Deep Harbor

by Lisa T. Bergren

  “We have scoured the city. She’ll have to come to you when she’s ready.”

  “And you,” Elsa added.

  Kaatje nodded and continued her work on Elsa’s hair, adding delicate ringlets around her face after the knots were done.

  “Well, now you have my hair ready for a ball,” Elsa said. “But I can’t get into anything but my shift. Mrs. Hodge says there’s no room to let out my dresses anymore.”

  “Showing more with this one, are you?” Kaatje asked, gesturing toward Elsa’s waistline.

  “I think it’s twins.”

  Kaatje dropped her hands to Elsa’s shoulders. “I know what would cheer you! Let’s visit the dressmaker. Get her to make you some decent maternity dresses! The girls will love it. You remember how they played with her scraps and buttons for hours?”

  “While Kristian moped about.”

  “Perhaps Kristian can find another playmate for the afternoon. Come, Elsa, you need to get out. I need to get out, for that matter.”

  “Very well. I believe you’re right,” Elsa said, rising to try and find something suitable to wear about town.

  Kaatje breathed a sigh of relief as the carriage pulled up outside the house and the girls and Elsa climbed in with her. Since the elation of Christmas had faded away, they had all slowly succumbed to a “funk” as Mrs. Hodge called it, withering like the pine swags about them until everyone felt a bit brittle and irritable. The constant, drenching rain, so common this time of year, did not help matters. Getting out was just what they all needed. And new dresses for Elsa might raise her spirits as well.

  Elsa was stunning, Kaatje admired from across the carriage. Despite her hardship, mourning, and pregnancy, she was still one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Even in black.

  She looked out the window and thought about her own appearance. Despite Elsa’s generously purchased dresses, she still felt like a brown church mouse next to her dearest friend. If she had only been a bit prettier, perhaps Soren would never have gone. Yet some days when she awakened, she half expected to hear that he had arrived, tracking them down from the Dakota Territory to the valley. But he remained absent as ever, and she fought off her disappointment and faced the new day.

  Maybe that was why God was calling her north. So the nagging question of where her husband was, what Soren wanted from her in the future, was laid to rest. Alaska, she thought, visualizing the word written on paper. It seemed terribly wild and untamed to her. An unlikely place for a farm maid from Bergen. But if she had made it this far, could she not go farther?

  “Kaatje? Kaatje!” Elsa was saying. “Are you with us?”

  “Oh. Yes. Sorry. A little daydreaming, I’m afraid.” The girls giggled at each other, happy to see their mother caught for once.

  “I was saying we ought to have luncheon out. Just us ladies out and about on the town.”

  Kaatje smiled. “That would be lovely.”

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll get some suitable clothing for my increasing girth and then go fill my stomach with some delicious eats!” she said, tickling Jessie.

  Kaatje looked back out the window. As they passed through downtown, past Our Lady of Hope, an old woman caught her eye, and Kaatje struggled to place her. Where on earth had she seen her before? When she finally knew, they were several blocks past, and Kaatje decided not to stop the carriage. “Elsa,” she said, still thinking.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve had a thought. Tomorrow, let us check in with the good sisters at Our Lady of Hope. Perhaps we and the girls could do some charity work there. Helping prepare food, serve, whatever the need.” She stared into Elsa’s eyes, making her understand her true purpose.

  Elsa nodded, clearly comprehending. “It is a good idea. Today we play. Tomorrow we get to work.”

  “This is just wonderful,” Elsa scowled into the mirror as Madame de Boisiere took her measurements. “Could not bustles be out this year? That’s just fine, madame. Simply give me a bustle in back, and in front.”

  Kaatje covered a smile and moved to face her friend. “You’ll look lovely, I’m sure.”

  “Then add to that every shade of black one can imagine and I’ll look like a rotten potato.”

  “My, you’re cantankerous!” Kaatje chided. “If Madame de Boisiere cannot make you the most beautiful expectant mother in town, then no one can.”

  Madame de Boisiere smiled demurely and went on measuring. “You will be a pleasure to drape, Madame Ramstad, with child or no. We will merely add more ruffles up front.”

