Chapter 18

Editing by Old Rotorhead

Florence’s new dress was ready by mid morning, and it would have been impossible to have found a girl who was happier. She was dancing up and down the workshop, and all production ceased as everyone watched her. Kaitlyn had to catch her and wave the women back to work. The dress was one of their finest creations and fitted Josephine perfectly.

Whilst Josephine was undoubtedly female, her figure was almost straight up and down, with just a small amount of padding on her hips and rear, and her bosom was almost non-existent, but again sufficient to ensure that she would not be mistaken for anything other than female. With a figure like this it was much easier to make her look good than many of their more usual customers, most of whom were, perhaps it could be said, comfortably padded. But even so, this was a tour de force with the colours of the dress, chosen by Myfanwy to complement Josephine’s skin colour, giving sophistication to comparative simplicity. The whole ensemble was simply superb.

Whilst Josephine was still dancing with joy Victoria arrived.

“Good heavens, Kaitlyn, you have excelled yourself!” she exclaimed when she saw the dress.

“I wish I could take the credit for it! I had no input other than to supervise. It was a collaboration between Josephine and Myfanwy. I think we have a couple of little treasures there. My girls will have to be very good to beat them. Well, a bit of competition can only improve things,” Kaitlynn replied, laughing.

“I think you may well be right. I think I’d better get her over to Gina for some photographs before she wears it out,” Victoria laughed. “Come along Josephine, and you too, Myfanwy.”

When they arrived at the studio they found that Gina already had someone with her having their portrait taken. They waited outside for five minutes until Gina showed her sitter out. She turned out to be the wife of one of the city councillors, Mrs Saltford, a lady that Victoria knew from her patronage of the shop.

“Good morning, Mrs Saltford,” said Victoria.

“Good Morning, Victoria,” Mrs Saltford replied, “And, Oh!” she looked at Josephine, “this is...”

“Josephine, our new model,” said Victoria with a rather smug expression knowing that Mrs Saltford was somewhat surprised, even shocked, “and one of our apprentice designers, Myfanwy.”

“I, I’m pleased to meet you,” Mrs Saltford recovered well. “And is that dress from your next collection? It is lovely, ooh,” she touched the material, “yes, lovely.”

“It is,” Victoria replied, then lowered her voice. “But it’s still hush, hush, you know.”

“Of course dear, I shan’t say a word to a soul,” Mrs Saltford promised and she scuttled away.

Victoria didn’t suppose that Mrs Saltford spoke to many souls, but there were plenty of ladies ears that would hear about it. That, she thought, could really make the next fashion show a success.

Victoria went in to the studio, followed by the other two.

“Good morning,” said Gina, turning to them. “Oh yes, that dress is exquisite!” she took Josephine by the hand and led her over to where she wanted her to pose.

Josephine seemed to take naturally to posing in front of the camera; there was no doubt that she had a streak of exhibitionism about her. It wasn’t obvious from her dark complexion that she was becoming aroused, until after Gina started her usual patter to get Josephine to undress, much to Victoria’s amusement. Victoria had forgotten that Myfanwy was standing to one side and it wasn’t until Josephine crossed the studio and seized Gina into a clinch, kissing her enthusiastically that a sharp intake of breath reminded her that she was there.

Meantime Josephine dropped her hand down to the junction of Gina’s thighs and discovered that Gina wasn’t what she thought. She leapt back and raised her hand to strike. Victoria was quicker and caught the hand before Josephine could carry out her intention. Josephine collapsed into Victoria’s arms crying and protesting that she hadn’t meant it and please would madam not beat her.

Victoria manoeuvred her to the chaise longue and sat beside her, holding her.

She looked at the other two.

“Go and develop Josephine’s pictures,” she told them.

She turned her attention back to Josephine.

“You are not going to be beaten, not ever, do you understand? You are free,” she told her.

“I am sorry madam. I hate men, they are disgusting creatures,” Josephine told her quite vehemently and between sniffs.

“Gina isn’t like other men,” said Victoria, and went on to explain about George.

“I do not understand,” said Josephine.

“You prefer women to men, right?” Victoria guessed.

“Yes!”

“And that isn’t ... usual.”

“No.”

