capt’in.”
“Well, I am imagining a whole fleet of the Navy’s ships coming up behind your pirates, who are ready to save the day, and they shall be captained by your Uncle Robbie.”
A humorous, but less exuberant, sound slipped out of Robbie’s throat on a low note. “We should have brought your cannons down so we could fire on the pirates.”
“We can imagine cannons,” Caro dipped her fingers into the water. “Now, who do you wish to win, George? Are we blowing with all our might for the pirates to get away, or willing the Navy to catch them?”
“The pi’ates get away!”
Robbie looked at Caro with a smile. “He is Drew’s son.”
“He is, indeed.”
“Then we blow.”
“We blow.”
“Raise the main sail, and pull the yard arm! We need to get away!” Robbie called before he began blowing.
Caro blew too, and the boat began to wobble its way at a snail’s pace through the water.
Robbie kept throwing in comments about how Uncle Bahbah and the pirates were preparing to fight. “Draw your swords!”
“But Uncle Robbie is nearly upon them!” Caro cried. “They wish to take the bad pirates to their gaol.”
“No! No!” George squealed.
She laughed. “Then blow harder, George. Blow harder.”
“And now there’s a storm whipping up! It is making my navy ships sail faster.” Robbie said, dipping his fingers in the water and stirring it up so that the boat rocked even more. “Blow, George, blow.”
“If one of us must rescue it, it will be you who gets his boots wet,” she said to Robbie.
He laughed as poor George tried to blow harder and harder, with no effect.
“Uncle Bobbie, Aun’ie Ca’o, blow!”
“I think I owe you a little chivalry. I can be valiant, Caro,” Robbie responded, smiling at her, before he turned to blow once more.
He’d not called her “Caro” before; no one did but Drew and Mary. The intimacy of her nickname on his lips touched something inside her and clasped tight. She did feel differently towards him. Friendship…
“The storm is coming, George. Tell the pirates to bring down their sails.” Robbie said as he stirred up the water rocking the sailing boat, but it was too far out of reach for George to do anything.
“It’ll sink, Uncle Bobbie. Stop. Stop the sto’m!”
“Not if they take down their sails. The Navy ships are heavier, they have the cannons, they are more likely to go down! Call out to the pirates, take down your sails!”
“Ta’e down you’ sails pi’ates!” George shouted at the boat.
“They are doing it.” Caro, cried. “I can see them. Look they are in the rigging, preparing for the storm.”
“And the Navy have their cannons ready to fire, and their hatches open, the fools. They’ll be caught out.” Robbie stirred the water even more and the boat swayed. “Tell the men to come down from the rigging, George, the sea is too wild. Uncle Bahbah is up there too. Tell him to come down.”
“Come down, Uncle Bahbah!”
“He is down,” Caro said.
“The storm has hit the Navy in full force, the water is sweeping over their decks and it’s washing into the gun decks. They are sinking. They are sinking, George. Shout hurrah, the pirates have won.”
“Hu’ah!” George shouted, thrusting a fist into the air.
“Hurrah!” Robbie called. Then he looked at Caro. “Are you not pleased, Auntie Caro, why are you not cheering?” It was said with satire, and she smiled, but again something clutched in her middle when she looked at his face.
“Because I think your papa ought to teach you to favour the Navy, George, and I shall tell him so. I would have put those pirates in gaol.”
Robbie laughed.
“Pick me up, Uncle Bobbie.” George turned and wrapped his arms about Robbie’s neck, his interest in the boat gone.
“Bend over, then.” Robbie stated as he stood.
George bent over, holding out his hands between his legs. Robbie gripped them and pulled him up so that George spun a somersault in the air. It was a practised manoeuvre, which Robbie must have taught him.
George laughed as Robbie set him on the ground.
Caro closed her mouth on another laugh as her stomach tumbled over. She was laughing in a way she had not done in years, and she was enjoying herself. “You have to rescue George’s boat yet…”
“You just wish to watch me get my boots wet, and I cannot afford to have them ruined.”
“Then you will have to take them off.” Gosh, she could not remember teasing anyone since she and Drew had been children.
He grinned at her. “A perfect solution. Stand up, George.” He began pulling off his morning coat. “You may be the bearer of my coat, while I valiantly climb into the pond to rescue your boat from the storm.”
Even George grinned as Robbie stripped it off.
He folded his coat. “George put out your arms.” George obeyed. “You must stand here, and not let it fall. I do not want grass stains upon it. Conquering heroes should not be covered in grass stains.” George looked at him with eyes full of worship.
Caro smiled at George, then looked at Robbie, as he sat on the low stone rim at the edge of the pond, in trousers, shirt and waistcoat. He had a lean waist and narrow hips. Albert had been broader.
Robbie turned back the cuffs of his shirt, revealing the lean, muscular shape of his forearms and the dark hair across his skin.
Caro breathed in. Something twisted in her stomach.
“I do not suppose you would help me with these?” He lifted a booted foot.
She shook her head. She may feel more comfortable with him, but she did not feel comfortable enough to lean over before him and yank at his boot.
He struggled a little, but he had not brought a valet with him so he must take off his own boots every night. It did not take him long.
She looked at George. Robbie had given George a task so he would not run around. It was a wise trick.
“And these are for you, Caro.” He held out his boots with a wry smile.
She poked her tongue out at him. When had she last done a thing like that?
George laughed, and she looked down to find him looking up at her. Even he’d noticed the difference in her today. She smiled.
“The hero is rising to the challenge!” Robbie called. “Prepared to get both his trousers and his stockings wet for the sake of your poor boat, George.”
Oh, good Lord! She laughed so much her sides ached as he made a great fuss of climbing into the pond. The water came up to his thighs and he waded through it, one hand raised, as though he intended planting a Union Jack and naming it for a territory of Royal Britannia.
“It is rescued!” he cried, when he lifted up George’s toy.
“You are stupid, Robbie,” Caro breathed as he carried it back.
“Call me Rob, Caro, please. Robbie is so childish, I will never get my brothers and sisters to change, but my friends never call me that.”
Friends. Had they achieved that now already? Perhaps not yet, but she truly believed they could become friends.