Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  Elsa nodded. “You know you are always welcome in my home, at any time, for any reason.” She reached out to take Tora’s hand. “We could begin again. You could even travel with me, see the world. I intend to set sail again soon after this babe is born.”

  Tora nodded once. “Thank you. One day, I think it would be good for us to … become closer. But I will stay here for now.”

  “Then I will too,” said Trent from the doorway. Tora’s eyes flew to his silhouetted form.

  “What?”

  “Then I will stay here in the Sound and pursue business options for a while. I will stay here to get to know you again, Tora. To court you.”

  twenty-one

  February 1887

  Karl sailed the Tempest around the windward side of Kahoolawe toward the port of Honolulu. Between the reefs that surrounded the Hawaiian Islands and the whales that were migrating in countless numbers and the whalers that pursued them, porting in Honolulu demanded he remember every nuance of captaining a ship. “Whales ho!” called his man from the crow’s nest for the tenth time that morning. “There she blows!” he yelled, pointing. Karl followed his direction, observing a pod of whales through a telescope, and smiled.

  A huge blue whale crested after her baby, spouted a shower of water, and then dove, ending with a tremendous show of tail and a splash as she dug in for the deep. Such majestic animals inhabited the depths that God had created! Karl longed to dive into the water himself, to follow the whales, and see what their world looked like.

  What had happened to him since he had again taken to the seas? It was as if his eyes had been opened, as if he had been sleeping all the time he remained landlocked. His heart, his soul, called for him to explore the oceans of the world, the waters his Creator had made. This, this was where he belonged.

  “Steamer tug approaching,” reported his second mate, Clayton Rogers.

  “Good enough. Signal him forward, Clay,” Karl said. This time of year, the harbor was carefully organized by a British harbormaster, anchoring each ship that arrived in a spot conducive to the traffic that continued to enter and exit the harbor. It was a gorgeous day, hot and sunny. The breeze off the water cooled the sweat on his brow, making it just about perfect. He took off his captain’s hat and ran his fingers through his hair, which he allowed to grow a little longer now that he was out of polite society. He fancied the idea of longer hair at the nape of his neck and, at some point, an earring. A new look was the physical manifestation of his new life, he decided.

  He placed the cap back on his head as the tug drew near. Yes. The earring would happen today. “Luke!” he called to his first mate. “You said you had your ear pierced here in Honolulu, right?”

  “Aye, sir, but if you’re interested, I could do it for you sure enough.”

  Karl returned his smile. “That’s generous of you, mate, but I think I’ll leave it to a professional. I need an earring anyway to hold it open.”

  “Suit yourself. My fee’s free. Part of the package of first mate,” he said, proudly placing his thumbs in his suspenders. All the men, with land in sight and visions of wine and women, were in high spirits. Karl had sailed with Lucas Laning on the Silver Sea from Seattle, and immediately connected with the man. He was a fine sailor with good experience, and an upstanding Christian. And since Luke knew many other fine sailors in the Bay Area, he helped Karl handpick their crew.

  “And it’s a fine package indeed,” Karl bantered back. “But we won’t be needing your skills as an ear piercer just yet.”

  “You can pierce my ear!” said the cabin boy excitedly. Charlie Woodrow was all of eleven years old and followed Karl like a shadow. An orphan who had taken to the docks at nine, he had been largely ignored by a less indulgent captain than Karl over the last two years. When that man keeled over in a wharf tavern, Lucas had brought Charlie to Karl, hoping his captain would take the lad on as cabin boy. Karl was glad to have him. Ever eager to do whatever Karl bid, Charlie was tall for his age, with sandy brown hair and eyes.

  Karl smiled. “I do not think so. Luke, didn’t you say that any boy under thirteen caught with an earring was hanged by it from the lanyards?”

  The boy paled, looking quickly from one man to the other. “You’re joshing.”

  Lucas pursed his lips and tapped one finger on his chin, as if exaggerating the thinking process. “Let me see. I do believe you’re right, cap’n. Last I saw of little Jeremy Halloway, he was hanging by his ear from the lanyard—about that high—” he said, pointing to one twenty feet above them, “and then his ear clear ripped apart and he fell into the seas.” Luke sighed heavily. “Tremendous loss, that one.”

  Karl turned to cover his smile and went to meet the second mate at the stairs. “Tug is alongside, cap’n. Harbormaster is asking to speak with you.”

  “Of course, Clay. Nice work. Lead the way.” He turned toward Lucas. “Reef all remaining sails!” he ordered.

