Blackwell's Homecoming (Blackwell's Adventures Book 3)

by V. E. Ulett

  His feelings about retirement from the Navy and the cause of it, his children, were complicated. Aloka had always been his favorite, there was no point not calling a spade a spade. Edward was peculiar, and not particularly attached to any one of them. And Emma, well, Emma was a female. A female who never seemed to have liked, approved, or had any use for him.

  Captain Blackwell remembered coming home on leave when they were small. The boys would play peek-a-boo with baby Emma. Dandle her on their knees where she could not see her father, then turn her suddenly to face him. She would invariably cry out, tears streaming down cherub cheeks, with a look of pain and grief in her eyes. They would roar with laughter, until Mercedes or Aloka himself put a stop to the capers.

  He’d always had a particular bond with his native son, from the time they’d made a canoe voyage together from the island of Kauai where Aloka was born. He’d survived that journey at a tender age, a strong, agile, good-natured, obedient little boy. Aloka had grown into the sort of man, Captain Blackwell realized with a little jolt, he’d described to Mercedes as one he should like to see Emma married to. The thought gave him considerable pause, and a creeping feeling of shame. Did he actually feel gratitude toward Aloka, who was proposing to relieve him of a troublesome girl and allow him at last to have Mercedes to himself?

  Maybe he was just as low a creature as Admiral Gambier. Captain Blackwell’s words to his son rang in his mind: a half-savage creature. Aloka had come away as a little boy and been raised in England, he did not remember having lived in those islands. Captain Blackwell did, and recalling his time there, he knew he was the one deserving the name of half-savage. His breast was in a turmoil and he eased out from under Mercedes, unfortunately waking her.

  “Do not stir, sweetheart. I can’t sleep. I’m going to find Aloka. I threw him out of the house earlier, and now I am heartily sorry for it.”

  Mercedes took off her gown and underclothing, while he turned away to oblige her, and slipped beneath the bedclothes. “I love you so.”

  He leaned over and cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her. She looked so fragile, her dark eyes large in a pale face. He felt a tenderness for her that bordered on adoration. Whatever this woman wanted or needed for her peace and comfort, he would give her, the rest of the world be damned. She’d followed him to the far side of the world once, and the miracle was she was willing to do it again.

  Captain Blackwell dressed and went downstairs. A light was on in the library and the door stood open. He stuck his head in the room.

  “You are up late.”

  “I was reading the mathematical paper presented by Admiral Audrey this evening,” Edward said. “A particular friend of Doctor Russ. He made me known to the Admiral.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Did you speak to Emma?”

  “Oh...yes.”

  “I was wondering if you might know where young fellows retreat to when they are thrown out of the house?”

  “Where would a young spark go to get away from an irrational, bawling parent? Shall I go with you?”

  “I wish you would.”

  Aloka did not gamble. His pay was too hard earned and there was no money to spare in his father’s household. But in his distracted state he’d wandered off to the Coco Palms, a gaming hell frequented by the Bucks and Beau of London. He did not drink either, outside of wine and small beer taken with meals, and the grog that was practically part of his duty when aboard ship. Yet early in the morning hours, with the place in full cry round him, Aloka was most decidedly drunk.

  His great vice heretofore had been women. Aloka loved their soft bodies underneath his, pressed on top of him, their sweet cries, and most of all the feeling of being fully alive when he was with them. Since he and Emma had declared their attachment Aloka had refrained from womanizing. All he could think of was her lovely face and perfect body. He’d seen what venereal disease looked like up close, and he had a perfect horror and dread of bringing illness to that dear, lovely creature.

  He placed his chit on a number and then watched his money swept away off it. Turning to call for another bottle, Aloka found Edward at his elbow.

  “Ed, old fellow! What do you here?”

  “You shall lose your money,” Edward said. “The odds of winning in this game are three thousand four hundred and thirteen point six-seven, six-seven to infinity to one.”

  “Stubble it, can’t you?” said a beau in a high starched collar.

