Loving Sarah

Chapter One-3

An uneasy quiet came over the table as everyone realized that in such an endeavor as this not everyone survived. “Unfortunately,” Ren said, “lives will be lost during this race. But I have every confidence in the two of you. In fact, were I twenty years younger, I might have entered myself. Not for the purse so much as the thrill of the adventure.”

Sarah pushed the vegetables around on her plate and kept her eyes downcast, for that was the very reason she planned to stow away aboard Lucky’s boat.

Sarah shoved the packed canvas bag she’d brought with her from London under her bed. She was going to be on that boat when it sailed in the morning. There was no way she was going to allow Lucky to have this adventure without her. She was tired of reading about everyone else’s voyages and missing out on ones right before her.

She’d spent the last five years as the embodiment of a well-mannered young lady because that was what was expected of the sister of a duke. And for the past three seasons, she’d smiled and swallowed her envy as Lucky lived the adventures of which she could only dream. First he and his partner sailed to America to buy the two American-made schooners they required for their newly chartered import company. Then last year she forced herself to feign interest in the social season while Lucky prepared to sail to China on their tea run. And late last summer, she smiled and wished him well as he sailed away again, all the while wishing she were with them.

Well, the balls, musicales, dinner parties, morning calls, and rides through Hyde Park would still be there when she returned. She was not going to sit in her room and cry as he sailed away. Not this time. This was the chance of a lifetime, and she wasn’t letting it pass her by.

By tomorrow night, she would feel the salty spray of the ocean on her face and the motion of the vessel under her feet. For some inexplicable reason she just knew her heart would soar as she heard the snapping of the sailcloth in the wind and the shouts of the men as they performed the tasks ordered by their captain. It would be just as Ren described when he’d told her of the adventures he had when she was a girl. Sarah smiled as she remembered forcing her brother to repeat each voyage every evening he was home.

When she was older, she read the journals and ship logs that lined the shelves of her brother’s office, finding these far more stimulating reading than the historical or scientific tomes or romantic novels in the library. These were log books with descriptions written in the hand of her relatives, who had seen and witnessed each act and event she’d read.

It was those tales of adventure and the uncertainty of success that sparked this desire within her to travel and see the world. They were food to her adventurer’s mind and soul.

Yes, without a doubt, Lucky would be angry with her when he discovered she’d stowed away, but he’d soon get over his anger when he realized he couldn’t very well return her to dry land. Her older brother would be furious as well, once he realized what she’d done. But by the time anyone noticed her missing, she’d already be somewhere in the Atlantic and there’d be nothing they could do. She’d write a note to Ren explaining what she’d done and leave it on the secretaire. They’d find it when they looked through her room for clues, though they should know she’d seize the opportunity to sail the Atlantic and see New York City when it presented itself. After all, she’d talked about her desire to see the Americas her entire life.

The devil take her, but she’d happily face Ren’s anger upon her return for an adventure such as this!

A soft knock on her door preceded her maid, who’d come to help her undress for bed. While Trudy braided her thick mass of unruly waves, Sarah contemplated the timing of her escape. She had to leave well before breakfast and do so without calling attention to herself or setting up an alarm. Darkness was her ally.

With the mound of pillows on the bed, she would fashion a suitable form under the covers that hopefully upon first glance would appear human, thus indicating to her maid she still slept. Then once at the docks, she’d need someone to take her out to the boat. That was why she’d filled her coin purse and tossed it in the satchel. She didn’t doubt that she’d find someone to take her. In her experience, when you offered someone enough money, they’d willingly do just about anything.

The summer she was ten years old, she’d mapped the entire estate over a period of five weeks while the rest of the family enjoyed their season in London. She had been studying geography at the time, and Ren had joked about her mapping the American continents one too many times. Sarah had wanted to prove her map-drawing skill to her brother and set out alone to accomplish the task.

Of course she was found out before she’d gone one hundred yards from the stables. Theo, the stable lad, had discovered what she was up to as she led her pony, loaded with all of her supplies, plus a rolled napkin with some pilfered crusty bread, fruit, and cheese from the kitchens. At first, he refused to keep quiet about her expedition, until she offered him her collection of Roman coins she’d dug up near the old church ruins.

And on her brother’s birthday, she proudly presented him with a rolled, charted map of Haldenwood, current up to that date, with boundaries and crude elevation changes. When asked how she’d accomplished the task, much to their appalled dismay, she proudly regaled to the entire family, her solo adventures in mapping.

She spent the next week writing a different essay each day on her irresponsible actions that could have led to her injury with no one knowing for hours that she was missing and the search for her that could have taken weeks on an estate the size of Haldenwood. Each essay had to be new and different. No duplicating what she’d written the day before.

Sarah waited until her maid had gone and smiled as she then opened the drawer to her desk and took out a sheet of vellum, quill, and ink.

My dearest family,

First, please do not be upset. Rest assured, I am safe with Lucky. And please, for pity’s sake, do NOT interrupt the race because of my desire not to allow another adventure to pass me by!

I have decided that because it is highly doubtful that I shall ever marry, there are a few things I would like to do before I settle into my spinsterhood. One is seeing if the ocean really is as clear and blue as I’ve always heard; another is to see America.

Also, please do not fault Lucky in this. He knew nothing of my plans.

Love, and etc.,

Your Sister,

Sarah

With the note written, she placed it inside the old ship’s journal she’d been reading, leaving it prominently placed on top of the secretaire. The only thing she waited for now was the house to go quiet for the night.

