Smuggler's Moon

treachery. The difficulty was this: They had not transportation sufficient in Deal to move so many. Mr. Bilbo asked how many there were and was told that there were over forty, if they were to include the Frenchmen from the ship. ”Why not include them?” Mr. Bilbo was heard to say. ”I can take them all. We’ll lock them in the hold, and they’ll make good ballast.” His offer was then passed on to Sir John; he liked it so well that he asked if he and all the rest of the London-bound party might also come along. Nothing could have pleased the old privateer more.

“I should make it clear,” said Sir John, ”that this will include our hostess, as well.”

He spoke loudly so that all at table might hear, and in response, Molly Sarton gave a broad smile, which seemed to include both Clarissa and me.

“Then you told him of her situation?” said I to Clarissa.

“At the first opportunity,” said she.

Speaking in the same loud voice, Sir John announced that Molly would, for a time, be serving as our new cook there at Number 4 Bow Street. ”She deserves better and will get it soon at one of the great houses, but this will give her a chance to find her way in London, and also in the meantime, to pass on her kitchen secrets to Clarissa.”

TWELVE

In which the judge quails, and I am embarrassed

And so it seemed that all had been arranged. Two days later we left Deal. All but one of the prisoners were locked away in the hold; those who were not in irons were bound with rope and would, Mr. Bilbo assured us, cause no problems. The extra day gave Sir John a chance to dictate a letter to the Lord Chief Justice and explain the outcome of the events he had described in his earlier letter; he also requested that transportation be provided from the dry-dock to Newgate Gaol. The dry-dock in Wapping was specified because Mr. Bilbo announced that he would be claiming La Belle Voyageuse and towing it up the Thames to Wapping for repairs and sale. Clearly, he had no intention of losing the opportunity to benefit monetarily from his trip to Deal.

The extra day taken by them before their departure also gave Molly Sarton time to put her affairs in order. She took along with her little more than the clothes on her back- and a frock or two in her portmanteau. Most of the furniture in the house in Middle Street had belonged to its former owner, Mr. Kemp. But there were keepsakes and a few pieces of her own which Molly stored in the cellar of Mrs. Keen’s tearoom. Though the two veterans of service in the Grenville household had a tearful parting, Molly was adamant that she had no desire to remain in Deal. In a way, I thought she was wrong in that, for even though the circumstances in which I had come to know the town were far from ideal, there was much about it I had come to like. Yet of course I had not endured there what she had.

There was, as earlier indicated, one smuggler who had managed to avoid imprisonment with the rest in the hold of the Indian Princess, and that one alone was Marie-Hélène, the Lady Grenville. This was partly out of respect to her sex, of course, though for the most part, I think, it was because Black Jack Bilbo had taken a liking to her. He had provided her with a cabin (his own) and given her the freedom of the ship-with the exception of the hold, of course. She was not to talk to the prisoners through the grate or air holes, nor in any way attempt to communicate with them by letter, or by note, or by sign. These prohibitions seemed to bother her not in the least. She wandered about the vessel, speaking with whomever she would in accented English which set some laughing and charmed the rest. Clearly, Mr. Bilbo was one of those charmed. He managed to spend a good deal of time with her, in spite of the demands upon his attention as captain of the ship. And Clarissa pointed out that he always seemed to come away from such encounters with a smile upon his face.

My chum, Jimmie Bunkins, acknowledged, with a sigh, the accuracy of her observation.

“An’t it so,” said Bunkins with a troubled look. ”Seems these Frenchy blowens got a certain way with the cove. Been so as long as I knew him.”

”He’s certainly interested,” said I, meaning to imply with that a good deal more than mere interest.

“I fear that if he were any more interested, we would never reach London,” Clarissa commented dryly.

“Least this one’s got a proper cut to her jib and a pair of bollocks would do any man proud.” At that point he halted and looked uneasily at Clarissa. ”Beg yer pardon,” said he to her.

She simply chuckled.

“Look at her now,” said Bunkins, nodding across the deck at Lady Grenville. ”Looks right rum in that dress, don’t she?”

“Mmmm, she should,” said Clarissa. ”Must’ve cost a pretty penny in Paris.”

“Well,” said he, ”first time I seen her she wasn’t wearin’ no dress. She was wearin’ kickseys, same as any man. She had a cutlass in her hand, wavin’ it about, tryin’ to get her crew to fight the Anglais-that’s us-but they was all for givin’ up, hands up in the air, an’ that. But all this time she’s yellin’ at them, cursing them in French, like. And then she sees the cove jump on board, an’ he’s a- wavin’ his cutlass about, an’ without anybody tellin’ her, she knew he’s the captain, so she runs at him with her cutlass and would’ve kilt him right there had she the chance. The cove knew right enough she was a woman and didn’t want to fight her, but by God he must, or she would’ve sliced him dead. So they go at it, the two of them- hack-hack, klink-klink-but he’s just blockin’ her thrusts. And the queer thing was, all those aboard-all the Frenchies and all of us-just stopped everything to watch. It was the damndest, funniest thing you ever saw.”

And there he stopped, as if he had brought the story to a proper end. This infuriated Clarissa, who had been hanging upon Bunkins’s each word.

“Well, what happened?” said she through clenched teeth.

”Oh,” said he, ”well, sure enough, with all that hacking away at him, she did finally give him a nick on the arm, and the cove didn’t like that much, so he went after her for the first time, did a little trick I’ve seen him do before, and sent her cutlass flying, just like that.” And so saying, he snapped his fingers.

“Just like that?” Clarissa echoed, sounding terribly disappointed. Then, cheering up a bit: ”But she did at least draw blood, did she not?”

Bunkins gave her an odd look. ”Whose side are you on, anyways?”

“Well … Mr. Bilbo’s, of course, but I’m always happy when a woman distinguishes herself. So she was the captain, was she?”

“Oh, no doubt about that. It was her at the helm when they pulled anchor and turned into the wind. She thought that up. It surprised us, it did.”

“Bravo, Marie-Hélène!” said Clarissa, and to me: ”I should like to meet her.”

That certainly was not difficult. The Indian Princess was not a large vessel, and she wandered about the deck as restlessly as we two did. We soon began nodding at her as we passed, and she at us. She had lively eyes and seemed not the least fearful of her future; nor, for one who would in all probability soon be a widow, did she seem greatly distressed. I believe that I was as eager to meet her as was Clarissa.

We had our opportunity in the morning when, having waited all night in the London roads that we might proceed up the Thames, the wind suddenly shifted and Mr. Bilbo left Marie-Hélène at the railing and went off to see the sails set and the anchor hauled. He left laughing, and she, staring after him, stood shaking her head, as if in surprise or bewilderment. We happened to be close by just as the ship began to move, with the smugglers’ cutter in tow; she waved us over to her. Then without preamble or introduction, she began to speak to us quite like we were all three the best of friends.

“Do you know well thees man, Bilbo?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” said Clarissa with great assurance, though in truth I had known Black Jack far better and far longer.

“Tell me then, is he famous in England?”

“Famous?” said I, echoing her word, not quite understanding.

“Do I say right? Fa-mous?”