by V. E. Ulett
There’d been many English words in his explanation, and he met with blank stares.
“We might have to start our water, pour it into the sea, cast off ballast and heavy stores. Even shift the guns, though I hope it don’t come to that.”
Aloka tried a smile, meeting more confounded looks.
“In any case, we have Albion to support us. And between her boats and ours we can bring everyone safely on shore.” Aloka exchanged a look with Boki. “Everyone, the living and the dead, sir.”
The Hawaiians nodded in approval. Among themselves the ali‘i shared the belief old Kapihe had chosen well in the next Admiral of Hawaii. When the men of the King’s suite saw the furious activity going forward; the carrying out of the two bower and stream anchors, the rigging of blocks and tackles upon the cables; they volunteered to take places at the capstan and windlass to help heave the ship off. Nor were they above manning the pumps, these men of the Hawaiian nobility.
“The ledge of rocks or shoal we have been upon, lies in 0° 16' S and 91° 25' W. Once we had her heaved off, the ship began to make water as much as three pumps could free.” Captain Verson wrote in his journal, sitting at his desk in the Blonde’s great cabin. “I therefore determined to prepare a fothering sail, to stop a leak on her starboard quarter against the time when we could heave her on shore to properly address the damage. As he had seen a ship fothered with great success while on the North American station, I confided the operation to Lieutenant Verson’s supervision. This was performed very much to my satisfaction, and the ship made no more water than one pump could free.”
Captain Verson leaned back in his chair. While they repaired the ship he was temporarily restored to his cabin, the Hawaiians choosing to stay ashore in two huts left by some previous visitors. In order to bathe and fish according to their own customs. Captain Verson was grateful for the privacy, the few sentences in his journal did not do justice to what he’d lived through in the days since the ship struck. At one moment he thought his son might be lost to him, broken more in spirit and resolve than he’d been by the depredations of prison.
Though it had not been strictly necessary, Captain Verson considered the fothering of the ship a happy stroke. Young Jack’s spirits recovered somewhat after he’d led the effort that stopped the leak, and the incessant heavy labor of pumping ship. Repairs were well in hand and going forward. Using both Blonde’s and Albion’s boats, they’d lightened ship double quick in order to careen Blonde. The provisions had been got ashore, along with the sick, who were sheltering in tents. He had dispatched parties for wood and water to other islands. The water could be kept ashore in casks until their departure. There were men fishing in Bank’s bounteous cove, and soon he would detail hunting parties and have the men putting up seal meat.
Captain Verson heaved a sigh, and bent to his journal once more. “In justice to the Ship’s Company, I must say that no men ever behaved better than the Blondes have done on this occasion. Animated by the behavior of every Gentleman on board, every man seemed to have a just sense of the danger we were in, and exerted himself to the very utmost.”
A knock sounded on the door. Captain Verson glanced up at the chronometer. Mr. Blackwell was punctual to his time.
“Mr. and Miss Blackwell, sir,” the Marine sentry said.
“Come in.” He rose to greet his visitors.
Captain Verson exchanged salutes with Aloka and extended his hand to Emma.
“Miss Emma, how do you do? Come, take a seat, if you please.”
Captain Verson led Emma to a seat on the stern lockers. He sat down beside her, hoping to impart that he understood this to be an informal visit. Aloka chose to remain standing, one hand behind his back. Captain Verson expected to see his officers worn and reduced, after the exertions of the last days, but he could not understand why Emma should appear quite so fatigued and unhappy.
They waited in awkward silence, while Captain Verson’s steward brought in wine and a plate of aged biscuits.
“Thank you for having the goodness to speak to us, sir,” Aloka began. Captain Verson bowed, looking from one troubled young face to the other. “The case is this, sir. Miss Emma and I wish to be wed, in the Anglican service, and before we reach the Sandwich Islands. The Blonde having no chaplain, sir, I...that is, we, wish to make so bold as to beg the favor of you, of uniting us in matrimony here aboard ship.”
