by Lisa Grace
He smiled. “You are young and foolish. Of course you will forget. We are a million miles apart by fate or God. Even if I wanted, you would be out of my reach.”
Mary stopped and pulled on his arm until he faced her, “Do you? Do you want?”
He looked into her eyes. They did something no battle could do. They took his breath away.
“Yes.”
He abruptly turned away and called over to the sailor at his station in the bow. “Mr. Whaley. See the young lady to her room and then report back immediately to your station.”
“Captain!” Mary called out. He briskly walked away without turning to answer her call, leaving her in the care of the young sailor. “Miss? I have my orders.”
Mary stood for a minute. Not sure what to make of the captain's admission. Of course he would find her attractive. She was a female, young, of marriageable age. What was she thinking? She’d never been attracted to a man before in this way. Would it wear off? Was it a spell cast by the attacking pirates, the beautiful weather, and a sense of the unknown?
She wanted to walk and talk with Captain Graham some more, but she knew she was in a dangerous position with her chaperone sick below deck. When she looked at him, he made her want more.
He was right though. Her parents would not approve. It was impossible.
She had not thought of her prospects before. She would not be allowed to choose whom she would marry. The possibility of some suitors she considered—would be off limits. Her parents would disapprove of a sea captain who did not own land. His service to the Royal Navy would always come first and any wife of his would lead a lonely existence stuck in a port city.
Still—she could not stop thinking about him. She wanted him. She wanted Graham.
“Miss?”
She came out of her revere and followed the night watchman to her cabin. Bennett Graham was so near, and yet so far. As he had said, a million miles apart.
***
The next day Mary set up her painting station at dawn. One of the men had caught a curious beast, a sea turtle. She drew it, and committed to memory its colors before the men took it below decks.
She asked the young cabin boy assigned to her station, “What will they do with it?”
“Cook it to eat it, miss.”
She decided not to ask about the other sea creatures they pulled up for her to sketch. Rounding the tip of a promontory, she spied a beautiful waterfall cascading down a high peak all the way to the sea.
She looked about for the captain and would occasionally hear his voice drift past her on the wind, but he did not come near. He stayed on the upper deck, out of her view.
She had hoped—she did not know what she hoped—yes, she did. He would find a way to change their fates. Find a way out of circumstance. She could not think of any that would not cost her honor. No one wanted a fallen woman, and it was not in her nature to be dishonorable. Yes, she had snuck out on her family to have this adventure. She justified it to herself by having been called to the King's service. It was her God given talent that had caused her to be called in the first place, and she couldn't help it was her misfortune to be born a woman. If she were a man, no second thought would be given to her work onboard. Someday she would have to stand before God for her sins, and this accounting kept her integrity in tact. Tea was brought to her while she sat on the deck and worked on her painting. All the men stayed clear and left her to her charcoals and her paints, except for the young cabin boy who was assigned to help her. She had the distinct feeling the men had been told to keep their distance.
The cabin boy looked to be very young. “What is your name, boy?”
“My name is Charles Hurley.”
“How did you come to be in the employ of the Navy?”
“It is a much better prospect than being left to the streets. I am an orphan, ma’am. A navy ship is much better than a whaler, slaver, or merchant. Cleaner, and the men don’t bugger you; they’re under orders not to.”
Mary blushed. “Charles, I guess we do what we can with what God has given us.”
“It could’ve been worse. I coulda’ been on one of those ships. I came down to the Royal ship yard docks on the right day.”
“So you have the future you wanted.”
Charles said proudly, “I am glad to be here, miss. Captain Graham is a respected captain, and the HMS Devonshire is one of the finest in the fleet. Seventy-four guns miss, can sink a brigade with one round. And fast, too. There are only two types of ships bigger in the whole fleet, but they are slow old tubs compared to her.” Charles lovingly patted the rail. “They can’t fly over the water like a Vengeur class can.”
“You certainly seem to know your ships, Charles.”
“Yes, miss,” Charles answered with pride.
Later in the afternoon a small squall line appeared on the horizon moving onto the shore. As it neared it threatened the ship. With the help of the winds in her sails, she easily dodged it weaving between the various rain clouds.
Mary drew a sketch of the squall line, and another of the surveyors doing their work on the deck.
She had enough sketches to start painting and decided she would work on them in the privacy of her room. She worked on the turtle first. She worked in layers, doing a base color first, a grayish green, then built layer upon layer giving the skin complexity of color, depth, and texture. It would take a few days to complete. She must allow some of the colors to dry and set. Mary set the work aside and went on to work on the one that had been on her mind all day. The one of Bennett Graham. Human skin was the hardest to get correct. Again, you had to start with the undertones and build the skin. This one would not be for the King. This one would be her thank you to the captain for allowing her to remain on the ship.
Later, a tray was sent to her room for her and Magdela’s dinner. Poor Magdela was still not up to eating. Late in the evening after Mary had bunked in for the night Magdela called out, “Doctor! I need a doctor!”
