by Lisa Norato
“This is hardly a time to worry about propriety. I would like to stay and sit with Johnny. There is a matter I wish to discuss with him.”
Johnny harkened to Iris’s words with a curious tilt of his head. A matter. What matter was that?
The deep rumble of a chuckle halted his wonderings. Captain Moon had arrived. “You’re obviously not getting any sleep this morn,” he heard the man say. “How are you feeling then, Johnny?”
“I am well, sir.” Johnny sat up and instinctively reached to touch his bandaged eyes, a reminder to himself that all was not well.
“What is that you hold, Father? Is it a Bible?” asked Iris. “I don’t remember seeing such a one as that about the house before.”
“Because it does not belong to us, Daughter. Go along with Hetty. I have something of a personal nature I wish to discuss with Johnny.”
“But Father, I was going to sit with him before breakfast. I have a matter of my own to discuss.”
“My-my, it seems our brave Jon is a much sought-after fellow in this household. When is he to recuperate then, with all this discussing going on?” Nurse Hastings tapped her foot impatiently.
Johnny grinned listening to them. They had a way of lifting him out of his own thoughts into the comforting bosom of their family, and for that he felt extremely grateful.
In the end, it was Captain Moon who won his audience. The door to his room was closed and a chair drawn up to his bedside.
“Has your memory returned?” Captain Moon asked as he settled himself in the seat.
All that Johnny could recall had returned to him in flashes. “I remember climbing the stairs to the lantern. Lud and I had eaten, and I was feeling quite satisfied. I remember hearing the blast of a cannon’s shot above my head. Blinding light. Intense heat. A great explosion. And then nothing more until I woke in this bed yesterday morn. Tell me, sir? How does Lud fare?”
“Lud is recuperating from some minor scrapes and bruising and also injury sustained to his throat and lungs from the smoke. Dr. Huxham expects he shall make a full recovery. More to the point, he’s exceedingly shaken by the unfortunate events … and as anxious for news of you as you are for him, Johnny. His father will be joining me and others of the Nook in inspecting the wreck of the Vulture this morning, and I shall return with more news of Lud tonight.”
“I must thank you for saving my life, sir. I owe—”
“No — I won’t accept a word of your thanks, Jonathan Mayne. You owe me nothing. It’s I who shall forever be in your debt.
“You came to the South Shore to work off your debts and live a quiet, private life. You’ve been a diligent and exemplary light keeper, Johnny, as every seafarer from Duxbury to Plymouth would agree. Have no regrets. You’ve served our shores well, but then I found you always gave your best in everything you put your hand to.”
Captain Moon squeezed Johnny’s shoulder as though to seal his words.
“Circumstances have changed unfairly for you,” the captain continued. “As men of the sea, we live at the mercy of unpredictable weather and often fall victim to its harshness. The lightning strike has taken Pilgrim Light and your possessions with it, but one thing did survive, and I am inclined to regard it as a message of hope to you, Johnny. I found it in the snow as we were searching for your whereabouts on Clark’s Island.”
Captain Moon pressed a soft, leather-bound book into his hand, which Johnny recognized as his mother’s Bible. She had loved the Lord, making certain to pass her faith onto her son. This Bible was all Johnny had left of her — a gentle, kind-hearted woman who had died young but had been loved dearly.
“Do you remember the day you left your uncle’s ship chandlery, never to return? I asked whether you owned anything of value you would take with you?”
“Yes, sir, and I replied, ‘My mother’s Bible.’”
“Indeed. You started a new life with nothing but that Bible. And here life finds you again with nothing but your mother’s Bible. It is a sign that God is with you, Jon, willing you to go on. A new future awaits you. For, ‘Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness.’”
Johnny smiled, recognizing the psalm and its appropriateness to his current condition. Affection and gratitude for Captain Moon had burned in his heart from the time he’d been a lad of seven years and renewed itself again in this moment.
