Time and Tide (28 page)

‘Is that so?' She came close. ‘Who was your friend?'

‘It was a mistake. It does not matter now.'

‘It was
Catherine
, that you said.'

She was teasing and inquisitive, and he was conscious that he had to shake her off. For of course, he was aware that she could not be Catherine, that the half-light of the harbour and the bobbing of the boats had thrown up ancient ghosts, that caught him unawares.

‘Another lass, another quay,' he said regretfully.

‘Your pardon, sir.' She would not let him go. Though she spoke low and softly, she was very young, and another, quite another, sort of lass. The brightness of her hair and the pallor of her skin were coloured by her art, and her softly ruffled silks were the loose appropriation of another woman's gown. In common parlance, she was called a common drab, though nothing, as it seemed, could be less appropriate. ‘Your pardon, sir, but are you going to travel on that ship?'

She had a strange way of talking, open and precise, as if she had been schooled. Hew thought it very likely that she had been schooled. He ought to shake her off. Instead, he answered, ‘Aye. Why do you ask?'

‘It is only that . . .' she started and broke off. ‘I have no right to ask it, sir. I'm sorry I have troubled you.'

‘But you have not.'

It was money that she wanted, he supposed. And she had given him the chance to turn his back, and fend her off, and he had failed to take it.

‘I wondered, sir, if you might vouch for me?'

Hew was astonished. ‘Vouch for you? As what? He wondered if she wanted letters of testimonial for working at the mill. The whole thing had the tenor of a curious dream, in the fragile morning light. He had the sense that he had met with her before.

‘My husband is a captain in the Scots Brigade, under Colonel Balfour. He is presently in barracks at the port of Vlissingen. He sends for me to join him,' she explained. ‘I have money for my passage on that ship.'

‘Truly?' Hew said sceptically.

‘Aye, sir, truly. Would you like to see it?'

‘Thank you, not at all. What is your name?'

‘Elizabeth. But Colonel Balfour calls me Bella.'

‘Colonel Balfour does?' he asked, incredulous.

‘Did I say Colonel Balfour?' she answered with a smile. ‘I meant my husband, George. George is very anxious I should join him at the barracks. He is lonely there. And he will send a man to meet me at Campvere. And I am afeared to travel on that ship. There are no other women, and the sailors here are rough and wild. I wonder, might I travel under your protection? I want nothing from you, sir, and I shall not impose on you.'

‘But since you do not know me,' Hew observed, ‘how can you be sure of my protection?'

‘I cannot, sir, of course,' Elizabeth agreed. ‘And yet I feel that, strangely, we were meant to meet. And I know you felt it too, when you called that name. There is a bond between us.'

‘Ah, no, no, no, no!' Hew shook his head. ‘I will not have that! When I called out to you, it was a mistake. Forgive me, mistress, but I cannot travel with a woman that I do not know. Pray make yourself known to the shipmaster. He will ensure that your journey is safe.'

Elizabeth said meekly, ‘Aye, sir, you are right, and it was foolish to expect it. I am sorry that I have disturbed your peace.'

She quickly moved away, and Hew had all but forgotten her, when he came to board the small boat that would take him to his cabin in the
Yellow Caravel,
to find her in the grip of one of the sailors, while another struck her hard across the face. Hew stepped in at once. ‘I do not like to see you strike a woman,' he said coldly.

The sailor asked, ‘Why not?'

‘That is not a woman, sir,' his colleague echoed reasonably. ‘She is a common whore.'

‘She is under my protection.'

‘She is what? Oh Jesus Mother Christ,' the second sailor swore, and spat into the sand. ‘Ye will have to take it up with Master Beck.'

The genial captain soon appeared, and Hew demanded of him, ‘Has this woman not paid passage for the ship?'

‘She has paid it, aye,' admitted Master Beck, ‘but there was a mistake. She shall be reimbursed.'

‘There is no mistake. She will come aboard, under my protection.'

‘Under your protection?' The shipmaster was startled. ‘Oh, no, son – sir – I dinna think that a guid idea. The law forbids us to transport a woman to Campvere, unless she is of proven character, someone's daughter, or his wife.'

‘Elizabeth is someone's wife. Her husband is Captain George . . .?' Hew looked to Elizabeth. ‘Captain,' she confirmed.

