The Devil in Paradise--Captain Putnam in Hawaii

by James L. Haley

  From its place on her desk she lifted a book, not ponderous in size like a geography, but quite fat. “I think you might have an interest in this.”

  He read the title on the spine: Fighting the Barbary Pirates, Or, The Liberation of North Africa. A True Novel of Adventure and Action. Putnam. Partly he laughed, partly he gasped. “What on earth?” He opened it and curled the endpaper aside, and the frontispiece, and read the title again on the title page, then: by Benjamin Putnam. “What . . . ?”

  Clarity was clearly enjoying his amazement. “The publisher told me that they loved the story, but the public would likely not accept it being written by a female. So your father kindly consented to let me borrow his name.”

  “Oh, my Lord! Oh, my Lord! You finished it? You are an author!”

  “Authoress, if you please. As between us, we can accept a lady as a writer.”

  Bliven uttered such a whoop that it carried through the house as he picked her up by the waist and lifted her high, then held her tightly. “Oh, my love! I could not be more proud!” She knew he was telling the truth because she could see the tears in his eyes. “Whatever must the Misses Pierce say about this?”

  She arranged her dress when he let her go. “Similar enthusiasm, perhaps less athleticism. And our young friend Harriet was suitably impressed as well. Since you left, she has confirmed her ambition to also be a writer, and I have been helping her with composition lessons. While she accepted my advice before, my credibility was surely augmented when the parcel of books showed up at our door.”

  “Ah, yes, Harriet. How is the young Miss Beecher?”

  “Still precocious and gaining in self-possession now that the Misses Pierce have got hold of her.”

  He grew thoughtful. “But no prettier, I’ll warrant.”

  “No, but we won’t speak of that. She makes up for it with kindness, and joie de vivre, and my heavens, such a prankster you never saw.”

  “Still friends with my father?”

  “Oh my, yes. It has been hard for her to see him confined, but her cheer when she comes to see him is unfailing.”

  “Well, then, God bless her.”

  * * *

  * * *

  THE PUTNAMS’ BEDROOM off the parlor he found with the door open, and he entered without knocking and found his mother sitting at the bedside. “She finished it!”

  “Yes,” said his father. “We gathered that you learned of the news. Your shout made my window rattle. And what is more, they paid her for it. I warn you, you had best find some new battle to win, or her renown will begin to eclipse your own.”

  “Your cronies at Captain Bull’s Tavern must have been right impressed to see your name on the book.”

  “Yes, well, they need not know all. However, I am seldom among them these days.”

  Bliven sat on the side of the bed. “You do not spend so many days in the great room, either, anymore.”

  “No. It is harder now to get that far, I’m afraid.”

  “May I ask, would you find it humiliating if I were to make it part of Freddy’s duties to carry you there of a morning?”

  Benjamin considered it. “I am comfortable enough for now, but as the days grow colder, yes, that would be very fine. I should like to spend my days by the fire.”

  “Well, then, leave it to me. I’ve got prize money coming from the two ships I took into Mobile. I can make it well worth his while.”

  * * *

  * * *

  AS THE AUTUMN deepened, Putnam Farm accelerated into its fall activity, the twin tasks of reaping what had grown with such bounty and preparing for the winter. There was wood to lay in, workers to hire for the coming apple season, root vegetables to lay in the cellar. It was not yet time to slaughter, but Bliven made certain that his family would have preserved meats for the coming months.

  He returned to Boston to inspect the work on the Rappahannock, and he almost wished he had not done so, for he beheld her belly ripped open as though some sea monster had taken a great bite out of her. It looked, as Captain Edwards informed him, worse than was its actual case. A growing deformation in her hull planking had pulled loose a seam in her copper bottom, laborious but not difficult to mend, and as with other nautical surgeries, closing the wound would be the easiest portion. In fact, work on her was close enough to complete that Hull handed him a letter instructing him to begin closing up his affairs at home and be ready for recall.

  * * *

  * * *

  IT WAS THE morning after Bliven’s return to Litchfield that Benjamin sat up in bed for his oatmeal and noted the quiet in the house. “Where are the children this morning?”

  Dorothea looked out the window. “He has taken Clarity for a walk in the orchard.”

  “Oh, my, that does not bode well.”

  “No, it never does.”

  “Do you think he has been ordered back to sea?”

  She sat on the edge of the bed. “I know he has, for he just told me. He has not wanted to spoil our time together while his ship was being repaired, but it will be a long voyage.”

  “Indeed?” He swept his hand out grandly. “Where bound, as they say?”

  Dorothea tried to speak but her voice choked into a sob. “To the other side of the world,” she managed at last. “To China, and the Indies. Oh, my husband, we shall never see him again, I fear.”

  Benjamin Putnam deflated almost visibly. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. This is a hard blow.” He reached out to her hand. “But look you, we must not let him know how we are wounded. Such a parting will be as hard for him, and we must not make it worse.”

