Chapter Twenty-Four
During the long night, the boat sailed past the dim shapes of slumbering townships along the river. After a few hours of broken sleep, Christian took over from Anthony who was almost asleep on his feet. He scrubbed his hands over his face. The delay getting away had cost them. It was close to dawn.
The sky lightened to rose pink and gray as they reached the bend in the river where the fort sat like a spider in the middle of its web, its battlements rising above the trees. They were soon to lose their cover.
Christian reached over, and nudged Anthony awake.
Anthony rubbed his eyes and came to his feet alert. “Let’s hope the brigands kept the guard busy fighting in the woods and failed to send a rider ahead to alert the fort.” In broad daylight they were as easy to pick off as a deer in Richmond Park.
Verity and Henrietta hid with Philippe in the cabin as the boat rounded the bend in the river.
“At least there’s a stiff breeze in our favor,” Anthony said.
They sailed in view of the fort, and into a mayhem. A flash of glass from a telescope was followed by blue and white uniformed guards running along the battlements. A warning shot soared over their heads. Either news had reached them, or the guard considered them target practice.
“Here we go!” Christian yelled. “Everybody keep down.”
Anthony added a sail to the mizzen mast. The wind caught it, and the boat surged forward. A volley of musket fire exploded like fireworks at Vauxhall. Shot peppered the water.
Another round followed. Shot bit into the mast and struck the stern near where Christian crouched at the tiller.
Henrietta yelled. Christian’s heart leaped into his throat. Had she been hit? The stone fortification was lit up with fire as the Guard reloaded and fired. Cannon shot landed with a giant whoosh so close the wash rocked the boat, and water splashed over onto the deck.
Another followed some minutes later.
“That one’s behind us. We’re moving out of range!” Christian shouted. He saw Henrietta at the door and the tight panic in his chest eased. “Everyone all right? Too close for comfort, Anthony.”
“Indeed.” Anthony rubbed his head. “A musket ball almost parted my hair.”
Christian grinned suddenly light-hearted. Reaching a bend in the river, they sailed around it out of sight, sheltered from view by forest. Henrietta and Verity came out smiling with relief. It was short lived. The Guard were sure to follow on horseback.
“They’ll come after us?” Verity asked.
“Maybe.” This was new ground for Christian. He had never used the river as a means of escape. He didn’t feel as in control as he might. Spying was a game of percentages, carefully planned. He’d been trained to use proven techniques, a secure passage, not to hazard his luck, unless something went wrong. But he guessed that was where he was now, hazarding his luck. Although risk takers, spies preferred to remain in the shadows, and blend in with the crowd. He’d never felt less in control than he did now, and the outcome had never meant more to him. He lightened his voice. “Once we’ve passed Rouen, with the tides in our favor, we’ll be all right.”
They sailed through the night taking turns at watch. In the early morning, Christian noticed a little water had seeped up through the boards. The boat was leaking. How long before it became serious was anyone’s guess. “A cannonball had obviously damaged the hull. When the need arises, we’ll take turns bailing,” Christian said.
Anthony acknowledged Christian’s worry with a nod. No hope of sailing this small leaky vessel across the channel. But one couldn’t look that far ahead. They’d have to stop somewhere and attend to the leak soon, as well as forage for food. “I think we can make it to Vernon,” he said to Anthony. But even in a small town they could be approached for their papers.
They sailed on under bridges, past mills, orchards, small villages, and churches clustered along the river, and acres of farmland ringed by woodland. They tried to ease the tension. Verity entertained them with a song in her sweet voice. Philippe even ventured out to listen. It seemed peaceful. Birds flew overhead in the calm blue, villagers went about their work. But they couldn’t ignore the changes that were occurring in France. The horror that had begun in Paris had spread its evil fingers over the land. Sailors on a passing barge stared at them with fear in their eyes. Nowhere was safe.
They dropped anchor in a narrow inlet. Christian left the boat in search of food. He found a small farm nearby, the farmer’s wife only too pleased to sell him what she could spare. He returned with buttermilk, pears, cheese, and a fresh baked loaf.