Aloka’s words came out in a rush at the end, he was obviously sensible of the boldness of his request. Bold, indeed. Captain Verson never carried a chaplain if he could possibly avoid it. His life and habits were too irregular to bear the scrutiny and scruple of the church and its representatives. For irregularity though it was hard to beat these two, half-brother and sister, wishing to be joined in holy matrimony.
“Is this what you desire, Miss Emma? You will forgive my saying, you will both pardon me, I trust, on the basis of long friendship. You are not at all in your best looks.”
Emma flushed, but then looked him directly in the eye. “I do wish to marry Aloka, Captain Verson, as soon as ever may be. If I am not in my best looks, it must be because I have been too long kept from the comfort and solace of love.”
Captain Verson jumped up from his seat, and began to pace. He needed to turn his back for a moment, so they wouldn’t see how deeply Emma’s words affected him. He wished Juan Luis might walk in, to have his own comfort and solace near at hand.
“We ... we know what will be said, sir,” she said. “Incest.”
Captain Verson stopped in his circuit, deliberating between his regard and gratitude to Captain Blackwell and what his feelings directed him to do in this case. He took a few moments to compose himself, and, still standing, turned to face Emma and Aloka.
“An ugly word. Nearly as bad as sodomite.”
For a moment the three of them gazed at one another and rank and class and gender fell away, leaving them just humans.
Captain Verson cleared his throat. It was his cabin, his ship, his decision.
“Those are just words, and words do not define us. Actions do.” He exchanged a nod with Aloka. “I have only ever known you both act in the most clear-headed and creditable manner. Do you have the consent of your parents, Miss Emma?”
By their faces, Captain Verson understood this was a question they’d both been dreading.
But Emma answered in a strong voice. “I do not, nor have I asked it. For you see, sir, I am of age.”
“It is your choice to make.” He bowed. “Quite proper. Your Mama, Miss Emma, once told Juan Luis only a hypocrite would ever hold what a man loves against him. I would be ashamed not to take her part. I will perform the marriage service, here aboard Blonde, at whatever hour you care to name.”
Captain Verson watched their expressions change. Happiness and relief. Relief, he thought, was uppermost.
“I would wish, however, that it should be at such a time after you have sent across to Albion, to acquaint Captain and Mrs. Blackwell of the fact.”
Mercedes had persuaded Captain Blackwell they must attend the ceremony, it would look odd before the Hawaiians were he to absent himself. It might to some of the crew as well; people married their cousins all the time. Nothing could induce him, however, to stay to the supper afterward in the newly wedded couple’s honor. For all Mercedes’ complacency respecting their children, he could not shake the notion he’d done her daughter an ill turn bringing his bastard son back from Polynesia with him. He felt sure this could not be the match Mercedes would have wished for her most darling child.
Captain Verson invited Captain Blackwell into the great cabin immediately he came aboard Blonde. Mercedes was stopping in the coach to assist Emma with her wedding dress.
After they’d lifted their glasses of Madeira to one another, Captain Blackwell said, “Albion will sail on this evening’s tide, immediately after the...ah, ceremony. Boki speaks for them now, and he has decided we should go ahead with the news of King Liholiho’s death, and prepare them for the retu
rn of his people and the sovereign remains. There is not a moment to lose.”
Captain Verson bowed his head.
“I offered them passage aboard Albion, but they have all declined.” Captain Blackwell smiled for the first time. “They seem to feel a great reluctance to leave the Blonde and her people.”
Captain Verson looked at him kindly. “Allow me to say, your son and daughter are first among those who have inspired respect and esteem among the Hawaiians, and everyone aboard.”
Captain Blackwell started a bit.
Though they were alone, Captain Verson leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I know what it is to be disappointed in a child, James. To feel that child’s disappointment in return. But love survives it. Emma and Aloka, and your absent son Edward, must ever claim such a feeling from a father’s breast.”