“Well George, or Gina, is just unusual in a different way. When he first came here he was barely able to look at anyone or talk to them. And then I discovered that he liked to dress in women’s clothes, and when he did, he became normal. Well, I suppose normal isn’t quite the right word, but I’m sure I don’t know what is.”

Josephine giggled.

“I think you know what I mean, and he wasn’t trying to force himself on you. From where I stood it was very much the opposite,” said Victoria.

“Yes, madam.”

“Miss Victoria!”

“Yes, Miss Victoria. I won’t forget again.”

Jake looked at what was revealed by the lantern. It was a large cave, and Jake immediately recognised what the packing cases stacked there contained, obviously other vessels had succeeded where ‘The Five Sisters‘, now ‘Moonfleet’ had failed. There were some boxes which they guessed contained French brandy, the stuff you would normally expect smugglers to handle, and they saw that there was a heavily bolted door on the far side. As Captain Cockburn swung the lamp around they saw what appeared to be a body under a blanket. Jake went over to have a closer examination, when the body moved.

“Whoever it is, is alive!” he said. “But it looks as though it’s only just.”

“I wonder who it is,” said Captain Cockburn.

“I’ve no idea, but it looks like a girl,” replied Jake. He thought for a moment. “You’d better get your troopers down here to guard this lot. I’ll carry her up to the bedroom and get Mrs O’Toole to make some broth or something. I’m sure she’ll have more idea of what to do than me. When you get back we’ll have to think about what to do.”

“Right, on my way.”

By the time Jake got up to the bedroom with the girl, taking care to keep her away from the walls on the narrow stairs, Mrs O’Toole was in the bedroom. She had brought a ewer of water with her. Jake laid the girl on the bed and propped her up so that they could give her some water.

She spluttered somewhat when they held a glass to her lips and then took several sips.

“Do you know who she is?” Jake asked Mrs O’Toole.

“I didn’t even know she existed, let alone her name,” she replied. “But I can see now how the old bastard could suddenly appear when I didn’t know he was there. And those stairs go down to what, a cellar?”

“No,” Jake replied. “A large cave on the seaward side,” he waved an arm in the appropriate direction, and turned his attention back to the girl who was showing some signs of life. They gave her some more water.

“Can you tell me your name?” asked Jake.

With an effort the girl tried.

“Lady B...” it was so quiet they could barely hear her.

“Lady B...” Jake repeated to encourage her.

“Beatrice,” her voice trailed off and she seemed to pass out again.

“However long has she been there I wonder?” Jake mused.

“Judging by the state of her I’d say some while,” said Mrs O’Toole. “I’ll get her cleaned up and see if I can find some clothes for her. You’d best go to spare her modesty.”

“We’ll need to come through to get to the cellar, but there’s another door, must go out to the beach, so we’ll use that once we know where it goes.”

He went downstairs and outside where he found the captain, and most of his men.

“Better leave a guard here,” he said. “I’ll go through and open the far door in the cave, I’ll take a couple of your men if I may, in case I need more muscle, you take rest of your men around to the seaward side. You should be able to find an entrance there.”

“Right you are,” acknowledged Captain Cockburn.

“Follow me,” Jake said to the two men left with him.

They went into the house and up the stairs. Jake knocked on the bedroom door to give Mrs O’Toole a chance to cover the girl. When she called out to come in they went into the bedroom, Jake picked up the lantern and they went down the steps to the cave.

“Not quite the sort of thing cavalrymen are normally called on to do,” Jake said.

The men laughed.

“We do normal training,” said one, “but the captain tells us that we are unlikely to act as normal cavalry and he trains us for all kinds of action. Says in an insurrection you never know what to expect. Bit like this, sir.”

“Glad to hear it,” replied Jake. “Because this certainly isn’t normal.”

The bolts on the door withdrew easily enough, and the door swung open. Beyond was another downward sloping tunnel ending after some yards in another door. Aware that they had no idea where this ended, Jake motioned the troopers to silence and took his revolver out of his pocket.

Jake carefully opened the door to be confronted by ... another door. He motioned silence again and they could hear voices. He looked at the nearest trooper.

“It looks like a cupboard door,” he whispered. “D’you think you could boot it open?”

