Breakwater Beach

by Carole Ann Moleti

  After making love a second time, they’d drifted off to sleep, skin to skin, their bodies moulded together like nested teaspoons. The pleasure hadn’t faded, but instead had grown from absence and desire.

  Embarrassed to have anyone see such evidence of their enjoyment of each other, Elisabeth straightened the tangled bed linens. She fished through the trunk filled with the trousseau her father had no idea he was paying for, the pleasure of her success in outsmarting him mitigated by his prophesies.

  This was no place for high fashion. She chose fresh undergarments, and a simple traveling dress of black wool, leaving behind the corset. With a smug sense of wifely delight, she placed the folded nightgown near the top of her trunk; there would be many more occasions to wear it. All her fears had vanished overnight, as her husband had reminded her of the joyous nature of marital duties.

  Edward knocked and stepped in without waiting. “You’re already dressed. I left warm water for you.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “You’ve not had time to put it up yet. It’s glorious.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Thank goodness it was he. “And who will see to the chamber pot?” Things would be different now. Very different.

  “The cabin boy. We’ve been under sail for a few hours and should arrive in Brewster by tomorrow morning. Wait until you see the beautiful house I’ve built for you. “

  Edward beamed. “You deserve a home befitting a lady of your stature. The best of everything, from ports all over the world. Plus fine English design and craftsmanship."

  The reminder that he’d been sailing about the globe, and would continue to do so, washed away some of the afterglow. “You’ve worked so hard, Edward. Really, all I want is to be with you.”

  He did not respond to her plea. "Shall we retrieve the maids and have some breakfast?”

  “Yes, please.” It was going to take some time to convince him. And to muster the courage to confront him with her father’s allegations.

  They stepped into a stiff breeze, bright sunshine, and the aroma of damp teak. Edward guided her toward the stern of the ship. Wind filled the sails and drove them along at a fast clip, but the seas were calm. Elisabeth draped a shawl around her shoulders against the misty chill. She held her head high, her arm laced through Edward’s, and walked as steadily as she could as the vessel teeter-tottered on the waves.

  Sailors tended the sails, scrubbed the deck, and polished the hardware with a pungent paste. Thankfully, the men avoided eye contact with her, but acknowledged their captain with nods and a tip of hand to forehead. Sara and Katherine stood near the bow, staring at the expanse of ocean before them.

  “Good morning, ladies. Mr. Vauxhall and I made it clear to the men they are to behave themselves. Feel free to walk about. Go down to the galley whenever you wish. The cook is always there. Would you care to join Elisabeth and me for some breakfast? I last ate at five this morning, so I’m in need of a spot of tea.”

  “Thank you, Captain, some biscuits might settle my stomach. It’s a mite queasy.” Katherine had regained some color in her cheeks.

  “Stay out as much as possible then, Katherine,” Edward said. “You’ll feel less seasick when you stare at the horizon, as you’re doing now. Shall we go?”

  They made their way along, holding onto the sides of the ship as it rocked. He helped each of them down the ladder stair to the galley. The foursome crowded around one of the rough-hewn pine tables.

  Elisabeth struggled to get her skirts around the jagged corners and down the length of the bench. Edward climbed over, an option the women didn’t have. Glad she’d chosen travel clothes, Elisabeth disentangled her dress from the splintered wood.

  How much nicer it was to be above deck, where they’d dined last evening, at tables fashioned by draping oil cloth over hatch covers, lanterns flickering, as the sun set in the western sky. Rather romantic. She and her husband had sat at one hatch, the maids with Mr. Vauxhall at another. The coziness of the galley had its own rustic charm. It smelled of wood smoke, lamp oil, sea salt, and hemp. Not unpleasant, but filled with unwashed bodies with portholes closed against wind and weather that would not likely be the case. Something she’d have to be prepared for if she ever did sail with Edward for more than a few days.

