by Reina Torres
The Sailor & The Siren
Reina Torres
Copyright © 2019 by Reina Torres
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Art by: Erin Dameron-Hill
Contents
Sailors and Saints Series
The Sailor and the Siren
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Journey on with the Next Sailor
About Reina Torres
Discover More Sweet Romances by Reina Torres
Sailors and Saints Series
The Sailors and Saints Series starts where the Alphabet Mail Order Brides Series ‘pauses’ and we learn what happened to the X daughter, Xenia.
From there we continue on with the legacy that Xenia starts as the sailors who have attended her school go out on their own… and find their Happy Ever Afters!
The Sailor and the Siren
As a child, Andrew Brooks was pressed into service on a merchant ship, but a boy who lacked sea legs was little use. Before they decided to throw him overboard, they discovered a talent worthy of a place on board. Little Andrew was a gifted musician.
Now a man grown, he hears of a school that offers sailors a chance to better themselves and takes a chance to walk away from the high seas.
Taking what he learns at the Sailor’s Rest School, he finds a job managing the cargo on a steamboat working its way up and down the Mississippi River.
Working aboard a steamboat named The Siren, Rosemary Tillman has worked her way up in the kitchen as an assistant to the cook, but every free minute she has is spent watching the shows in the concert room, dreaming of singing before adoring crowds and sharing her love of music. When her talent is discovered her world begins to change.
Rosemary and Andrew begin to forge futures for themselves on the Mississippi, but like all bright stars in the sky there are clouds waiting to douse their light. Can these two glide along the river of life together, or will they run aground when trouble comes a calling?
Chapter One
The driver of the hired cart maneuvered through the tight foot and wagon traffic. “Don’t you worry, sir. We’ve made good time from the station.”
Andrew Brooks looked up from his watch with an apologetic wince. “Sorry,” he tried to relax the tension in his jaw that was making it hard to breathe regularly, “I’ve an interview for a job and I do not want to be late.”
“Ah!” The driver lifted his chin off to the right. “You see that spire over there?”
Leaning back against the wagon seat, Andrew saw the pristine white church spire clearly visible above the tops of all the trees. “I see it.”
Nodding, the driver drew the reins toward the side to begin their turn onto the next road. “That’s the church in this part of town. The church is right there near the water’s edge. The dock where the Siren is moored is within view. You’ll have time to wash up ‘fore your meeting if you wish. There’s a well in the church yard that’s for the use of any in need of it.”
Almost as if the driver had conjured it, Andrew felt a passing breeze trace over his forehead and made him quite aware that the heat, and most likely his worry, was in danger of overheating him.
“A good idea. It’ll do me some good to walk about as well.”
The driver shrugged. “Like I said, you’ll have time.”
A few children played in the road, kicking at a ball of some sort, laughing more than actually making contact with the ball. Andrew enjoyed the sight before him. Happy children meant a safe environment.
At least on the surface.
He swallowed hard to remove the hard lump that formed in his throat, but it didn’t work.
Andrew had been a child about that age when he’d been plucked off the wharf near his home in Lyme, England and tossed aboard a ship.
Shanghaied, they’d called it, laughing at him while he’d cried. One of the men had delivered a swift kick while he’d wiped his tears off on his sleeve.
And none of the men offered him a single bit of comfort, especially when they found out, right along with him, that he didn’t have sea-legs.
Something lurched in his stomach at the thought and when he came into himself again, he realized that the wagon had come to a stop.
Quietly, hoping that no one would notice, Andrew drew in a breath and let it out. Dipping his head, he gave both cheeks a few pats with the flats of his hands, hoping he hadn’t lost all of his color.
He lowered himself down from the wagon seat and took his bag from the driver in one hand, paying the man with the other. “You have my thanks for a quick ride.”
The man shrugged. “I drive all over. If folks have the money, I have the time.”
Tucking the cash into the neck of his shirt, the driver reached up into the bed of the wagon and with a short huff he pulled the small chest to the tail and shook his head. “Are you sure you’ve got the strength to carry this yerself, sir?”
Andrew nodded. “I brought it to your wagon from the train.”
“Ah!” The man slapped his hand on his leg. “So you did, sir. So you did.”
With a groan that was likely more for effect than truth, the driver set it down on the ground.
“Wish you the best of luck, sir.”
“Thank you kindly.”
Setting his bag down on top of the chest, Andrew stretched his back and took in his surroundings.
The church had been on the other side of the wagon when he’d climbed down, turning to the right he couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him.
The Siren.
The name was painted in stark white on the red wall behind the prominent paddlewheel sitting idle in the water. It was glorious. Even with only a view of the back of the boat and a little bit of the elaborate metal railing that encompassed the deck. All three of the decks.
