by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
“You see that, don’t you? But your sister feels safer and more at home with Jacob’s more placid nature.” Mrs. Hunter nodded and raised her cup to her lips. “I expect they’ll make a good match.”
“I do hope so. I was a bit put out with her when she turned Edward down.”
“No need of that. This is well and good.”
“You believe that?”
“With all my heart.” As the lady reached for a cookie, Jenny Hapworth hurried into the room, her eyes downcast.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but one of the clerks just came up from the office with a note for you.”
She held a slip of parchment out to Mrs. Hunter. Deborah used the interruption to pour more tea into her thin china cup.
“It’s a ship.” Mrs. Hunter’s merry brown eyes filled with anticipation. “Edward sent this to tell me.”
“One of their own ships?”
“He’s not certain yet.”
“Let’s pray that it is the Prosper.” Deborah set the teapot down with care.
“Yes, indeed.”
Mrs. Hunter reached out to her, and they clasped hands.
“Father on high, smile upon us today and bring the wayward vessel the Prosper safely to port.”
Deborah added her own quiet plea. “Dear Lord, please allow us to rejoice in the homecoming of the Prosper today. And if this is not that ship, then, Father, we beg You to keep all the men aboard her safe, wherever they be now, and draw her swiftly back to these shores.”
They raised their heads and smiled hopefully at one another.
“Why don’t you run up to the widow’s walk?” Mrs. Hunter suggested. “I’m not up to making the climb again so soon, but you can go and watch.”
“How will I know if it’s the Prosper? She’s probably still far down the bay.”
“Here.” Mrs. Hunter rose and took a small brass spyglass from the cherry sideboard. “You’ll be able to see her when she rounds the point and enters the river, but before that, Captain Moody will know. He’s already raised the flag for Hunter Shipping, letting the merchants know, so he’s identified the vessel. Either he knows her by her lines, or she’s hoisted a signal for him.”
“That seems promising, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does. Run along up, dear.”
Deborah seized the spyglass and dashed up the two flights of stairs. The wind was worse than ever, and she hadn’t bothered to put her hat or her shawl on. Her skirt billowed behind her as she faced east, and her hair whipped about, stinging her cheeks.
She turned to the sea first and tried to see what Moody had seen, but the headland opposite the town, across the Fore River, obstructed her view. So she trained the glass on Moody’s observatory. Three banners were flying, but she picked out the one for Hunter’s easily. Everyone in town knew the flags of the big shipping companies.
A sudden fear that it was not the long-awaited ship came over her, and she closed her eyes, sending up a frantic petition.
Father, please don’t let them lose another ship. There’s been enough grief and loss. Please!
Far in the distance, the prow of a ship rounded the cape and entered the river. She held the spyglass to her eye. The national flag flew from the mainmast—and below it the banner of Hunter Shipping!
She turned and ran down the stairs. Jenny and Mrs. Hunter stood in the front hall, where the stairs came down, and a thin boy was with them. Deborah’s heart lurched with joy as she heard his pronouncement.
“She’s the Prosper, all right! Mr. Edward’s dancing a hornpipe on the wharf, ma’am.”
Chapter 11
Edward carried a sack of sugar up the companionway to the deck of the Prosper and heaved it onto the stack near the gangplank. He went back to the hatch and watched two stevedores climb up and deposit their burdens on the pile.
That was it. The ship’s cargo was unloaded. All of the previous day and most of this morning, his men had labored at stripping the hold. Under Uncle Felix’s exacting command, they’d filled the warehouse and stacked hundreds of barrels and crates in the warehouse yard and along the wharf.
Now the merchants of Portland would swarm to the yard and the wharf to look over the goods and speak for those they wished to purchase.
Edward retrieved his jacket from where he’d hung it on a peg over one of the scuppers but didn’t put it on. He was sweating and filthy from his effort. He knew Jacob was on the wharf checking off the manifest that listed the cargo. And Jacob was, without doubt, cool and neat, impeccably attired for a businessman.