‘Captain George
Captain
of the Scots Brigade, stationed now at Vlissingen, under Colonel Balfour,' Hew reported smoothly.

‘Colonel Balfour? Ah, I do not think so, sir.'

‘You do not think there is a Colonel Balfour?'

‘Of course there is a Colonel Balfour,' Elizabeth said huffily. ‘He calls me Bella.'

‘I have no doubts of Colonel Balfour,' Beck concluded with a sigh. ‘Take her wi' ye, if you will. But keep her out of trouble on the ship.'

Hew saw her next on the
Yellow Caravel
, shortly after they set sail. Already, he was feeling queasy, and it did not help that he had gone on deck to see the Dundee windmill circling in the distance, turning its white sails against a darkening sky.

‘Where we are going, there are a good many of those,' Elizabeth remarked.

‘Aye,' he said shortly. He had no wish to encourage her.

‘I heard that the captain had given you his cabin,' she tried next, like a bairn that came fishing through his pockets to find sweets. Sucket candies, in a box. Marmalades and sugar plums. He closed his eyes in horror, at the last thing he should think of now, but found it did not still the giddy motion of the ship. ‘Do not say a word. Do not even think it,' he replied.

She pouted. ‘Why are you so cross? You never used to be so cross.'

‘What?'

‘You never used to be so cross. You liked me, then.'

Hew demanded, ‘
When
?'

Elizabeth seemed not to hear. ‘I forgot to thank you. Colonel Balfour will be pleased.'

‘I pray you, now, do not pretend. There is no husband,' Hew informed her, ‘in the Scots Brigade.'

‘You, sir, are quite wrong,' Elizabeth replied, ‘for there are a good many husbands in the Scots Brigade. And all of them are pleased to see me. Especially Colonel Balfour. He calls me . . .'

‘
Bella
, aye, I know,' Hew groaned. ‘Please go away.'

‘But I have not thanked you yet,' she said.

Hew lost his balance as a wave of sickness struck him. Elizabeth, distracted for a moment, turned. ‘
He
likes me too,' she pointed to a merchant walking on the deck. His name is Archie Chandler, and he likes me very much.'

‘Then perhaps you should attach yourself to him, instead of me.' Hew fought against the dizziness, feeling his gorge rise. He tried to close his eyes again, but still the windmill turned.

‘But I,' replied Elizabeth, ‘do not like
him
. Archie Chandler is a brute. I saw him strike his servant full across the face, and burst his poor nose open like a plum. That was uncalled for, I think. Why do you not have a servant?'

‘Elizabeth, desist!' Hew could hold to decorum no longer; he fled to the ship side and vomited into the spray. Elizabeth came after him, ‘You are sick!'

‘Clever lass! Well done!' Shakily, he wiped his mouth.

‘Yet the waves here are not very fierce.'

‘Aye, I confess, I have no stomach for the sea. It is a weakness, of which I have two. I am a poor sailor, and a poorer judge of character, else you would not be standing by me on this ship.'

Elizabeth ignored the slight. ‘In truth, you don't look very well. You should ask your sister for some physic.'

Hew, about to spew again, stared at her instead. ‘What do you know of my sister?' he quizzed.

‘That she is kind, and not as cross as you.'

‘Who are you?' Hew demanded.

‘You knew me once. You liked me, then,' she answered wistfully.

‘But I could not have known you, unless you were a child . . . You are Jennie Dyer!' he exclaimed.

‘I was, once. Not now.'

‘What are you doing here? I thought you went to France?'

‘I did. I met a fine man there. Fine and brave and
old.
I lived with him until he died, and then his family turned me out, and I went up to Vlissingen with Colonel Balfour. But I was hamesick, then,' she sighed, and spoke in the vernacular, ‘and thought I would come back, to see my brithers and the bairns. You would think that after a' that time they might be pleased to see me. And yet it seemed that they were not. I bided for a while at the haven at Dundee, but the menfolk there are miserly and cruel, and now I'm growing old, my looks are all but gone,' she finished plaintively.

‘What age are you now, then? Sixteen?' She was flawless, beneath her thick paint.

‘All but,' she agreed.

‘You dyed your hair.'

‘Of course I did. For was I not the dyer's child? Now I go back to join the soldiers at the camp. It is a rough and ready trade.'

‘And it must be a dangerous one,' Hew reflected soberly.