Mary got out of her bed, then put on a robe over her night dress, “Oh Magdela!” Mary went over to her and felt her head. It was hot to the touch. This was more than sea sickness.
Mary unlocked the door, and went out into the hall. No one was there. She did not want to wander the ship without an escort, and the only other room she knew to get to—was the captain’s. She stopped at his door and knocked, calling out at the same time, “Captain Graham! Magdela is very ill. She needs the ship’s surgeon!”
The captain opened the door. His nightshirt was half open, and Mary had an urge to reach out and touch him.
“I am sorry sir, I do not know where the doctor’s quarters are.”. Bennett reached for his overcoat, and closed the door behind him.
“I will bring him. Get back to your room. It is not right to be seen with me in this state of dress.”
Mary hurried back to her quarters and waited next to Magdela’s side. “Agua.”
Mary poured a glass of water and held it up to Magdela’s lips. “Here. The doctor is coming.”
There was a knock at the door followed by the doctor and the captain opening the door and coming in.
The ship’s surgeon had grey hair shaped like a U around his bald pate. He carried a black bag. “Please move back, miss. I do not want to alarm you miss, but she may very well be contagious.”
Mary moved over to Captain Graham’s side. She lightly reached out to hold onto his arm as the ship swayed. He pulled her closer to his side. The earlier storms the ship had evaded had kicked up the waves, which the ship rode roughly. They stood side by side, the captain steadying Mary on her feet. She could feel him as he drew a breath, and another. Why was it she felt so alive when she stood next to him?
The doctor peered closely into Magdela’s eyes, and felt her forehead. “Where is the pain?” he asked.
Magdela showed him with her hand.
The doctor finished examining her and turned toward Mary and Graham, “She has a fever. I need her moved to the surgery room where
I can watch her and in case the fever is contagious. We do not need the sickness to spread among the men on the ship.”
Mary clutched at Graham’s arm, “It is worse than I thought.”
Graham looked toward Mary, “Do not worry, but do pray.”
The doctor left, leaving Mary and Graham alone for the moment with the feverish Magdela.
“Will she be all right?”
Graham studied Magdela who appeared to be in an uneasy sleep. “The surgeon will do his best. Prayer can work wonders.”
Graham glanced around the room, anything to avoid looking into Mary’s eyes. He spied the painting in progress on the easel. He let go of Mary’s arm and took a step closer toward the painting illuminated in the dim light.
Mary spoke, “It is a present for you, not King George.”
Graham took another step toward the easel and looked at the painting of himself.
“Is that how I look to you?”
“Yes.”
Graham turned and looked at Mary. She did not look away. She clutched her hand to her stomach her heart beating faster. Graham looked away back toward the painting. “Mary, don’t.”
Mary broke the silence, her anger and frustration raising the volume of her voice, “How is it you are a man who can command a ship of men to do your bidding, yet you cannot think of a way to find what we both would have?”
He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He turned to face her, “Life is sacrifice. Love is sacrifice. If there were a way I would find it.”
Mary took a step closer, “You will find a way?”
“On my word of honor if there is one to be found, I will find it.” He bent his head towards hers, and whispered, “It is all I can give.”
He stepped back and left the room to wait in the hall as Mary waited on the men to move Magdela to the doctor’s surgery room.
***
Captain Graham woke in the morning and went to the doctor’s quarters which were attached to a room where the sick were sent. He knocked and entered. The doctor was washing in his basin.
“How is she—” Captain Graham began to ask as he stepped into the patient’s room. Magdela's lips were blue.
“She died before dawn. There was nothing I could do. Her lower stomach region was bloated and hot. Some interior infection has taken her life. I will prepare her for burial.”
The captain nodded. “Thank you, Thomas.”
The doctor dried off his hands meticulously hanging the towel back on a small rack.
***
The next day dawned followed shortly by a cabin boy bringing Mary her breakfast tray. “Would you come back to show me to the surgery? I would like to check on my chaperone.”
“Miss, I will get the doctor.”
Mary only picked at her food. She worried about Magdela. Had she caught something on the ship? Was anyone else sick? If they had been on land would Magdela still have gotten ill? Did the doctor have the medicines needed to cure her? The guilt of being attracted to the captain while Magdela was fighting for her life hit her hard. How could she be so selfish? Every thought should be for Magdela’s safety. Every prayer should be about her health, but in the middle of her prayers, she would catch herself asking God to make a future for her and Bennett together.
All too soon there was a knock at the door.
She swung it open expecting to see the doctor, but it was Bennett.
He stepped inside and closed the door with his hand behind him. He took the other and reached for her arm, “I am sorry. Magdela passed away before dawn.”
Mary let out a sound and fell against him. He held her as she cried. He rocked her gently leaning his head on hers.
Death would be acknowledged, and take the offerings of tears and cries, the debt it felt it was owed by the living.
When her tears had slowed, and her breathing calmed, he said, “We must go up top and pay our respects as she is laid to rest.”
“What?” Mary said into his chest unwilling to part from the comfort of his arms.