They ate then sailed on. Another sunset painted the clouds and the river in shades of gold, violet, and pink, so beautiful that Henrietta commented on it. He smiled down at her, struck by her irrepressible nature.
During the second night, the wind dropped. Becalmed, they drifted, pulled along by the tide. Christian remained at the tiller while everyone slept. He was almost nodding off when a scraping noise came from the leeward side. In the moonlight a head appeared. A big man in ragged clothes leaped over the rail onto the deck. He held a knife in his teeth.
Christian, annoyed with himself for lowering his guard, abandoned the tiller, and rushed at him yelling for Anthony. He kicked out at the ruffian, striking his knee hard. Dropping the knife, the man collapsed. Christian leaped on top of him. They struggled, cursing, and punching wildly.
Anthony appeared as the man rolled away and snatched up the knife. Moving fast for his size, he snarled at them, swapping the knife from hand to hand, slashing it menacingly through the air, while driving them back.
The boat ran aground with a loud scrape and rocked violently. Anthony was knocked back over the coil of rope.
Christian fell to his knees but quickly regained his feet. The ruffian steadied himself and rushed at him.
A shot rang out. The ruffian looked surprised, dropped the knife, then fell face down on the deck.
Christian pivoted. Philippe rested his hand on Henrietta’s shoulder. His other hand held a smoking pistol.
“Where did you get that,” Christian asked.
“I gave it to him,” Verity said at the cabin door.
Anthony bent to examine the man. “He’s dead.” He straightened. “Good on you both. I wasn’t aware we had a pistol, mine’s long gone.”
“I brought it from London,” Verity said.
Christian took the gun from Phillippe and tucked it into his sash. “I don’t carry one. Causes more trouble than it’s worth if you’re searched.” He squatted and searched the man’s pockets. “Nothing. Just a beggar. Help me get him over the side.”
Henrietta turned her back as they hauled the man up over the rail. There was a big splash as he hit the water.
“We’d better get out of here soon, before he’s found,” Christian said. “As soon as it’s light I’ll go down and check what damage we’ve sustained to the hull.”
When dawn broke, he stripped off his coat and shirt and lowered himself over the side into the murky water. Henrietta leaned over the rail watching while Anthony remained at the tiller.
The shallow water reached Christian’s chin and was icy. “I can’t see any damage. I’ll try to push it into deeper water.”
It was difficult to gain purchase on the muddy bottom with the tide pulling at him. He heaved, and with a worrying shudder, the boat sailed free. In danger of being swept away downstream, Anthony threw the rope over. Christian grabbed it and swam to the side.
Anthony hauled him on board. “What did you find?”
“The water’s too muddy. But if there’s a hole we’ll find out soon enough.”
While Christian dried himself, Anthony steered the boat away from the bank.
Henrietta arranged her cloak over Christian’s shoulders. “Thank you, my sweet.” He swept his wet hair out of his eyes sending a trail of water droplets into the air. Shivering, he squeezed the water out of his pantaloons and rubbed his arms. He smiled when Henrietta sat beside him. She slipped her hand inside the cloak and rubbed his cold skin to warm him. It had the unfortunate effect of sending warmth straight to his groin. He should tell her to stop, but her closeness was difficult to resist. He looked around. Anthony looked ahead while at the tiller and Phillip had gone back inside. Verity had found a mop and swabbed away the blood on the deck.
For a moment, Christian enjoyed her alluring touch. Then he gently removed her hand and kissed her fingers.
“You could have died.” Her hand settled on his shoulder and she kissed him on the mouth. Christian leaped to his feet. “I should put on a shirt.” He held the cape over his front and headed for the cabin.
From the bow, Verity giggled. “You can have one of our gowns to wear.”
Christian returned to work the oars with Anthony. They rowed until dawn. The wind picked up again close to morning. It caught the sails, and the boat raced over the water.
