A Silent Ocean Away

by DeVa Gantt

  “Absolutely,” he mumbled facetiously, cognizant of his wife’s tactics.

  Days passed with no mention of the island or the position available there. But Charmaine thought long and hard about traveling to Les Charmantes. Governess of three small children. It was better than maid or housekeeper. She wouldn’t always have Loretta. Where would she be twenty years hence? This opportunity was before her now, and another might never come her way again. More important, if she moved away, she’d no longer be fearful of her father’s whereabouts.

  Loretta seemed to sense when she was ready to capitulate and broached the subject from another angle. “You are an incredible young woman, Charmaine.”

  “Incredible, indeed,” Charmaine scoffed.

  “I’ll hear none of that,” Loretta scolded. “Your worth is in your heart. The Duvoisin children would benefit from the love brimming there. If you speak as if you are unworthy, you make it so.”

  That fervent declaration left an impression. Perhaps Loretta was right. This was an unusual opportunity, and something might be waiting for her there. It couldn’t hurt to visit Les Charmantes and see. Maybe her mother was watching over her. She’d leave it in God’s hands.

  Within the week, Loretta sent a letter to Caroline informing her sister of their impending visit. By month’s end, Joshua had booked passage for the three of them aboard the Raven, one of the Duvoisin cargo vessels, which would be delivering supplies to the island.

  On the eve of the journey, Charmaine had worried over her decision. But today, with the sky so blue, the river so calm, and her anticipation riding high, she was caught up in the exuberance of the moment and happy she had favored action over complacency, chosen the new over the old. If Loretta felt she could claim the coveted position of governess to the Duvoisin children, claim it she would. So, she sat beside her mentor in the small cabin and practiced the answers she would give to the questions that might be asked during her upcoming interview.

  “That’s fine,” Loretta smiled. “And remember, Charmaine, you don’t have to tell them everything.”

  “But what if they ask about my family?”

  Loretta patted her hand and said, “My mother, God rest her soul, died a year ago. Unfortunately, my father left us long ago.”

  “But is that acceptable? Will they be satisfied?”

  “As I told you before, I will see to it they are.”

  “All is well!” the robust Joshua Harrington boomed as he fell into the chair his wife had vacated.

  Charmaine and Loretta looked up from the small bunk, the skirt they had been mending momentarily forgotten as they considered the man turned boy. It was clear he had enjoyed the last five hours above deck as the vessel forged into the Atlantic.

  “Jonah Wilkinson tells me he foresees no difficulties with our crossing, and, my dear wife, you will be glad to hear the good captain believes we will sight the islands in under four days, provided the winds remain with us.”

  “That is good news,” she replied cheerfully.

  “You know, my dear, we can’t really call your affliction seasickness,” he pointed out. “After all, you’ve never actually been—”

  “Please, Joshua,” she implored, “let us not speak about it.”

  “How thoughtless of me. Would you prefer to hear about our departure?”

  “That would be lovely,” she replied enthusiastically, winking at Charmaine.

  “I knew it was going to be an exceptional voyage the moment we hoisted sail and started to move,” he began. “And not due to the gusting wind. Luck was with us from the start. Captain Wilkinson had expected to be delayed by Mr. Duvoisin, but a message was delivered stating he would not be boarding the Raven to inspect the cargo as planned. Needless to say, that saved precious time. But the true good fortune lies in the fact that we were not subjected to Mr. Duvoisin’s deplorable comportment and snide comments.”

  “Joshua!”

  “Now, Loretta, I’ve spoken of the man’s questionable character before. Everyone in Virginia knows: where John Duvoisin travels, ridicule follows. I tell you now, if he were residing on Les Charmantes, I would have grave misgivings in allowing our Charmaine to live there.”

  John…Charmaine thought…How I despise that name!