‘Sometimes. But it is a
life
. I suppose you do not want to take a turn?' She grinned at him. ‘For free?'

‘You suppose quite rightly.'

‘Tis pity, then. But whisht, for here comes Archie Chandler!'

The merchant sidled up and cleared his throat, ‘Good sir, may I know your terms?'

Hew stared at him. ‘Your pardon, sir?'

‘The young lass there. What terms?'

‘I do not understand you,' answered Hew.

‘Come now, sir, do not pretend. For I am discreet, and we are both of us men of the world. I beg you, name your price.'

‘If you do allude to what I must suppose,' Hew replied coldly, ‘then you impugn this lady's honour, and do hurt to mine. Do I understand, you take me for a pandar?' He drew back his cloak to place a hand upon his sword. Chandler stepped back, startled and confused. ‘Beg pardon,' he stammered. ‘As I do assure you, I meant you no offence. I had not understood the lady was . . . reserved.'

‘She is under my protection,' Hew declared.

‘Aye, for sure,' the merchant muttered, backing off.

Elizabeth burst out laughing, and threw her arms around Hew's neck. ‘Oh, you poor dear fool! How sweet you are!' She hurried after Chandler, calling, ‘Master Archie, wait!'

‘Jennie! Don't!' cried Hew. But Jennie paid no heed, and another wave of sickness sent him heaving from the deck.

He spent the next four days and nights inside the captain's cabin, where he sometimes stirred, and sometimes slept, and sometimes spewed and sometimes groaned, until upon the morning of the fifth
day he turned blearily to find the morning light had filtered through the slats and that Jennie twitched the curtains that were closed around his bunk.

‘Jennie, you cannot come here,' he groaned.

‘I came to tell you,' she said sweetly, ‘that the ship is come to dock, for we are at Campvere, and you must now get up. And what a sight you are! Still sick, for all these days. You want a proper lassie looking after you. Braw, it is, in here,' she looked round appraisingly. ‘All that Archie Chandler had wis a bed roll fu' of straw.' She veered between the fine talk of the court and the brash and breezy banter of the common whore.

Hew tried to sit up shakily. ‘You have no sea legs, right enough.' Jennie pursed her lips. ‘Has it always been like that?'

‘It has grown much worse,' he told her, ‘in the last few months.'

‘And what has made it worse, I wonder?'

Hew resisted stubbornly, ‘I do not know.'

‘You dinna ken? I doubt you do. What happened to you, in the last few months, that made you sick at sailing?' she persisted.

‘I suppose it was that . . . my horse capsized a ferry boat, and I almost drowned,' admitted Hew.

‘You see? You do ken what it was. It is your fear of drowning, not the rocking of the boat, that makes your stomach sick,' she concluded shrewdly. ‘It's all in your mind. Like a man I once kent, who couldna keep his end up.'

‘I am much obliged to you,' he answered wryly, retching in the chamber pot.

‘Not much use in that when your belly's dry as dust. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, she kissed him on the cheek. ‘I'm no that proud mysel',' she added as an afterthought, ‘but you might want to have a wash.'

Unconsciously, Hew touched the place where she had kissed ‘What was that for?'

‘It was to say goodbye. For I must slip away, when we are off the boat. I cannot let them catch me. And it is to say that I am sorry.'

‘What are you sorry for?' he asked.

She answered, wickedly, ‘The trouble you are in.'

The boat had come to rest at the Scots quay in Campvere, where the captain and his crew now bustled back and forth, unloading hides and wool into the stores and warehouses that lined the busy pier. Across the narrow strip of water, Hew could see the bright facade and fine Dutch gables of the factors' houses, high windows flanked with wooden shutters, glazed and crossed with lead. One bore a small carved lamb set into the stonework – the mark of the wool merchant, surely? ‘I made my wealth from wool,' it spoke, ‘and from my wealth, I made this house, which will stand living testament long after I have gone.' It reminded Hew a little of James Edie, who bore the baxters' stamp in the golden sheaf of wheat he wore pinned onto his cap, both badge of his profession, and mark of his success. The lamb house had a twin, with a carving of a round-beaked, bulbous bird, which Hew could not identify, and the significance of which was lost on him. A family name, perhaps? And beyond these fair proud houses ran a row of streets, through town hall and marketplace, towards a gothic church, whose grandeur and great size appeared to dwarf the little town, surrounded on all sides by the river and the sea.