That was all right, but Edward preferred to get in among the men and put his back into it. That gave him a better understanding of the men’s work and boosted the laborers’ opinion of him. It also made the ridiculously generous check Mr. Daniels had written him last week for his monthly salary more acceptable.
Had his father drawn that much from the company every month? His mother assured him that his father had when things were going well. In tight times, such as during the war with England or in the months following the loss of the Egret and her cargo, he took less. He always made sure the employees were paid first, from the dockhands to the ship captains. The clerks, the sailors, and the boy who swept the warehouse floor were paid before Mr. Hunter drew his check. That knowledge gave Edward a new appreciation for his responsibility as head of the firm. Scores of families depended on him and Hunter Shipping.
More than ever, he knew he must uncover the mystery of the Prosper‘s lagging profits. He’d handled the cargo himself and watched every cask and bundle brought up from the hold. If all was not as it should be, now was the time to discover it.
He slung his jacket over one shoulder and headed down the gangplank. The men worked about him in an orderly swarm, toting the sacks, rolling the casks, piling crates on small carts, and pulling the carts along the wharf toward the warehouse.
Jacob called to him as he approached his post near the store.
“Well, Mr. Hunter, you’ve been exercising your muscles, I see!”
Edward flipped the dripping hair out of his eyes. “To the point of soreness. I’ve only been back in the office four weeks, and already I’m getting soft.”
“Well, I can put you in the warehouse under my father if you wish. That used to be your position, did it not?”
“Yes, before I went to sea as a cabin boy at fourteen.”
Jacob nodded with a wry smile. “I had much the same experience, as you know, and I can tell you I prefer the deck to the warehouse floor. Of course, the office is better than either.”
Edward laughed. “It wouldn’t hurt you to rub shoulders with your old cronies now and then.”
“Probably not, but I have a dinner engagement later. I can’t see a lady receiving a gentleman in your condition.” Jacob’s nose wrinkled as he eyed Edward’s sweat-drenched shirt.
“That bad?” Edward pulled his chin in and looked down at his clothing. “You’re right. Perhaps I’d better go home to wash up and change my clothes.”
“Commendable idea,” Jacob murmured. “I’ve put the word out that we’ll be open to buyers at noon. Several well-placed merchants will wish to greet you this afternoon as they do their business, I’m sure.”
Edward nodded and glanced about to make sure none of the workmen were near enough to overhear. “There’s something we need to discuss later, Jacob.”
His cousin’s eyebrows shot upward. “Anything serious?”
“Perhaps.”
Jacob nodded. “At the close of business, then.”
Edward bypassed the office and went straight home. He’d have to start taking an extra shirt to work with him to have on hand for such occasions. One of the clerks could fetch him wash water; they heated tea water on a small stove. Yes, he would implement the plan at once. That way he could take all the exercise he wanted and not embarrass Jacob or Mr. Daniels when the upper-class customers came around.
Was this the day his mother had said Deborah would visit? No, that was Tuesday. Tim
e blurred with the hectic unloading of the ship, but he was sure this wasn’t the day. Still, he half hoped he would run into Deborah at the house. Looking down once more at his soiled clothing and realizing how filthy he was, he cringed. No, it would not be the best time to meet the woman he hoped most to impress.
The thought startled him, but at once the sharpness of it softened. Why hadn’t he seen earlier what a wonderful person Deborah was? Not that she needed impressing. She would scoff at that idea. She didn’t judge people by appearances. That first afternoon, when he’d gone to the Bowman house fresh off the ship, she’d welcomed him joyfully, bedraggled as he was.
The image of Deborah’s subdued beauty leaped to his mind, her lovely brown eyes and gleaming mahogany hair. She didn’t play up her attributes, and many people probably would say she was not as pretty as her sister. Edward had thought so, too, at one time. Now he was beginning to revise that opinion.