No sooner had he moved aside than the trooper raised his boot and the door exploded into the room beyond. There were two men who had been looking through an open doorway at the sea beyond. As they turned one started to reach for the pistol in his waistband. He was discouraged by a sabre poking him in the side of his neck. The other man put his hands up. The other trooper removed weapons from both men, leaned out of the door and called in a loud voice, ‘Ulsters’. A minute later Captain Cockburn and his men arrived.

“We were looking for a cave entrance,” he said.

“There it is,” said Jake with a grin, indicating the cupboard. “Your man doesn’t know his own strength!”

“It’s the way I train ‘em,” the captain laughed.

“So I hear,” said Jake, “a good job too!”

Josephine sought out Nerissa when it was time to go home and they walked together.

“How did you get on having your photographs taken,” Nerissa asked.

“It was terrible.”

“Really? I mean how could it be that bad? I’ve had mine taken and it was...”

“I made a fool of myself,” Josephine admitted with a sob. “I loved it! Posing made me want ... I was a fool. I really expected to be beaten, but Miss Victoria was so nice about it.”

“Nobody is going to beat you, Josephine,” Nerissa told her.

“That’s what Miss Victoria told me. On the plantation I would have been beaten.”

“That’s awful!” Nerissa shuddered.

“It is what happens.”

“So what happened?” Nerissa asked her.

They had reached the house and Nerissa opened the front door, and they stood in the foyer as Josephine went on.

“Gina took several photographs, and I was enjoying posing and I got, how would you say, I get an itch, down here. So I grab hold of Gina and I kiss her and I put my hand down...”

“And you discovered that Gina isn’t...” Nerissa giggled.

“Oh! You know! Miss Victoria swore me to silence,” said Josephine. “Yes, I discovered that she was a man. And I hate men.” Josephine said the last with such vehemence that Nerissa flinched.

“You like women?” Nerissa realised. “I mean for ... love,” the last whispered.

“Yes ... I like you too,” Josephine said quietly.

Nerissa reached up and kissed her.

“I seem to have an itch too,” Nerissa smiled. “I must change for dinner. I’ll see you later. We can ... talk.”

Jake returned to see how Mrs O’Toole was getting on with Lady Beatrice, and see if he could discover who or what Lady Beatrice was. She must have another name.

“She’s taken a little broth, Sir Jacob, and now she is sleeping,” Mrs O’Toole told him. “She is best left undisturbed. I can’t see that it is vitally important to discover who she is at the moment.”

“You’re right, of course, Mrs O’Toole. Provided she is in no danger of dying on us,” said Jake.

Captain Cockburn arrived,

“Sir Jacob! There is a boat arriving this evening to pick up the guns,” he told Jake. “One of those men couldn’t wait to tell us.”

“One of you men trained in persuasion techniques?” said Jake with a grin.

“No, one of them was anxious to avoid a noose about his neck,” Cockburn laughed. “So we need to work out a plan. I’d like to take the lot if possible.”

“Did he know how many men?” asked Jake

“No, but it would need to be a half dozen to move that lot in a sensible length of time.”

“So they’ll come in and tie up along the quay,” said Jake.

“We could have some men hidden out there, as soon as the men leave the boat they can capture it. And then a reception party to greet them when they come towards the entrance,” said Captain Cockburn.

“Do your men carry firearms?” Jake asked him.

“Of course, carbines.” He saw Jake’s unspoken question. “They’ve shorter barrels, easier to handle on horseback, and they are well trained in their use. I make sure they are ready for every eventuality.”

They got the men organised and checked their firearms, the detail on the quay consisted of four men hidden behind some crates and lobster pots. There were some men hidden on the far side of the building that housed the tunnel entrance, and another group ready to close the trap behind the intruders led by Captain Cockburn. He had made sure that his men were fed and had an issue of a small quantity of brandy from the cellar.

They settled down to wait.

Jake went back into the presbytery to see if the girl had woken yet, but she hadn’t, and Mrs O’Toole expressed her worries about the girl’s health. He went to an upstairs window from where he could keep an eye open for the arrival of the boat.