“I hope you will embrace this new path, however challenging,” the captain said, “and let us welcome you to Nook House. Long ago, you earned a permanent place in our family. So let us face the future bravely together, eh? One day at a time. I trust you’ll be happy here. If Lady Moon were alive, she wouldn’t have you anywhere but under our roof. I think you know that she would insist upon it.”
“I do. Thank you, sir.” Emotion lodged in his throat so fully Johnny could not comment further on the subject.
A boyhood memory surfaced. Johnny was standing in a bustling Cornish marketplace dressed as a beggar boy or perhaps that day it was a street urchin selling flowers. No one but a child could have moved unnoticed among Cornwall’s villagers, as well as its peerage. The disguise was different each time but always he lay in wait for a titled lady to pass by in her carriage. He knew which carriage and cried out to its occupants to take pity. He’d been cuffed on the ear more than a time or two by passersby or kicked out of the way by a gentlemen who did not look kindly on the poor, but the lady was well known for her sweet, charitable spirit. She’d always halt her driver, who would help her alight from the carriage so she might purchase a flower. Or sometimes her nurse was sent with a coin. And that was when Johnny would discreetly pass along a message from his captain.
It was during one of those exchanges when the lady herself approached him that she pressed something other than a folded note into his palm. She wore a scarlet, fur-trimmed cape and smelled sweetly of tuberose. Johnny dared not even look to see what it was until he reached the safety of the ship, and then he saw it — a miniature portrait.
The beauty of it still burned in his memory.
“I trust you shall continue to keep my confidence,” said Captain Moon, dispelling his thoughts.
The chair creaked and Johnny sensed the captain pressing closer. “Now that she has you so close at hand, no force on earth will keep Iris from your side. Soon she will remember you clearly, if she hasn’t already. In either case, she is determined to ply you with care and encouragement. And how can I discourage a kind heart so like her mother’s? Still, I know how dearly you value privacy, so if her hovering becomes troublesome, let me know immediately.”
The strong, authoritative voice dropped to a low and solemn pitch. “It’s been a grave burden of secrecy I’ve forced you to carry these many years. You were a boy, a green hand, eager to do anything to show your loyalty to your captain, and I took full advantage of the fact. Without your assistance … well, I shudder to think what would have been the fate of my beloved Eleanor. It is only you, myself and Hetty who knows her entire story, and I would prefer it remain so. Lady Moon’s life began the day we brought her aboard our American ship and that is all anyone ever need know. Even Iris. Do you understand?”
“I would never betray Lady Moon’s secret … even in her death.”
“If not for you, Johnny, her death would have come much sooner.” The captain’s voice broke on a strangled sob. “And I would not now have the comfort of my Iris.”
No one understood better than he the way Captain Moon could not tolerate the unjust sufferings of the innocent.
For young Lady Eleanor’s safety, no one could know her history except those sworn to secrecy — her nurse and those few seamen who had sailed with Captain Moon that night.
But why continue to keep her secret in death? And from the Captain’s own daughter?
Perhaps the answer lay in the fact that even the protection of marriage had not been enough to allay the lady’s fears that one day her past would find her.
It was not the scandal she feared, but a person. And when she
gave birth, her fear doubled.
The chair groaned under the captain’s weight as he rose. Johnny knew there would be no further discussion on the subject. Captain Moon never spoke of the past. Even the little he’d said must have taken great effort. “And now, I must go,” he said, “and when I return I will have news of the Vulture and her crew.”
Johnny listened to his retreating footsteps. “Is there no possibility of rebuilding Pilgrim Light?” he called.
Captain Moon stilled. “I expect the Massachusetts District Superintendent will send a party to inspect the damage, but I think it too much to hope there will be sufficient funds to rebuild.”
Johnny noted disappointment in the man’s voice. Disappointment no one felt more keenly than Johnny, for even if his sight were restored, there’d be no work for him here, and he couldn’t go back to Truro. There was nothing for him there. He could find a merchant vessel to sail with or even perhaps another lighthouse keeper’s post, but his heart was not in either of those options.
He did not wish to leave Duxbury.
Captain Moon had invited him to stay, but to stay and do what?