  Aloka ignored the rude remark. “If you aren’t here for the play, why’ve you come, brother?”

  “Father’s in the next room. Wants a word with you.”

  “Place your bets, gentlemen,” the house declared.

  “In or out, cully?” The starched beau next to him was become bold.

  “Out,” Aloka said, removing his chits to his pocket.

  He was turning to follow Edward when the beau said, quite loudly to the table in general, “Good! We need no Blackamoors here, and may you take that addled counting idiot with you!”

  Aloka tapped the man on the shoulder and when he turned, planted him such a facer the beau fell back upon the faro table. There was a resounding crash, and cards, chits, and sterling flew in all directions.

  The other gamblers at the table, companions of the starched beau, took exception to Aloka’s behavior and a general brawl broke out. Edward retreated to stand against the wall, turning his face away to mark his indifference. The set-to was doomed to be short-lived, none of the Londoners being fighting men. Aloka, in his present emotional and inebriated state, was in a fair way to thrashing them single-handed, when the thugs employed by the establishment and Captain Blackwell bore down upon them.

  Captain Blackwell showed a certain diplomatic flair, his brother Francis might have been proud, in dealing with the people of the gaming house. He made them aware that their patrons had attacked a King’s officer, and hinted at his own importance and influence in such a way that the Coco Palms desisted in their cries for reparation. They jumped instead on the beau and his companions, whom their thugs had been sitting on just in case.

  Relying on his air of command and authority to carry the day, Captain Blackwell had managed to extricate them without giving their names. He hurried them outside and into a hackney cab.

  Aloka slumped in his corner of the coach, reeking of spirits, his clothes disarranged. On the morrow he would look like bruised fruit. Quite the picture of a gentleman and eligible suitor he must present to Edward and Captain Blackwell.

  “Thank you, Father,” he did manage to say.

  Captain Blackwell leaned forward and gripped Aloka’s knee. “There would be no living with the ladies, son, was you to stay away. I, for one, value my lady’s peace and comfort. I suggest you begin to do the same.”

  His father sat back and exchanged a bow, initiated by Edward.

  Both Aloka and Captain Blackwell maintained a severe reserve. They knew how to behave in the face of men with whom they’d quarreled, but still must live by. Yet when Aloka met with Captain Blackwell’s cool and stern demeanor, he wondered if he’d imagined the kind words and touch in the coach returning from the Coco Palms. He valued his father’s confidence and trust, and apart from the wine and the bruises, Aloka was low in his spirits. Under other circumstances he might have been all gaiety, with his future opening before him.

  Another cause for discontent was, they’d had to explain the circumstances of his late debauch to the ladies. Captain Blackwell refused to be thought to have thrashed his own son; “For that’s what they will believe, when they see your phiz.” Next day Aloka was to leave and join the Blonde. Captain Blackwell would make one of the party, along with the natives going to Woolwich. Perhaps it was none too soon for him to take his departure.

  The looming voyage had already sent Mercedes and Emma into a sort of shopping frenzy. Sea chests had been purchased, and filled with clothing for different climes, woolens, linen, scents, soaps, and other necessaries. The fact that Emma should as well have a
trousseau, and the emotion surrounding that subject, had pushed Mercedes toward a relapse. At least today she kept her bed, a thing Aloka had never known her do except immediately after the surgery.

  He was surprised when Mr. Martinez came to him. “Will you join them in Miss Mercedes’ bedchamber, sir? They are all up there.”

  “She is not...”

  “Oh, no. It is your father insisting she must rest.”

  Mr. Martinez had meant it when he said they were all there. His father and Mercedes, Emma and Edward. Even McMurtry hovering just inside the open doorway, where Mr. Martinez joined him. Captain Blackwell was on one side of the bed, Emma and Edward on the other, so Aloka took up a station at the foot. Mercedes gave Aloka a kind smile, and Captain Blackwell cleared his throat.

  “Boki and the King’s people have sent to invite Emma to travel with them to Portsmouth, that she may be immediately one of their number.”

