“Well, lads, are we all loaded up?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, the last of the supplies for Cooke are being loaded as we speak,” replied his boatswain, Kelly.
“All crew accounted for?”
“Yes, sir,” said his first mate, Smith.
“And the cabins for our guests?”
“Ready, sir, but who are these ladies we are bringing on board?” Kelly inquired.
“Just a personal favor owed.” Jack sighed. “Best bring everyone on deck, Smith, and I’ll explain. They’ll be arriving anytime now.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jack stood on the main deck and took a deep breath of sea air. There was nothing he loved more than setting sail. As a callow youth, he never could have guessed how much peace he would gain by sailing on the open sea. He watched the billowing, square sails of his ship. TheLady Louisewas the jewel of Aston Shipping.
A three-mast, Spanish-style galleon, she was one hundred eighty feet long, could carry four hundred tons of cargo, and had twenty guns aboard for defense. Aston Shipping owned three fine ships, but Jack always captained theLady Louisehimself. He ran a hand along the smooth surface of the railing as he descended from the helm.
She was his first ship, the largest and most well-appointed. The only one of the three that held guest cabins; the other two were strictly designed for carrying cargo. Thinking about his passengers, he headed down the worn wooden stairs to the main deck. Time to speak to his crew.
“On this trip to England, we will have three guests. Two ladies and a bodyguard of sorts. Let me make this very clear.” He swept his gaze from one end of the group to the other. “These ladies are personal guests of mine, and I will expect the utmost respect to be given to them at all times. You may also want to be aware Miss Jamieson is the daughter of Captain Robert Jamieson.”
An audible gasp rose from the crew. Few men who sailed in the Caribbean did not know the reputation of the notorious Captain Jamieson. Smith, and Clarkson the ship’s navigator stood nearby, eyebrows raised.
“When were you planning on mentioning that?” Clarkson asked out of the side of his mouth.
“Well, I just did. That ought to keep the boys in line,” Jack murmured.
“Back to work, all of you.” yelled Smith.
As the men dispersed, Jack turned toward the docks. Captain Jamieson himself exited from a large carriage. Speak of the devil.
Jamieson strode up the gangplank “Captain Jack.” he boomed. “Well, I managed to get them here on time, yes? No easy feat, my boy.”
“Welcome, Captain Jamieson.” Jack clasped his outstretched hand.
Jamieson turned in a circle assessing the ship. “Fine ship theLady Louiseis…ahh, here are the girls.”
Jack’s water nymph strode up the gangplank. Dressed as a man? Miss Jamieson wore close-fitting breeches, a white lawn shirt with billowing sleeves, and a leather vest cinched in at her tiny waist. She had on tall boots that reached her knees, and her pale blond hair was tied back in a long braid that hung down the length of her back, ending at her very delectable derriere.
Her companion came to stand beside her. Taller than Miss Jamieson, her black hair was pulled back in a neat chignon. A pair of eyes the color of whiskey assessed her surroundings. She also wore a white lawn shirt with a vest, but instead of breeches, she wore a skirt ending at mid-calf, with tall boots that disappeared beneath the hem. He stared at the ladies’ attire. It was unusual but practical. The flat un-heeled boots would protect their feet and the shortened hemline on the skirts would allow them the freedom of movement to gain their sea legs. But damn if those breeches weren’t the most alluring thing he’d seen on a woman.
“I hope you weren’t expecting us in our London finest, Captain Aston. I have found through experience it’s best to be dressed sensibly while on board ship.” Miss Jamieson tilted her head and smiled.
He attempted to snap his mind back to the situation at hand. “Ladies, let me introduce you to my first mate, Harry Smith; ship’s navigator, Roger Clarkson; my bos’n, David Kelly; and our ship’s doctor, George Davis. Gentleman—Captain Jamieson, Miss Jamieson, and Miss…?”
“Miss Gabrielle Beaumont, my daughter’s companion, and this here is Old Tom. He will be keeping an eye on the ladies for me,” Jamieson chimed in. “He worked for me for many years. He’ll feel most comfortable bunking in with the crew. He can help out wherever you can use him on board.”
Jack eyed the old man who stood behind the girls. He looked to be about seventy years old, wizened and wiry with a mostly bald head, except for a long white ponytail braided down his back. A long scar ran from the outer edge of one eye and down his cheek.
Tom gave a short bow. “I have some experience with the cookin’, mayhap I can help down in the galley?”
Jack nodded. “That will be fine. Kelly, why don’t you introduce Tom to Cooke and show him a berth where he can set down his things. Smith, make sure the ladies’ luggage is hauled on board and brought to their cabins. Ladies, I have two guest cabins which are connected by a door between them. Will that do?”
“Yes, I’m sure they’ll do,” Vivian said.
“Then I will take my leave for now. I have many things to take care of before we push off. Davis will show you to your cabins whenever you are ready.”
He gave a stiff bow to Jamieson before walking away from his all too enticing passenger. He wondered what he had agreed to, taking this spitfire of a girl across the ocean. Her father’s name may keep her safe from his crew, but who would keep her safe from his wandering thoughts?
