Piran scampered up the gangway, waving them on.
Captain Trevelyan stood on deck to supervise the proceedings. ‘Welcome on board the
Mermaid of Zennor.
Looks like ye ran into some trouble getting away, Comte.’
Henri blushed. ‘Not Comte, not anymore. That life is over,’ Henri said bitterly. ‘My dog was killed. I am sorry, but I could not leave her there. May I bring her with us and bury her at sea?’
The captain nodded brusquely. ‘Yes, of course. Piran, show them directly to my cabin. I would appreciate it if ye stayed there until we are underway. We still have much to do to make the high tide. Perhaps ye could lay your dog down over there?’
Henri nodded curtly and lay Juju tenderly on the deck, away from where the men were working. He followed Piran below deck, through a cramped saloon hung with hammocks, to the stern where the captain had his tiny cabin.
‘Stay here until we make sail. The capt’n’ll be angry if ye get in the way.’
Piran left them and went back on deck.
‘I will just wait out here,’ said Henri awkwardly, not looking at either of them. ‘I do not want to intrude.’
Amelie refused to look at Henri or Tilly, her eyes staying firmly on the floor of the cabin.
‘Don’t be stupid, Henri,’ retorted Tilly. ‘We’ll wait together. As if you would be intruding!’
‘As you wish,’ replied Henri stiffly, going to stand near the wall.
Amelie sat herself down primly at the captain’s small table and took to studying the tips of her rose-pink satin shoes, now muddy and shabby.
‘That is, if Mademoiselle de Montjoyeuse does not object?’ Henri enquired.
‘Non,
I have no objection,’ replied Amelie coolly, turning her satin toe from side to side for closer inspection.
Henri flushed and turned away, as if contemplating kicking the wall.
‘Oh, for goodness sake, don’t be ridiculous!’ Tilly exclaimed in annoyance. ‘What is the matter with you two? We’ve been through far too much for you to behave like this now.’
Amelie tossed her head defiantly.
‘The matter is that
everything
has changed,’ Henri blurted. ‘My life is over. I am not, as I believed, a Montjoyeuse. I am not Mademoiselle de Montjoyeuse’s cousin. I am nothing but a peasant impostor.’
‘Oh, stop it,’ Tilly cried. ‘Stop calling her “mademoiselle” as if you hardly know her. Amelie, talk to him. Henri may not be your cousin, but he’s your friend. You don’t have a family anymore, and that is really sad, but don’t throw away the best friend you have. Friends are too precious to toss aside. Think of Henri, he’s lost everyone – his parents, his heritage, even his beloved Juju. Don’t make him lose you as well.’
Tilly stopped, embarrassed by her outburst. Henri sat down on the bed, not looking at anyone. Amelie swallowed. They sat in silence for many long minutes. Tilly wanted to cry. She had only tried to help, but everything had gone so terribly wrong.
Up above they could hear the calls of the sailors working frantically. They could hear the slap of water on the hull. The cabin smelt stuffy and musty. Tilly felt claustrophobic.
‘I’m going up on deck,’ Tilly muttered, stomping out of the cabin.
‘But Tilly, the captain said...’ called Amelie.
‘I don’t care what the captain said, I need some fresh air or I’m going to be
sick,’
replied Tilly in disgust.
Tilly stomped up on deck but was careful to stand out of the way. The last few parcels were loaded into the hold and the hatches battened. Sailors scrambled up the masts, unfurling sails.
Tilly watched the quay anxiously, terrified that Jacques would appear with reinforcements to carry out his vow to kill Henri and Amelie. It was with huge relief that she saw Piran toss the mooring rope on the deck and jump on board. The current of the River Seine caught the schooner. The light breeze filled the sails and the ship glided smoothly across the water.
Tilly looked up and realised that the sails were black instead of white. The ship would appear almost invisible in the darkness.
The houses of Honfleur slipped behind them. Tilly could feel the cool breeze on her face and smell its familiar, salty tang. The feeling of nausea gradually eased.