  She fancied that all the men, regardless of rank, crammed in here below deck in harsh weather, shoulder-to-shoulder, huddled together for warmth, companionship, and solace. Women would be distractions from duty, from necessary loyalty, from unity of purpose.

  “Morning, ladies. My, they’re a sight for sore eyes, Captain.” The cook, sporting a toothless grin, hobbled over carrying a tray laden with tea, cups, and utensils. He set dishes of hot biscuits, butter, and jam on the table.

  “We’ll be in Brewster for a while, Cooky.” Edward smiled. “Time enough to visit your wife.”

  “She claims I get in her way. Happy she is to see me off.” Cooky chuckled and went back to the iron stove. Pots clattered and smoke filled the cabin as he stoked the fire.

  Elisabeth added cream and sugar and buttered a biscuit. It was hard as stone, but the warmed curds sank in and softened it. Did all these men care so little for being home with their families?

  “In Brewster, the women are quite self-sufficient. This is beach plum jam, made in Brewster. It’s quite good.” Edward dunked a biscuit into his tea.

  Sara showed some enthusiasm for the first time in a long while. “Yes, very tasty. We’ll have to prepare some.”

  “So, you’re going to make our house a lovely home, I see.” Edward looked intently at Elisabeth.

  “One I hope you’ll be loathe to leave.” Unnerved by the tone of the conversation, Elisabeth returned the stare.

  Edward lowered his gaze and and his smile faded.

  Elisabeth spent the day outside in the company of the maids. They read, did needlework, and walked around to stretch their legs. The Sea Mist cut through the choppy seas like a needle through cloth, running parallel to a sliver of land on the right horizon.

  Not long after Edward relieved Kyle at the helm, Elisabeth watched with fascination as a lone figure scaled the rigging, like a jungle monkey, to the crow’s nest. He bobbed in a tiny basket, barely visible.

  “Whales off the port bow, sir!” His voice carried in the wind.

  Elisabeth ran to the front of the ship, the two maids right behind her.

  The giant mammals breached and plunged several meters from the ship. Huge wishbone tails slapped. They spouted water that smelled like a fish stall in the market. The sight stole her breath. “Truly amazing.”

  “There’s a cow and calf.” Edward pointed to one pair out of the six or so in the group. “Lucky for them we’re not whalers.”

  Elisabeth left the maids and the sailors that had gathered to watch to join Edward. She rested her hand on his, which sat upon the wheel. “Are whales aggressive?”

  He wrapped one arm around her shoulders while steering with the other. “Only when speared and the blood attracts sharks. Nasty sight, I do say. One you’ll want to avoid if they’re driven ashore on the beaches.”

  Her stomach turned at the thought of such massacre. “Is that a common thing?”

  “Whaling is a tradition in this part of the country. The lamp oil and whalebone comes from somewhere.” Delight shone like bright sunshine on her husband’s face as the giant creatures dove and disappeared. Elisabeth hadn’t ever seen his smile so broad.

  “That was beautiful. Seeing that mother and her calf made me think how unnecessary it is that they die for ridiculous, uncomfortable fashion.” Her hand remained on the wheel as her husband jiggered the tack of the ship to keep the sails full and their progress steady.

  “I see wondrous sights all the time that make me reconsider everything I thought I knew about life.” Edward released her from his grasp, slipped behind her, and cradled
her in front of him. With both his hands on the wheel, he made no attempt to disengage hers and kissed the top of her head.

  Elisabeth stared up at him, proudly in command of his ship, his wife at the helm alongside her husband. This was an inkling of allure of the sea. And of the life she’d have if he could be convinced to take her along.

  Screeching gulls awoke Elisabeth the next morning. She noticed little movement of the ship, and bright sunshine blinded her when she stepped outside the dark cabin.

  An expanse of black mud, dotted with rocks and pools of brackish water, extended toward the shore. Figures moved about on land. A strong odour of sulphur permeated the moist, hazy air.

