Race Before the Wind

Copyright © Jill Salkeld 1988

Part Three: 1826-1831

The Men of Enterprise

Chapter One

The woman in the pink bonnet clung with both hands to the Medina's gunwhale, her large bulk swayed by the motion of the steamer. Discreetly jostling her neighbours for a better view, she frowned at the host of skiffs and ketches that scampered across the waves in Cowes Roads or weaved among the larger yachts gathered off Cowes Castle for the first race. The number of fine folk who had put to sea in tiny, ill-equpped craft, merely to observe the vessels of the Royal Yacht Club at close quarters, was absurd. Few of these intrepid sailors showed any knowledge of seamanship, and many were apparently too drunk to care.

Unimpressed by the sparkling sea, the streamers and ensigns flying, and the discordant jollity of four bands playing at once - one ashore and three afloat - the woman glanced without pleasure at the ship which the Medina was towing out of Cowes Roads. Falcon mounted twenty-two guns, and her three masts stabbed the brilliant sky; but Lord Yarborough, the popular Club Commodore whose efforts had made this Regatta possible, was perhaps entitled to own the grandest and most luxurious yacht on the Solent.

The woman said loudly to her timid, tight-corsetted female companion, "if we are to be no more than a tug-boat, and tossed like a salad into the bargain, Captain Knight really has no business charging us five shillings each for the privilege. I shall certainly demand that half the fare be refunded."

The Medina's Mate, hearing these words as he was meant to, broke off his conversation with a steward and approached the two ladies.

"Now then, Mrs. Fearnehaugh," he said, with the dazzling smile that came easily from long practice, and was part of the job, "I did warn you that the sea would be choppy."

~"Why, Mr. Elderfield, you are incorrigible." Mrs Fearnehaugh blushed and simpered like a green girl, instead of a woman thirty years married. "I declare you said nothing whatever about it, but pocketed our money with a smile just like that one."

Tom decided against reminding the old harridan of her exact words: that a little breeze and a few silly waves would not prevent her from attending the Regatta.

He sketched a bow, and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Madam, you have found me out. I'm a rogue and a villain, and if Captain Knight knew the lies I tell to attract custom, he would kick me overboard."

"Goodness, how perfectly unreasonable. In that case, Mr. Elderfield, I shall perhaps save my complaints for our next excursion - but don't imagine that your dishonesty has passed unnoticed."

"Madam, I stand reproached," he said, and strolled with gritted teeth to the starboard side, exchanging courtesies with several less infuriating passengers along the way.

He had been in the job for two years. After Louisa died he had given up the house in Lymington, selling the contents at auction and banking the proceeds. He had kept only the little rosewood book-carrier, and a miniature of himself and Louisa together in all their wedding finery.

She had been twenty years old when she was killed. He tried to believe that for a time he had made her happy, before Jess came back; but it was the waste that he had grieved for most, and his own heartless folly. He learned then what nothing had ever brought home to him before that however often he had shown compassion, even risked his wife for the people he most loved, he had not once made a real sacrifice for any one of them. Expensive presents did not count, he liked giving them. Even his decision to stay with Louisa had been a pandering to his conscience, that was all.

Louisa had been his only family. He would have sacrificed anything - freedom, health, life itself - to have been able to bring her back. But she was gone, and would never know that he had loved her.

Wanting only to escape from everyone connected with the Free Trade, he had fled to Guernsey, Helene de l'Eree greeted him warmly, providing physical comfort, a sympathetic ear, and a degree of companionship.

It was not Tom's nature to indulge in protracted self-pity, seeking nothing else to occupy his mind and energy. Before, he had always had the Trade. As a guest in Helene's house, he took her walking or riding along every cliff path and inland lane south of St. Peter Port. During these expeditions, he thought seriously and privately about the future.

Helene, used to saving her powers of endurance for the bedroom, grew fretful and impatient. "If this is your idea of going into a decline, my Englishman," she said once, "how shall I bear it when you recover your strength?"

Within a month he came home - not to Lymington, but to Cowes. He moved in with Mace Tandy, keeping company with the young shipwright's friends rather than be drawn back into smart society. Whenever Jessica and the twins came visiting Uncle Mace, Tom treated Jess with cool civility, since she wanted nothing more. He did not enquire into her private life. The twins called him 'Mr Elderfield', but here their deference began and ended. Honor was affectionate and full of sparkling mischief. Luke was quieter, less trusting, a touch belligerent - and yet, alone with his twin, not guessing he was overheard, he was as lively and talkative as she.

Tom did not stay on the Island to be near Jess - or so he convinced himself. Yacht owners needed experienced skippers from spring through to autumn, since few of them knew or wanted to learn the first principles of sailing. In winter, he worked on the cross-channel packet boats. Yachts and ferries alike called often at Guernsey, and Tom did not lose touch with Helene.