It was a question for a later time. His eyelids grew heavy. Exhaustion was fast overtaking him. Comforting, homey smells had begun to reach him from the keeping room. Johnny listened to the sound of the fire crackling, the light patter of Snow’s footfalls and the low hum of women’s voices until they lulled him to sleep.
Chapter 13
Derby Wharf, Salem, Massachusetts, 1802
He had been caught carving again, this time a toy horse, and this time in front of a valued customer. Johnny’s seventh year of life had found him orphaned, existing at the mercy of his father’s younger brother. Uncle did not abide any breaks from his labor, despite the fact Johnny was often forced to work ten-to twelve-hour days.
Aside from reading his mother’s Bible — filled with personalized notes of encouragement written to him in her own dear hand — carving was his one enjoyment in life. And he was exceedingly good at it. Everyone who had seen his carvings commented so.
But Uncle disagreed. He found the hobby useless. He cuffed Johnny on the side of the head with such force the blow was heard to the far corners of the shop and up to the overhead beams supporting the second floor. All the fellows stilled in their work as Johnny was knocked facedown onto the floorboards.
Work ceased. The chandlery shop went quiet.
Mayne Bros. Chandlery stocked all manner of supplies, hardware, provisions and equipment needed to ready a vessel for sea. Uncle yelled at his employees to get back to work then turned to his customer, Captain Ezra Moon.
“Do you see what I am burdened with, Captain? The care of a laggard nephew who drains my pocketbook with his needs then repays me with idleness, always carving some useless toy, when he could be helping me around the shop and learning his dear, departed father’s trade. Do you not see, sir?”
“I see only an innocent lad,” came the strong, authoritative voice of the customer.
Stunned and smarting from the blow, Johnny lifted his head to see his distorted reflection in the toes of the captain’s highly polished Hessians. Embarrassment pained him more keenly than the strike, for it was not the first time Uncle had struck him in front of Captain Moon.
“If you find the lad such an unwanted obligation, then why not allow him to join my crew. I shall take him as my ship’s boy and train him for a seaman’s trade. Not only would you be released from his care, Mr. Mayne, but you would profit also, for I would send a portion of his wages home to you. As for the lad, he will see the world and gain an education.”
As Captain Moon bent down to retrieve the carved horse, his gaze connected with Johnny’s. Out of view of his uncle, the captain gave Johnny a wink.
Captain Moon straightened to examine the carving. “The boy has talent. I could put that skill to good use.”
Johnny raised himself, willing his uncle to agree. He wished for nothing so much as to go with Captain Moon. Please, please, dear Lord, let Uncle say yes, he silently begged. He found the captain to be a big bear of a man, and yet clearly there was something kind-hearted and trustworthy about him. Johnny had vowed never to let Uncle see him cry, but pressing tears stung his eyes. He wanted to leave this place so terribly.
Uncle sniffed. “Thank you, Captain, but my nephew does not need to see the world when there is much work for him to do here.”
“Well, I suppose Johnny does have a partnership interest in this chandlery, as it was his father, Justin Mayne, who founded the company and then later brought you in, sir — his younger brother.”
“Not so, Captain Moon. Johnny has no interest in my business. By law, any partnership dissolved upon my brother’s death. I was merely required to pay the fair value of Justin’s interest to his widow in order to gain full control of the chandlery. Unfortunately, that value was very greatly reduced by the loss of the managing partner and amounted to a nominal sum for my sister-in-law.”
“Aye, that is most unfortunate.” Johnny thought then his Uncle was a fool not to notice the captain’s disgust. “In that case, since there is nothing holding the lad to the shop, let me appeal to you again, Mr. Mayne. I don’t make an offer to join my crew lightly. Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”
Uncle laughed, and as Johnny’s hopes plummeted, he noticed a muscle twitch in the captain’s jaw.