  “Reef all remaining sails!” the mate called out. The men scurried about, eager to carry out the command, get settled closer to shore, and feel land beneath their feet. They had been at sea for over eighteen days. Many had never set foot on Hawaii, but had heard about such luxuries as dramatic, delicious luaus and mesmerizing dancing maidens. Karl smiled again. It was a fine port in which to restock supplies and consider his next steps. He could speak with other captains ashore and find out what the best cargo would be for Kenney, Bradford, and himself in Japan. Prices and availability made it an ever-changing option, and it was wise to gather any information he could.

  An hour later they were situated in about fifty feet of water, the sea floor visible to them from above. The water was an incredible turquoise green, and once in a while a sand shark or a school of fish would scurry past along the creamy bottom. The anchor descended with a great splash, and after a nod from Karl, all men not on the first launch toward shore appeased themselves with a dive into the tropical waters. They shouted and dunked one another, swearing and laughing. Karl laughed with them. It was a good crew, all in all, that he had found in San Francisco.

  Out of deference to his men, Karl waited for one of the last launches toward shore, reaching land just in time to find some supper. Accompanied by Lucas, he followed the harbormaster’s directions to a tavern with the best meals and, therefore, the most sea captains with whom he could swap tales. The two men strode jauntily down the busy street, observing shopkeepers closing up for the night and less virtuous ladies just beginning their evening racket. The men carefully averted their eyes.

  Seeing the disreputable ladies reminded Karl of Charlie and his life on the streets. The boy had seen too many unsavory sights in his short life, and Karl felt protective of the lad. With an odd sense of being followed, Karl turned and looked back down the street. Sure enough, the cabin boy trailed them by twenty feet, flirting with the women, who patted and coddled him. “Charles!” Karl roared. The boy blanched and sidled up to his captain and the mate. “I thought I told you to stay aboard the ship,” Karl said, placing a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “Oh, but Captain, everybody was coming ashore.”

  “And you will also. When I can give you proper supervision.”

  “But Cap’n, this isn’t anything I haven’t seen already,” Charlie said, surveying the street with a worldly, bored glance.

  “That’s a shame, son. I aim to change your views. You work for me—you do as I say. Go directly back to the ship. Tell the man on launch duty that I commanded he take you back aboard.”

  “But Cap’n—”

  “Now.”

  Charlie kicked at the dirt of the street with bare feet and then turned to go back as directed. Lucas remained silent at Karl’s side as they watched the boy reluctantly walk back toward the beach. “Think I can make a change in the boy, Luke?”

  “He’s seen an awful lot for an eleven-year-old,” Lucas said.

  “It’s never too late for redemption, right?” Karl asked, looking him in the eye.

&n
bsp; Lucas cocked his head and nodded once. “I hope you’re right.” They turned together and continued walking. “Remind me to get that boy a Bible.”

  “Sure, Cap’n. You’ll have to teach him to read first, though.”

  Karl groaned. “No schooling at all?”

  “Not that I can gather. Clayton said he’s been on his own since he was a wee tyke.”

  Karl had been so intent on keeping the Tempest on track and shipshape that he had spent little time with his cabin boy. Clearly, he needed to focus some attention there. He pursed his lips and then laughed, thinking. Imagine him, a role model for a child! And yet it was a welcome weight of responsibility.

  Karl and Lucas had been in the tavern for an hour, talking and eating with other captains and their first mates, when Mason Dutton strode in. Karl would have recognized him anywhere, despite the beard and fine apparel. Karl stood, his eyes never wavering.

  Mason met his glance, and nonchalantly pulled his jacket from his shoulders and set it upon a chair back. “Karl Martensen?” he asked, as if testing his memory of names.

  The other men, inherently sensing the tension, grew quiet.

  Karl’s mind flew from memories of the island and Dutton’s attack to what he should do now. Elsa had told him she had seen him here a year ago, but Karl could hardly believe the man dared to walk out in the open after her column appeared in the New York Times and was syndicated worldwide.

  The words came quickly, Karl’s tone low and menacing. Everything in him wanted to lunge at the man who had dared to attack Peder’s ship, his ship, and Elsa. But something deep within held him back. Only his words flew freely.

  “You are a pirate and a scoundrel, Mason Dutton,” he growled.

  “Why, Karl, we haven’t even exchanged greetings, yet,” Mason said, one eyebrow cocked. Two large men moved to stand behind him. “And here you are, calling me scandalous names that might sully my reputation.”

  Lucas rose to stand at Karl’s side. “I am surprised you dare to show your face,” Karl said.

  “Oh, because of that silly Elsa Ramstad’s article?” He laughed and sat down, an obvious move to try and put Karl in his place. “I have an understanding with the locals. And with my fellow sea captains,” he said, his eyes roving around the room. “Elsa Ramstad will eventually pay for her attempt at blackening my name. But that’s another matter.”

  Karl followed his glance around the room, incredulous. The sailors had grown quiet, avoiding his gaze. How could the pirate have bought off all these men?

