Page 49

Tolde with tongue of barbary In rude maner.

Langworthy had his hands full with Harry Barbary, to say the least. He had spent the past few days doing what he could to dissuade the boy.

He talked of Harry’s age, his inexperience, his cruel abandonment of his mother, the perils of life at sea in wartime, the perils of life at sea at any time, the unending hard work, the cramped quarters, the dangerous pranks, the inevitable bullying officer, the poor diet, the stretches of sameness and ennui.

Not only did these truths fail to move the boy, but Harry countered with truths of his own.

“I will only get older, and I’m as big as a ten-year-old.

” “I learn fast—you’ve said so yourself.

” “Mama has so many children she will be glad to have me gone, when she forgets the shock of it.” “I don’t need much space.

At home I share a bed on the floor with two brothers.

” “I won’t mind the food. At home it’s bread and ale, bread and ale, ninety-nine times out of a hundred. ”

“What of the dangers, Harry?” he persisted. “We will soon be at war. You might have a limb blown off. You might die .”

But what person as young as Harry Barbary ever thought he would die?

The boy only shrugged. “That’s what the coachman said when I sat on top with hardly a thing to cling to.

He said, ‘Don’t you fall asleep up there, or you’ll tumble straight off and crack your head open and then be crushed under the wheels. ’”

Great heavens! Suppose Mrs. Barstow wrote back to him saying he must return the boy to Iffley at once, and here was money for a servant to accompany him?

(This solution would only lead to another problem because he could not imagine his uncle’s ancient Coots managing to keep Harry under control, even if his uncle would spare him.

Wouldn’t Harry just run away from Coots and come straight back to Portsmouth?

By then the Gazelle might have sailed, but Harry would simply haunt the dockyards again for another opportunity, this time with no friends or supervision.)

As a last resort, Langworthy proposed taking him out in one of the Gazelle’s boats to where the ship lay at Spithead. The stiff breeze, at odds with the current, would make a chopping sea, and perhaps seasickness would succeed where arguments failed.

It did not.

Because when even Langworthy had to stare at the horizon to keep down his lurching stomach, Harry continued to bounce and exclaim and point. And to actually see the Gazelle and walk her decks—! Well, let it suffice to say it might have been Horace’s worst idea yet.

It was this excursion they returned from that day as they turned into Highbury Street, Harry still chattering in his excitement and Langworthy still grim.

Knowing there was only old Blodgett to answer the door, and knowing as well how slowly the servant moved, Harry did not bother knocking but instead burst in, Langworthy on his heels, muttering a reprimand.

The words died on his lips.

For there sat—or rather, was hastily rising to her feet—Mrs. Sebastian Barstow.

There were other people in the room, of course. It was just that he didn’t see them straight off. He saw Sarah, and then it was as if he were peering through a spy-glass at the first sight of land after months at sea. He could not look away.

But if she was his promised land, his glimpse was too soon overclouded. Because she stiffened; her lips parted and then shut again; her eyes dropped.

“No!” shouted Harry Barbary, jarring Langworthy from his shock.

“No! Take yourselves off! Go it—budge! I won’t go!

” The boy spun around, meaning to leap for the street door, only to plow into Langworthy.

The latter nearly doubled over, his breath expelled from him, but he retained enough presence of mind to throw out his arms for Harry.

“I won’t go! I won’t!” protested the boy, writhing and twisting to break Langworthy’s grip. “You can’t make me!”

Then everyone in the room was rushing forward and speaking at once, and Harry was taken by the arms and hands and coat.

Both Lord Dere and Langworthy positioned themselves before the door, and Miss Pence guarded the windows, and poor Harry suffered himself to be led by Frances and Sarah to an armchair.

He threw himself into it, scowling mightily and grumbling all manner of shocking oaths and imprecations under his breath.

“Harry,” Sarah addressed him softly. She smiled ruefully to think how she welcomed the violence of his response, because she too had been struggling against an urge to throw herself at Mr. Langworthy.

She, too, wished she could cry and curse and flee far away from this man who was breaking her heart.

“Harry,” she coaxed, “your mother has been fretting about you. You did not even leave her a note.”