His mother thought she was beautiful, and she was a good judge of such things. “Deborah has looks that will last,” she’d said just the other day. He hadn’t told his mother about his newly kindled feelings for the younger Miss Bowman, but somehow she seemed to know. Deborah’s name came into the dinner conversation almost every evening at the Hunter house.
Yes, she was lovely. On Sunday she had sat between Abigail and her mother in the family pew. Jacob sat with the family on Abigail’s other side, but Edward didn’t mind. He took his place beside his mother, but he had eyes only for Deborah, two rows ahead of them that morning. Her green gown was plainer than Abigail’s flounced and frilled blue, but it enhanced her creamy skin and dark eyes. And he noticed that while Abby fidgeted during the sermon and cast veiled glances at Jacob throughout the hour, Deborah sat still and seemed to give her undivided attention to Pastor Jordan.
Traits he used to find amusing in Abigail—her flickering attention, her interest in fashion—he had attributed to her immaturity in the old days. But she was a grown woman now, and she had not changed. Deborah, on the other hand, seemed to have grown into a mixture of practicality and playfulness. She appeared to be unconcerned about her appearance beyond neatness and appropriate attire. He knew her to be loyal—look at the way she’d insisted Abby not slough him off. She was industrious, too; she often brought needlework with her to the parlor while entertaining guests when she could have sat idle, and on several occasions he’d seen her jump to aid her mother with some household task. If his mother’s words were any indication, she was a reliable and sensible young woman.
As he approached his home, he tried to squelch all thoughts of Deborah. They still felt wrong somehow. For more than five years he’d dreamed of a future with Abigail. But the Abigail of his daydreams didn’t match up with the Abigail he knew now. Was it possible that the Abigail he’d longed for during his years of exile was more like the actual Deborah?
In confusion, he bounded up the steps and into the house to greet his mother and explain why he had come home. He was grateful it was not Tuesday, after all. He wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to say to Deborah.
An hour later, Edward was back at the warehouse, watching the commotion from the top of a loading platform as buyers thronged the premises, touching the fabrics, sampling the molasses, and sniffing the fruit. Market days at the warehouse were a jumble of colors and scents. When a ship docked, word spread in a flash through the town, and the buyers awaited word that the unloading was completed and the newly arrived wares were available for sale. The merchants hurried in to speak for quantities of goods for their stores, but individuals were just as ardently in search of a bargain at a low price.
His uncle came to stand beside Edward.
“There’s your fortune, boy. Your ship came in at last, and all your financial obligations are met and then some.”
“Yes,” Edward agreed. “God be praised. She was delayed for loading and revictualing, and then she ran into muddy weather in the Caribbean and had to replace torn canvas.”
Felix nodded. “Two days ago we feared she was lost—but she’s here now, and all is well.”
Edward nodded. He’d read Captain Stuart’s report of the voyage, but even with the foul weather and other obstacles accounted for, the Prosper had made poor time. She’d brought back a full cargo, which seemed to make everyone else happy; however, the month lost on what should have been a quick run had cost the firm plenty, and Edward was not entirely satisfied with the list of products she’d delivered. He had already asked to have the ship’s log on his desk by close of business today.
“Mr. Hunter!”
He turned toward Jacob’s voice. His cousin always addressed him formally when employees or customers were listening. Jacob was below him on the floor of the warehouse, holding a long sheet of parchment and beckoning for him to join him and the two men with him.
Edward nodded to Uncle Felix and headed for the steep steps. Just as he was about to descend, he glanced out over the warehouse and halted.
A woman in a brown and blue plaid dress was making her way through the barrels of food and piles of bulging sacks near the door. It couldn’t be—
She turned, and the sunlight streaming through the open door glinted on her rich, reddish brown hair. A young man was with her, a gangly, teenaged boy he didn’t recognize, carrying a large basket. As he watched, Deborah began taking yams from a barrel and loading them into the basket.
“Edward? Are you coming down?”
Jacob had come to stand just beneath him, not quite masking his impatience. Edward hastened down the steps.
“I just saw Deborah.”
