Deep Harbor

by Lisa T. Bergren

  Karl shook his head. “This cannot go on.” “It’s been going on for years.”

  The first captain spoke up again. “He must have moles within the British and American naval forces. It’s uncanny. Each time they arrive, Dutton is away.”

  “Or he’s got the luck of the devil,” said another glumly.

  They were all silent.

  “There is nothing I can say to sway you,” Karl stated, looking around the room. Few dared to meet his eye. “A tavern full of fine captains, men, and you refuse to stand up to one man who menaces us all? What does he charge you? A flat fee? A portion of your profits?” He grabbed the nearest man by the collar for an answer. “What?”

  “Fifteen percent. The deal is fifteen percent. After delivery to the Orient, you port here again. Together you look over your logs and come to an agreement about what you’ll earn in the States on your cargo. If he misses you, he’ll come looking for you, or he’ll bring it up next time you’re around. He keeps records. Very businesslike.”

  Karl shook his head again. “He’s a hoodlum. A no-account hoodlum. If you were living in your home, you would meet him at the door with a rifle pointed directly at his head.”

  “And he’d come around with twenty men, pointing rifles at our heads,” said another grimly.

  Clearly, Karl was getting nowhere. Frustrated beyond belief, dying to punch a hand through something, he grabbed Charlie and hauled him out of the tavern, Lucas following close behind.

  From the window of a whore’s room across the street, Mason watched Karl and his men exit the tavern. She stood behind him, her body pressed against his, her hands roaming. But Mason’s mind was elsewhere. He smiled, watching the man’s angry, frustrated gait. Clearly, Mason had gotten to him. It would be a pleasure taking the man’s cargo or forcing him into submission as he had the other captains who frequented these waters. Perhaps he would charge him twenty percent rather than the customary fifteen. For his impertinence. He chuckled. Or as a tax for his friendship with a sworn enemy of Mason’s, Elsa Ramstad.

  The pirate’s eyes shifted to the sea. How long would it take for him to find Elsa Ramstad again? He had searched for the Ramstad ship when he had seen them the year before. But the coward had fled like a mouse from a burning barn. Perhaps if he had found them, she never would have written that piece for the Times. She had made a deadly mistake in filing that article. Before that, she had been a distant memory that intrigued him. Since she had published her words, setting the naval dogs on his heels, Mason’s interest in her had become a burning desire to get even. He would make her pay for the torture she had put him through, forcing him to post extra guards and lose precious income wherever he went. He just needed to find her; then he could get his restitution. What would be appropriate punishment for Mrs. Ramstad?

  Mason thought for a while and then smiled. It was too good. Yes, it was just too good. And he could not wait for the day to put his plan into action.

  twenty-two

  February 1887

  Kaatje awakened to find Jessie at her bedside, staring at her intently. “Why, Jess, what has you up so early?”

  “I had a bad dream.”

  “Oh? Come here, sweetheart,” she beckoned, spreading open the sheet and down comforter. “It is cold out there this morning.” She shivered. Jessica nodded. “Want to tell me about your dream?”

  “I dreamed you went away. That I had to find a new mother.”

  Kaatje fought to keep herself from reacting. “And what happened?”

  “I don’t know. I woke up before I found her. All I knew was that I was so sad to be away from you.” She stared at Kaatje, her Soren-blue eyes never leaving her mother.

  Kaatje pulled her close, her small body snuggling against her. She was cold. How long had she stood beside Kaatje’s bed? “No one will ever take you away from me,” Kaatje promised. “You are mine and I will always be your mother. But there is something I have to tell you, Jessie.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve tried to find the words, the right time …” She stroked Jessica’s hair, trying to soothe her own shattered nerves. “You know that Auntie Elsa has a sister.”

  “Miss Tora.”

  “Yes,” Kaatje said, surprised that the girl had gathered so much. “Yes, well it was Tora who gave you to me.”

  Jessie sat up slowly. “Gave me to you?”

  “Yes.” Kaatje pasted on a smile. “I was so blessed to get you. Tora couldn’t care for you the way she wanted. She came to me in Dakota when you were just a tiny baby. I decided right then and there that I would try my best to be your mother, if Tora could not.”

