The Delirium Passage Page 20

  “Master Carstens,” he said, when they were close enough for a quick conversation.

  “Captain Burton. I am most pleased to see you, I assure you.”

  “We can stand and talk here but for a moment. I’m not ‘captain’, simply ‘mister’. Why are you not accompanied?”

  “They know I will not leave my men.”

  “Of course not. Here’s a note for you, but don’t read it here. Shake my hand.”

  “Pleased to, Mister Burton.”

  “As I am pleased to meet you, Master Carstens. Enjoy your day, sir.” He nodded and walked on, now focused on his genuine objective of begging some water.

  When Neville returned an hour later, the same guard lounged in his usual position on the sail. As before, he appeared to be asleep. More importantly, Neville spied an ale tankard in the main chains. Thankfully, Master Carstens had wasted no time. He walked close along the side of the ship, pausing only long enough to snare a crumpled paper from the tankard.

  Two steps further, the guard yelled at his back, “You stay away from ship. Not come again!”

  Neville turned toward him, put his right arm across his abdomen, and bowed deeply, scraping his right foot backward in the process. He stood upright and turned to go. He knew the guard took it as intended – a sarcastic show of deference. The guard yelled “Go!”

  Neville’s stopped next at Penguin, where he was received without fanfare, as he had hoped.

  “They are unloading your rum, I see,” Joseph said. “Did you keep a little cask for yourself?”

  “And the men… of course. You see our repairs under way, as well?”

  “Yes. I’m terribly sorry for your troubles.”

  “Ah, well, things happen. Let’s get to it – after you give me a quick tour of your ship. I sent the Speedwells a letter – actually gave it to Master Carstens, himself. And what’s even better, he has already responded. Here it is.”

  “We’ll have to do the same with Ellen and Marion.”

  “I know. That will be your job. Nobody around the house knows you. You know our women, and you don’t know the Speedwells. You can go thru Madame Dufour at the back of the house.”

  “In the dark, maybe. You can draw me a little map.”

  “There’s not much of a map needed. As to the Speedwells, Master Carstens says there are nine of them, including himself, and two British from some other ship. One man has not gone to the ship at all yet, because he has a broken leg… but healing.”

  “That’s not good. How do we move him around?”

  “We’ll find a way. He says the Fleur des Lorient is fit to sail. They have only a few more days left before they will be transferred to repair some other. She’s missing a main course, though, because their sailmaker is the one with the broken leg.”

  “Also, not good.”

  “Finally, he says they can sail her with the number they have, but not in bad weather, and not far. They aren’t enough for two full watches, so sailing watch-and-watch for any time is not practical.”

  “What about us?” Joseph asked. “Do we have enough men to sail three ships away from here? I have thirty-five. You?”

  “Twenty-two. You seem a bit light.”

  “They are all volunteers. I couldn’t demand more. Some needed to stay for repairs to Galatea, and I didn’t expect a serious fight.”

  “They have eleven – or ten, counting the two non-Speedwells, but less the injured man. We could each lend them a few.”

  “Is it easier than bringing them aboard our ships?”

  “Hmm. Maybe not, but we won’t have time to do a lot of ferrying men out to anchor.”

  “True. All right, let’s get to this note we must send to my wife and Marion.”

  Captain Joseph Dagleishe, acting as Master Lowe of the sloop Penguin, lowered himself into the ship’s launch as the sun set over Guadeloupe’s Basse-Terre Island peaks to the west. The sky became dark by the time the launch reached the strand. Joseph had made the decision not to use the pier, suspecting a guard to be posted.

  From where the boat scraped the sand, it took only ten minutes to walk to the Governor’s mansion. He approached the house carefully, suspecting a guard here, also. There were two. Or maybe only one, and this was time for them to change watches. The two guards talked for a few minutes while Joseph stood in the dark by a large tree. One of them ambled off in the opposite direction. The new guard did exactly what Joseph expected; he made his first trek around the house to confirm nothing appeared out of order. Once returned to the front of the house, he took a seat on the stairs to the veranda.

  Joseph assessed the place thoroughly during this time, located the carriage track around to the back of the house, and decided upon the most concealed approach. This evening was typical for the Caribbean islands – warm and muggy, with crickets and frogs beginning their nightly chirping. A slight breeze blew. All things together, the natural sounds should cover any little noise Joseph might make – crunching of shells in the drive under his feet or tapping at the door for Mrs. Dufour. When he had crept half way ‘round to the back, and before he walked across the drive, he heard a clattering from the front of the house – The sound of a horse and carriage arriving. Someone lit a second light. He heard voices from inside. Another light came to life in the back. Joseph threw himself flat to the ground behind a scrubby bush. Dew had made the sand and grass surface wet. The noise and motion caused the frogs and crickets near him go momentarily quiet and some bug ran across his hand.

