Island Queen

by Vanessa Riley

  He knew.

  He knew Kitty was delicate and younger than her years. He knew.

  And Kitty was right. Polk was the best of men, befriending and loving a girl who didn’t have the mind to love him back. My heart hurt at her choice of safety, of keeping her mind young rather than aging and loving and risking, maybe losing.

  Had I made that same choice by focusing only on my business and my family?

  Yes.

  Yes, I had. No more being afraid.

  Grabbing Polk’s other hand, I led them. “Let’s go into the ballroom for a baptism in music.”

  The air sizzled, awash in cologne and flowers and sweat. The place was packed with people, and I watched blue-eyed and brown-eyed men beam down upon us.

  They backed up.

  Polk’s height made them reconsider. I loved me some Polk. We could hear the music, dance, and not be bothered.

  We planted in a corner. Hundreds of fishy-smelling tallow candles burned about the room’s perimeter like stars. Festoons of pink hibiscus paired with fragrant white lilies. Fish or heady perfume—wasn’t sure which would win.

  Kitty nestled closer. She was here for me, my love of music, and Polk. My sister was a true hero, my soft heart. I leaned to her ear. “We can go anytime you want. I like the feel of the rhythm.”

  She gazed at me with her soft eyes. Then with her finger painted a smile along my lips. “Every moment is borrowed time. Enjoy tonight. Dance. Dance for me.”

  Her words stung with the weight of our truth. We were living borrowed lives.

  “You’re my strength, Kitty. Know that.”

  “So dance.” She tapped a man on the shoulder and pointed to me.

  The fellow glanced at me. I thought he’d turn away, but he grinned and towed me to the center of the room.

  I remembered every dance Cells had taught, flourishing my contredanse.

  The hours passed and I went man to man—all faces, all shades of the rainbow.

  Only a few headed to women whose skin was bright like my daughters. Didn’t bother me none. A dance or rejection didn’t last any longer than a song.

  Patting the last fellow’s groping hands away, I started back toward my sister.

  Before the music started again . . .

  Before I caught my breath . . .

  A tall man with sunshine hair who’d held court in the back of the room moved to me. “You’re an exceptional dancer. Many island girls don’t know the European steps let alone a successful allemande.”

  He bowed a little. “I will dance with you. The minuet.”

  “With such an invitation, how can I refuse?”

  His laugh was hearty. Weaving his hand with mine, he returned me to the center of the floor.

  As if he owned Roseau and everyone in Dominica, the crowds parted. Me and him were all that was left, that and the music.

  The rhythm, the blessed rhythm took over me. His steps were perfect. Very skilled, not sloppy or grabby or drunk—the kind of touch that left one wanting more.

  The banjo and drums could play forever.

  The gold braiding on his coat looked as if coins had been melted to make it.

  Except for a stare, his expression was blank.

  The song ended and I moved toward Kitty and Polk, but he kept me close.

  “Sir, the dance has been nice, but I should return to my party.”

  “Of course. But your nose.”

  I willed my fingers to stay at my side, to not check my face. “What of it?”

  “It’s mine I dare say, same as mine and my mother’s, flat and wide with no flare. Even thin at the bridge.”

  “It’s a nose, the blessed features of my mother. My father has a dreaded hook in his.”

  He lifted his hand toward my face, and I stepped away. “No. No.”

  “Sorry. You just have extraordinary features for a Negress.”

  “Why, because my nose looks like yours? I would say we’re both blessed, then.”

  He chuckled harder. “Dance with me again.”

  That didn’t sound like an ask but a command.

  Fool that I was, I gave him my hand. The music began when he looked at the musicians.

  This time he stepped closer and every turn of the contredanse that required me to be near him, he made sure we touched.

  It took great skill to dance and ogle in time to the rhythm. Great skill.

  When the tune ended, I moved away, ignoring the whispers of the crowd. I checked my clothes, my hair; everything was in place.

  “This is my second Tuesday here,” he said. “I’ll be leaving soon. My ship will sail to Grenada. I wish we’d met sooner.”

  “Well, you’ve seen me now, but it’s time for you to go.”

  “What’s your name? I heard your friend say Doll or Dolly.”

  “It’s Dorothy Kirwan, but some call me Doll.”

  “You’re a doll, but I shall call you Miss Kirwan, until we are more intimate.”