  Edward came around. “Good morning, my love. You’re looking at Breakwater Beach in Brewster, Massachusetts. The tide is coming in, and we’ll soon be going ashore.”

  “How quickly it advances.” In the flash of a sunbeam, water had covered large sections of the flats.

  “Very fast,” Edward said. “You must take care when walking out there.”

  “Why would I be on the beach?” Elisabeth asked.

  “It’s a way to cool down when it’s hot. Many do it for recreation. I must see to the off-loading.” He pecked her cheek and dashed away.

  Sara and Katherine brought breakfast from below. Elisabeth ate standing at the gunwales, watching the waves froth over the black mud, concealing it under a drab grey-green cloak. Edward and Kyle loaded baggage and other goods in two small boats secured on the side of the schooner.

  “Smells awful, doesn’t it, my lady?” Katherine’s nose crinkled.

  “Yes, it certainly does.”

  Sara peered over the side. “How do you suppose we’re going to get down there?”

  “I imagine the tide’s rising will solve both problems.” Elisabeth remained hopeful as much for her own sake as theirs.

  The two men moved with agility and grace in the wobbly dories, their muscles bulged under short-sleeved shirts as they heaved. Elisabeth recalled Edmond, who looked so much like Edward, and his comforting presence. And Kyle Vauxhall, gently helping Katherine and Sara to their feet the day before yesterday.

  Working men entranced her. Their strength of body and character put her at ease, even in strange and frightening circumstances. They understood the realities of life, and weren’t afraid to act, to challenge conventions. Women should be fortunate enough to be able to do the same. Perhaps it would be different in this country, in the very state that had tossed British rule, embodied by crates of tea, overboard.

  Kyle called up to them. “We’ll help you down the ladder into the dory. It’s a quick row to the dock. Billy, be a good lad and help the ladies get situated.”

  The three women exchanged glances, and Elisabeth forced a gallant smile. The boy Kyle had directed to assist couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Rusty fuzz graced his chin and the muscles were barely developed in his arms. He had a willing smile and youthful glint in his eye, no doubt eager to please his captain and first mate. Elisabeth imagined how his mother must feel each time her son sailed into unknown dangers with men twice his age teaching him all sorts of questionable things.

  Her next adventure: Climbing down the side of the ship on a rope ladder. Katherine and Sara stared, incredulous, as Edward steadied it from below. Elisabeth stepped forward first since her husband was waiting to catch her.

  “Ease yourself down on deck, ma’am. Then I’ll help you over.” The young sailor assisted her down to her knees, and she sat off to the side. He held one arm while she gathered her skirts with the other and swung her legs overboard.

  She turned, as if dismounting a horse, and thrust her foot toward the first rung. When she felt it under her right, Elisabeth extended her left, lifted her skirts up over the ankles, and held onto the bunched fabric and the gently swaying rope with all her might, fearful of falling backwards into the dory. But Billy held onto her with surprising strength for such a slight lad until Edward took her around the waist, then by the hand, helped her descend, and into a seat. He kissed her on the cheek and winked his admiration. Katherine went down next, taking far too much time with each step.

  “There, Katherine, it’s all right. I’m right here.” Edward assisted her, and then Sara, who had no choice else she be left behind.

  “Good show, Billy,” Edward called up to him.

  The boy beamed and tossed the rope down. Kyle rowed to shore. Another dory was already moored, its contents being unloaded. Men piled their luggage on a cart drawn by a chestnut horse that looked in much better condition than the one in Boston Harbour.

  Edward jumped up onto a rickety dock and pulled the boat parallel. Kyle tossed him a rope to secure it and helped each of them, in turn, to stand on a seat and step onto the pier. A sense of accomplishment filled Elisabeth. She’d managed with aplomb. Perhaps now Edward would reconsider her seaworthiness.

  “Ladies, it was a pleasure.” Kyle bowed before he dashed into the arms of a woman holding a toddler on her hip.