It was fully dark, the sun having set an hour before, but there was a sliver of moon giving just sufficient light to make out a small cutter creeping into the bay. Jake whistled to Captain Cockburn and received a whistle in reply. It took nearly twenty minutes for the boat to come alongside the mole that projected into the sea to protect the harbour. As soon as she was tied up Jake could see a number of figures climb up onto the mole and walk towards the shore. Jake counted six. The captain got that right, he thought. Once they were on the beach he could see the troopers who had been hiding make their way to the boat. There was a shot from the boat followed by a second. The six men on the beach turned at the sound to be confronted by the troopers who had been waiting to close the trap. Jake couldn’t see the troopers who were out of his sight behind the building, but from the way the men acted it was clear that they had seen them. One of the men pulled out a pistol, but there was the crack of a rifle and he dropped before he could fire. The rest surrendered without offering any resistance. The only casualties were the man on the boat who was shot dead, but not before he had wounded one of the troopers, fortunately not badly. Jake went down and joined the troopers and took a look at their captives.

“Well done!” he congratulated the troopers. “a fine night’s work! Captain, I am minded to take that cutter to Dublin with the girl and Mrs O’Toole to look after her. It’ll be quicker and easier than going by road, but do you have anyone in your troop who has sailing experience?”

“Why yes, matter of fact I’ve an ex navy man. Gregson!” Captain Cockburn called.

“Sir!” came the reply.

“Can you sail that cutter?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. No problem.” replied Gregson.

“Good man! You’re with Sir Jacob, we’ll meet up with you back at barracks,” Captain Cockburn told him.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Gregson grinned. “Can we take Forsett with us, sir? It’ll be handy to have an extra pair of hands.”

Jake organised getting the girl on board accompanied by Mrs O’Toole who was anything but keen.

“We’ll have her in a hospital much sooner this way,” Jake told her.

Within half an hour of the decision being made the cutter cast off, and stood out to sea with Jake at the helm, and the two troopers tending the sails, although Forsett had to be told what to do, he picked up the basics quite quickly.

Carrying all her sail the cutter proved to be a handy little craft with a very respectable turn of speed Jake took her well out to sea where he could be sure that in the dark he ran no risk of hitting a reef. As dawn came they were well on their way, and Mrs O’Toole came up to the cockpit to tell Jake that the girl was sleeping easy.

“‘Tis a miracle she’s still with us, but I think she’ll make it now, sir,” she told Jake.

Jake looked towards the east as the sun cleared the horizon, and squinting against it he could make out a ship rapidly overhauling them. It took a few minutes as the bearing changed for Jake to recognise ‘Moonfleet’.

From his vantage point on the higher deck and with the rising sun behind him Fitz had been watching the cutter for some time, realising that their courses were slightly converging, but with ‘Moonfleet’s’ far greater speed, not with any concern. As the sun came on the cutter he raised his glass to take a look. More as a matter of interest than anything else. The first thing he noticed was that there were two men in uniform, and then he looked at the helmsman.

“Tom,” he called.

“Aye, sir,” Tom acknowledged, coming aft.

“Here,” Fitz handed his glass to Tom. “ What do you make of her helmsman?

Tom trained the glass, bracing himself to hold it steady.

“It’s Capt’n Jake, sir, I’m sure of it, and with soldiers, too.”

It was at this moment that Jake recognised ‘Moonfleet’, and was amazed to see her immediately heave to, almost as though by telepathic command to her skipper.

Within minutes they were alongside and transferring the girl and Mrs O’Toole to the schooner. Mrs O’Toole was delighted that something hot could be provided by the steward for her patient, and not averse to taking something herself.

“Will you sail the cutter to Dublin?” Jake asked Gregson receiving a cheery affirmative in reply.

As ‘Moonfleet’ came back on the wind Mary Kelly appeared on deck. Fitz looked somewhat embarrassed and Mary had the good grace to blush.

“Not one word out of you, Jake White, or I’ll ... well never mind,” she said to the broadly grinning Jake. “Now what’s going on, how did you get here and who is that with Mrs O’Toole?”

She had obviously recognised the old lady from the village.

“We came from that cutter,” Jake indicated the boat fast disappearing astern. It’s a young lady with Mrs O’Toole, we found her in a cave used for storing guns and brandy. And the rest...”

“Girl?” Mary cut him off. “D’ye know her name?”

“All we’ve got so far is Lady Beatrice,” replied Jake.

“Oh. My. God!” the deity was almost lost to the breeze as Mary disappeared below deck again.

Fitz started to quiz Jake on what had gone on when she reappeared.