The crew moved quietly and efficiently around the deck, trimming the rigging, as the schooner surged out to sea, heading north-west to Cornwall. The sun was sinking in the west, washing the ocean with a fiery glow.
At last, Tilly heard a slight noise behind her and turned. Amelie was there, her face strained.
‘Tilly?’ Amelie said. ‘I am so sorry. You were right. It was wrong of me to hurt Henri. I was just so shocked by the news that I did not know what to say or do. He and I have talked for a long time. Poor Henri is devastated.’
Tilly nodded in sympathy. ‘It must be crushing to find out that everything in your life isn’t what you thought it was.’
‘But you were right, Tilly,’ Amelie added. ‘One thing is still true – you and Henri and I are friends. And that is a very precious thing.’
Tilly smiled a great, heart-warming smile and gave Amelie a quick, strong hug. Amelie hugged her back.
‘I am so glad you arrived when I wished on my ruby necklace – and not a knight in silver armour,’ Amelie added.
‘Me too,’ laughed Tilly. ‘It’s been the greatest adventure of my life, although sometimes I wondered if we’d survive it.’
A few moments later, Henri came on deck and gave Tilly a small, sad smile.
‘I have just spoken to Captain Trevelyan and asked if we could have a small funeral service for Juju now that we are far offshore,’ Henri said. ‘Sunset seems like a fitting time to bury Juju. Would you like to come along?’
‘Of course,’ replied Tilly.
Juju’s lifeless, bloody body was tenderly wrapped in Tilly’s riding cloak. Henri gently lifted her up and held her against his chest. He was silent for a few moments, then he moved to the side of the schooner’s deck and took a deep breath.
Amelie and Tilly stood on either side of him, their hands on his arm and on Juju. They all looked out to the western horizon, ablaze with crimson, pink, orange and gold.
‘Dear Lord,’ Henri began in a clear, deep voice, ‘thank you for the gift of my beautiful, loyal Juju, and for the great joy she brought to my life. She was the most faithful and clever dog anyone could wish for, and I will miss her always. Thank you, Juju, for making the ultimate sacrifice – to give your life to save mine. We will never forget you.’
Henri’s voice broke. Tears ran down Tilly’s face. She gently stroked Juju’s soft, furry face. Amelie sobbed and clutched Henri’s arm. The weight of misery hung heavily upon all of them.
Henri held Juju’s body out over the ocean and then let go. Juju dropped out of sight and was gone, lost in the darkness.
‘Goodbye, Juju,’ whispered Henri.
Tilly, Amelie and Henri stood together for many minutes in a tight huddle, crying and drawing comfort from each other’s presence.
At last they went back down below into the captain’s cabin and sat on the floor in a miserable silence, thoughts tumbling through their minds.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Tilly at last, breaking the deafening silence. ‘I mean, when we get to England?’
Amelie swallowed painfully, her face furrowed with anxiety.
Henri looked at Amelie.
‘I have been thinking that I should go to London and look for work,’ Henri offered hesitantly. ‘I am not trained to do anything much except manage large estates, so perhaps I could work as an overseer for some great lord. Amelie could perhaps find refuge with a respectable, aristocratic family in London who knew her family.’
Amelie shook her head emphatically. ‘I do not wish to live with an aristocratic family as a charity case,’ she insisted. ‘I have done that already for many years, and it is not a pleasant way to live.’
Amelie smiled apologetically at Henri.
‘I mean, you were kind, but your parents ... I mean, the Comte and Comtesse...’ Amelie broke off in confusion and embarrassment.
Henri smiled in understanding. ‘I know what you mean. In fact, now that I think of it, it is quite a relief not to be related to the Montjoyeuses ... well, except for you.’
The three smiled at each other like conspirators.
‘Henri, what about working as a tutor?’ Tilly suggested, wriggling closer. ‘You could teach uncouth young English gentlemen how to speak French and fence and sniff snuff with style!’
Henri nodded slowly, the idea ticking over in his mind.
Amelie’s face lit with excitement. ‘Well, if Henri could teach gentlemen how to have some French flair, then I could teach shy English ladies how to flirt and dance and walk with grace.’
