Unless, of course, he gambled all of it away first.
Shouts echoed throughout the tavern. Two men stood from Myles’ table, both accusing the other of cheating. A large man with black hair that stretched across the length of his arms reached for both men and dragged them straight out of the pub by their collars. A few men cheered, but Myles remained seated, silently staring at the cards strewn across the table.
“He will end up in the same place as his brother if he carries on in here,” Gavin said as the commotion ended.
“What is the latest regarding Sanders?” Harris asked.
Gavin glanced sidelong at the boy as more cards were dealt across the table. “The court martial will take place in a week or two. But I have heard that Sanders will assume full responsibility for tampering with the anchor cables and starting the fire.”
“Even though he could not have done either while shackled?” Harris questioned.
Gavin shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose his conscience has finally appeared and he wishes to protect his brother. His sentence will surely be death. But Myles won’t be charged.”
“Can anything be done for the boy, to ensure a better life for him?”
“I’m certain any attempt to help will be used as kindling to an already blazing fire,” Gavin responded.
More shouting came from across the room. Myles flew off his chair, knocking it to the ground as he spewed a string of curses at the men seated around him. He threw his cards onto the table, gulped down the last of his drink, and tossed the empty cup to the floor before bolting toward the door.
The boy’s red face and blue veins pulsing in his neck stung Gavin’s conscience. There really was nothing to be done for him.
A feeling of despair rested on Gavin’s shoulders, but he ignored it. He would no longer be brought down by the boy. At least, not in that moment.
“So, Lieutenant Harris, what are you to do while you are on approved leave?”
Harris touched his sling with his opposite hand. “I will stay in St. Just until I am fit for travel, I suppose. Then I’ll make for Penzance and remain until I’m fully healed and ready to join another ship.”
“Not to your mother’s then?”
Harris scoffed. “I hardly think that would be wise, seeing as how she was the one who first pushed me into the navy.”
Gavin chuckled. He’d heard many tales of Harris’s youth filled with wild and reckless behavior. He could almost see a glimpse of him as a boy when Harris had occasionally disobeyed Gavin’s orders, though only when it was for the good of another. Harris had proven a most reliable sailor and friend for Gavin over the five years they had served together.
“What of your own plans, sir?” Harris asked.
Gavin hesitated. He hadn’t told anyone yet. It was so recent, he’d hardly had time to acknowledge it himself.
“Well,” he began, “I must be honest with you, Harris. I have submitted my request to retire from the navy.”
Harris pulled back with widened eyes. “Sir, I had no idea you were even considering retirement.”
“I’ve been thinking about doing so for quite some time, but the shipwreck solidified my desires. I feel that something…well, that something is missing from my life. Something that cannot be filled by the sea, I’m afraid.”
Harris nodded, his green eyes suddenly shining. “I see. So are you to return to your brother’s then to find that ‘something’ you are missing? Oh, no, that is right. You are staying with the Moores at the lighthouse.”
Gavin rubbed his jaw, ignoring his friend’s knowing look. “You heard about that, did you?”
“The whole crew did, sir. I must say, all of us have been rather envious you get to spend more time with the woman of the lighthouse.” He paused. “I tell you, I was startled to discover she was the one to have rescued us. Though, I did think she had a rather feminine face for a boy.” He chuckled. “I do hope you will enjoy yourself there, sir. And find what you are in search of, even if it is just a little rest. You deserve it.”
Gavin’s face fell. Rest? Such a notion did not appeal to him in the slightest. He enjoyed freedom as much as the next man, but he far preferred a life of good, honest work to living tediously, accomplishing nothing and helping no one.
His musings continued after he bade farewell to Harris and left St. Just on his newly-purchased horse, heading toward the sea.
He wondered what his life would be like now. He had loved serving in the navy when he was younger. Nothing compared to being at the mercy of the powerful water—the spray of the sea across the ship, the smell in the air. But he would not miss the stress he was constantly under to keep his men safe.
Yes, it was time for a change, for a more rewarding life.
But where could he find such a life? Surely not at his brother’s home, surrounded by land, the latest fashions, and women wishing to wed Gavin now that he had made a name for himself.
He grimaced. He did not wish for any of those things.
Setting aside his uncertainty for his future, he focused instead on his surroundings.
He had been to Cornwall before but never at his leisure. As he rode over the cliffs, he found a growing appreciation for the beauty of the county. The green countryside was broken up by wild grass and gray tors. Bees hummed above the yellow gorse near the cliff’s edge, and the ocean sparkled behind the flowers in the early evening sunlight.
In the distance, Golowduyn Lighthouse came into view. The light brown building backed up onto the cliffside behind it, creating a rather quaint sight. The paint was chipped, the roof was badly in need of repair, and cracks were in nearly every window of the small home, but Gavin couldn’t deny the charming allure of the structure.
He still felt guilty for accepting Mr. Moore’s offer to stay, especially when Miss Moore had been pressed to agree. He could only guess they had very little room and finances to spare. As such, he was determined to not be a further burden to her. He would help her in any way he could.