  * * *

  * * *

  “MY LOVE.” BLIVEN wrapped an arm around Clarity’s shoulders, looking gratefully through the now-empty branches of the orchard. He had inspected the books and it had been a good harvest, with good cider, and good sales both here and in the Hudson Valley. “The time has come for me to tell you some bad news, that it is time for me to go back to sea.”

  “How bad is your news, exactly?”

  “As bad as you can imagine, my love. I am ordered to the Pacific. To the Sandwich Islands, and Canton, and the Indies.”

  “And how long will you be gone?”

  “Two years, they think. More honestly, closer to three.”

  She stopped and then walked on with him. “I see. Yes, I see.”

  “You are taking this very calmly.”

  “Yes.”

  “I am proud of you, but I am amazed. I expected an absolute storm.”

  She stopped again and looked at him squarely. “Storms pass, glacial resolve does not. Do you imagine that I can do without you for three years?”

  He held her tighter as they walked on. “But, my love, captains’ wives are no longer allowed to sail with their husbands. And I must obey my orders or resign; there is no help for it. What can I do?”

  She stopped again, looking first through the trees heavy with apples and then back toward the house. “My love,” he said, tapping his finger above her ear. “I can hear your gears turning like a grist mill. What are you working at?”

  “Dearest, it may be not a question of what you can do,” she said quietly. “It is what perhaps I shall do.”

  “Would you leave me?”

  She replaced her arm around him and they continued walking. “No, my captain, don’t be ridiculous. I would never leave you.”

  “I am at a loss. What then would you do?”

  “May I put you some questions?”

  His surprise was frank. “Open fire.”

  “If you must operate in the Pacific for such a term of years, you will need some base of supply. I will venture to guess that Canton and the Indies are too far and uncertain to rely on. Is that a reasonable assumption?”

  “It is. Most probably we will sail in and out of the Sandwich Islands. The government is establ
ishing a legation there, and the consul will make it his business to be able to service American vessels.”

  “Yes. And apart from victualing your ship, I imagine a large part of his attention will be taken up with the missionaries, once they get there.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “But, yes, he must keep abreast of what they are up to. How many will there be, do you know?”

  “Perhaps as many as twenty.” They had reached the fence of split rails that separated the orchard from the field of pumpkins now thickly strewn with globes of dark orange. Bliven picked her up and set her atop the fence, where she balanced herself partly by clinging to his arm. “How often, do you think, would you call there to replenish and repair?”

  He shook his head. “It’s hard to say. Roughly, perhaps every six months.”

  “So, if—and I merely say if—I were there, in the Sandwich Islands, I would see you every six months, as opposed to waiting three years.”

  “Yes, but how would that be possible?”

  “I don’t know, dearest, but please! I am making it up as I go. Now, you remember our poor dear friend Henry Obookiah, who begged and begged the church to send missionaries to his Sandwich Islands? The church started the foreign missions school nearly two years ago, training people to preach abroad. Finally, now, after poor Henry is dead, they are forming up a company to convert those natives. He had the idea, not I, but he asked if I would go as one of them. He said that Mr. Beecher and the others were men of God but did not understand people, and that I—which I expand to mean the women in the company—can effect much good with people that the men cannot.”

  Bliven cast his gaze through the apple trees as though looking for help.

  “Don’t do that, dearest,” she said. “You are trying to think of an argument against me. It has been in the back of my mind all these months, but I could not form it into a plan until now. And as I contemplate it, I realize it is what I must do.”

  “Beecher would allow this?”

  “I think he will.”

  “But you know how he disdains the abilities of women.”

  “Oh, I have some points to use in leverage against him. He will see it my way.”

  “Why, for heaven’s sake?”

  “For heaven’s sake, indeed, but that is my affair.”

  “You are intelligent and educated, but come down to it, you are still a woman and they will never let you preach.”

  “I would not care to preach, but I can spin, and weave, and they tell me that these skills are much wanted to teach to the native women. They say the women have no cloth except what they beat from tree bark, and that once they see our dresses they are near mad to be taught how to make them. It could be a great point of winning trust and friendship.”

  “Well! So women the world over like pretty clothes—even wild heathens.”

  Clarity smiled wryly. “Yes, well, God made us all the same, it would seem. And Lord knows I can teach many school subjects.”

  “Perhaps Miss Pierce can lend you her volumes of world history that she pieced together from news clippings and personal notes.”

  “Ha!” He helped her down from the fence and they turned back. “I doubt that world history will be the first subject they need to be taught.”

  “What about your mother?” he asked suddenly. “She isn’t well. She might not want you to leave home.”

  “You could not be more wrong about her. She has supported the mission school from its inception. And she told me years ago how different her life would have been if she had not lived in fear of the unknown, of adventure.”

  “Ah, adventure. Have you any idea how long it takes to even get there?”

  “Reverend Bingham, who is in charge of the mission, has said in his fund-raising appeals that the voyage might be six or seven months. I am willing.” She laid her hands on his. “In what other way can I even come close to sharing your life? You cannot ask me to wait three years.” When she saw he could make no answer, she went on, “But wait, there is another aspect to it all.” She paused so long that he realized the thought was new to her as well. “With times turning bad, I took our money—which is in large part to say my money—out of land and mortgages. Keeping enough in cash to care for our parents, something must be done with the rest. For years now, Boston merchants have been making a fortune in Hawaiian sandalwood for the Canton trade. With me in the islands and your eyes in Canton, we can understand that business better than anyone, could we not?”