  Captain Blackwell had not spoken directly to him, but the others in the room must already know. Aloka was silent, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “I want to refuse their kind invitation,” Emma said. “I wish to travel with Mama as far as Portsmouth, since we are to be separated for the rest of the voyage. Do you think I will give offense?”

  She glanced first quickly and furtively at Aloka, and then rather shamefacedly at Captain Blackwell. This time it was Captain Blackwell who refused to speak.

  “I cannot imagine there should be the least objection or offense taken,” Aloka said. “They make the offer out of the generosity of their natures, and shall perfectly understand your reason for declining.”

  How happy and relieved Emma looked then.

  “That’s settled then, I shall make your excuses to Boki,” Captain Blackwell said. “Edward, since we are sorting out berths, you said you had something to bring up.”

  “Why, yes, sir. Only that I will not be joining you in the Islands.”

  There was such an outcry and uproar that Aloka was sure this was the first anyone had heard of Edward’s intentions. Edward slipped around Emma by the bedside, and took Mercedes’ hand.

  “Oh, Edward!”

  “Forgive me, Mama. I’ll accompany you back to Merton, but when you leave for Portsmouth, I am returning to London.”

  “But Edward, you could botanize. Even transport a telescope in pieces and set up your own observatory.”

  “That is a charming picture, and I may do one day.” He looked around at them all, for once making eye contact with his odd blue gaze. “But there is no Royal Society there, no University. I shall start Cambridge in the new term—”

  “Congratulations, Ed,” Aloka cried. “Well done.”

  His father seconded the sentiment, as did everyone in the room.

  Edward acknowledged their compliments with a bow. “What don’t strike me so agreeable, is being mewed up for months with the four of you. I much doubt even those islands shall be big enough to contain you, much less two tiny ships.”

  Another hullabaloo broke out, but Edward overrode them.

  “Mama, you are to consider. Someone must maintain a home here, in case any of you need to come back.”

  It was hard to argue with Edward’s logic. But Mercedes would worry over how he was to get along alone, Captain Blackwell harangue him for upsetting his Mama, and Emma and Aloka lament they must do without their best friend since childhood. Finally it was settled that Mr. Martinez would remain with Edward; he felt himself too old for the adventure; and Mercedes was infinitely relieved. Edward would have Mr. Martinez’s practical head and capabilities to rely on. McMurtry, on the other hand, must go. “Who else can look after the Captain and our Missus?”

  Doctor Russ walked in. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! Everyone here, and not a soul below to answer my call! Pounding at the door this quarter hour and more, and you yourself, my dear, lying abed!”

  Seven

  The same family group was gathered, saying their goodbyes before the portico of Merton, with the carriage waiting to take Mercedes, Captain Blackwell, and Emma, on to Portsmouth. Mercedes and Mr. Martinez could not pretend there was much chance they should see one another again this lifetime. Many tears were shed and promises made in Spanish. It was difficult taking leave of Doctor Russ, too, who had saved Mercedes’ life and worked ever since to make all easy for her. He had secured a fine surgeon to attend them aboard Albion, a Swede by the name of Anders Sparrman, also sending aboard a fully stocked medicine chest and a prodigious store of laudanum. Mercedes knew he’d done this in case her cancer came back, and she blessed him for it. By far the hardest farewell was with Edward.

  Mercedes and Emma took turns embracing him and crying on his breast, and Edward bore it all with a good grace. They had been close companions, the three of them, sharing many a fireside discussion of the universe and their place in it.

  “Take care of Tio and the Doctor, Edward,” Mercedes whispered. “They grow old. Find someone to love, my darling, woman or man.”

  “I love you, Mama,” Edward said, careless of his tears. “You have always understood.”

  Parting from him was very hard. Mercedes remembered the baby, the dear little boy. Edward was not only the man before her; now grown tall and exceedingly handsome, with his brilliant and odd ways; he would continue to change and she would not be there to see it. Captain Blackwell at last steered them toward the coach. They climbed up and were away, with not a dry eye among them, saving the driver. No one, not McMurtry up on the box, nor Captain Blackwell riding inside the carriage, was ashamed of their tears.