  Saturday, September 10, 1836

  Jonah Wilkinson charted his ship’s passage, pleased with the favorable weather. The Raven would make excellent time if she did not encounter the tropical storms that often brewed in these waters in late August and September. But if yesterday’s winds were any indicator, the voyage to Les Charmantes would be uneventful and completed in less than four days’ time. From there, he would steer his ship to New York, then to England, and eventually back to Virginia, completing a four-month-long journey. Although he did not own the decks upon which he trod, Frederic Duvoisin had made him feel as if he alone were master of the Raven. For that reason, he’d work for no other.

  He was scrutinizing his charts when Charmaine walked over to him. Although he knew every inch of this part of the Atlantic, he found it comforting and oftentimes commanding to pore over the well-worn maps. The rustle of clothing distracted him, and he turned to look at her. They’d been introduced amid the confusion and flurry of their departure, and he hadn’t given her a second thought, until now.

  She did not have a stunning face like the rare beauties he’d seen during his travels. It did, however, possess a captivating quality if one cared to look. Well-shaped eyebrows highlighted her most alluring feature—her large brown eyes, framed to perfection by sooty lashes. Her nose was long and slim and turned up on the end. Her lips were neither thick nor thin, coming to life when she spoke. As Jonah stared down at her, he realized her loveliness would never truly be appreciated as long as her dark locks were subdued in a severe bun. But that was for the best, as was her plain apparel, which detracted from her trim figure. Any overt displays of femininity would unleash the uncouth manners of his wild crew.

  “Good afternoon, Captain.” She smiled up at him, making him feel much taller than his five feet seven inches. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but Mr. Harrington encouraged me to come above deck while he sees to his wife.”

  “How is the dear woman?” Jonah inquired, remembering that one of his passengers was not faring so well, even during this calmest of voyages.

  “She’s much improved, thank you. The first day was the worst. When she occupies her mind with a distraction, her constitution is the better for it.”

  “That’s the way of it with many people, until they get their sea legs. But with you, Miss…?”

  “Ryan,” Charmaine supplied.

  “Miss Ryan,” he smiled, “you don’t seem the least unsettled by this maiden voyage. I’m correct in assuming this is your first time at sea?”

  “Yes, but it’s too beautiful to upset me.” A radiant smile lit the whole of her face. She drew a deep breath, grasped the railing, and looked out at the endless expanse.

  “It is breathtaking, is it not?” he asked, turning to the horizon as well, applauding the young woman’s fledgling admiration.

  “It makes me realize how small I am in comparison.”

  “Just as the waves crashed to shore before our birth,” he observed in kind, “they will pound the sand after our death. Our passing will make no difference.”

  The words displeased her. “You think not?”

  “There are those who would disagree. Are you one of them?”

  “I’d like to believe everyone makes a difference, if only a small one.”

  Jonah marveled over the philosophical statement. She couldn’t be more than eighteen. “Once you’ve reached my age, you may begin to wonder. But that’s neither here nor there. Let me show you my pride and joy.”

  He motioned toward the stern, and Charmaine realized he meant the ship. Inclining her head, she indulged him, spending an hour walking the upper decks, learning each by name: forecastle, waist, and quarter. He told her the one-hundred-twenty-five-foot vessel had been
commissioned in Britain and had, since her maiden voyage over thirty years ago, traversed the high seas with him as her captain. He pointed out everything, from helm to capstan, describing the manpower required to raise the Raven’s great length of chain and heavy anchor. Her masts were square-rigged, raked at a slight angle aft for optimum propulsion. Charmaine shielded her eyes and looked up at the three sky-piercing spars, politely humoring him as he went on with a litany of sails, from flying jib, soaring on the bowsprit and spearheading their journey, to the spanker, which acted with the rudder and forged their course. Unfortunately, he mistook her smile for interest and rambled on with his detailed dissertation.

  Joshua joined them, and Charmaine sighed in relief, ready to escape to her own cabin. But the conversation unexpectedly turned to the Duvoisins, piquing her interest, so she hugged the rail instead.

  “…very wealthy,” the captain was saying, “ten ships, three islands, thousands of acres, and God knows what other investments. But that fortune comes at a high price. Frederic and his sons have been dealt their share of turmoil, a weighty load I’d not care to carry…”

  The greater the wealth, the deeper the pain… Charmaine thought.