In the spring of 1824, Medina lost her Mate to a Club yacht, and this time Tom leapt at the chance of a permanent position. During the winters, when streamers did not run, he transferred to a Solent sailing packet.

Working on the Medina meant taking rooms in Southampton, where the Island ferry service was based. Though at first Tom missed Mace's noisy exuberance and bursts of intense romantic or political commitment, he made friends on the mainland. Of the fashionable set, he saw only the Vaillants - who now had four sons -and, as often as duty nudged him into it, Louisa's parents.

Now, in the summer of 1826, Tom was ready for change. A partnership with Mace Tandy had been a serious possibility ever since his soul-searching in Guernsey; and sharing rooms with the younger man had convinced Tom of three things. Firstly, that their friendship would withstand the inevitable stormy disputes; secondly, that Mace was as brilliant as Jessica believed - and thirdly, that he could not be trusted with any financial responsibility whatsoever.

Tom had been sure that he would grow up, but Mace was now twenty-three, and signs of responsible behaviour were not much in evidence. If Tom wanted to marry his own modest capital to Mace Tandy's genius, it would have to be soon - before Mace was reckless enough to set up in business on his own, or the likes of Mrs. Fearnehaugh drove Tom mad.

During the past fortnight, and without Mace's knowledge, Tom had approached John Ekless, a landowner in Bursledon on the Hamble River. The house and land adjacent to Mr. Ekless' own residence had once been leased as a boatyard to Jem Lomer's father, and the slips had not been used since Lomer went bankrupt and moved to Pennington. Now that the house's most recent tenant had died, the lease on the site was vacant, and Tom considered that such an opportunity might not occur again for some time.

An eddy of wind sent smoke swirling down around Tom and the other passengers standing aft of the tall, slender funnel. There was an exodus for'ard, and Tom casually followed the crowd.

In the bows, he stood beside Jem Lomer, the Medina's permanent steward. The earnest young scholar had given Hicks his notice after Louisa's death, in loyalty to his skipper. Last year, when Jem grew bored with the life of a lawyer's clerk, Tom had met him wandering on Southampton Quay, vaguely looking for employment, and he had been glad to put in a good word for Jem with Captain Knight.

"Look at that," Jem said, his spectacles glinting indignantly in the sun. "It is bad enough that half the crews of these small craft are inebriated, without allowing children to put to sea in this wind, in a rowing boat. It's iniquitous."

Tom looked where he pointed. A skiff was indeed being rowed across Cowes Roads. Its crew comprised two black-haired children of about nine or ten. They sat side by side, taking an oar each. The girl rowed as strongly as the boy.

From all appearances, they intended to cut across the Medina's bows, with nothing to spare.

Tom said under his breath, "Bloody hell!"

"Utter folly," agreed Jem Lomer.

"I'll give them folly," Tom said. He shouted into the wind, "Luke Tandy! Honor! Get out of the way!"

They looked at him without alarm. Honor waved a hand, resting on her oar, while Luke steered the boat to starboard. As Medina passed them Luke gave a masterly twitch at the oar to miss the paddle-box by inches. Then the twins' boat scraped along the streamer's hull. Honor scrambled into the bows of the skiff and flung a rose around Medina's flagpole, which rose from the stern close to the horizontal hawser towing the Falcon.

Tom sprinted aft, elbowing passengers aside in his haste. The last time someone had tried to board while Medina was under way, the damned idiots' boat had capsized and they had very nearly drowned.

Standing just for'ard of the flagpole to man the helm, Captain Knight bellowed down at the twins, only the presence of ladies moderating his language, "You little fools - get away from my ship! Mr. Elderfield, see to it!"

There was not much that Tom could physically do. The rope attached to the skiff's bows - the painter - was looped neatly around the base of Medina's flagpole, and a knot tied where only Luke or Honor could reach it. The tiny craft was being towed helplessly and fast, close into the stern, the short painter stretched taut.

Tom said furiously, "You mustn't board now! Let go the line!"

Honor gazed innocently up at him. "We are coming aboard. We've got to. We can't even wait another single day."

"Don't be stupid! We're towing - we can't just stop the engine. Do you want to be killed?"

But it was clear to everyone, including Captain Knight and the passengers crowding aft to witness the drama, that the twins were now unstoppable. Honor Tandy was already climbing the painter. Her feet were against the Medina's stern, which over hung the skiff at a difficult angle and rose a good seven feet above the sea - and as the stern lifted and dropped sharply, Honor lost her footing.

She hung on grimly to the rope, feet dragging in the water. She began scrambling to the tope, feet dragging in the water. She began scrambling for purchase, but her skirts were sodden and heavy; nor would her wet, smooth soles grip the hull.