  On the day Mercedes, Emma, and Captain Blackwell were to go aboard ship, in another carriage riding toward Portsmouth Hard, Emma asked Captain Blackwell, “Do you have any advice for me, Papa?”

  Captain Blackwell looked surprised, and then his face took on a serious considering expression.

  “Don’t interfere with Aloka’s duty, unless you want to disgrace him and me both.”

  Mercedes half gasped, and put her hand to her mouth. Captain Blackwell glanced at her.

  “Come what may, Emma, you shall always have my love and protection, and a home where ever your mother and I may be.”

  There were smiles then and tender words, and Captain Blackwell was all complaisance handing them out of the carriage.

  “Boat ahoy! What boat is that?” A marine officer hailed, as they approached the Blonde in their crowded boat.

  “Albion!” roared Narhilla, Captain Blackwell’s follower and longtime coxswain.

  The shrill call of the bosun’s pipe rang out.

  “Hell and death,” Captain Blackwell muttered, immediately rising to his feet and springing for the ladder.

  On the quarterdeck they met him with salutes, the official clash and stamp of the Marines, and broad grins from the officers. Sensible of the honor they did him, in his civilian suit of clothes, Captain Blackwell raised his hat to them. He could not help turning anxiously to look over the side as Mercedes came up.

  There had been a time when she’d climbed a ship’s side with relative ease and agility, but now she rose shakily to her feet.

  “Guide me, if you please, Narhilla. Otherwise the Captain shall make me use the bosun’s chair, and be hoisted aboard like cattle.”

  Narhilla snorted. This was his last voyage with them. He would return in the Blonde, having a large wife and six children in England, for whose maintenance Captain Blackwell had advanced three years’ pay.

  “No, Missus, we cannot have that.”

  He held her in a steady grip, and practically lifted her onto the first rung as the boat heaved up on the swell. Other hands were extended to bring her in, and almost without effort on her part, she was standing beside Captain Blackwell. No one dared give Emma quite so much assistance, but she received just as much attention, and more interested stares, when she came aboard Blonde.

  Captain Verson stepped forward, after dismissing the assemblage on the quarterdeck, extending his hand to Captain Blackwell.

 
“Captain Blackwell sir, Ma’am, Miss Blackwell, welcome aboard Blonde. Boki and all the King’s people are just come this morning, and are settling in. May I show you your quarters, Miss Blackwell?”

  Emma took the arm Captain Verson kindly offered. As the only single female in the Hawaiian king’s party, Emma had been given the coach to herself. She was still obliged to share the quarter-gallery, the captain’s private toilet, with four other women and six men.

  Captain Blackwell stepped in to the space normally used as the captain’s dining parlour, glanced round at the narrow fixed berth, Emma’s sea chest already brought in, and tried the latches of the door leading into the captain’s quarters and the one giving onto the passage near the quarterdeck companion ladder.

  “I will go pay my respects to Boki and the others. Ma’am, meet me on the quarterdeck when you are ready.” Captain Blackwell bowed to Mercedes and Emma. He gave Emma a smacking kiss upon the cheek by way of private farewell, and turned to Captain Verson.

  “Jack,” he said in a low voice, as they left the coach, “I should thank you to put locks upon those doors.”

  Mercedes and Emma had their own private and rather painful goodbye, Emma clinging to her.

  “Don’t leave me, Mama,” she murmured.

  Mercedes’ heart ached, in the way a mother’s does when she knows she can no longer protect her child. The coach was meager quarters compared to what Emma was used, and for the first time she must make her own way among people she did not know.

  “Find occupation. You have many books, and you can sew, and learn from Li‘liah and the other ladies the ways of the Hawaiians. Practice their language. I used to volunteer in the sick berth, but I don’t know if Mr. McNeath shall allow that here.”

  “I don’t know I have the stomach for that, Mama. Seriously.”

  “Just keep busy, and let it be of your own devising. Need I speak of Aloka’s duty?”