  The carriage driver reigned in his clattering contraption in front of the house. Voices began, and the horse snorted. Soon he heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and the carriage moved toward him and the rear of the house. The horse was apparently not to be put away, but to wait. The carriage made a full circle and stopped in the middle of the drive. The driver hopped to the ground, said something to the horse, and walked to the back door of the house. A moment after he knocked, a short woman came to the door and allowed him in. He returned to the carriage a few minutes later with a steaming cup of something and climbed to his seat. He sat there drinking for several minutes while the dew soaked into Joseph’s shirt and trousers. He suddenly realized his letter would become unreadable if it became wet. He pulled it from his shirt and stuck it in the waist of his trousers.

  Someone called for the driver from in front, and the noisy thing clattered forward, stopped for someone in the house to embark, and departed. The noise of the night returned to full volume. Joseph stood, walked across the drive to the door, and knocked as quietly as possible. When the short woman reappeared, he asked, “Madame Dufour?”

  “Oui.”

  Holding the damp letter out to her, he said, “For Mrs. Dagleishe… Ellen.”

  Joseph almost laughed at her response. Both her mouth and her eyes went round, and she squeaked a little, “Oohh.” She pointed at him and motioned to him with both palms down, obviously meaning for him to wait. She popped back in the door.

  Joseph stood to the side and blew out the light in an attempt to be in the darkest place possible. He knew he needed to subdue whichever lady appeared, in order to stifle a surprised screech of recognition.

  Someone inside came to the door but stopped before venturing outside. “Hello?”

  Definitely Ellen. “Ellen, come out,” Joseph whispered.

  Ellen stepped out, looking in the opposite direction. Joseph grabbed her, putting his hand across her mouth and pulling her backwards toward him.

  The ‘attack’ was a mistake. He felt her small elbow jab him hard in his ribs. She lowered her body straight down, pulled his arm forward, and raised herself. Joseph did not really comprehend what happened to him before his head thumped the ground, her knee dropped into his belly, and a knife appeared at his throat. He wheezed heavily while looking into the eyes of the woman he loved. She released a tiny squeal similar to Mrs. Dufour’s, dropped the knife, and planted her lips on his. For a glorious minute they remained in each other’s arms, gra
teful for the long-anticipated reunion. Reason prevailed, and they stood together.

  “Where on earth did you learn…?”

  “Later, Joseph. How did you get here?”

  “Later, my sweet Ellen. Here’s a note.”

  “Wait here. We have one for you.” She snatched his note and scampered inside. She returned in a few short moments to stuff a folded paper into his hand. “You have to go.”

  “I know.” They kissed again. Joseph returned to the bushes and Ellen closed the door.

  Two men were awake at Penguin’s launch when Joseph walked out of the darkness into their view. The two thumped their sleeping mates to alert them to their captain’s arrival. Four men jumped out into the warm water as Joseph stepped in. They shoved the boat off the sand, hopped back aboard, and departed soundlessly, except for a few thumps of oars.

  “Take me to the Elizabeth,” Joseph commanded. “You’ll have to wait a bit more there, but I’ll promise you a tot of excellent rum.”

  Neville had posted a couple guards, and they were alert, but when their visitors spoke English and mentioned Penguin, they were immediately invited aboard. Joseph was first up the ladder. He found his own way to Neville’s cabin and gave a polite rap on the door before barging in.

  “Did you get through?” Neville asked.

  “I saw her, Neville. I saw my sweet Ellen. We hugged and kissed. You are right. She is radiant… or as best I could tell in the dark.”

  “You are excited, I see. What of our note?”

  “Exchanged for one from them,” he said, pulling it from his now-dry shirt.

  “We should expect nothing less.”

  “Neville, do you know what she did to me?”

  “How could I?”

  “She… she… She gave me a thumping when I grabbed her to stop her from shouting out. I was on the ground with a knife at my throat before I could say ‘Admiral Nelson’. Do you know anything of this behavior?”

  “I do, but we should save the story for later. I’ll have you know you should expect the same from my little Marion. They’re two badgers, those two.”

  “My Lord. So, what do they have to say?”

  Marion and Ellen had written:

  My Dear Neville,

  We have assumed the following: You must leave by Thursday latest, or M. Ernouf will arrest you. You don’t know about Mr. Flood, one of Speedwell’s crew who is in the stockade with a broken leg.

  We propose to use Mr. Flood to our advantage. We have participated in his recovery. He is now walking, though not very quickly, with a cane. Under the excuse of assisting him to recover and that he is bored in the stockade, we shall go on horse to the stockade (where we are known) and assist him to walk to the ship where the Speedwells are working. We’ll walk the horses with us and will leave Mr. Flood to work for the day, and return ‘home’ by horse. We will return to assist him back to the stockade in the afternoon. We can repeat this process on Thursday, thus placing us at the harbor at the latest you might need to leave. The next move we leave to you.

  P.S. Cpt.-Gen. Ernouf is scheduled to go to Basse-Terre on Thursday.

  “This is amazing. They have answered most of our questions...”

  “Aye. Before they had them. I have an idea that might help them,” Joseph said. “I still have to go request my privateering letter. I’ll make that attempt tomorrow while you’re getting your water.”

  “This harbor must have some provost. Did you say you had a man who speaks French?”

  “I did. This makes me feel better. It sounds as though it will be a simple operation.”

