“Well, Miss Shipley, you must know how grateful I have been for your skilled assistance. In fact, there would have been considerable chaos without you.”

Electra nodded with a slight smile to acknowledge the compliment. It seemed the captain was not finished.

“Ahem, I, ah, have also come to appreciate your companionship and must admit I find the thought of your departure a disagreeable one.”

Electra was very fond of the captain but dreaded his next words.

“I will come to the point, Miss Shipley. I am willing to approach the governor and request you be indentured to me for the term of your sentence. The finer points still need some consideration of course. However, understand I am offering more than a position and friendship. Alas, I cannot offer marriage as I, ah, already have a wife in England, but could give you all the comforts and protection as my mistress — ” The growing alarm must have shown on her face as he stopped midsentence and raised his arm to placate her. “I mean you no disrespect and fear I have spoken out of turn.”

The shock of his declaration rendered her speechless and the captain, mortified at his own presumption, looked like he might bolt out the door if she did not soon respond. But she needed a moment to think.

Her thoughts were in turmoil. His offer had startled her and, not so very long ago, would have offended her, but what were the alternatives? If she accepted, her life would be comfortable and safe. There would be no more prison, no servitude or mistreatment, and the man clearly doted on her. But to be the mistress of a man she did not love, a man who already had a wife … had she fallen so low? It was possible.

She gazed past the captain at the salty mist and the horizon beyond. There was no way of knowing what awaited her. Was she brave enough to take her chances in the colony?

After some minutes, having made her decision, she reached for his hand.

“I appreciate your offer, captain, but sadly I cannot accept. However, I would be honoured to remain your friend.”