  “No, please. I prefer long lines to help disguise my stomach, or soft drapes of fabric.”

  “Good,” the dressmaker replied. “We will do as you suggest.”

  The woman had a soothing manner, and Elsa relaxed as the session went on. Jessica and Christina, dressed in their own finest frocks for the outing, were deep into a pail of buttons, wrapping scraps of material about their heads in what appeared to be their attempt at an elaborate coiffure. It did feel good to be out, Elsa admitted to herself, and to be doing something about her desperate clothing situation. None of the maternity dresses she had worn when carrying Kristian were suitable, since none were in black. She didn’t know if she could’ve borne the idea of wearing them again anyway. Each dress would remind her of Peder, of where they had traveled together, of the way he had looked at her in it, anticipating their first child.

  Ever since proclaiming to Kaatje that she had no sense of place as Kaatje obviously did in the Skagit Valley, her words had come back to pound at her like heavy waves upon the beach. It wasn’t completely true. While she enjoyed her time in Seattle and Camden, she had been happiest on the ocean. She missed the sea. It was where she was meant to be, just as it had been for Peder. But the thought of traveling alone frightened her. Peder had been her protector on the waters, her captain. She had simply gone along for the ride. She couldn’t imagine how she would do it without him, but she knew she needed to. For herself.

  “I am going back to sea,” she said, abruptly voicing her thoughts.

  Kaatje sat down and smiled. “I had wondered when you would come to that. When?”

  “This spring, I suppose. When I get the nerve up to try it on my own. Truly on my own again.”

  “What about the baby you’re expecting?”

  “I’ll wait until she is born. Or he.”

  “You had thought Seattle would bring you comfort.”

  “And it has,” Elsa said, turning to face her. “As you have. But over the last few days, I’ve realized that my future is where I found my foundation with Peder. At sea. I need to travel, to discover new sights, to uncover new business opportunities on my own. Start building new memories.”

  “You’ll sail with Riley?”

  “I’ll captain my own ship.”

  Madame de Boisiere paused almost imperceptibly, then resumed her work.

  Kaatje’s eyebrows shot up. “With Riley as your mate?”

  “Riley has his own ship now. I will find a suitable, trustworthy first mate.” Her tone brooked no discussion.

  “Already the captain,” Kaatje commented wryly.

  Elsa ignored her comment. “You think it unseemly that I go to sea myself?”

  “I think it irresponsible if you don’t have someone at your right hand whom you would trust with your life.”

  “Of course. I will choose my mate, and the others, very carefully.”

  “What would Peder say?” Kaatje asked quietly.

  “He would be glad I was on the waters he loved so well. And he would be furious I was out there on my own.” She turned toward Kaatje. “But he never did understand—truly understand—that I loved it nearly as well as he. And I learned so much! By the time we docked here, I felt I could round the Horn myself, should the opportunity ever arise again.”

  She turned back to her mirror image as Madame de Boisiere went on measuring and draping fabrics. “In some ways it would be carrying on Peder’s legacy. Teaching Kristian the
art of seamanship. Exposing our children to new lands, new cultures. Could there be a better education for them?”

  “You sound as if you are arguing with yourself.”

  “I’m thinking aloud.” She smiled for the first time, looking mischievous. “Do you think I have the tenacity to actually go through with it?”

  “No doubt, Elsa,” Kaatje said with a grin. “There is no doubt.”

  Later that evening, poor Kristian was paraded through the parlor, the victim of the girls’ attempts at their own dressmaking. Kaatje and Elsa laughed until they cried, until Kristian cried himself at being the target of their good humor.

  “Forgive me, darling,” Elsa said, gesturing him toward her and unwrapping him from the faux dress, and wiping her eyes. “We so appreciate the laugh, though. Let me give you a big kiss for bearing it.” Kristian grimaced and scooted away from his mother, not at all appeased by a buss on the cheek for his tolerance.

  “I’m going to play in my room,” he announced regally. “With my trains.”