  “I agree,” Neville said, “I haven’t seen any semaphore system to alert the fort of any undesired departures. They can only chase by ship – and a small one, at that. They couldn’t deploy a frigate or such on a moment’s notice.”

  “To tomorrow," Joseph said, raising his glass for a final toast.

  22: Thursday

  “What’s that look on your face, Ellen?” Marion asked when Ellen entered the room.

  “I saw him, Marion. He’s here.”

  “I’m so excited. He came for me and…”

  “And what?”

  “I roughed him up. It wasn’t my fault, I just…”

  “What do you mean by ‘roughed him up’?”

  Marion laughed at Ellen’s story. “They’re both here,” she said. “We have good reason for hope. What have they written?”

  Pelican / Elizabeth Tuesday

  Our Dearest Marion and Ellen,

  Our plan is to depart – with the Speedwells – day after tomorrow, Thursday, at 3:00 in the afternoon. Do you always have supper with the Governor? You must find a way to excuse yourselves and leave the house. Perhaps request a carriage ride by yourselves. The Gov. will not allow Neville to accompany, and Joseph’s disguise (as a Master Lowe seeking a privateering letter) is as unlikely. Carry a disguise as boys? Can you suggest where to meet?

  Our Love, Joseph / Neville

  “We’ve answered most of this in our letter to them, including the part about supper, if Governor Ernouf is going to be away. It sounds like they are telling us we’re on our own. If we arrive on time, they’ll take us with them.”

  “I have a feeling it won’t play out that way,” Marion said.

  Wednesday morning dawned gray.

  “This isn’t bad, is it?” queried Ellen. “It will be a cooler walk without the sun beating down on us.”

  “But it feels very close – still and humid. Never mind, the Governor has allowed us use of the horses, so let us get at it.”

  The stable boy arrived with saddled horses at the appointed hour. The two women mounted and began the ten-minute horse walk to the stockade. The gate opened just as they arrived, and the Speedwells started their trudge to work. They were all smiles and waves at the sight of Marion and Ellen. Mr. Donovan yelled, “Mister Flood is ready, Miss. He’s lookin’ forward to a walk with pretty ladies.”

  “Thank you,” Marion yelled. They dismounted and walked their horses into the inner yard.

  “That one’s got the eye for you, for sure,” Ellen said. “He wasn’t looking at me.”

  “He’s only being nice,” Marion said. “Let’s look to Mister Flood.”

  “Nice? Nice and handsome. Oh, hello, Mister Flood. Are you ready for a walk?”

  “I think so. Me mates have been helping me walk up and down the yard for two days now.”

  “Not to worry. If you can’t make it the whole way, we can pitch you onto a horse and you can ride.”

  “Aye. Thankee. Let’s give it a try.”

  Flood walked quite well for at least a cable’s distance before stopping to rest. “It’s beautiful out here,” he said. “I’ve seen nothing but the inside of that miserable stockade for weeks on end. Me mates say they have something for me to do -- a sail to mend.”

  “Lovely,” Marion said. “That will keep you off your feet until the walk home. We’ll come again when you get off work and do the same going home.”

  “You two are darlings, ‘tis the truth.”

  “The truth, Mister Flood, is that we are as bored as you are. We have enjoyed helping you, but it has also been good to get out of the house.”

  Flood walked two-thirds of the way to the pier. There, Marion and Ellen helped him to mount, and they walked his horse to the pier. The other Speedwells assisted Flood to climb aboard, while the ladies remained under the close scrutiny of the guards.

  Their task being done, they took the opportunity to take a nicer ride some distance along the beach and through the fields before finding their way to the house.

  Thursday dawned late. The cloud cover was now complete, low, and dark gray. A heavy rain had begun in the dark of early morning, and by first light it beat on the roof and shutters and created little rivulets in the path outside.

  “It looks to me that Mister Flood will get a day’s rest,” Marion said.

  “And we have a problem with our plans. Everything is set for today.”


  “We are quite aware,” Marion said. “And Neville must leave today or he might face arrest. I told you I felt things might go sour.”

  “Well, we’re not going out in this. We need to get a confirming note of a day’s delay to Neville and Joseph. I doubt Neville will leave in this, either. The rain is pouring straight down in buckets – no wind for sailing,” Ellen observed.

  “And we need some breakfast.”

  “Doesn’t Mrs. Dufour go for vegetables on Thursdays?”

  “Yes, but will she go in this weather?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s write a note in case and go ask – and eat.”

  Downstairs, they found Madame Dufour fussing about the kitchen, getting breakfast for the governor.

  “Governor,” Marion said. “I thought you were going to Basse-Terre today.”

  “It was my intention, yes, but not in this. Wet sand, with a bit of mud mixed in, makes it difficult for the horses. The splash on the other side of town has probably washed out the road, as well. No, my trip will wait, and I’ll have a few quiet, unplanned days. Will you join me for supper tomorrow?”

  Marion and Ellen glanced at each other, while Ernouf reached for the marmalade for his toast. Ellen winked. Marion nodded. There must be a way…

  “We are honored, sir,” Marion said. “May we join you now?”

  “Certainly, certainly. Where are my manners?” He jumped to his feet to offer them seats. “Madame Dufour,” he called.