He let out a long sigh.
“You sound like you’re a man in love.”
Caught unawares, Andrew turned and hoped he didn’t look like an errant school boy.
The man standing before him was dressed in a fine coat of red suiting with shining brass buttons that had been freshly polished. Reaching up to the brim of his satin top hat, he pushed it back on his head.
“You’ve got that look in your eye, son.” And the shrewd look in his eyes said he was sure he did.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Andrew could swear his neck was as red as his cheeks felt. “I’m just… I’m just…”
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” The man moved to stand beside him and set an arm around his shoulders as he gestured toward the giant paddlewheel boat moored at the pier. “The Siren is the fairest ship upon the river. Many a man have tried to tame her, none but I have succeeded!” Stepping away, the man lifted his top hat and swept it from his head as he bowed to Andrew with such a flair that he brought to mind an imaginary pirate captain with a tricorn instead of a stovepipe hat. “I, Cornelius Abraham, have made her my mistress,” he leaned closer, cupping his free hand beside his mouth, “just don’t tell my wife.”
Andrew nodded, swallowing down any number of questions in his head.
“Now that you know who I am,” he set his hat back upon his head and the snowy white hair that co
vered it, “who might you be, my newest friend?”
Andrew lifted his hand and set it against his chest. “I’m Andrew, Andrew Brooks, and I’m here to see you, sir.”
“Well color me surprised, Andrew Brooks, as I live and breathe. I can already tell that you’re perfect for the job. Any man that falls in love with her at first sight like I did, is bound to be a great friend… or a rival. I choose to make you a great friend.”
Picking up a whistle that dangled from his jacket on an elegant golden pin, he put it between his lips and blew a shrill note.
Two men set down a large crate and jogged toward them. By the time the men reached them, Andrew found himself looking up at them as if they were towering over him like ancient trees.
“These two gents will be working with you aboard my lady. This is Andrew Brooks. He’ll be our new cargo man. Mr. Brooks, the man to our left is Lonnie.”
Andrew saw the red hair on the man’s head, something like a copper pot. It was as straight as the man was tall and broad. Stepping forward, Andrew held out his hand and gave Lonnie a look straight in the eye. “Good to meet you, Lonnie, please don’t cripple my hand.”
The large man had a boyish voice. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
And then to prove it, his large hand enveloped Andrew’s and gave it a shake. Firm, but careful.
“They call me Moses.” The other man matched Lonnie in size, but the timbre of his voice was constant, like the flow of time. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
Andrew felt a calm when he grasped Moses’ hand, a strength that didn’t seek to overwhelm, but to reassure.
“Pleased to meet you as well, Moses. I can tell we’ll get along famously.” Remembering himself, Andrew turned to Cornelius. “Sorry if I’m ahead of myself, sir. We haven’t had our interview yet.”
The older man waved off his concern. “Told you not to worry over that. I have a good feeling about people. And the way you look at the Siren tells me all I need to know. You won’t cause her no harm.”
“Yes, sir. She’s a fine lady.” He still felt a tremor of worry in his heart and hands. “I will do my best.”
Cornelius slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Capital!” Turning to the men, he gave them a broad grin. “Go ahead and take Mr. Brooks’ things to his cabin while I show him about. Tomorrow, you’ll begin to take your orders from him.”
As Moses reached down for his trunk, Andrew opened his mouth to call out a warning. The trunk was heavy, much too heavy for a single hand.
But Cornelius stilled his instinct with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder.
A moment later, Andrew was speechless.
Moses not only lifted the trunk with a single hand, but he swung it up onto his shoulder as if it weighed no more than a coat or a cane.
Lonnie was left with the bag and he swung it easily in his hand as the men walked toward the steamer.
Cornelius took a few steps forward before turning back around with a mischievous smile on his lips. “Come along, Andrew. And meet my lady.”
It felt like home.
They’d barely taken a few steps onto the deck when the feeing came over him like a blanket when his Ma would tuck him in at night.
The very air aboard the paddle wheel boat seemed to invigorate him, filling his lungs.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Cornelius walked forward a bit and stopped near the front of the boat. “Just wait until you see it cut through the water. Slicing through the river like a heated knife through butter.”
Andrew nodded. “I’m sure it’s a sight, sir.”
“Oh, it’s not just the sight that’ll stir you. No, you’ll feel the air as we move through it. The pull of the river as we move along. You’ll never want aboard another ship after my lady here.”
Cornelius touched the rail and sighed. “She’s a grand old thing isn’t she?”
A voice descended upon them like a bale of hay. “Lollygagging again, are you, Mr. Abraham? You’re late! I expected you back over an hour ago, so come along!”
