Prize of My Heart

by Lisa Norato

  “I find no gingerbread among the refreshments, Miss Huntley.”

  A breath stirred the wisp of curls at her nape, and Lorena whirled about to be greeted by a pair of the most hauntingly beautiful, melancholy eyes ever to grace a man’s face. Eyes of intense ocean blue surrounded by thick lashes.

  “Oh, good day, Captain. I did not hear you approach.”

  He assessed her with a narrow stare. “Then it would seem you have great powers of concentration, Miss Huntley, for I have never been one to step lightly. Now, about that gingerbread …”

  “There was hardly time.”

  He feigned a frown. “A likely excuse.”

  Like some gypsy pirate, his shaggy hair dusted his shoulders, but today was tied back in a queue. With a gold earring he might complete the look. But then looks were deceiving. By his own admission, Captain Talvis was no pirate, but a true Yankee patriot.

  He grinned playfully, and as they continued to exchange glances, a silence fell between them. At length, he chuckled.

  “I fear the sun may be obscuring your vision, Miss Huntley, else you look as if seeing me for the first time.”

  She realized she’d been staring without saying a word. “Not at all, Captain. Forgive me, I could not help but notice your coat. I find it oddly familiar, though at the moment I cannot place where I might have seen one before.”

  He looked down at his military blue cutaway coat, its wide cuffs, red facings, and brass buttons. He explained, “My privateer captain’s uniform.”

  It appeared somewhat worn, a well-used garment, but clean and obviously cared for, marred only by the right shoulder area, where a series of jagged tears had been repaired with an overcast stitch as though something had torn through the fabric.

  “Allow me to state my reason for seeking you out,” he said. “I was wondering if you would do me the honor of sponsoring my ship.”

  Lorena was caught off guard, convinced she had not heard correctly. “I beg your pardon, Captain, but are you asking me to christen the Yankee Heart?”

  He nodded. “What say you? Will you stand on her bowsprit to dash the bottle before these spectators and shout out a blessing for all to hear? I realize it’s a lot to ask, and there’s a bit of an unstable foothold standing on that spar while the stern plunges into the river, but those nearby will steady you, and I should be honored to have you accept.”

  Usually the privilege of dashing the bottle went to one of the master craftsmen responsible for that vessel’s construction. But the captain wasn’t asking George or master carpenter Edward Hicks to christen his ship; he was asking her.

  In a small seaside town like Duxboro, young boys grew into men who dreamed of one day being chosen for the occasion, and here Captain Talvis wanted her.

  Why would he make such an unlikely choice? What lurked in the heart of this rugged seafarer, a man of passionate emotion and concealed melancholy, who’d been hailed as a “master marauder,” that he should desire to befriend a small orphan and flatter a humble girl?

  Not long ago his presence had been disturbing and unwanted. Today, a bit of unexpected attention from the man and her insides were all aflutter.

  He grinned, encouraging her to accept the challenge.

  “I have no fear of balancing on the bowsprit, sir.”

  “Then your answer is … yes, Miss Huntley? I need you to decide quickly, please. Your father has nearly finished his speech. See there. I believe he searches for my whereabouts among the spectators.”

  To refuse would be to insult both the captain and her father. “Yes, Captain. My answer is yes. I will gladly sponsor your ship.”

  She could see her answer pleased him. His eyes shone with merriment.

  “Thank you, Miss Huntley.” He turned and glanced about, anxious that he should join her father. “I’ll signal you when the moment arrives. And I’ve not forgotten I owe you an apology. I’d prefer we speak privately, however.”

  Again, Lorena thought of how she’d intended to apologize to him for Drew’s attack, yet it was the captain who felt the need to beg her pardon. She commended him for it and nodded quietly in agreement. If they must speak on the matter, she’d rather it be in private also. “I hope you understand, Drew is not a bad child. He was merely doing what he believed necessary to protect me.”