“Why should I?” he demanded thickly, giving the padding of the chair a punch. “She couldn’t have read it even if I had.”

“Someone might have read it for her.”

“What difference would it make? I would still be gone, and she would still fuss about it.”

Sarah tried another tack. “Are you all right? You haven’t come to any harm since leaving Iffley?”

Harry shrugged, as much to say, I am as you see me .

Lord Dere sighed and shook his head over these discourtesies, but Sarah persisted.

“I’m glad you’re well. What an adventure you’ve had.

Won’t you like to come back with us and tell your brothers and sisters and the Cramthorpes about it?

They will be amazed. And perhaps in a few more years, if you still think you would like best to go to sea, you might do it with your mother’s blessing. ”

“If you take me back, I will only run away again,” he declared, not a jot moved by these efforts any more than he had been by Langworthy’s.

“Come, lad,” said Lord Dere. “How can you speak thus to someone whose whole family have been your friends?”

Jerking his chin toward Miss Pence Harry retorted, “She’s a better friend than the Barstows have been. She’s making my linens for me.”

“What?” blurted Langworthy. “We spoke about this, Mary. That is—Miss Pence.”

“So we have.” She took the clothes she had displayed to the visitors only minutes earlier, rolled them into a ball, and stuffed them in her workbasket. “Too bad, Harry. You will have to obey your elders. I feel for you.”

Astonished at the rapidity of her desertion, Harry fired up. “That wasn’t how you talked to me before. You said life was full of dull dogs and silly rules, and it was better to do what I liked, for the fun of the thing.”

Frances cleared her throat and lifted her eyebrows at Sarah, which her sister-in-law easily understood as Miss Pence would know all about that, wouldn’t she?

“Oh, pooh, Harry,” Miss Pence replied with a toss of her head. “You’re just disappointed that you have to go home.”

“Will you come with us, Harry?” Sarah asked. “There will be other opportunities, in good time.”

The boy shook his head vehemently, but there were tears of frustration in his eyes.

And perhaps it was her own downcast state, but Sarah could not help pitying him.

She supposed if she had all Harry’s quickness and spirit and nothing to look forward to but a hovel shared with Mrs. Barbary and countless siblings, she would be dejected as well…

What would become of him, even if they could drag him back to Iffley and manage to prevent additional flights?

With a sigh, she turned to the baron. “Sir, may I have a word with you in the passage?”

Harry perked up, but she was careful to keep her face impassive. No need to raise the boy’s hopes, if they might only be dashed again in another minute.

When she had shut the door behind them she said in a low voice, “What is your opinion, sir? He seems very set on being a cabin boy. There would be no question of it, of course, except that Mrs. Barbary did seem to waver at the last minute.”

“If he would be paid wages,” Lord Dere reminded her. “And presumably if some of those wages were remitted to her.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “A lad from his station in life hasn’t many chances in Iffley to better himself…”

“Yes, that’s what I thought. Harry loves to learn, and half of his mischief—if not more—could be attributed to idleness.

If he were to be the Gazelle’s cabin boy, he would see some of the world, and, if he proved able and did not come to harm, he might even rise.

Become an able seaman. Possibly find work in the merchant marine afterward, if the war doesn’t last.”

The baron’s eyes were gleaming by this point. “Let us discuss this with Mr. Langworthy, Sarah.”

“With Mr. Langworthy? Why?”

But Lord Dere had already opened the parlor door to summon him. Wringing her skirts with her hands, Sarah tried to collect herself. He is engaged to Miss Pence again. He kissed her. He called her “Mary.”

“Sir?”

The passage seemed suddenly too confined. Langworthy’s sleeve brushed Sarah’s, and each tried to back away, only to be prevented by a wall sconce at her back and a hat-stand at his.

Succinctly the baron summarized the situation for him, concluding with, “So we have two questions for you, Langworthy. First: you taught and trained the boy yourself in Iffley—do you think he could learn to be a passable sailor? And second: is there any pay granted to cabin boys beyond the food and shelter allotted them, or would Harry have nothing to send home?”

“In short, yes, and yes, sir.”