  “…There are many who resent their power and covet their money, but those very same men would likely abuse such power and wealth. At least the Duvoisin men come by it honestly, with hard work and acumen.”

  Joshua grew circumspect. Over the past two days, Jonah Wilkinson had proven to be a man of integrity, and Joshua had come to respect his opinion. “You speak highly of them,” he commented dubiously.

  “I’m not placing Frederic on a pedestal, but he is a fair man, as fair as any I’ve known. It’s a trait he’s passed on to his sons.”

  “Even John?” Joshua snorted. “A few words came to mind when we were introduced last year, but ‘fair’ was not one of them.”

  Jonah chuckled. “I’m not surprised. John can be decidedly caustic, his tongue as quick as his mind, but more often than not, he is fair. His sarcasm is just a shield.”

  “A shield?”

  “Against the anger, against the guilt,” Jonah replied. “It is rumored he brought on a severe seizure that left his sire crippled. The stroke, or whatever it was, victimized both father and son. Frederic was once a strong and forceful man. Now he never leaves the confines of his estate. John suffers, too. He fled the island three years ago and hasn’t returned. As far as I know, he’s had no contact with his father. He continues to manage all the Virginia and shipping assets out of Richmond, while Frederic relies on his other son, Paul, to run Charmantes. Unfortunately, that has created more problems.”

  “How so?” Joshua queried, enthralled.

  “The brothers view matters differently. At times, their conflicting ideas pull those in between in opposite directions. There can only be one captain of a ship, lest it founder.”

  “So, the two sons struggle for the upper hand.”

  “It goes back to childhood rivalry. Paul enjoys a bond with his father that John, the legitimate son, never had.”

  “Legitimate?”

  Jonah cleared his throat. He’d said too much, yet felt compelled to explain. “Frederic adopted Paul as an infant and raised him as his own, but his was an illegitimate birth. He’s Frederic’s son,” Jonah finished, anticipating the next query. “Of that I’m certain.”

  “But why would a man favor a bastard child over—”

  The inappropriate epithet was out before Joshua could catch himself. He reddened and looked at Charmaine, but her composure remained intact; apparently, she hadn’t understood.

  Jonah, however, did not seem pleased with the crude appellation. “Frederic respects both of his sons, but Paul works harder than John, so I suppose that has forged a stronger relationship.”

  “And John’s mother?” Joshua asked, further surprised. “What is her reaction to all this?”

  “Elizabeth died in childbirth over twenty-five years ago. Some say Frederic blamed John for her death, but that’s nonsense. Canards of that kind stemmed from the fact that Frederic grieved for many years after her death.”

  Charmaine was suddenly confused. “But I thought”—she faltered—“then Colette Duvoisin is Mr. Duvoisin’s second wife?”

  “He remarried ten years ago,” Jonah answered succinctly.

  Frederic grieved for many years after her death…

  Charmaine canted her head, sensing evasiveness, unable to pinpoint the heart of her perplexity. Frederic Duvoisin, clearly an older man, had two grown sons, one by his first wife, another by a lover, and he had three other children, the youngest a baby, really, these brought forth by a second wife.

  “Is she an islander?” Charmaine asked.

  “Who? Miss Colette? Oh, my, no.” The captain chuckled. “She is French, pure aristocrat. Arrangements were made by her mother, I believe,” he added, uncomfortable with Charmaine’s intense frown, attempting to thwart the idle talk he knew she was bound to hear.

  “Her mother?”

  “Colette was quite young at the time.”

  “How young?”

  Jonah, who had waxed loquacious for the past hour, grew laconic. To Charmaine’s further trepidation, Joshua Harrington allied himself to the man. “Arrangements of this sort are made all the time by the upper classes, aren’t they, Captain Wilkinson?”

  “Just so,” Jonah hastily agreed.

  Charmaine shivered in the blazing sun. She had thought the wealthy enjoyed unlimited choices, yet here was a young woman, much like herself, imprisoned more surely than she would ever be.