“You don’t want this laggard on your crew, Captain,” dismissed Uncle with a chuckle. “Now, sir, everything on your list is being readied and shall be loaded immediately. All except for the tobacco, I’m afraid. But I do have a shipment arriving shortly from the Connecticut River Valley of very fine quality tobacco in all its forms — leaf, square cut, fine pigtail, black role. If you’d care to wait in Town—”
“I cannot wait,” the captain replied shortly, “but the tobacco is a treat for my first mate. He’ll be sorely grieved should we depart for a long voyage without it. I’ll take the pigtail and have Johnny deliver it to my ship this evening.” The captain reached deep into his pocket and dropped several extra coins into his uncle’s hand. “That should compensate you for the trouble, Mr. Mayne. I will give the lad directions to where the Mad Colonial is docked.”
“Of course. That is most generous of you. Thank you, Captain.” Uncle’s eyes gleamed greedily at the coins in his hand. “Get off the floor, Johnny, and harken carefully to the captain’s directions, for if you lose your way tonight and disappoint him, you’ll be getting more than just a smack to the head!”
The captain took him aside and told Johnny where to find his ship; then he did something strangely curious. He whispered, “Do you own anything of value you would keep with you were you never to return to this shop?”
Johnny nodded. “My mother’s Bible, sir.”
“Then bring it with you when you deliver the tobacco, but don’t let yourself be seen carrying it. Can you do that, son?”
Johnny didn’t understand, but he was used to doing as ordered without question. He nodded.
Later that night, he walked the dim, shadowy wharf, lined with fish markets, sail lofts, timber yards and warehouses of wood and brick, some two, some three stories high. The warehouses were locked down and shuttered against the dockside riffraff who would try to steal the valuable imports Johnny knew were stored inside, exotic goods like tea and spices and fine silks.
Loud, bawdy voices flowed from the taverns, and it frightened him every time he was forced to make deliveries to the docks at night. The wind was much stronger here and he held his jacket tightly over the Bible tucked within, hoping no one would take note and think he carried items more valuable.
The air reeked of fish, tar and manure. Vessels at anchor creaked and groaned, and he had only the glow from their watch lamps, as they swung noisily from their chains, to light his way.
Captain Moon was there with his first mate to hail him aboard, when Johnny arrived at the Mad Colonial. He frowned at the red welt marring the side of Johnny’s fac
e. Passing the tobacco tin to his mate, he ordered the officer to ready the ship for departure.
Johnny knew he hadn’t much time. He produced the Bible. “I brought it, sir.”
Captain Moon leaned down and squeezed his shoulder, looking deep into Johnny’s eyes. “I need to ask you something, Johnny, and you must tell me the truth. The truth on your dear mother’s Bible. You are a young man, able to make your own decisions. So I ask, what do you want, lad? Do you want to sail with me or return to your uncle?”
“Sail with you, sir.”
A slow smiled stretched across the captain’s comely face. “Then that is good enough for me.” He straightened to bellow, “Mr. Bestwick, it appears we have a stowaway. Make haste toward open sea!”
Johnny never looked back, and Captain Ezra Moon never again returned to do business with Mayne Bros. Chandlery.
Chapter 14
Iris found Johnny dozing when she peeked into his room. His thick dark hair spilled over the white bandage covering his eyes. Her gaze dropped to his unshaven, raffish face and the strong cut of his jaw until it came to rest on the perfect symmetry and firmness of his lips, parted ever so slightly in sleep as though waiting for a kiss.
Her heart fluttered.
“Iris Moon, what’re you mooning about there in the doorway?”
Hetty’s firm voice dispelled her thoughts. Johnny woke with a start and let out an agonizing scream. His hands flew to his face, tearing at the bandages.
Her heart ached for him, awaking to darkness, and Iris rushed to his side. Placing her hands on either side of his whiskery face, she spoke in an even, soothing tone. “Shhh, Johnny. All is well. ’Tis Iris. I am here. You’re safe now, and I shan’t let anything hurt you again. I believe you saved my life once and now I am here to help you.”
“Iris?” His hands held onto hers and his excited breathing began to slow.
“Yes, Johnny. It is I.” She could see his body relaxing.
“What’s happened, Iris?” Father demanded, bursting into the room.