  “Well, I can hardly fault him for that, can I? He is a brave lad, and I should like nothing more than the chance to get better acquainted. I say, let us forgive the past and start fresh. Perhaps we might all grow to become … friends.” His eyes held hers only a moment longer before he backed away and turned, hastening through the crowd.

  Lorena had to chase after him so that he might hear her. “After the ceremony, meet me in the carpentry shop.”

  “I shall be there, Miss Huntley.”

  Lorena craned her neck, following him with her gaze as Captain Talvis threaded his way through the multitude to proudly take his place at the Yankee Heart’s keel.

  A warm feeling settled in her stomach, contentment that Captain Talvis was sincere in his efforts to make amends. Or could he have another reason?

  “Good morning, Lorena.”

  Recognizing the voice, she turned. “George, you surprise me. Your place belongs beside Papa and Captain Talvis, not here with me.”

  Lorena gestured to the Yankee Heart, where the captain had begun to address the multitude, telling everyone how it had been his dream as a child to own a ship as grand as the one before them. An impossible dream, he’d thought … until today. She mourned every word she would miss at George’s interruption, but there was no help for it other than rudeness and so she gave the shipwright her attention. “Need I remind you, that ship you designed is the largest of New England’s merchant fleet?”

  George’s fair-complexioned cheeks glowed with pride. “No, my dear girl. No need. Her dimensions still ring in my head. One hundred thirteen feet and one inch on her keel, thirty-eight-foot beam, thirteen-foot depth. But I bring you news, Lorena. News I cannot wait to share. Arrangements have been made. I shall be leaving soon.”

  “Soon?” Lorena’s spirit grew troubled, just as it had when she first learned of George’s plans. Now that the war was over, the young, gifted shipwright had secured employment in Whitby of North Yorkshire, along the banks of the River Esk, working for Turnbull’s shipyard. Turnbull’s was an old, established yard, where the Discovery, one of the ships on Captain Cook’s last voyage, had been built in 1774. Whitby ships were heralded throughout England, and for a generous salary George had agreed to share with British shipbuilders the secrets of excellence in American-made sailing vessels.

  He nodded. “I have found a merchantman bound for England, the Lady Julia harbored in Plymouth. She shall sail just as quickly as her hold can be filled with cargo. I will need to check with her master daily to know exactly when that date shall be. I’ve informed your father, and he’s told me again he is sorry to see me go. He says I have a fine future in store and asked me to reconsider and make that future here.”

  Lorena agreed. “You’d be wise to listen to Papa. No one knows more about shipbuilding than he. He’s done you a great service in handing down his trade secrets and skills to you. He’s treated you kindly as a man would his own son.”

  His face reddened. “Am I to be chastised for ambition and a desire to procure a better life for myself than what can be had in this simple New England town? I have given my best to your father.”

  “True. And yet, George, ‘Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but the Lord pondereth the hearts.’ No matter how hard we might try, sometimes the right path eludes us. But if our hearts are turned toward God, He will make that way clear. I know you desire to seek your fortune, but I promise you, God can deliver your riches to Duxboro as well as to England.”

  “I am sorry, Lorena, my mind is set. But it is not too late to change yours.” Taking hold of both her hands, George lifted one to kiss her knuckles. “You are of an age when it is expected you should leave the n
est to start a family of your own. But you allow your attachment to Duxboro and the responsibility you feel toward your father and another’s child to keep you from me and the life we could share together. You know what I’m capable of. You know I settle for nothing less than the highest achievement in everything I put my mind to. There is nothing I could not give you. I would lay the world at your feet. If only you’d open your heart to me. Tell me you’ve reconsidered and will sail to North Yorkshire as my wife?”

  Lorena’s breath caught. George frightened her with his insistence on a marriage between them. She took insult at his ridiculous arrogance that he could continue to press his suit after she’d explained the deep emotion that accompanies marriage she had not to give him.

  But George could not accept defeat. He’d learned early to make his own way. He’d grown so self-reliant, he trusted only in himself and his abilities, not in God … or love … or friendship. Lorena felt sorry for him. He had not always been that way.