And as he thought of helping Miss Moore—as she had helped him—his future did not seem so very bleak.
At least, not for the duration of his stay at the lighthouse with Mr. Moore and his niece.
* * *
Abigail tossed another forkful of manure into the wheelbarrow behind her.
Brilliant sunshine seeped through the cracks of the stables’ wooden walls, highlighting the particles of hay that floated around her, shimmering in the light. A breeze flowed in through the open doors, bringing with it the sound of the waves below.
She could almost imagine she was walking on the beach, the sand soft against her bare feet, the water licking her legs. But as the scent of manure drifted beneath her nose, reality settled in once more.
It was just as well. She could not dawdle if she was going to finish cleaning out the stall before the captain arrived with the new horse he had said he would purchase.
He had brought up his trunk to the house—most of the contents remarkably undamaged, despite being tossed upon the sea—before he’d left for Penzance, promising to return in two days’ time.
Abigail had worked continuously since then in preparation for his stay—cleaning the sitting room, purchasing food they could not afford, and moving her uncle’s belongings to the study, so Captain Kendricks might have the bigger room as his own. On top of all that, she had still managed to look after the light, though the stables and a few of her other chores had been neglected.
She placed another pile of soiled hay into the wheelbarrow just as a horse’s knicker sounded from outside of the stables. With her own horse in the stall next to her, she knew the captain must have arrived.
The last thing she wanted was for him to see her engaged in such a task. Not wishing to explore the reasons why she wanted to portray herself as more proper than she was, Abigail contemplated running out the back door, or perhaps ducking behind the stall. But when she saw his long shadow appear down the center of the stables, she knew she was too late.
“Miss Moore, what are you doing?”
She scooped up a pile of manure. “I should think that rather obvious, sir.”
“No, I know what you are doing. I mean, why are you doing it?”
“Because I do not think our horses would appreciate standing in their own filth.”
“But surely you should not have to complete the task.”
She paused, pressing a hand against her aching lower back as she looked toward him. He stood tall and stately in the small doorway. The golden light shone at the edges of his blue captain’s jacket. His masculine features were as appealing as ever. Goodness, but he was handsome.
She pulled her gaze away before her thoughts could drift further. “Well, unless my uncle’s knees heal overnight, or my horse sprouts fingers of her own, I am the only one to do it.”
He did not miss a beat before tying his horse near the entryway and removing his jacket. “Not any longer. I will help you.”
“I hardly think my uncle would wish for his guest to take part in such a demeaning task.”
“But he would wish for his niece to do the same?”
“It has not bothered him thus far.” She cleared her throat. “Why do you not see yourself into the lighthouse, Captain? My uncle has spoken of little else but you in anticipation of your stay. I’m sure he is anxious to see you.”
Abigail attempted to smother the envy that had been simmering within her for days. Uncle Ellis was simply looking forward to spending time with his old friend’s son. That was all. Her uncle still enjoyed her company, she was sure of it.
“I will seek him out in a moment,” Captain Kendricks said. His eyes scanned the room before he headed toward the tools propped up in the corner of an empty stall. “After the work here is finished.”
She propped a fist on her waist as he joined her with a spade. “Do you think me incapable of accomplishing this task on my own?”
“Not in the least.” He bent over his tool, his arms extended, and his face paled. He must have forgotten about his wound, but he carried on, though slower than before. “However, I am a gentleman. And my mother taught me to never leave a lady in distress.”
“Cleaning up horse manure hardly sorts me as distressed.”
“I am quite certain that most women would disagree with you.”
He was right.
She had no great aversion to mucking out her horse’s stall, but it was not as if she counted down the hours to do it.
Despite his wound, Captain Kendricks worked efficiently at the opposite side of the stall.
She tilted her head to one side as she watched him. “I am surprised a gentleman such as yourself knows how to clean up after a horse. I thought your many grooms would have done the work for you.”
There was that bitter tone again. But why? The man had never done anything to wrong her—unless she counted the fact that he stole her uncle’s good opinion of her and placed it upon himself. And mistook her for a boy.
“I may be a gentleman by birth, Miss Moore,” he said, “but I am a sailor at heart.”
She understood his words all too well. She had felt the same in regard to her own birth and present circumstances, but she kept her understanding to herself.
“How old were you when you enlisted?” she asked, if only to distract herself from the muscles working in his forearm.
“Fifteen,” he replied. “I did so right after my parents’ deaths.”
Abigail eyed him. “May I ask how they…”
“Of course. They were stricken with the same fever and died days apart.”
Her heart twisted. “I am sorry.”
The captain gave her a grateful nod before continuing his work, but Abigail remained stationary.
He must have loved his parents. To have the both of them pass so soon would have been unimaginably difficult, especially for a young boy. However, she had no way of knowing the man’s grief, for her own experience was quite different.
But those were thoughts she no longer allowed herself to dwell on.