Captain Blackwell was more startled still, but he put his hand out and grasped Captain Verson’s hand in a firm grip. “Thank you, Jack, you are a wise man. I suppose if my children are any better than they should be, it is only due to that best of women I was blessed with.”
“To Miss Mercedes, then!” Captain Verson raised his glass.
“To Mercedes, with all my heart.”
Mercedes led Emma out of the coach and into the great cabin. The Hawaiians were there, and the three officers. Jack, Juan Luis, and Aloka stood chatting together, while the two captains conversed a ways apart. Mercedes was relieved to see a relaxed, almost pleasant expression on Captain Blackwell’s face. It did not last, however, as Emma’s entrance meant the official business of the gathering could commence. Captain Blackwell’s smile faded as soon as Mercedes put Emma’s hand on his arm.
The captain’s desk had been placed like a lectern with the Bible and a Book of Common Prayer open atop it, and thither they all moved. Juan Luis and young Jack were happy to stand as witnesses. Neither had great prospects in the Service, or cared more for the irregularity of the proceeding than the people involved.
“Her mother and I do,” Captain Blackwell responded, when asked who gave the woman away in marriage.
Mercedes noted the grave, noncommittal countenance Captain Blackwell often wore in his professional capacity. It was the mask behind which he hid his feelings. She took his arm, squeezed it, and he covered her hand with his.
Mercedes felt a mother’s deep desire that life should be easy and kind to her children. Since leaving England, Emma had unfortunately to do with illness and death. Death of a most disturbing kind, if there were any other. She wished Aloka might bring her happiness, comfort, love. She wanted Emma to have all that. She was a good person and deserved it, Emma was unselfish and kind hearted. Many couldn’t see past Emma’s beauty and her sharp tongue to her better qualities. As for Aloka, she’d always loved him, since the day Captain Blackwell came back from Kauai with a naked little boy trailing in his wake.
The ceremony was concluding. Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. Aloka was given permission to kiss the bride. He made it a very chaste kiss, rubbing noses with her at the end. The uproar of approval at the hongi from the Hawaiians covered somewhat the awkwardness of Captain Blackwell’s handshake with his son afterward, and the peck on the cheek with which he saluted Emma.
Aloka was in the gunroom explaining, over a cup of grog with Jack Verson, the Hawaiian belief that the center of life resided in the stomach, rather than the heart.
“But to say a fellow is a man of belly just don’t sound so well as to say he is a man of heart.”
Jack gave Aloka a quizzical look, and stood up. “Good night to you, Al. As before, my very best wishes to you and Miss Emma.”
Aloka knew Jack could not understand his lingering over grog and not hastening in to his new bride, waiting for him in the second lieutenant’s cabin. Emma had declined to remain in the coach, because she’d spent so many restless nights there. It was not because she wished to share the quarters and the duty of a serving officer, as some supposed. Emma hoped those demons of thought that visit during the night would not pursue her to his berth. The truth was both Aloka’s heart and belly were unsettled, the responsibility of marriage weighed upon him, and he sat there cup in hand, hesitating.
If he’d needed any confirmation of what his father’s good opinion meant to him, Aloka found it in the heartache Captain Blackwell’s grim and disapproving manner had caused him during the marriage service. The cold handshake afterward, his father barely embracing him and muttering, ‘Do your duty, son.’ Mercedes had been her natural and loving self, and had seemed happy for them. But she and Captain Blackwell had hurried off as soon as the ceremony concluded. Perhaps it was his father’s duty to object to a match such as theirs.
Aloka pondered the concept of duty, to both English and Polynesian, and tossed off the last of his grog. It was his duty now to look after Emma, and past time he should be about it.
Aloka walked in to his cabin, to find Emma lying under the bedclothes of the higher slung of two cots.
Only her face and hair were visible, she had the blanket pulled up to her chin, and she stared at him out of those lovely eyes.
“I thought you would never leave off pratting and come in.”
“This is how it is to be then, married life, recrimination and insult right from the start?”
But he bent over and gave her a resounding kiss. A kiss, in fact, that made her arch her body toward him.