  His parents, being too poor to bear the burden of another mouth to feed, had indentured him as an apprentice to learn the craft of shipbuilding. Lorena had welcomed him as an equal, careful to show no notice of his thin and tattered appearance. She encouraged him, as George trained hard at her father’s craft, from hauling buckets of oakum and learning how to wield an adze, to understanding the four key aspects comprising a ship’s plan and then practicing them for hours in his sketches. When it was discovered he had an uncommon genius for ship design and mathematics, George worked diligently to achieve the title of master shipwright he held today.

  Today he was honored and revered, impeccable in his image and manner. A perfectionist. Cold.

  If she had to repeat it a thousand times, she would remain compassionate, but she must be truthful. Lorena knew she must be fair.

  “You shall always have my friendship, George, but my feelings do not rise above that. You’ve never hidden the fact you resent my devotion to Papa and Drew, but you fully expect that I should abandon them and transfer this same devotion to you. I forgive you your jealousy, because I know you did not have the good fortune to be born into such a loving home.”

  George pierced her with an indignant glare and promptly dropped her hands. “You forgive me?” he squawked. “Forgive me for offering you marriage!”

  Lorena stared him full in the face and narrowed her gaze at the obstinate set of his chin. “You can’t understand, can you, George? My world is here in Duxboro. And each day that passes I grow wearier in the hope you’ll realize that loyalty to those who call you friend is more precious than any amount of financial gain.”

  Neither her father nor any of his workmen or even George’s closest friend, Edward, knew the truth behind George’s accepting employment in North Yorkshire. What havoc might be caused if they did. They believed he desired to join a brother of his in England, which was, in a measure, correct. George had confessed all to Lorena in confidence, hoping to impress her with his ambitious plan.

  “The truth is, I view your scheme as ingratitude to my father and traitorous to your country. Yet as strongly as I disapprove, I shall not break my promise to remain silent in the matter. The confession is yours to make. There is nothing to gain by hurting Papa and upsetting his shipwrights, but in your greed for money, you can be certain you have sacrificed my affection forever.”

  Lorena thought that if not for the throng of people gathered to witness his most highly praised achievement to date, George might have exploded back at her.

  “Pray, how is it you scorn me yet smile favor on some fellow you don’t even know?” His dark eyes flashed angrily in anticipation of an answer.

  Lorena drew back, disturbed. “On whom do you presume I smile favor?”

  George closed the distance between them. “You know full well I speak of Captain Talvis. First dinner in your home, then yesterday he joined you in the family pew. Privateering may be declared legal, but robbery on the high seas is piracy no matter what the title given to it. God only knows the crimes that fellow has committed, for who can be certain what atrocities take place on a forsaken sea? I am asking for the opportunity to bestow you love—everything in my power to give—but be warned, Lorena. Brogan Talvis is naught but a glorified pirate who won’t hesitate to help himself to whatsoever he desires.”

  The fierceness of George’s conviction gave Lorena pause, reminding her of that startling assertion the captain had made to Drew not two nights past.

  “Taking back what rightfully belongs to you is not stealing.”

  The captain’s eyes blazed angrily at her for challenging him, and now Lorena wondered whether he’d been referring to something closer to the heart than privateering. What then? What did he so passionately believe he was entitled to?

  She was struck with the thought—not a what but a who.

  Who, indeed?

  Suddenly she found herself actually considering George’s warning.

  From a distance, Temperance could be heard calling their names.

  “Keep a goodly distance from Captain Talvis,” George insisted, “and allow him not the least familiarity.” His face puffed with anger, he departed without a farewell.

  Lorena recoiled. Despite her hopes for a better outcome, she couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief he’d soon be gone.

  Temperance arrived with her good friend Mercy Larkin just as the Reverend Potter prepared to convey a blessing over the Yankee Heart.

  “Bow your heads, ladies,” Lorena advised, grateful for a chance to hide the disquiet that followed every encounter with George. She felt shaken. Disappointment burned inside her to have missed Captain Talvis’s speech, but with Temperance watching, she forced her attention on the reverend’s booming voice.