“Had you planned on enlisting before they passed?” she asked.
His lips curved. “No. Joining the navy was a way to escape. My brother, Lionel, who is six years older than I am, had married months before our parents’ deaths. He inherited our family estate, Clowey Hall, and encouraged me to continue my schooling and join the clergy, as my parents had wished.”
For some reason, the image of the captain, with his strong jaw and captivating eyes, preaching from the pulpit caused Abigail great amusement. She could hardly imagine any woman in his congregation learning much from his sermons. They would be far too distracted.
Just as Abigail was in that moment. She gave her head a little shake. “I’m sure I may safely assume that profession did not take.”
“Not in the least,” he said. “I knew my family wished it, but the mere thought of sitting indoors all day, pouring over scripture, preaching, and divining God’s will for His people was enough to scare me away from the occupation for good. Adventures on the high seas sounded far more appealing to my young, adventurous mind.”
Abigail leaned against the pitchfork, her hand curled around the handle. She had forgotten about the stall entirely as she listened, enraptured by his tale.
“I told my brother such, but he was adamant I try something else. He became very protective of me when our parents died. He attempted to convince me to instead seek out a profession in the law, or even take on work at Clowey Hall. But in the end, he knew I had my heart set on the navy. So he signed for me, despite protesting every step of the way.”
“And have you seen him often since?”
“Occasionally,” he responded. “Never for long, though. He is quite happily settled with his wife and their two children.”
“Will you see them while you are awaiting reassignment?” she asked. “Or have you taken official leave due to your wound?”
He straightened, resting a hand on his upper left arm. “No.” He gave a soft chuckle. “I am, in fact, to retire.”
“Oh,” she said, taken aback. She did not know of many men who willingly retired in the height of their career. Still, it was not her place to question such a personal decision.
Abigail was startled again when the captain propped his spade against the wall and made for new hay outside of the stall. How had she not noticed he had cleaned the entire stall himself?
Quickly, she stepped to his side, helping him carry the fresh straw as he favored his left arm.
“Well, if you are retiring,” she said, spreading the straw across the floor, “you certainly will have more time to see your family. Will you return to them and remain at the estate?”
He dropped the straw to the floor and scattered it around with his boot. She wondered if he’d hurt his arm again.
“To be perfectly candid,” he began, “I haven’t fully considered what I will do.”
Abigail stared, her brow creased. She knew his decisions were none of her concern, but her curiosity would not be satisfied. “May I ask why you left the navy then? After all, you cannot yet be thirty. Your retirement surely could have been years from now.”
He appeared thoughtful for a moment. “It was a decision I did not come to lightly, I assure you. Life on the sea was curative. Far more than anything else could have been. I was able to process my parents’ deaths and progress more than I would have in any other profession. Nothing can compare to life aboard a ship. But then…nothing can compare to the loneliness I felt as a sea captain.”
Abigail chewed her inner lip. Her own circumstances at Golowduyn could certainly keep up with the feelings of seclusion the captain must have felt. But she kept her thoughts to herself. The man certainly would not wish to listen to her hardships.
“At any rate,” Captain Kendricks continued, �
��I felt a change was in order. I wish for different life. A better life. Though, I admit, I am at a loss as to what to do to find that better life.”
Their eyes met, but Abigail dipped her head as her heart skipped a beat. She had become too invested in the captain’s words. How had that happened? Typically, she abhorred the forced conversation that took place between near-strangers. She far preferred remaining silent or ignoring people she felt uneasy around—if only to avoid the discomfort of exchanging trite words. But with the captain, for reasons she could not comprehend, the familiar feeling had not occurred.
That is, until he spoke next.
“Now, Miss Moore,” he said, “You have heard about my life. Tell me something about yours.”
He looked at her expectantly, but Abigail hesitated. “Oh, there is certainly nothing of interest that has occurred in my life, I assure you.”
“That cannot be true,” he said. “You live in a lighthouse, after all.” When she said nothing, he continued. “May I ask how you came to live here?”
Her mind raced. What could she say without revealing the past she had worked so hard to forget? “My uncle and I are each other’s only living relatives, so he brought me here to live with him.”
“So your parents have passed away, as well?”
She nodded, praying he did not attempt to commiserate with her. From what she understood, his mother and father were very loving, and hers…were not.
“And you have no siblings?”
“No, I do not.” She looked at the stall floor, desperately searching for something to distract her thoughts from swirling into her past.
But Captain Kendricks’s questions continued. “Did you live with your uncle elsewhere before coming to Golowduyn?”
“No, I was at a boarding school until I was nine years old.”
“I see. And did you enjoy it there?”
The captain had to know she was uncomfortable. Why did he carry on so?
“It was…overcrowded.” That was the nicest thing she could think of to describe the school she had so despised. Memories from her childhood crept through the locked cage she kept them in, and her chest tightened. She needed an escape before he could think of anything else to ask her.
Behind The Light 0f Golowduyn (A Cornish Romance Book 1) Page 6