  Elisabeth studied her—the kind of woman she was about to become—dressed in an unadorned ankle-length dress and work boots, hair braided and pinned up, escaped strands blowing about her face.

  The child appeared to be about two, a boy, dressed in short breeches. He squirmed with delight when he saw his father. Kyle took him from his wife and tossed the boy playfully into the air. The baby’s squeals of laughter echoed as they went on their way. Similar shows of affection repeated themselves all around them. Unlike Boston, there seemed to be no upper or lower class in Brewster, at least at Breakwater Beach.

  They piled into a four-seat carriage drawn by two bay geldings. Edward sat next to the driver, but took the reins himself. A short distance along, the horses turned right onto a wide dusty road. Grand American colonial style houses, interrupted by a few small Victorians, dotted the landscape. A brown-shingled Queen Anne home stood high on a hill, dwarfing the smaller ones. An octagonal tower on the left rose to a peak. A widow’s walk perched atop the pitched roof.

  The horses picked up the pace and the carriage bumped over ruts in the road as they clattered up a circular path. Elisabeth caught her breath.

  Edward turned in his seat. “Welcome home.”

  They rounded a circular drive and stopped by the front entrance. So there was indeed an upper class here, and Captain and Mrs. Edward Barrett were it. Sunlight glinted a welcoming beacon off English bullseye glass sidelights. Diamond mullions sparkled in the top half of floor to ceiling windows. For the last two years, all she had thought about was getting away and getting here. What she’d find in America, other than her husband, had not been foremost on her mind. The expectation of a modest cottage to make her own vanished, and for some odd reason, sadness wormed its way through her. Edward helped each of them down in turn.

  Unsteady in the knees from the seafaring adventures and anxiety, Elisabeth put her hand on Edward’s shoulder and forced a smile. “It’s magnificent.”

  He grinned and slipped his hand around her waist. “You’ve not had a proper introduction to Paul, our groom and caretaker.” Edward acknowledged the slight, sandy-haired man who had jumped down to steady the horses.

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Paul.” Elisabeth extended her hand.

  He shook it vigorously. “Captain, Mrs. Barrett, ladies, good day.” He tipped his hand to his forehead and guided the team and carriage toward the barn.

  The maids lined up as customary, by the front stairs, backs to the house, awaiting the master and mistress.

  Edward guided her toward the entry.

  Elisabeth caught the toe of her shoe and tripped. Only her husband’s firm grip saved her from falling on her face in front of everyone. Her face burned. “I’m so clumsy.”

  “You’ll soon adjust to being back on land. Shall we go inside?” Edward led the w
ay up onto the porch, opened the huge double doors, and allowed her to enter first.

  The scent of pine tar blended in a curious mix with acrid sea air. Sandy soil dusted their shoes and left footprints on the dark wood floors. Light blazed in through the windows, bare of any covering, though the parlour to the left of the entrance was fully furnished.

  Elisabeth wandered in and traced the ornate cherub friezes on the mantelpiece. Papa’s words haunted her. You must know the details of what I’ve found out about your husband. Piracy, smuggling human cargo, murder.

  Katherine and Sara went off on their own. Edward stood beaming in the hall. Elisabeth rejoined him, and he escorted her into the dining room, set with a long table and chairs, and a server stocked with bone china and silver.

  “Service for twelve. We’ll be hosting many a dinner party, won’t we, Elisabeth?

  “Yes, of course.” She examined a delicate pitcher. The ordeal had taught her the cost of such luxuries she’d always taken for granted, and never expected to find waiting for her.

  You refused any decent suitor and then married a heathen pirate?

  “There’s indoor plumbing!” Katherine charged out of the kitchen. “No need to go to a well or privy!”

  Edward appeared delighted at their approval. “Come see, Elisabeth.”

  They all went into the kitchen where a woodstove that doubled as a heater stood in the corner. Sara experimented with the water taps.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this.” The novelty made Elisabeth smile despite her misgivings.