Christian smiled as Henrietta whooped and danced around the deck. He wished he could be as light hearted, but even if they reached Le Havre unscathed, the port would be guarded. Usually, his contact was there to ensure they boarded a ship without incident. But this time they were on their own, and with little money. That would pose a problem if he had to pay off anyone along the way. Henrietta stood beside him. “What is troubling you?”
“We need more money,” he confessed, allowing his guard to slip.
She reached into her pocket and held up something bright and sparkling. She grinned. “I have one sapphire earring left.”
He eyed it then placed his hand over hers on the rail. “I wouldn’t want to use it. Your father plans to match it with a new set when you return home.”
She shrugged and put it back in her pocket. “If we have need of it, then we must use it.”
He watched as Henrietta talked to Philippe and laughed when an albatross landed atop the mast. Throughout this journey fraught with danger, his love for this brave, vivacious girl had deepened. How quickly she’d become everything to him. The future took on a sweetness he hadn’t believed possible. His hand on the tiller he stared into the fragile sunlight of another cool autumn morning.
Mist hovered over the river as they moored in the village of Vernon. The tall church overshadowed the whitewashed houses. Verity dressed as a serving wench walked to the open market in the town square for supplies.
Anthony attempted to plug the leak, then gave up. It was impossible, they would have to keep bailing. They waited nervously for Verity’s return. People cast inquisitive glances in their direction, but no one was going to question the sans culottes.
Verity brought back half a cooked chicken, a round of cheese, a loaf of bread, strawberries, and a bottle of the local wine.
They set sail again. Now approaching Rouen, the river traffic increased. Barges and fishing boats gave way to ships from distant countries, sailing upriver to dock and unload their wares. The wharves alive with activity.
Verity pointed out the Rouen cathedral where the gothic spires of Notre Dame rose above the roofs of the narrow houses.
“Reaching up for what the National Convention perceives to be an irrelevant God,” Christian commented.
Verity nodded. “Oui, the government melted the fences to make guns.”
Christian expected trouble. Having been fired, the pistol was not much good to them. Their arrival was noted. The National Guard soldiers along the quay stood and watched them. He waited for them to give chase, but no attempt was made to stop them. It would be a different story at Le Havre.
When Rouen disappeared behind them, Christian took a deep breath and eased his tight shoulders as Anthony came to take over the tiller.
When he stretched out on the deck Henrietta sat beside him. Her serious green studied him, her delicate eyebrows drawn together. “You are so tired, my darling.” She rolled up her cloak and placed it beneath his head for a pillow. “Sleep!” He needed no nudging, and he shut his eyes.
Anthony must have slept for hours. He felt a hand on his shoulder and was on his feet before he came fully awake. “Look!” Henrietta pointed. A posse of six National Guardsmen in their blue and white uniforms rode flat-out, beside the river heading for Le Havre. The guards saw the boat, but didn’t slow their pace. The road wound away from the river, and they disappeared.
“Looks like they plan to arrest us when we reach Le Havre,” Anthony said.
Christian nodded. “This requires a change of plan.”
“What have you in mind?” Anthony wiped his brow with his hand. “Is there another way?”
Christian sniffed the salt on the breeze. “Possibly. We’re not far from the coast.” Another untried course to take. “If we leave the boat before we reach the mouth of the river, we can travel overland to a cove south of Honfleur. Smugglers use it. They’re a nasty bunch, but if we offer them payment, they’re likely to agree to take us. Many have crossed the Channel that way. It’s a lucrative business for them.”
“What if they’re not there?” Henrietta asked.
He tried to smile. “Let’s hope they are.”
She squeezed his arm. “We must do it. Mustn’t we, Papa?”
“As good a plan as any,” Anthony said. “I don’t fancy taking our chances at Le Havre.”
Verity came to rest her arms on the rail. “But what about Philippe?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my legs. I can walk.” They turned to see Philippe standing on deck. “I’m much better.” He grinned. “The trip downriver has done me no end of good.”
“Then it’s agreed.” But Christian suspected Philippe’s bravado was designed more to put them at ease than the truth.