except ladies in novels. There’s a difference between what a lady can say in a published book and what she says when someone screws her over. Come on,’ she said. She took his hand. ‘Sod the laundry. We’re going to sign on with the Trinidad again.’
‘I thought we were supposed to be going to the rainy place?’
‘Change of plans. We don’t like Lord Lawrence any more.’
‘Why?’
She taught him some words he probably shouldn’t have known.
The Santíssima Trinidad was the ship Missouri had been born on, the ship his father had died on, and the ship where Agatha had been a nurse for five years. It was in the dock at the moment, being refitted. Agatha had a happy drop when she saw it. It was home. The size of a castle and by far the largest warship in Europe, it was five decks high, and it carried a hundred and forty guns. Now, the deck was alive with carpenters, the air rich with the smell of sawdust and fresh tar.
The gangway was open, so Agatha shuffled Missouri up ahead of her, and looked around for an officer. The captain was passing. He stopped mid-stride.
‘Miss Lawrence! What are you doing here, did we forget some of Pedro’s things? I thought we got his sea chest to you safely?’
‘No, sir, it’s all right,’ she said, nervous now that she was here. It would have been better to talk to a more junior officer, someone whose job it was to remember her name. ‘But I want to sign on again in the infirmary.’
He frowned. ‘I thought there was some provision in England.’
‘There isn’t, sir,’ she said, sprung tight and ready to argue if he tried to say she might like to consider shore work. Shore work would mean some miserable convent hospital surrounded by people she didn’t know. And, she was eleven years older than Missouri. People would assume he was her son and take that as an excuse to be repulsive. ‘And I can’t afford the rent.’
‘You’re sure you’re happy, without protection? It might be better to come aboard as a married woman now.’
‘I trust in the authority of your officers, sir,’ she promised. It was true; the officers were strict, and she had never had any trouble. Partly, that was because she was tall and flat-chested, and possessed of a sexless straightforwardness that made her invisible most of the time. When it didn’t, she found that a lot of difficulties could be solved by stabbing someone with a suture needle and then lamenting how dreadfully clumsy you were. Perhaps you got the occasional punch in the head, but you couldn’t go round being precious about things like that. A bit of fighting was improving.
‘I’m not asking to be paid, sir,’ she pressed. ‘I just want a berth and three meals a day for me and my brother. The same as before. As a volunteer.’ She swallowed. ‘Please. I’m good. If you hire a student instead it’ll cost you a fortune and he’ll know half as much.’
‘I know,’ the captain said, waving his hand. ‘I’ll sign you on as Mr Lawrence and then we can pay you for your trouble. Just do me one favour; cut your hair and put on some trousers, and at least the Admiralty inspector will think we’ve made some sort of nod to the rules when he comes round. And – aha, hello young man,’ he added to Missouri, who smiled and hid behind her skirt.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Agatha said, afire with a disproportionate sense of victory. Lord Lawrence could go and bugger a duck.
Much later, in England, people were shocked when she told them she had joined the navy just to avoid paying rent. But what you had to remember about the Spanish navy, especially in those days, was that they had thought the English habit of sending their sailors out to sea for years at a time was barbaric. Spanish ships only ever did short stints; normally it was about six weeks. It wasn’t the punishing life it was for English sailors. A few weeks at sea, a week in port; easy. It had been a good life, and for five years, she hadn’t regretted it for a second.
When the war came, it was sudden. The Trinidad left Cadiz to escort a merchant ship to Arabia, and when they came home, the British had gone peculiar and declared war on themselves – some of them in the colonies in America, against some others at home,