‘And dress beautifully,’ added Tilly. ‘You could be like personal stylists to the rich and famous.’
Amelie and Henri stared at her with surprise.
‘Rich people have them where I live,’ Tilly added quickly. ‘You know what I mean? You two could start a business to teach people how to be fashionable and chic.’
‘Amelie cannot work as a governess,’ objected Henri forcefully. ‘The Montjoyeuses are one of the oldest and most noble families in Europe. She needs to live with her own kind and make a brilliant marriage to a duke or a lord.’
Tilly rolled her eyes with frustration. ‘Like the Chevalier?’ she suggested sarcastically.
‘Mon Dieu,’
replied Amelie with a shudder. ‘I would rather die.’
‘Non.
A kind, young, rich lord,’ offered Henri half-heartedly.
Amelie and Tilly exchanged a rueful glance.
‘Rubbish,’ retorted Tilly. ‘Why shouldn’t Amelie work hard in a business with you instead of marrying for money or living off charity? I think you’d both be brilliant, and I’m sure there would be lots of people who would love to learn some French style from you both.’
Henri gazed at Amelie and shrugged his shoulders in a
who can argue with Tilly?
gesture.
Amelie gurgled her infectious laugh and smacked Henri lightly on the shoulder.
‘Well, perhaps.’ Henri gave in. ‘At least until we can return to France and claim Amelie’s estates back, whatever is left of them.’
Tilly shook her head ominously. ‘The revolution in France will go on for many years. I think England will be Amelie’s home from now on.’
Henri opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. Tilly had a way of speaking, as though she knew what the future might hold, that made him shiver superstitiously.
‘If we sold the rest of the jewels, we would have some money to live on until we can establish a clientele,’ suggested Amelie, pulling out the remaining diamond jewellery from her pocket and turning it over with her finger.
‘I will sell my gold watch,’ added Henri, holding out his fob watch, engraved with the coat of arms of the Montjoyeuses, all that remained of Henri’s inheritance.
‘But don’t ever sell your ruby talisman, Amelie,’ begged Tilly, holding her own pendant in her hand.
Henri looked at her strangely but said nothing.
Now that the beginning of a plan had been made, they settled back against the walls in silence to think over all that had happened and been said.
The
Mermaid of Zennor
sailed through the night sea, riding the rolling waves with ease. Eventually, Amelie and Tilly retired to sleep fitfully on the captain’s bed, while Henri took possession of a hammock swinging in the outer cabin.
They woke the next morning to find the
Mermaid of Zennor
sailing at full speed under a brilliant blue sky. The black sails had been changed for white ones that dazzled in the sun. The ship surged and heeled with the wind and the waves, lulling Tilly with its motion.
Tilly, Henri and Amelie lay up on the deck and chatted, enjoying the sun on their faces and the wind in their hair. Piran stopped by for a chat; he spoke good French with a quaint Cornish accent.
‘Tell me about your life in France?’ he asked. ‘Have ye ever met Queen Marie-Antoinette? Is she as beautiful as they say?’
All three told Piran stories of their experiences at the glittering court of Versailles and meeting the royal French family. Tilly felt thrilled that she could add her own reminiscences of talking with Queen Marie-Antoinette and meeting the little Dauphin and his sister.
They shared some of their adventures since fleeing from Versailles – the brigands, the burning of the chateau, the mob violence in Paris and the altercations with Jacques.
Piran told them stories of his own adventures at sea, sailing with Captain Trevelyan on the
Mermaid of Zennor
since he was twelve. They plied their trade between Cornwall and southern England, up and down the north coast of France, even occasionally as far as Rotterdam in Holland, and down south to the north of Spain and Portugal.
He had tales of battles at sea with Moorish pirates, exotic ports, terrible storms and saving shipwrecked sailors. They spent the day pleasantly, nibbling on dry ship’s biscuits and sipping water.
Mimi tried the ship’s biscuit but spat it out in disgust and patrolled the ship, begging tastier treats from the sailors, who laughed at her antics and petted her fondly.