Luke yelled at her. "Try harder! Try!"

Tom realised that if Honor let go now, she would miss the skiff - and before anyone could help her, the Falcon would mow her down.

With a muttered oath he swung his legs over the stern. Grasping the flagpole with his right hand, he braced one knee on the gunwhale and the other foot against the outside of the stern. Mrs Fearnehaugh shrieked at him that she couldn't look, that he would be killed and the child with him. Captain Knight was swearing softly.

Tom leaned down far enough to clasp Honor's wrist. "All right, little one, I've got you. He used all his strength to hoist her up a few inches, his position was too awkward to do much more. "Come on now, climb! Hand over hand. That's my good girl."

As Honor obeyed orders, Tom shifted his grip to her waist.

A steep wave tipped the skiff almost on her beam ends, with Luke clinging to stay aboard, Medina's stern reared like an unbroken colt and smacked down, drenching Luke in spray.

Two flagpole had not been designed to take such brutal and repeated stress. It splintered at the base, and snapped.

There was barely a split second's warning. Clasping Honor against him Tom let go of the breaking pole, grabbed for the gunwhale, missed; and snatched wildly at the thick hawser towing the Falcon as he somersaulted backwards. His right hand clenched on it, gained a momentary grip.

The combined weight of the sturdy little girl and his own tumbling twelve-stone frame jerked his arm straight at a wicked angle, and tore the shoulder out of joint.

He landed beneath Honor in the skiff, with his back twisted and rammed against the stern thwart. He did not even notice. Honor rolled off his chest and knelt up. untangling her legs from the painter and throwing the ensign and broken flagpole overboard. Through slitted eyes he saw her bend over him, her face white and shocked.

"Oh, no.....Oh, Mr. Elderfield."

He clutched the dislocated arm to his side, and clamped his jaw shut to keep from screaming as the skiff bucked and danced.

The gap between the skiff and the Medina was widening fast. Knight shouted above the general commotion on deck, "Elderfield! Are you badly injured?"

The Falcon bore down towards them, Tom tried to jam his good shoulder against the thwart and his feet against the bottom boards, but the frightful jolting went on and on. Dear God, how did society women manage to faint to order?

He squinted up at Honor. "Falcon....." He could hardly get the words out. "The Club surgeon....

"Mr Day? Yes, he'll be on board. Have we got to tie up alongside Falcon, then? She sounded both regretful and thoroughly apprehensive

The skiff bounced over a foaming crest and Tom gave a choked cry of agony. His eyes were shut but he felt Honor pat his knee, heard her shaken, scared voice. "Mr. Elderfield?"

"Just do it! Oh Christ.....

Luke pulled strongly on the oars to avoid being run down by the ship. Tom cradled his right arm in helpless pain, half sitting, half lying against the thwart. Honor wiped the sweat from his face with the hem of her petticoat.

"We're sorry," she said, blue eyes tragic.

"Makes.....three of us."

"Mama and Lord Wickham were arguing, you see, because he's been telling Mr. Ekless bad lies about you, because he doesn't want you to have a boatyard."

"We eavesdropped," out in Luke, glancing up at the faces peeping at them from the Falcon's deck. A rope ladder uncoiled itself from the high deck to the sea.

"Yes," said Honor, "and he was so angry, he said who were were. This is the first day we could escape since then, because today everyone was thinking about the Regatta, not watching us, and Lord Wickham is racing in the Gold Cup. We thought the steamer would drop people off at Cowes, but it didn't, because it was only a - only a -"

"Excursion trip," supplied Luke, sullenly.

"We had to see you, Mr. Elderfield, to talk about things."

Tom leaned his head on the gunwhale The child was talking nonsense. He could not bring himself to care much.

She said to Luke. "He doesn't know. He truly doesn't."

"We guessed that."

"Amos wasn't our father." Honor told Tom, with devastating simplicity. "You are."

"I ......what?"

"And Auntie Jess is our Mama, but that wasn't odd. We've always called her that anyway, even though people in the South think she isn't. Oh, Mr. Elderfield - are you fearfully angry? Do you wish it wasn't true?"

"No" he muttered.

He did not know what to think or feel. His children - his and Jessie's. And she had not told him, not even that night at West Mills.

Honor chewed at her lip; then bending forward she kissed his cheek, careful not to jar the injured shoulder. "We're glad it's you," she said, and sat down again very close to him, as if somehow that would make the pain bearable. Her mother's daughter, he thought, and groaned with an anguish that was physical and a lot more besides.

"Look there, we'll be alongside any minute," said Honor Tandy, with distress. "It's almost over, Mr Elderfield. You'll be all right now."

Part 3, The Men of Enterprise, Chapter 2

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