  “So … so you aren’t my real mother.”

  Kaatje fought back tears. “I am your mother in every way possible except for one. I didn’t carry you in my womb.” She reached out to stroke the child’s cheek. “But I have always been there for you, and I always will be. I love you as my own.”

  “But Tora is my mother.”

  “She gave birth to you.”

  “She didn’t want me?”

  “I think she loved you deep down, sweetheart. She just couldn’t care for you at that time in her life.” She hoped the answer would suffice.

  “What if she decides she wants me now? Will I have to go with her?”

  “No! No. I am your mother now. She can’t just come in and lay claim to you, Jessie.”

  “You won’t let her?”

  Kaatje pulled her back down on the bed for another embrace. “I promise you, Jessica. You are my daughter in every way. And I would fight to keep you safe with me as much as I would for Christina.”

  By late afternoon, her early morning conversation with Jessie was still haunting Kaatje. When Elsa called for tea, Kaatje decided she had to know where her friend stood. Elsa had affirmed her belief that Jessie belonged with Kaatje, but now that she’d seen Tora … seen Tora on a better track, in a different light …

  “Elsa, I had a most troubling talk with Jessica this morning,” she said in low tones, not wanting the children or house staff to overhear.

  “Oh?” Elsa asked, looking up from her sketching. “About what?”

  “About Tora.”

  “Oh. I had wondered when and if she might come up.”

  Kaatje stood to pace the room. She wrung her hands, searching for the right words. “You have been so kind to me and the girls. I don’t want anything to come between us.”

  “Nothing ever could, Kaatje,” Elsa said, her eyes staring into Kaatje’s.

  “Yes, well, I know that is what you say. But this is what concerns me. Jessie had a bad dream last night. A dream in which I was gone and she had to seek a new mother. If anything happened to me, would you take in the girls?”

  “Of course. Without question.”

  “You wouldn’t give them to Tora?”

  “Tora? I hardly think she’s in a position to—”

  “No. She’s not in a position now to take them on. But you said yourself she’s made a remarkable change. Perhaps she’s getting her life back in order. And if that is the case, what would stop her from coming to get Jessie?”

  “If her life is back in order—” She paused as Mrs. Hodge arrived with the tray of tea and cookies. After the woman left, shutting the door behind her, Elsa continued, “Even if she gets her life back in order, she’s hardly in a place to take on two girls.”

  “But what if she was? What if Trent continues to pursue her, to court her? And they marry? She’ll have every luxury. Any servant she wishes to hire. And how can I compete with that? She is Jessie’s real mother.” Kaatje felt frantic, at odds within.

  Elsa calmly poured a cup of tea and offered it to Kaatje. “Here. Drink some tea. Then let us play a game of chess.”

  Her manner irritated Kaatje to no end. She whirled and struck the china cup from Elsa’s hand, sending it flying toward the fireplace and shattering. “I don’t want tea! Nor to play chess! I want to know where you stand!”

  “Kaatje!” Elsa ex
claimed, rising.

  An apology crossed her heart, but Kaatje was inexplicably angry. Elsa was clearly going to side with Tora. Didn’t she already love Trent as a brother-in-law? Every night, that was all Kaatje heard. “Trent said” this …”Trent said” that. If he married Tora, how could Elsa turn them away?

  “They’re family!” Kaatje said, pressing the back of her hand to her sweating brow.

  “What?” Elsa asked, looking utterly confused.

  “Trent! Tora! If they come to you together, intent on getting Jessie back, how could you not support them?”

  Elsa sighed and pointed toward the couch. Kaatje began to cry. “Sit down, Kaatje. Sit down, right now.” When she had done so, Elsa knelt near her feet, looking as precarious as a teapot with a rounded bottom. “Kaatje,” Elsa said, taking her hands and waiting until she met her gaze. “I will never let Tora take Jessie away from you.”

  Kaatje wrenched away from her friend and went to the window. “I cannot find it within me to entirely believe you.”

  “Why? Have I ever deceived you? Wronged you?”

  “No. It’s just that there’s this feeling within me that tells me it will only be a matter of time.”