Andrew couldn’t have ignored the woman if he tried. Hanging over the railing one level above them, she made quite the picture.
Wearing a purple dress colored in a shade he wasn’t sure he could ever truly describe without a grimace, and her hair twisted in a braid that hung from her head like a rope rather than hair, the look she gave him was less than welcoming. It was more suspicious.
“That,” Cornelius spoke with a tone full of good-natured resignation, “is my wife.”
Andrew stopped himself before he could speak for he was sure that he couldn’t find the words to compliment or congratulate Captain Abraham. He wasn’t even sure if he could offer him condolences, for the woman in question sounded like she was in a mood to break his neck rather than wrap her arms about it in a hug.
“That’s a good man,” the captain chuckled to himself, “I’d keep mum if I was you. If you ever have the misfortune of meeting my wife face to face, the fewer words said, the better.” He shook his head. “And I’d avoid eye contact at all times. Keeps her from taking offense more than usual.”
There was a moment of silence before the captain let out a loud snort of laughter.
“You’re a good man, Mister Brooks.”
“Glad you think so, Captain.”
With a flourish, the captain gestured toward a door. “Come, let me show you the rest of my lady before my wife finds us again.”
And show him he did. The grand staircases, the fine carpets, the brass fixtures polished to within an inch of their lives. Crystals in the dining room chandelier. The fancy lighting in the theater room. The elegant state rooms and those meant for lesser paying passengers.
It was all a dream.
But it was a living breathing dream.
It was only the third time that the captain’s wife bellowed his name through the halls that the older man finally offered his excuses to, “toddle off and tame the old bat.”
What was left was the one thing he needed most of all.
Directions to his room.
“Mr. Brooks?”
The voice sounded familiar.
“Mr. Brooks, sir?”
Ah yes.
Turning his head he saw Lonnie and Moses peeking in around an open doorway. “Something you need, men?”
Lonnie shrugged and looked to Moses and Moses was the one who talked. “Sir, we left your things in your room.”
Andrew smiled his gratitude. “Yes, thank you.”
“And now,” Lonnie shrugged and held his hands before him as if he held a hat, “would you like us to show you where it is, sir?”
Laughter rushed from his mouth and shook his shoulders. “Thank you,” he sighed, “that would be best, I think.”
Moses pointed down the hall. “This way, Mister Brooks.”
Rosemary Tillman was a happy young woman. She had a roof over her head, food in her belly when she needed it, and friends. She had friends on the Siren. And they were friends enough for her.
So when Loretta needed to do her errands, Rosemary happily stood in her stead and took care of things. Over the years, Loretta had taught her everything she needed to work in the kitchen. With the patience of a saint Loretta and her small crew fed the crew everyday and the paying passengers on their river voyages.
And when Rosemary could give Loretta some time to enjoy herself, she did. So she’d volunteered to complete the crew’s evening meal on her own.
There would be a hearty stew and beans enough for each member of the crew.
And bread.
“Oh, the bread!” Turning with a gasp on her lips and eyes wide with shock and worry, Rosemary rushed to the oven and reached for the handle on the stove.
“Oh, blast and sizzle!”
The handle was almost too hot to handle and it dropped open with a hearty thump on its hinges.
“Oh, dear.”
Suddenly, she wasn’t alone. “You seem to say ‘Oh’ a lot.”
“Oh!” She whirled about and
then burst into laughter. “I do say that quite a bit, probably enough that most are used to it by now.”
“My apologies.”
“Not that you have a reason to apologize, but since you offered them, you’re forgiven… even though I don’t think we’ve met.”
He blushed. The man standing just inside the kitchen was blushing. Rosemary couldn’t help but look at him, almost drink him in.
He wasn’t overly tall.
He wasn’t very old.
He wasn’t very anything.
But his eyes danced with merriment.
His smile felt like a warm touch upon her cheek.
And his mouth moved, but she couldn’t quite hear him.
Shaking herself, she leaned a scant inch closer. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Your bread?”
“Oh!” Turning back around she reached for the open oven and almost burned her fingers before she remembered that it was hot enough to burn her. Lifting up the hem of her apron she pulled out two tins and set them down with a clatter on the wooden table. Before she could turn, she saw the man brush past with a towel in his hands and pulled another tin free.
Once he was clear she reached the last two and set them on the table beside the others.
He was already behind her closing the oven door before she could move.
When he straightened, he was close enough to brush his sleeve against hers. Close enough for her to see the slight silvering of his hair at his temples and smell the clean scent of soap from his skin.
Goodness. Her hands shook as she turned about to look up into his face. “Thank you, sir.” Tilting her head to the table she smiled when she met his eyes again. “If not for you, the bread would have burned to a crisp and we would have lost a portion of our supper.”