Slipping past the fire boy as he slept in the kitchen proved easier than she’d expected, and once outside, she made her way to the street, keeping to the shadows alongside the house as much as possible. She walked briskly and with intent toward the port a short distance away. She entered the area cordoned off for the morning ceremonies and began to look for someone to ferry her out to Avenger. Pulling the gray coarse-knit cap down lower over her brow, she took on a stooped posture and with the bag slung over her shoulder she looked very much like any other young sailor. She raised the collar of her coat, hiding her face and any trace of the waist-length braid tucked inside.

A scrawny lad sat with his feet dangling over the side of the dock. Glancing over the edge, she saw a dinghy tied below. Sarah dropped her voice, hoping she sounded masculine. “Can ye ferry me out to me boat, lad? I shoulda been on it hours ago and th’ cap’n will be missin’ me come sun-up.”

The lad shook his head. “Can’t do it. I’m waitin’ on me own cap’n.”

“There’ll be coin in it for ye.”

The boy looked more interested now that money was mentioned. “’Ow much ye got?”

Sarah fished two half sovereigns from her pocket and showed him. The boy looked at the money in her hand, then around the darkened pier.

“Fine. But I gotta be quick, don’t know when me cap’n’s comin’ back.” Sarah tossed the bag into the dinghy and stepped down into it. Once the boy shoved away from the pier with the oar, he asked, “Which un’s yer boat?”

“Avenger.”

“Aye. I knows where it is.”

They rowed out about a hundred yards into the darkness with only the light of a cloud-covered sliver of moon. Gentle waves lapped the side of the tiny craft.

This was it. There was no turning back now. She was on her way to see the ocean and America. Well, at least one city in America. She told herself that she would return to see more of the country later. Perhaps once she found a traveling companion.

She trembled with anticipation when the lad brought the dinghy along-side Lucky’s boat, near the rope ladder. “Are ye sure ye got the right boat?” she asked. “Don’t want me cap’n lashin’ me back.”

“Aye, she’s the right un. I’m right alongside ye on Evangeline.”

She handed the lad the two coins, tossed her satchel over her shoulder, and grabbed hold of the Jacob’s ladder.

“Good luck to ye.”

“Aye. And to you, too,” she replied as she began to climb up the port side.

She peered over the rail and saw no one about. Silently climbing onto the deck, Sarah wound her way toward the bow and prayed the hatch to the forward hold would be open. If so, she’d climb down and hide there. If it wasn’t, she knew she couldn’t lift it easily or quietly. In that case, she’d have to find the lazarette, or dry goods storeroom, if there was one, and hide there.

Seeing the open hatch, she thanked God and knelt to look inside. It was dark out and even darker below in the hold. She’d just have to take her chances. She lowered her bag in and dropped it. It didn’t make a sound so she assumed her landing, too, would be soft and silent. She sat in front of the hold, grabbing the lip of the hatch opposite, and scooted her bottom forward, then dropped herself feet first into the abyss.

As she’d suspected, she landed on folded canvas duck cloth. Yards and yards of the stuff. Spare sails, she thought. Wonderful. Moving to the far corner of the cavernous dark hold, she lay on the folded material and using her satchel as a pillow, forced her racing heart to calm and tried to sleep.

Grayish-pink light filtered into the forward hold from overhead. Day was breaking. Footsteps alerted her to at least one crewman awake above deck. The man drew closer to the bow, and her hideout. Sarah quickly lifted a fold of sailcloth and ducked under it, then remembered her bag and covered herself and it thoroughly. The hatch overhead slammed shut, echoing in the hold and reverberating through her body. Trapped. Truly shut-in. The time to cry off—if she were going to do such a thing—was now past.

She threw the stifling sail off her and thought about the adventure ahead. Soon, the race would be underway and Lucky wouldn’t be able to send her ashore. That’s when she would come out of hiding. There was no way she’d spend the entire voyage down here. She wanted to see the ocean teeming with fishes and feel the salty wind and sea spray as it whipped over her face and through her hair. She wanted to see no land, because she’d never sailed anywhere before where you couldn’t see or swim to land nearby. She wanted to experience that sense of vulnerability that comes with being at the complete mercy of a force greater than any she’d ever known, that supreme force of nature described by her relatives and the other sea captains of whom she’d read. They were men who’d established trade with countries around the globe, men whose bravery and skills brought almost every boat and man home.

The darkened hold became stifling, the smell of pitch burning her lungs now that no air entered from the hatchway. Removing her coat, she clung to it, coughing into it for several minutes before tossing it to the side along with her hat and satchel. Sounds coming from above told her the crew was weighing anchor. The boat began to move, now free from its mooring. Sarah heard the excitement of the crew as the sails were raised and felt the vessel surge forward. The boat pitched hard to port as it turned, throwing Sarah into the bulkhead, where she struck her shoulder on a beam. After a muted scream of agony, she quickly scrambled under the folded sailcloth to keep from getting tossed about while she was down here. And even though it was more than a bit warm, the additional weight kept her relatively padded and safe from any abrupt movements.

She tried to get situated once again and settled in with the comforting rocking and rolling motion of a ship at full sail. Smiling in the inky blackness, she wondered if her maid had noticed her gone yet and if her brother had read her letter.

He was sure to be angry, but hopefully not so angry that he’d delay the start of the race to search Lucky’s boat and haul her back home.

No, he wouldn’t do that. That would cause a scandal. And if there was one thing the Duke of Caversham detested, it was the mere thought of the family name tangled up in a scandal.