“Well, take off your clothes, won’t you?”
He immediately did, and put out the dark lantern. Aloka fitted himself into the cot beside her. Emma lay half over him, one of his legs between both hers.
“I know I should not say this, with you and the other officers working like fiends from hell, but I am so tired I could cry.”
“Emma.” He gave her a squeeze. “If you want to sleep while I hold you, I shall not complain or cry foul.”
“Won’t you?” She gave his cock a gentle tug.
Aloka gasped, and moved her hand away.
“Let me tell you something about that, Miss. A man can become this way just thinking of a woman, much less seeing her lovely body. And I should have to be made of wood if I could resist a lovely, naked woman lying beside me.”
“There must have been a great deal of wood on deck the day Li‘liah’s top fell off.”
Aloka snorted. “They were grateful when you led her away. But you are not to talk in that, how shall I say it, loose way.”
“Except to you, my love?”
“Just so.”
Aloka decided to quit pratting, and turn to his duty. He became serious and intense in his kisses and caresses, concentrating gentle strokes on the most tender parts of her. Emma’s bosom began to heave; how the sight delighted him; and he pushed the bedclothes completely from her in order to take in the full view of her incomparable body.
She squirmed beneath him. “You wanted me like this, did you not?”
Emma turned over and presented him with a view that nearly caused him to lose all thought, but of possession. Aloka grit his teeth, moved up close behind her. He continued to stroke her while he joined his body to hers. How well they fit together, how perfectly suited. Aloka watched her intensely, pain and strain on his own face. He was determined this time she should have pleasure, and it was with equal joy and relief he saw her turn her face into the bolster and cry out. The strong contractions of her body confirmed it, and Aloka barely pulled away in time.
“Aloka?”
“Uh?” He was now standing beside the wash hand stand.
“Does being intimate help one sleep?”
“I’ve always found it work wonderfully well for me.”
Moments later he was arranging himself next to her in the berth, regretting the remark. She would not care to be reminded he’d lain with other women, many of them in fact. But Emma, lying with her back to him, merely snugged her body against his.
“I feel so deliciously relaxed, I think I shall sleep for an age. I may oblige you to do this every night.
For the sake of my rest and health, you understand.”
“Why, I believe I can manage it, if I must.”
“You are generous...in that way.”
He detected a change in her tone. Had she been on the point of saying ‘with your favors’? Aloka embraced her warmly, and kissed her neck.
“Only you, Emma, my dearest love, shall I have and hold from this day forward. Shall I love, honor, and comfort.”
He heard a sweet little sigh, and shortly after her even breathing as she slept. Some duties were far pleasanter than others.
Eleven
Blackwell was back in the two room house in Oahu that the crew of his former command L’Unite had built for Mercedes and Edward. It was night time, the middle watch, and he was lying in the great wood bedstead with Mercedes. In the next room his two young sons, Edward and Aloka, were curled asleep like puppies on fine, soft mats.
The outside door into the bedroom burst in. Blackwell could not untangle himself from the sheets in time to reach his sword or war club, before the warriors were upon them. He heard the great crack of the killing club on his skull and Mercedes scream at the same instant. Then he was present in spirit only, hovering over the scene, his corporeal person a bloody corpse lying upon the bed.
He watched the warriors drag Mercedes naked from the bed, shrieking and straining against their gripping hands as she tried to reach his body. Edward and Aloka rushed in. At that point Blackwell wanted to shut his eyes against the scene, but he hadn’t any to close and must gaze on. Aloka darted over to his weapons and was immediately taken up in a strong clasp. The warrior tossed the boy into the air, and caught him on the downstroke by the ankle, holding him upside down.
The room went silent as Mercedes ceased to scream and rushed over. She caught the boy against her body. “No, no!” Now the warriors saw a different woman, a fierce, proud creature, prepared to fight. She clutched Edward and Aloka, one little boy against each hip. This they respected, and the invading party immediately moved out, taking their captives with them.