‘When will we get to Cornwall?’ asked Henri, searching the horizon for signs of land.
‘We should get there during the night,’ replied Piran. ‘If we don’t run into any trouble.’
In the afternoon it was hot, and they lay in the shade playing backgammon with a pile of pebbles and a board chalked on the deck. The evening was long and golden. As the sun finally set, Captain Trevelyan ordered the sailors to change the sails from white back to black.
Tilly and Amelie retired to the captain’s cabin to snooze, while Henri slept in a hammock in the saloon again.
They were woken hours later by a loud explosion. The girls rushed into the outer cabin, dazed and sleepy. Crew members were rushing around, pulling on jackets and boots as they ran.
An alarm bell jangled overhead.
Up above they could hear Captain Trevelyan shouting orders. With their hearts in their mouths, the three followed the crew on deck. Sailors were swarming in the rigging, adjusting the sails. Others ran to arm small cannons stationed on each side of the deck. A quartermaster sorted through piles of weapons and ammunition, thrusting them into the arms of the crew.
Another explosion rent the air, the cannonball falling a few metres from the stern of the
Mermaid of Zennor.
A wave of seawater exploded into the air.
Piran ran past carrying an armload of muskets. ‘’Tis a customs cutter,’ he offered breathlessly. ‘They ’ave spotted us and mean to board and search for contraband. Do naught worry – the capt’n will never let customs officers come aboard. We would all die first.’
This reassuring speech did little to comfort Tilly.
Piran ran on to deliver the muskets to a group of sailors peering out into the darkness across the ocean.
Amelie and Tilly turned to Henri for an explanation of this curious news.
‘It looks like Captain Trevelyan is a free trader,’ offered Henri. Tilly still looked confused, so he elaborated. ‘We are sailing with a ship of smugglers. The black sails, the dark hull, the secrecy of sailing at night. We have a cargo of French brandy and silks, which are unlikely to be declared for excise duty on the shores of Cornwall.’
Tilly shivered with excitement and nerves in the cool night air.
‘The customs cutters are ships that patrol the coast of England to intercept the smugglers who bring illicit goods from France,’ Henri concluded.
Another loud explosion rent the air, lighting the night sky with vivid, red flame. In the afterglow of the blast, Tilly could see a large, ungainly ship with full white sails, flying the familiar red, white and blue crosses of England.
The cannonball slammed the railing, splintering and scorching the wood before landing harmlessly in the sea with a loud splash. Mimi screeched with fear at the noise and scrambled up the nearest mast, huddling on a boom, her paws pressed over her ears.
‘Ready ... Aim ... Fire!’ yelled Captain Trevelyan from his place beside the wheel.
There was an answering explosion from the swivel guns of the
Mermaid of Zennor.
The ammunition balls fired, some falling short into the sea, but two found their mark, punching large holes into the side of the customs cutter. Blasts echoed back and forth.
‘He’s
chasing
the other ship, not running away,’ cried Tilly in alarm as the
Mermaid of Zennor
swung around and began racing towards the enemy and its lethal cannon. ‘He’s forcing a battle.’
‘I will speak with the captain and see if there is aught I can do to help,’ said Henri, striding away.
Cannonballs thudded in the water all around the ship. The schooner rocked sickeningly in the turbulent water. Fire flashed across the sky, filling the air with acrid smoke. A cannonball crunched through the side of the
Mermaid of Zennor.
A man fell screaming in pain.
Tilly clutched Amelie in fear. ‘Come on,’ she cried. ‘We should help, too. That would be better than watching and wondering if we are going to die any minute.’
Tilly and Amelie ran after Henri, catching up with him as he reached the captain.
Captain Trevelyan looked at the three with surprise. ‘Ay’, I forgot we ’ad paying passengers on board,’ he said. ‘How fare ye?’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ asked Henri. ‘Load muskets? Move cannonballs? I have my sword.’
‘We could help, too,’ added Tilly. ‘I have a sword as well.’