  “A matter of time before I betray you?”

  Kaatje considered the madness of her words. But it was true. It was how she felt. “At some point, Elsa, we all fail. Isn’t this a likely way for you to fail me?”

  Elsa came near her, a hand at the small of her back. She frowned at Kaatje’s words. “Just because Soren failed you, betrayed you, doesn’t mean I will. Just because Tora sliced open your skin and poured salt on the wound does not mean I will!”

  Kaatje was silent for a moment, staring out at the gray skies. “He was so rotten,” she whispered.

  “Soren?”

  “Yes. I’m still so angry at him. For his indiscretions. For leaving us. He never even gave me a chance to yell at him! He left me with a small child, and then Tora …”

  “It was bitterly unfair.”

  “Yes!” It felt good to give in to the pity she felt for herself in her heart. “I deserved better!”

  “Yes.”

  “It was not fair of God.”

  “It was life, not God, that dealt you such a rotten hand. Life is difficult, but God is not. Soren was not following the ways of the Savior.”

  “So I had to suffer for it?” Kaatje asked, glancing at her.

  Elsa winced again and sat down. “You chose Soren.”

  “Ah. So it’s all my fault.”

  Elsa sighed and reached out a hand. “No. Not all of it is your fault. But we choose our paths, Kaatje. You know that. We make choices, good and bad.”

  “And Soren was a bad one.”

  “Perhaps. But look at your beautiful daughters. Christina and Jessie. They’re yours and you have plenty to be proud of. And Kaatje …”

  “What?”

  “I will never ever let Tora take Jessie from you. She is yours, as much as if you had borne her yourself. Tora has no right to her. I’ll tell her so. I promise you.”

  Kaatje studied her, relaxed enough to finally observe her pale, clammy skin and quick breathing. “Elsa? Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Elsa gasped, placing a hand on her abdomen. “Just preparing to bring yet another babe into this world.”

  Kaatje mumbled her profuse apologies all the way up the stairs, calling for Mrs. Hodge as they went. The children came running, their eyes wide as they saw their mothers’ tear-stained cheeks. “Elsa is about to have her baby,” Kaatje said, curbing their countless questions. “Be good children and stay with Mrs. Hodge. Do what she tells you.”

  Elsa concentrated on reaching the master bedroom and on the contractions that grasped her body every few minutes. “The doctor,” she reminded Kaatje.

  “Oh yes!” She turned toward the stairs again. “Mrs. Hodge! Send for the doctor!” Then she turned back and continued to support Elsa as they moved toward the bedroom. “I am so sorry, Elsa. I don’t know what got into me.”

  “Stop apologizing,” Elsa said. “You obviously had to get it out of your system.”

  “But heavens! I even broke a teacup!”

  “Probably what you feel like doing to Soren,” Elsa said. “Just remind me to keep the crystal away from you if it ever happens again.”

  “I don’t think it will,” Kaatje said, sighing as they sat down together on the massive four-poster’s mattress. She rose immediately to help Elsa change into a loose nightshift, then lifted her legs onto the bed. “I suppose you’re right—I just needed to work it through. All that worry. All that anger. I feel worlds better.”

  “Terrific. I wish I did,” Elsa quipped.

  Kaatje laughed and bustled about, gathering linens and a basin for some extra water. She paused by Elsa’s side. “I’m truly very sorry. You’ve never given me reason to doubt you.”

  “Enough. You’re forgiven. As long as you track down the doctor for me.”

  “Even if I have to go searching for him myself,” Kaatje promised. She left the room then, and Elsa was left to her own thoughts. She rolled on her side as another contraction gripped her center, from the small of her back all the way around her belly, and clutched at what had once been Peder’s pillow. All at once, the longing for him overwhelmed her. She pulled the pillow toward her, wishing she could remember exactly how it felt to be in Peder’s arms. How could she do this? How could she bear another of Peder’s children without him waiting in the next room? The melancholy quickly brought tears to her eyes and dampened the pillow beneath her face.