  “… and so we commend the Yankee Heart unto the hand of God. May He always send her a prosperous voyage and a safe return.”

  “Amen,” the three women chorused aloud.

  Lorena raised her head while across the assembly Captain Talvis smiled, then waved, beckoning her to join him. And there stood Drew at her father’s side. His face beamed with excitement.

  “Look there,” Temperance bid, pointing. “Why, I believe it is you the captain calls for, Lorena. He wants you.”

  The Yankee Heart towered over the surrounding buildings and sheds of the shipyard. A launching cradle held her upright, its slipway greased with tallow and soft soap to ease her descent into the water. Beneath the shadow of her hull, the spectators grew restless. Excitement filled the air.

  With a steadying breath, Lorena took her first step down the grassy slope, hurrying to the front of the crowd to join the captain.

  Brogan was now master of 880 register tons of the finest merchantman ever crafted. Decks outfitted with yellow pine, imported off the coast of Georgia. Frames of live oak, copper fastened throughout. Gun ports painted on her sides to deceive potential attackers. Even her stern was sheathed in specially imported red copper from the Boston-based Paul Revere silver and copper works.

  Full of wonder, he asked himself what prize befitted such a fine lady merchantman. Did a cargo exist rich enough to fill her hold? Would she transport fine silks and brocades from the Orient? Gold dust and ivory from the West African coast? Bales of cotton and hogsheads of tobacco from the port of New Orleans?

  Nay, he mused wistfully, nothing so elaborate as those. Nothing but a spirited towheaded lad, a treasure more precious than all the tea in China.

  The Yankee Heart had yet to be fitted with her three masts or rigged with square sail. Still, she was magnificent in every respect, a wooden manifestation of his hopes and dreams, but no more so a vision than the one strolling toward him now.

  There was a bold statement. Likening a woman to his precious ship. Ah, what matter? Any less praise would be an injustice, for here she came now in a silver gown of Empire fashion, dotted with tiny lavender flowers. The dropped shoulders and short puffy sleeves exposed her white throat and slender arms, of which his eyes could not drink their fill.


  As she reached his side, Brogan harnessed his energies into playing the role of a gentleman shipmaster. He greeted Lorena with a formal bow, then directed her attention aloft to the Yankee Heart’s bow and the ladder she must scale in order to reach the main deck. Drew waited up there for her, looking down over the rails alongside several other very excited Duxboro boys and several of Huntley’s workers preparing for the launch.

  He removed the bottle tucked under his arm and presented it to her. The champagne had been awarded him from a prize cargo. Brogan had saved it in the hopeful anticipation that one day this moment would arrive.

  “You know what to do then, I presume?” He did not pause for her answer, but continued, “Tie the stem of the bottle to that short piece of halyard on the bow, and once the ropes have been cut and the ship takes to water, you let go of the bottle and say—”

  “I know what to say, Captain. Far better than you, I daresay. You were not raised in a shipyard.”

  He blinked at her impudence, then saw the twinkle in her eye and burst into a grin. Could it be? Was Miss Huntley flirting?

  Brogan wished he did not feel the blood so warmly beneath his skin as he leaned forward to whisper, “I shall meet you as soon as I can get away. Good luck.”

  He guided her to the ladder, holding it steady behind her as she made the climb up the Yankee Heart’s side, where Huntley’s men received her and helped her aboard. The bottle was tied, and Brogan watched as she stepped gingerly out onto the large spar extending out from the stem of his ship. Drew stood beside her, encouraging her on.

  When Lorena was ready, she looked down at him and nodded.

  The thrill of the moment rushed through him. Brogan gave the signal. The axes were swung, severing the ropes that held the weights and kept the props in place and the cradle from sliding. His stomach knotted in anticipation.

  At first there was nothing but his racing heart. He kept his eye on Lorena and she on him, and even though people thronged about them, Brogan felt as though he were sharing this moment with her alone.