“I am sorry, but we must do a burial at sea. We are too far away from port, and it is too risky taking the boat towards the shallows by shore.”
Mary dried at her eyes with the back of her hand. She slowly lifted her head from his chest.
She took a deep breath and said, “I am ready.”
He escorted her up the stairs to the deck where all the men were mustered. Magdela’s body was encased in a thick canvass bag, balanced on a plank near the edge. The first officer handed Bennett a Bible, from which he began to read the Lord’s Prayer. When he finished, he closed it and spoke, “The sea will one day give up its dead for judgment. May she rest in peace until that great day. Amen.”
All the men followed with a murmured, “Amen.”
The men holding the plank tilted it, as Magdela was given to the sea.
A cabin boy escorted Mary back to her cabin. She locked herself in and cried the rest of the day away. She wouldn’t open the door for a tray at lunch or even when the captain came knocking later in the day. She slept.
When she’d exhausted every tear, Mary hoped the nightmare would be gone when she awoke. She stayed in bed until the sun rose again. She went to her easel and worked on her paintings, making them as real as she could. If she could bring her paintings to life then maybe Magdela would come alive, too. It was a foolish thought she knew, but it gave her a purpose. When Magdela was sick she had not given her as much thought or attention as she could have. This was one way to honor her memory, the only way she had, the only way her talent let her.
Mary heard another knock at the door, “You must eat, or you will get sick.”
It was one of the cabin boys calling to her. Mary raised her voice, “Leave it, I am working.”
She stayed in and worked on turning the sketches she’d done in to vibrant living moments. She knew she would get restless and need to go on deck soon. She half hoped the captain would come to check on her again, but he did not. His absence spoke to her more than his presence could. She saw the way he looked at her, and she could not help but look back. The men would talk, if they weren’t already. She was an unescorted woman on the ship. Her honor was in grave danger, and she could see no way to save it from gossip. Her thoughts would flit between grief over Magdela, and longing for Graham, and fear over what would happen when she returned to shore alone, without Magdela. Her thoughts were swaying like the unpredictable motions of the waves just outside her cabin porthole.
***
A Few Days Later
“Sir?”
“Come in,” Graham said.
Randall Cullen, Captain Graham’s first officer, entered his stateroom saying, “The weather is holding and we should be rounding the first of the southernmost islands this evening.” He laid the night’s report on the captain’s desk.
“And the surveyors? How are they holding up?” he asked as he buttoned his shirt and shrugged into his coat.
“Glad they drew this commission sir, in a temperate zone rather than one to the north.”
Graham chuckled, “Yes, conditions could be worse.”
“Any sign of pirates? Glints on the horizon, horns, shouts on the wind, smoke in the fog?”
“No sir, they are lying low. The men are on alert. The first attack has made them aware of the potential for battle around every corner. We are prepared for when it happens.”
“Good,” Graham said as he finished buttoning his coat.
Graham looked at his visage in the mirror, and ran his fingers through his hair to comb it into place. “Yes? Is there something else?”
“We may have a problem. One I had not anticipated before I pulled my little prank.” Randall looked at his boot tips. “Miss Welch.”
Bennett went to his desk to look at the night’s report. “Yes, what about Ms. Welch?”
“She is unchaperoned on a ship of men—there will be talk.”
“She will not be compromised. All visits have been supervised, and she is always
attended to by a cabin boy, not a man.”
“Her family—”
“Yes?”
“There is the possibility—they will not accept her back.”
Bennett nodded. He did not look up from his paperwork.
Randall continued, “Even the colonials have their formalities. She may be shunned.”
Bennett sighed, and sat back in his chair looking up at Randall, “I have considered her fate.”
“Yes—you have?”
“If she returned married, granted, they may see an Englishman, a captain in the service of his King, a step down, but a married woman would still have her honor and not be shunned.”
“Yes.”
“Then any gossip would be restricted to ‘she ran away for an adventure and found a husband’ a much more palatable end than one of a fallen single woman returning.”
“Yes.”
“And your honest opinion, Randall?”
Randall stood thinking for a minute, raised his eyebrows and said, “Congratulations, may you both be very happy.”
Graham smiled.
“When will you speak to the lady about your intentions?” Randall asked.
“Soon. Very soon.”
There was a knock on the door followed by a cabin boy bursting in, his eyes lit with excitement, “Pirates, captain, on the far side of the southern end of the seaside of the island. They are attacking a galleon wrecked on the breakers! She looks like she is taking on water.”
Captain Graham replied, “Muster all the men to their stations!”
*
***
*****
***
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CHAPTER 3
Keiko, Julian, and Ray
There was a knock at the door. Keiko opened it, “Ray!” Keiko embraced Ray in a hug.
“Julian, it’s your dad.”
“Where is he?” Ray said after he hugged Keiko and walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed a Coke.
“He’s in the attic getting down some luggage for the trip.”
Keiko said, “Make yourself at home. I have some notes to organize in the office.”