  The women could barely hold in their laughter until he had exited. They returned to a small table and their game of chess—a game each endeavored to master. Peder had taught Elsa the basics aboard ship and Elsa had taught Kaatje. “That’s yet another good reason to return to the sea,” Elsa said. “Kristian will need male influences in his life.”

  “But of what caliber?” Kaatje asked delicately.

  “Well, I see your point,” Elsa said, studying the board before making her next move. “But there are many fine men aboard Ramstad ships. Some are more coarse than others, but most have a good heart. I believe it is good for a child to be exposed to all kinds of individuals—within reason, of course—to prepare them for this great big world we live in.”

  “And what about men like Mason Dutton?”

  Elsa glanced up at Kaatje quickly, then back to the board.

  “They never did catch the man, did they, Elsa?”

  Elsa shook her head ever so slightly.

  “Are you ready to encounter him again? On your own? Without Peder or Karl at your side?”

  Elsa’s mind flew back to Honolulu, to spotting Mason in the mercantile. Simply seeing him had struck terror through her heart. Even Peder had run. And since her column had been printed, the American and British navies had doubled their efforts to catch the vagabond.

  “I read he is not truly an officer of the Royal Navy.” Kaatje had obviously been keeping track of the news too.

  “No,” Elsa said, finding her voice again. “He was, once. Then went astray. Apparently, the uniform simply helps him get what he wants.”

  “I read that he has been operating like the pirates of old,” Kaatje pressed on. “Slipping through the law’s fingers time and again. He has raided more than five ships this year, Elsa.” She waited until Elsa looked her in the eye. “You have made a powerful enemy. To expose his enterprise to the entire English-speaking world—”

  “There are dangers wherever we go,” Elsa interrupted. “I always wanted Peder to face him. Expose him. Get others to track him down and turn him over to the authorities. He never would.” She lifted her chin. “He will not make me run.”

  Kaatje shook her head. “Peder Ramstad was one of the wisest, strongest men I knew. Why would he run? The only reason I can think of is that he feared for you. For Kristian. Don’t you see the wisdom in that?”

  “I do not see the wisdom in backing away from a fight,” Elsa said. “Again, I tell you I will choose men I trust. And men who can protect me and our ship. I will choose wisely.”

  Kaatje stared at her for a long moment. “Then God go with you, my friend. I can see your mind is already made up. But please. Please search your heart for wisdom in this. I fear for you already on the seas. Add a shark like Dutton to the mix and it terrifies me. He will not treat you well should he get his hands on you again, Elsa. And you have the children to think about now.”

  “Do you think I’m not a good mother? That I care not for their safety?”

  “Of course not. No one loves your children like you. But I’m not sure you’re thinking through all the ramifications. Yes, there is the incredible opportunity to show your children the world. But they could die as you try to pass the Cape of Good Hope, or be taken prisoner by Mason Dutton. It is a glorious world out there, on the sea. It is also incredibly dangerous.”

  “Life is full of risks. Our greatest gifts come when we face those risks and get to the other side. You yourself have said so.”

  “But God has given us the wisdom to analyze those risks, and choose when we should take them. Peder opted not to risk Mason Dutton again.”

  “I realize that,” Elsa said, her irritation growing. “I know that! Don’t you think I debated before I filed that column on Mason? But look what has happened. Efforts have doubled to catch the rogue.”

  “And all have failed. In the process, Mason probably is doubling his own efforts to find you.”

  The thought struck Elsa dumb. “You think … you think he would actually dare to come after me?”

  “I think, my friend, that a man as ruthless as he is capable of anything. And it is time, should you wish to be captain, that you think as he does. Wise as serpents, harmless as doves.”

  Kaatje left Elsa by the fire with that, satisfied she had raised the questions that needed raising. As she walked up the stairs, she wondered how many of her questions were simply queries she had asked herself should she actually go to Alaska. What dangers would lie in her path? Was it completely irresponsible to risk her life, as well as her daughters’, to go? For the oceans were no more dangerous than the mountain frontier. For every shark there was a bear. For every shoal there was a river to cross. No, Elsa and she both headed to dangerous places.