  “You mean, establish friendships and get better terms.”

  “Well, yes, that too. Besides, the missionary board pays its people—not handsomely, but double what I could earn here as a teacher. By the time we come back, times here will have improved. We will still have the farm, and your parents can live well with Freddy looking after them.”

  “Let us not forget, I have prize money coming for the two ships I brought into Mobile. It will not be all your money.”

  “Fair enough. Only tell me, once, for all: Are your orders firm? I must know they will not be rescinded, for if I act, I must act quickly. The church’s plans are far advanced.”

  Finally Bliven nodded, more in defeat than agreement. “Yes. I will be sent to the Pacific as soon as the Rappahannock is seaworthy and a crew assembled. That fact is unalterable.”

  “Then there is not a moment to lose, for the missionary company is packing even now. I will go see Reverend Beecher this instant.”

  “If you do this, it means you will leave before I do.”

  They hugged long and she smiled. “Well, then, I shall call it my revenge, for you have sailed away and left me enough times, God knows. It is well. Besides, I must live through something exciting for my next novel.”

  * * *

  * * *

  THE DISTANCE TO the Beecher house was faster to walk than to hitch a horse, but Clarity was breathing hard by the time she knocked on the door—not the front door but the one to Beecher’s study. His face was instantly amazed as he opened it. “Why, Mrs. Putnam, come in, come in. This is a surprise.”

  “Well, Reverend, you have no idea what a surprise.” She explained the nature of her errand and her request to be included, at the last minute, in the company of missionaries.

  “But that is quite impossible,” he said. “The Board has already resolved that only married couples may be included in the company.”

  What he meant as comforting she could only take as patronizing. “And yet, Mrs. Albright is going, as I understand.”

  “Mrs. Albright is an acknowledged master of the homemaking arts. It was felt that she has so much to offer the native women, she could help build friendships in ways that preachers cannot.”

  “As can I.”

  Beecher tried without success to stifle an exasperated splutter. “Mrs. Albright is past the . . . age . . . of temptation!”

  “I beg your pardon!”

  “No, no, no, my dear Mrs. Putnam. I do not mean to say that she could be tempted, or you. I say only that, with her years, she could not offer a temptation that would lead men into an . . . unhelpful state of mind.”

  Clarity regained her composure. “Well, still, that is not a very pretty compliment to her, is it! All right, Reverend. You and I are both New England folk, let us deal like it. Your fund-raising appeals have been unceasing in behalf of the coming mission to the South Seas. You do not have all the money you need, and you have been trusting God to provide.”

  “Yes, that is quite true.”

  “God is great, but God does not have an account with the Bank of Boston. I do.”

  “You would drive such a bargain, Mrs. Putnam?”

  She raised her head with determination. “What is the cost of the company’s passage on this ship you have chartered?”

  “Well . . .”

  “Don’t shilly-shally; time is short. Ho
w much?”

  “Two thousand five hundred dollars.”

  “And how much have you raised?”

  “One thousand seven hundred dollars.”

  “You lack eight hundred dollars? You have paid for everything else—supplies, food, tools, gifts for the natives, that big house that you are taking apart and stowing on board?”

  “Yes. All we lack is the last eight hundred dollars in passage.”

  “Very well. I will write you a draught for eight hundred dollars this instant, but you know my price.”

  “I have never known a woman to speak so.” He raised his hands and shook his head. “The Board has met about this point and decided that single women are not to be commissioned to go abroad, Mrs. Albright being an exception. How will I convince the Board to accept you?”

  Clarity pulled a blank bank draught from her purse. “How about this: Mrs. Albright will need a companion, someone to look after her on account of her advanced years, so she will not be a burden to the rest of the company.”

  Beecher’s face went as slack as if he had died, as indeed he saw the hopeless nature of his position. “Why, yes. Yes, that would win the trick. But I must ask you this: your husband’s orders for the Pacific are firm? There is no chance that they will keep him here or send him elsewhere?”

  “He assures me that this is the case.”

  “And your mother supports this?”

  “Whose money do you think I have handed you?”

  “Very well, madam, you have your bargain.”

  * * *

  * * *

  FROM THAT DAY events so proceeded apace that there was barely time to pack. Bliven explained things to his parents, who received the news stoically, and he and Clarity were on a coach to Boston. Having reached the waterfront, he left her and all her trunks save one at the brig Thaddeus as he went on to the Navy Yard to inspect work on the Rappahannock.

  With no one minding the boarding gate, Clarity went boldly aboard. It was a commercial vessel, with raised fo’c’sle and poop deck, and a well deck between them, most of which was occupied by a large hatch cover. She heard activity within the hold, and descended. At the foot of the ladder she saw workers. “Excuse me, you down there!”