  “An arrangement?” she mused. “A more apt word would be bondage.”

  “Bondage?” Jonah objected with a false laugh, then added, “Miss Colette may have borne her husband three children, but I assure you, she enjoys a most comfortable life,” as if that fact made their coupling palatable.

  Charmaine bit her bottom lip, terribly troubled, and her mind ran far afield, to an island she had yet to tread. A loveless marriage. Her mother had suffered such a union. Suddenly, Charmaine’s life no longer seemed suffocating. She had never appreciated how free she truly was.

  The evening meal was served in the captain’s cabin with Charmaine and the Harringtons as his guests. The food, though mediocre, was tempered with good conversation. Even Loretta ate without discomfort, quickly approving of their warm host. Charmaine had shared all the things she had learned that afternoon, so Loretta didn’t hesitate to ask her own questions, artfully starting with the Duvoisin’s more distant past, one that seemed shrouded in a web of mystery. Jonah, who’d spent many evenings in the company of three generations of Duvoisin men, was happy to oblige…

  In the early 1700s Jean Duvoisin left his native France and traveled to the American colonies. The younger son of a wealthy and politically connected family, he set out to find his own fortune, taking with him a sizable sum of money, a fast ship, and his father’s blessings. He settled in Newportes Newes, a thriving community and burgeoning shipping center at the mouth of the James River. When he heard of William Byrd II’s plans to establish a new town some ninety miles northwest, he moved his young family to the site in 1737. Richmond was so dubbed in honor of Richmond on the Thames, England, and it was Jean Duvoisin who helped bolster her success. The Byrd trading post and warehouse, or Shocco as the Indians called it, was in need of a full-time shipper. Jean saw financial potential in assuming such a role and had a second ship commissioned in Newportes Newes. Byrd sanctioned the lucrative endeavor, then guaranteed its success by awarding him substantial acreage west of Richmond. In less than ten years, the entire parcel had been cleared and planted. In addition, Jean now owned three merchantmen that not only brought him wealth through the supplies he shuttled from Europe, but enabled him to transport his own tobacco inexpensively and expediently. When he died some twenty years later, both ventures had exceeded his wildest expectations. The plantation had tripled in size, he owned vast stretches of land throughout the Virginia territory, and the s
hipping operation belonged exclusively to his eldest son.

  Jean Duvoisin II followed in his father’s footsteps of expanding the Duvoisin empire, but he took to the seas to do so. The shipping industry became his obsession, the prosperity of the future. Upon his sire’s demise, the family plantation was left to the care of other men. Jean II had already conquered the deserted islands he named Les Charmantes (pronounced “lay shar-mont,” meaning “the charming ones”). Searching for a base location amidst the expanding routes of his ever-growing fleet, he tamed the wilderness of the largest island and built himself a villa that would allow him privacy. Rumors spread that the house, the very isle, was nothing more than a prison where he locked away his beautiful wife, earning him the title of gentleman pirate. Island lore held that he had kidnapped her from under the nose of a Richmond rival and feared losing her while he was at sea, so he brought her to his isolated paradise so she’d never escape him.

  She was the first to give birth on Charmantes, as the main island was being called, bringing into the world six children. The three middle sons perished in a fire that claimed her life as well, leaving behind an eldest son, Jean III, a daughter, Eleanor, and a youngest son, Frederic, twelve years his brother’s junior. Years later, Jean and Frederic both traveled to Virginia, taking charge once again of the investments there.

  When Jean II fell ill in 1796, his elder son returned to Charmantes and became involved in the American and French West Indies dispute. It cost him his life. Within the year, Jean II died as well, and the Duvoisin fortune fell into Frederic’s lap. He was only twenty-three. Finding it impossible to guard Charmantes while residing in Virginia, and fearing its possible loss, he journeyed back as well, expanding his father’s farming enterprise into a full-fledged sugarcane plantation run on the work of slaves and indentured servants whom he personally hand picked.