  But instinctively, Kaatje knew they had no choice but to move forward.

  eighteen

  It was a cold, drizzly, wintry day that January in San Francisco, but nothing could put a damper on Karl’s mood. He stood beside the proud iron frigate—the Tempest—just christened from a fine yard in Boston in which Gerald Kenney had a stake. She had been abandoned by her captain once he made it west. It seemed he had obtained a touch of gold fever while rounding the Horn and was heading north to the Alaska territory. When Gerald had come to Karl with the opportunity to captain her, Karl had leapt at the chance. To be at sea again! And at the helm of a ship on the cutting edge of modern technology! He could not seem to stop praising God for smiling upon him. If it went well, he would build his own ship in the coming year.

  Mrs. Kenney clucked around him as his mother used to do, fiddling with his coat collar and his sleeves, fretting that he might not be warm enough. Her daughters, Nina and Mara, still did not treat him as a brother as he wished they would; instead they threw him coquettish glances, staring at him until he met their gazes and then dramatically lowering their lashes. He laughed at their girlish attempts to win his heart, playing the role of an elder brother with whom they could test their feminine wiles without being held responsible for their actions. They were young, and neither was the type of woman he sought for his bride. At least not yet. Perhaps in a few years, he thought, giving Nina a second glance before shouting an order to Lucas, his first mate.

  “She has a first-rate steam engine, and is fully rigged for square sails, should you need them,” Gerald said for the tenth time. Clearly the man yearned to at least set sail with Karl, if not see distant shores again.

  “Yes,” Karl said. “It will be a pleasure to have the power of not only sail, but a steamer’s triple-screw propeller at my fingertips.”

  They looked up together at the Tempest, studying the four masts and huge boiler tubes on what otherwise looked like a normal frigate. “You think she might be a bit unwieldy in heavy seas?” he asked.

  “The first mate reported a propensity to heave to port in swells of over fifteen feet,” his friend said gravely. “I’ve been puzzling over that all week. I cannot imagine the reason.”

  “I�
��ll figure it out, Gerald,” Karl said forcefully, wanting him to have no reason to doubt his captaincy. “I’ve designed over twenty steamers and plenty of sailers with Peder. Give me some time on her, and we’ll solve the problem.”

  “He’ll do just fine, Gerald,” Mrs. Kenney said, nudging her husband. She faced Karl. “He only pesters you because he wishes he were going with you.”

  “You can take the man off the sea—” Karl began.

  “But you can’t take the sea out of the man,” enjoined Mrs. Kenney. “I told him he could go. You’ve become like a son to us, Karl. I think he’ll miss you as much as the voyage.”

  “Oh, pshaw,” Gerald put in.

  “He said he couldn’t leave me and the girls. Thought we might get into some mischief.” Her eyes twinkled with merriment, before she continued, “Do an old sea captain’s wife a favor, will you?”

  “Anything.”

  “Send word soon on your progress?” The girls were now at their mother’s elbows, hanging on every word.

  “Every port.”

  “You are a true gentleman, Karl Martensen,” Mrs. Kenney said smugly, as if she were indeed his mother. “We’ll look forward to your return.”

  “As will I. But now I should see to the ship. Mrs. Kenney, Nina, Mara.” Mrs. Kenney nodded her head, beaming with pleasure, as the girls dissolved into giggles and blushes.

  “I’ll walk aboard with you,” Gerald said, gesturing toward the gangplank. And Karl wondered momentarily if he would end up setting sail with them after all.

  “Very well. Good day, ladies.”

  “Go with God, Karl.”

  Once aboard ship, Gerald turned to him. “Son, I wish to give you a small gift.”

  “Gerald, you’ve done so much for me already—”

  “Nonsense.” He reached into his pocket and pulled from it a gold watch, an anchor on its face. “I saw that you were in need of one.”

  Karl smiled. “Mine broke some time ago.” He shook his head. “A fine captain I am, eh? What sort of man sets sail without a way of recording the time?”