“That is Lady Beatrice Kingswood,” she said. “She has been missing for two years.”

Fitz clearly had no idea what that meant, and Jake could only connect the name.

She looked at Jake: “D’ye know what this means?”

“Well other than that I assume she must be Lord Kingswood’s daughter, no.” said Jake.

“Good heavens,” said Mary, shaking her head. “Does that man never let his right hand know what the left is up to? Did Hermione never say anything?”

“He is a man of few words,” said Jake, “and most of those are misleading. And Hermione and I were usually discussing other things. We’ve only met twice, apart from meeting on this ship, and we didn’t get much chance to chat then.”

“Well,” said Mary, “what it means is that you have succeeded where every other agent and half the British army have failed! And you didn’t even know what you were looking for!”

“I didn’t know I was looking for anything,” said Jake shaking his head. “Just an errand boy.”

A couple of hours later ‘Moonfleet’ docked in Dublin. Mary was over the side almost as soon as they stopped moving, and into a cab that was waiting anticipating that someone from the ship would need them. She returned less than an hour later accompanied by Mr Hatherley, Lord Kingswood. He nodded to Jake and Fitz as he passed and went below deck followed by Mary. It was fully half an hour later when he returned to the deck and walked over to Jake.

He seized Jake’s hand.

“Jake,” he said, his voice full of emotion, “I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. Nor, I believe can the country. You have done a great service and fully justified your knighthood.”

“Thank you, Mr Hatherley,” Jake used the address that he normally did. “I really don’t know what to say. I have just blundered about and things seem to have turned out well. I really am pleased to have been of service, particularly to yourself.”

“Hardly blundering, Sir Jacob,” Hatherley was getting control of himself, “and it is what you do when you are confronted by a problem that counts. Now. I must go and see Colonel Cadogan - interesting that you know him - and start sorting things through. You will be needed so don’t go far. You might spend some time writing a report for me.” He turned to Fitz. “I’m sure your quick thinking in stopping your ship has had a good effect on the outcome too. Navy training, I know,” he waved Fitz’s objection aside. “Perhaps you too could submit a report.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Fitz with a grin.

Mary left with Hatherley, but returned an hour later in a van with two nurses. They collected Lady Beatrice from her cabin.

Mary went up to Fitz, stretched up and kissed him: “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said

As she left, Mrs O’Toole came on deck.

“How am I going to get home?” she asked Jake.

At that very moment there was a bump as another craft came alongside. Jake and Fitz turned to see that Gregson had brought the cutter in.

“Come aboard,” said Jake when the boat was secured. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“No, sir,” said Gregson, “there’s nothing aboard her.”

“Right, go to the galley and get something, and then you can take this lady back where she came from,” said Jake.

“Aye, aye, sir,” said Gregson, grinning, and took his friend with him to get some food.

Jake turned to Mrs O’Toole. “Will that be all right?”

“It will sir, thank you,” Mrs O’Toole chuckling. “It’s not often I get escorted by a couple of young men.”

“You just make sure they’re still young when they get back,” laughed Jake.

If there was one thing Jake wanted to do it was get back to Bristol. However, it was not to be. Both he and Fitz got their reports written, obviously not a lengthy document for Fitz. And Jake departed for the barracks where he knew he would find Colonel Cadogan, if not Mr Hatherley. On his way he called in to see how Mrs Mainwaring was getting on. She had sorted out her business and Jake suggested that she think about moving to ‘Moonfleet’.

When he arrived at the barracks he was quickly escorted to the Colonel’s office where he found both men. He handed them his and Fitz’s reports and they settled down to read them. Whilst they were thus engaged Jake sat to one side. There were one or two questions asked to clarify points and both men had just finished when there was the sound of boots from outside followed by a knock on the door. At the command to come in the door was opened by a dishevelled trooper.

He held out a folded and sealed sheaf of papers.

“Sir! Dispatch from Captain Cockburn,” said the trooper.

“Have you just ridden non-stop, man?” asked Colonel Cagogan.

“As instructed, sir. Captain Cockburn thought you should have this as soon as possible.”

“Well done!” said Colonel Cadogan. “Right, you’d better get some rest, we’ll have orders for you to take back, but not for a little while. Better get something to eat too.”