  Mason laughed again. “You will soon see that you should join my comrades, here. I will not attack your ship if you agree to steer clear of me.”

  “I will not. I will go to the local authorities. And I am not afraid to face you again in battle.”

  “Karl, Karl. I take it you are a captain now? You are a merchantman. Your ship would never hold up against mine. I come fully armed.”

  “The military surely does not allow you to roam these waters free, menacing others with an armed ship.”

  “Oh, they do their best to find me and eradicate my presence, but I am good at what I do.”

  “For how long? They must be planning a full-scale attack soon,” Karl bluffed.

  Mason rose, all good humor leaving his face. “I suggest you refrain from challenging me, Martensen. As I said, they’ve tried to take me, but failed. Why, the last time, I slit the commander’s throat myself.” His eyes narrowed, menacing.

  “Is that where you obtained the British uniform?”

  “Ah,” Mason said, his smile returning. “So you have spoken to the lovely Elsa Ramstad since I glimpsed her here last year. Yes, I enjoy dressing up in the folderol of my countrymen. It has afforded me impressive entrée to places you wouldn’t believe.”

  Karl shook his head. “You are a dead man in our midst. Your days are limited.”

  “On the contrary, Martensen. I consider that a challenge. Your days—and your ship’s—are limited. But let’s get back to Elsa Ramstad. I hear her coward of a husband drowned. A pity. Do you know where I might seek her to offer my condolences?”

  Karl moved forward, unable to curb his fury, but Lucas held him back.

  “Ah. I’ve hit a nerve.” He tapped his chin. “Very interesting. Elsa Ramstad is a handsome, admirable woman. Perhaps I’m not the only man in this room who has had certain … feelings toward her?”

  Karl felt the heat rise in his neck. “Elsa Ramstad would spit in your face if you ever managed to get near her.”

  “I think not. If I ever manage to get near her, let’s just say there will be more interesting activities on my mind.”

  “I’m warning you, Dutton. Steer clear of her.”

  Mason laughed. “My, my. I never knew you were in love with her.”

  Karl pulled himself up short. He was giving Dutton ammunition he did not care to hand over to the pirate. “She has been a friend to me from childhood. I would give my life for her. Take her on, and you take me on.”

  Dutton pretended to shiver. “That is indeed frightening.”

  Again Karl moved to lunge at the man, but Luke held him back. “No, Karl. Do not do it,” Luke said.

  “Good day, Captain Martensen,” Mason said, taking his coat from the chair back. “We will not settle our disagreement here. We will meet on the high seas, yes?”

  “Who is cowardly now, Dutton? You refuse to fight me man to man?” Luke’s hand pressed harder on Karl’s shoulder, but Karl ignored it.

  Dutton’s hand went to the scabbard at his waist. “Not at all. Shall we—?”

  Just then, the men behind Mason waved like palms in a storm as someone pushed past them.

  “You fight my captain, you’ll have to get through me first!” Charlie called out as he faced off with Mason, a tiny blade in his hand.

  The tavern erupted in laughter.

  “Sure, boy. I’d be happy to teach you a lesson,” Mason said, his eyes never leaving Karl’s. Now he knew he had him. It infuriated Karl.

  “Charles! Get over here!” Karl thundered.

  The boy glanced back, unsure.

  “Charles! Now, or I’ll whip you raw!”

  The cabin boy turned and came to Karl’s side, standing just behind him and to the side as Lucas had done.

  Mason laughed. “Another day, Martensen. Another day.” With that, he placed his cap on his head and left the tavern.

  Karl stood there shaking, a long time after Mason left the building.

  One captain said softly, “Give it up, Martensen. You’ll live longer if you come to a gentleman’s agreement with Dutton.”

  Another said, “Aye, son. He’s taken many a ship in and around these waters. Every time the military has any kind of presence, he hightails it.”

  “He’s slippery, that one,” said still another.

  “The best of the last pirates.”

  “Protect your ship and your men, Martensen!” called the first. “For a small fee, Dutton will let you pass without fear.”

  “How can any of you go along with this?” Karl exploded. He felt supercharged, enraged. “How can any of us ‘pass without fear’? You trust a man such as that? He is the lowest of the low. Why, the only way we can beat him is together!”

  “They’ve tried that. Five ships together surrounded and attacked Dutton in his lair. They thought they had him. But they were severely outgunned. Dutton’s been stockpiling for years. In the end, their crews were hanged from the lanyards, and all five ships were burned to the waterline. One eyeful of that is all a man needs to make him turn tail.”

  “And the local authorities?” Karl asked, incredulous.

  “They turn a blind eye and open their pocketbooks. Dutton lines them well.”

  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?