Jacob swiveled around to look but seemed unconcerned.
“What’s she doing here?”
“She often comes when we hold open market.” Jacob turned and pushed people aside to reach the two men he’d been dealing with, and Edward followed, losing track of Deborah. Ladies didn’t venture into a crush like this where bankers and dockhands mingled.
“You know Mr. Engle,” Jacob said.
“Yes, hello.” Edward shook hands with the gray-haired owner of a sawmill on the edge of the river.
“This is his supervisor, Mr. Park, who is in charge of the lumbering operation. They are interested in sending a load of lumber and barrel staves to St. Thomas.”
Edward nodded. “The Prosper will put out for the Caribbean and Rio again in two weeks.”
“Yes,” Jacob said. “If you can have it on the wharf next week, we’ll make room for it.”
“What about your bigger ship?” Engle asked.
Jacob ducked his head in acknowledgment. “The Falcon will be in soon, but she plies the European trade for us. We’ve new cargo lined up for Amsterdam, LeHavre, Bordeaux, and Lisbon.”
“Ah, then the Prosper it is. We’ve a large order. I hope you can take it all at once.”
“Mr. Engle has shipped lumber with us before,” Jacob said, and Edward nodded.
“Well, then, perhaps you could take these gentlemen into the office and arrange the transaction,” he suggested, looking toward the front of the huge room, hoping to spot Deborah again.
“We hope to add a third schooner to our fleet soon,” Jacob said to Engle and Park. “If that purchase works out, we’ll add the Resolute to our West Indies trade.”
“You boys are doing well,” Park said. “When will you have the new ship?”
“If we decide to buy her, we should have her here inside a week,” Jacob replied. “Mr. Hunter leaves tomorrow for Portsmouth to examine the vessel.”
“Yes, but we’re not certain yet we want to buy her,” Edward said, scanning the crowd. “If we do, it will likely take us several weeks to refit her before she’s ready to take on cargo.”
His mind was only half on the conversation, and then only because he was afraid Jacob would promise cargo space where there was none as yet. He spotted the plaid material of Deborah’s dress as the people close to her separated and surged around her.
“Could you gentlemen excuse me, please? There’s
someone I must have a word with.”
He made his way as quickly as he could through the throng, but when he got to the crates of tea where he’d last seen her, she was gone. He gawked about, feeling foolish, but soon located her and the boy a few yards away.
“Deborah!” he called as he strode toward her, afraid he would lose her once more.
She turned toward him, and her face lit with pleasure.
“What a surprise to see you here.”
“Hello, Edward. I’m often here of a Thursday.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. I would like you to meet Thomas Crowe. He assists me.” She turned to the boy. “Thomas, this is Mr. Hunter.”
The boy stared at him as Edward held out his hand and said, “Pleased to meet you.” After a moment, Thomas shook his hand, then quickly withdrew it.
“Er … assists you with what, if I may ask?”
“With making my purchases.”
Edward frowned and eyed the basket on her arm, then studied the larger one the boy was carrying. Surely the Bowmans had servants to do their shopping for them, and he doubted their household would need yams and tea in such quantities.
“This is a rowdy place for a lady, especially when a ship has newly docked. We get all sorts of people in here, Deborah.”
She smiled. “I know it. That’s part of what Thomas is for. Mother forbade me to come by myself.”
“I still don’t quite …” He looked pointedly at her heaped basket. “I mean, that’s a lot of tea.”
“Yes, it is.”
He was at a loss for words, and she laughed at his expression.
“I see I shall have to educate you about my Thursday outings. But it’s noisy in here. Perhaps you can visit the house another time, and we can discuss it.”
Delight sprang up in his heart at her suggestion, but it was quickly followed by a thud of disappointment.
“I’m afraid I must decline that enticing offer.”
“Oh?” She was clearly disappointed as well, and he was somewhat gratified. “Now that the Prosper is in, Jacob wants me to leave immediately for Portsmouth to see about buying that other ship we mentioned.”