Free Betrayal by Lady Grace Cavendish Page B

of the brushes—which were far too thick—and gave it to Masou, then started to improve the kirtles of the Ladies-in-Waiting. “You know, since we’re stuck here,” I said to him, “I think we should do more investigating. I’m determined to find some way to spoil Captain Drake’s wicked plot, and if we really look, we’re bound to find Lady Sarah
somewhere.
”
    I think Masou groaned softly but I wasn’t sure. He wasn’t very good at painting, so I found a bit of wood for mixing colours on, made some blue-green and set him doing the waves, which were easy.
    I started to enjoy myself. It was hardly the same as embroidering a petticoat’s false front, and the paints smelled terrible—I remember someone telling me once that white paint is made with mercury and sends alchemists mad—but it was interesting to try and make the scene look better. I decided I couldn’t do much about the faces: they were just blobs ofpink. But I was able to make the Queen’s kirtle look something like it really does, and when I took a quick look about the cabin, I even found some pieces of paper left for kindling by the brazier—
and
a pen and ink on the desk.
    At last I could scribble some notes on all that had happened to put in my daybooke later. I longed to write of my adventures, but of course I had not brought the daybooke with me because it is quite big and very precious and might be ruined by sea water—and what would Gregory the page want with a Maid of Honour’s daybooke anyway? I would most likely have been taken for a spy—and thrown overboard or something terrible—had it been found!
    Even writing a few notes took a while—and used up all the scraps of paper, which I folded and tucked in my pouch when I’d finished. Masou just shook his head at my lunacy and said nothing.
    For a long time the painting and writing had kept my mind off a very serious problem, but I could not distract myself any longer. I realized I simply had to go to the jakes!
    When I told Masou this he laughed and shook his head. Then he went outside to find the Boatswain. “Sir, may I show Gregory where the jakes are?” he asked.
    The Boatswain, who was sitting outside like a guard, and drinking from a flask, nodded. “Mind you come back quick,” he added.
    Masou elbowed me. “I’ll show you,” he said.
    We walked to the front end of the ship, where the painted beakhead jutted over the waves. Then we climbed onto it from the foredeck—which was hard, because it was going up and down quite a bit. One of the sailors was sitting there, his breeches untrussed and his bare bum over the side, as he peacefully smoked on a pipe.
    I clutched Masou’s hand. “Masou, there’s somebody here,” I gasped.
    Masou squeezed my hand briefly and winked. “You can do it, Grace,” he whispered, “I know you can.” And then he swung himself down, unlacing as he did so, and sat next to the sailor with his bare bum hanging over the waves as well.
    And I simply
had
to go. I was ready to burst. So I undid the lacing, then lowered myself down by one of the rope handles, until I was sitting on a plank with my bum bare like the other two and my shirt hanging down in front. My face was burning red, so hot I thought it would burst into flame, and even though I was so desperate, I couldn’t do anythingfor ages. I just had to sit there with my privy parts getting colder and colder, hating Lady Sarah more and more each moment (although I knew it wasn’t really her fault)!
    Just as I was starting to relax, the sailor belched, farted, and sighed, banged the dottle out of his pipe into the sea, then heaved himself up and off the plank. “Best be quick, boys,” he said. “No skiving on this ship, the Cap’n won’t have it. He’ll come down here looking for you himself, if needs must.”
    I could hear Masou snorting with suppressed laughter, though I don’t know what he thought was so funny.
    Once the sailor had gone, I concentrated hard on pretending to myself