  Elsa missed him for more reasons than the birth. She knew he would know what to do with Tora and Trent. What to do for Kaatje, to appease her fears. He did not always know just what to say, she mused with a mirthless chuckle, remembering how he used to nettle her by blurting out something captainesque rather than feeling her fears. But he had gotten better at it all … The tears came faster as she thought about his deep green eyes and the sunlight in his hair.

  After a moment, she rose and padded over to her desk, lighting a lamp beside it. Outside, an uncommon late-winter storm sent fat flakes floating down past her window. She opened a portfolio and dug down to the bottom, where she had hidden illustrations she had been unwilling to see for months. Peder on deck, at the wheel, staring out to sea, in the ratlines, up in the crow’s nest. They were pictures that had been printed in the newspapers, pictures that made “Captain Ramstad” as famous as his wife. She supposed a nation of women fell in love with him along with her, she mused silently.

  “Oh, Peder,” she mumbled. The tears ran off her cheeks and dripped onto the canvas, making a smeared spot on his shoulder. How she ached for that shoulder, those arms!

  A contraction ripped through her body, making her gasp. It was stronger this time and closely followed by another. Mrs. Hodge came in and scolded her for being out of bed. Nearing Elsa, and seeing her drawings, her tone softened. “Ah, child. He is here,” she said, taking her by the shoulders and leading her to the bed. “He’s here in spirit, waiting to welcome your child to the world.”

  The baby was born four hours later. She didn’t cry, which concerned Elsa at first, but she took to the breast without hesitation and the doctor confirmed that all seemed to be in working order.

  Later, everyone gathered around the bed to admire the child. “Maybe she just knows you needed some peace in the household,” Kaatje said gently.

  “Or maybe she’ll blow all at once,” Kristian said, gazing at his sister in awe. “Like a steam engine.”

  The adults laughed.

  “What will you call her?” Mrs. Hodge asked.

  Elsa considered her daughter, so tiny, so perfect. She had Peder’s wavy brown hair, and lots of it.

  “Eve,” she said. “Since she was born on the eve of a new day for me. A new life for us all. Next month, we sail.”

  twenty-three

  As March wore on, Kaatje grew more and more restless. When Elsa’s precious tulip bulbs
began to emerge in their bright spring green foliage, Kaatje longed to see for herself how the land looked in the Skagit Valley. She was kneeling one day by the tulips, her hands in the dirt, checking to see how thawed the ground was, when Elsa opened the front door. Kaatje picked up a handful, held it, then released it in a clump. “Perfect for planting,” she said.

  “You’ll need to go soon,” Elsa said, Eve on her shoulder.

  “If your soil here is any indication, I need to get back shortly to break up sod and plant.”

  Elsa nodded somberly. “I will miss you.”

  “And I you,” Kaatje said, rubbing the dirt from her palms as she stood. “I feel better though, since Eve seems to be doing so well. You’ll leave yourself in what? Two weeks?”

  “Yes. If I can get our affairs in order.”

  Kaatje climbed the steps and shivered a bit. “Still nippy for spring, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. But I am so glad for the sun you will not hear a complaint upon my lips.”

  Kaatje laughed. It had been a particularly damp and gloomy winter. Today the skies were a deep blue with white, fluffy clouds. The children were out playing at the park under the watchful eye of Mrs. Hodge. The woman had been such a blessing to Elsa in this difficult time. Kaatje was glad for her presence. After much cajoling, Mrs. Hodge had agreed to accompany Elsa on her first voyage without Peder. If it went well, she said she would consider others. Without her help, Kaatje doubted that Elsa would have actually moved forward with her plans to captain the Grace, newly christened from Ramstad Yard and brought to Seattle by Riley. Part of her wished Elsa’s plans had been hobbled—that she hadn’t convinced Mrs. Hodge to join her; for the risk she was taking frightened Kaatje. Yet what could she say? She herself was considering Alaska!

  The two friends went in the house and settled in the parlor. “I’m a bit afraid of going home, you know,” Kaatje confessed, returning to her earlier thoughts.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’ve gotten used to your soft life. I can already feel the aching muscles I’ll have after a few days’ work.”

  “I can understand that. Life aboard ship isn’t exactly the same as that of a Seattle socialite, either.”