A Country Life

CHAPTER 10 - ELIZABETH

Lizzy sat wedged in the corner of the false barrel hide-hole, listening intently. The sounds of battle had ceased shortly after her father had left her, presumably as a result of his surrendering to the attacking forces, and since then only the occasional stamp of boots and shouted order had reached her down in the hold. She supposed that the Guillemot had been boarded and was now in the hands of the unknown enemy. Were there any of her father's crew still onboard? Rationally she thought there must be, as they would be needed to work the vessel, but at the same time she couldn't help but fear that they had all been taken off, and that she was now alone - the last of the Guillemot's faithful crew left aboard. The thought was not a cheerful one.

She had cried for a long time after her father left her, partly from fear and partly from frustration, but mostly from shame. All the jests of Lizzy leading boarding parties and daydreamed thoughts of her valiantly defending the Guillemot, sword in hand, had been for nothing when the ambush happened. For all her imagined bravado, the sight and sound and sheer speed of the attack had been too much for her, and the overwhelming emotions had been fear and frustration. How had they managed to be taken so easily? Despite all the experience of the crew aboard the Guillemot, and her father's suspicion and preparation for possible action, they had not even managed to get off a single shot before it was all over. It was almost as if they had known exactly where they would be. And then there was that light...

For some time, the Guillemot had been making way, unhurriedly and dead downwind judging by the quiet, smooth motion, which meant that if the wind was still from the east, they were heading west. Lizzy tried to keep track of time, but in her frightened state it was difficult to be sure of how much time had passed. One hour, or three? It was impossible to tell. She was tired, and repositioned herself in the cramped space to get more comfortable, reasoning that while she couldn't go anywhere, she may as well get as much rest as possible. Sleep wouldn't come however. She began to wonder how long she might be stuck in the hide-hole. What if there were no-one on board who knew she was in here? How long should she leave it before trying to make herself heard? And what might happen to her if she did?

A sudden noise close by made her jump. It sounded like someone was tapping the barrels as they made their way through the hold. She could hear voices too. A commotion close outside told Lizzy enough that the hide-hole in the nearby bulkhead had been found. An angry voice Lizzy didn't recognise was demanding to know if there were other 'smuggler's hides' he hadn't been told about. Lizzy experienced a surge of happiness when she heard Keevan's voice replying in reasonable tones that there was a small hole aft, but that was it, nothing more, and he would be glad to show the Admiral the way. Lizzy held her breath as the footsteps retreated back out the hold. So, at least one of the crew were still aboard. Surely others must be too, perhaps even her father!

Whoever this Admiral was, the fact he called himself by such a title implied organisation beyond that of an opportunistic pirate raider. Lizzy remembered that when they had stopped at Falmouth after crossing the Atlantic, there had been several vessels anchored in the outer roads that her father had referred to with not a little scorn in his voice as 'Trevanion's Navy', and there had been talk of 'commodores' and 'admirals' then. None of those vessels had been any bigger than the Guillemot though. She was sure this Navy must belong to someone else. She had a sudden recollection of a conversation overheard between her father and a Falmouth boat captain in the Guillemot's great cabin, while moored in Carrick Roads a few weeks earlier.

*

"Trevanion's been busy I see," her father had said. "Last time I was here, he had two old cutters and a carrick, for the love of God!"

It had been late afternoon on the second day after their arrival from Boston, and the setting sun was shining in through the cabin windows, lighting up in orange and red the visiting boat captain's face, itself already flushed from wind and wine, which Redgar had been pouring freely for the past hour. Her father had invited the man, who had the oddest name of anyone Lizzy had ever known in Tonkin Merryweather, aboard earlier that afternoon. Her father had hoped to find someone to pilot the Guillemot up the Severn Estuary, but the Silent Man had said no to that idea - Redgar was not to tell anyone their ultimate destination.