  “You said you were leaving. No time for that.”

  His lips ripped open and chuckles fell out. “But I do come back. My command sends my orders here.”

  Seems all the fellows I liked went away, but this one promised to come back. That was new.

  “Miss Kirwan, I’m William Henry. Captain of the Pegasus.”

  Another captain too? No. Were they bees and I some sort of flower? “Captain Henry, you’re a fine dancer. But my sister is yawning.”

  “That is a new excuse to not claim all my dances. Until we meet again.”

  He bowed and I balanced in a perfect curtsy.

  Kitty came and possessively locked arms with me.

  She didn’t need to fret. No matter how wonderful it felt to spin in strong arms, you go home after church, cleansed of your sins. You don’t try to find new ones.

  Dominica 1786: A Kiss

  Edward and I walked to the shore. Ships moored at a distance bobbed in the waves. My dancing friend had invited me to see his ship. No one had been more shocked than me to discover that the captain of the Pegasus, Captain Henry as I’d called him, was actually Prince William Henry, son of England’s king. Me, Dolly, freed two years, kicking up my heels with the son of the man who owned the world, well, most of it.

  Cells once said that a man couldn’t have power with a Black wife. Yet here was a man with power using it to extend his time in Dominica to court me.

  Humbling, exciting, the sheer pleasure of it trembled my soul. I had no choice but to go to my prince and see his Pegasus.

  “Mama, look at the big boat, the one flying the English flag.”

  Red, blue, and white, the square hung from the forward sails and flopped in the breeze.

  Edward knew his colors and the flags of the nations from the flood of visitors coming to Dominica.

  “That big one looks fit for a prince.” I peered at my little prince, my six-year-old son. He was getting taller. Mamaí’s mixtures had made him stronger. His wheezing only happened in the wet season. “Come on, Edward. Polk is waiting.”

  My Demerara friend waved at us and we climbed into the Dolus.

  “Miss Dolly, Master Edward. Morning. Ummm . . . You sure about sailing close to a frigate? They have guns, Miss Dolly.”

  I patted the side of the boat. “Yes, take us to the Pegasus.”

  “Our people don’t do well on those big ’uns. Don’t be going below.”

  “It’s not a slaver boat. The only man singing from the deck is a prince.”

  Polk shrugged and straightened his wide-brimmed straw hat. “Come on, Edward, you row with me.”

  My boy’s face lit up as he grasped the oar.

  “Mr. Cells asked about you and Charlotte and Edward.”

  The look I threw Polk must have been sharp. He threw up his hands as if to protect himself. “I’m just doing what Massa wants.”

  “Tell him we’re fine and I’m visiting men on frigates.”

  Polk shook his head. “Not sure he’d like to hear that.”

&nb
sp; My shoulders lifted and I stared again at the Pegasus. It was huge, enormous. It could swallow Polk’s sloop whole.

  The guns on the side—intimidating. The three massive pole heads stood like giants. Hooked to it, yards of tanned fabric rolled up as if it could hide from the wind.

  The whipping air swept away the scent of salt, even the perspiration from my brows. I could see how those big ships could fill their sails and travel the world. Thomas’s Mary had caught some. I last heard, he was in Scotland.

  The closer Polk’s boat came, the more we were gobbled up in the ship’s shadow.

  I saw Captain Henry looking down at us through a scope.

  Blue jacket painted in gold braiding, he looked regal, standing at his wheel.

  A raft with women passed us. They were heading back to shore.

  I almost wanted to cover Edward’s eyes at the scantily clad souls. Such pretty brown and white faces with tunics showing off their bosoms—prostitutes. I’d heard that they visited soldiers at their boats. I thought it a joke.

  I looked down. Didn’t want these women to think I judged them. I didn’t. They did what they had to do. I was lucky my path changed.

  “Miss Kirwan.” The prince’s voice boomed. “You coming aboard?”

  “I was invited.”

  “That you are, lass, but I didn’t think you’d show.”

  He put the scope into his jacket and waved to a fellow who tossed down a rope ladder.

  Polk piloted the Dolus closer until I could clasp the last rung. “You sure you about this, Miss Dolly?”

  “Yes. I’m going to show Edward that there’s nothing scary out here in the water.”

  “Mama, I’m not afraid of much. Mr. Thomas used to take me.” My boy’s head fell back as he eyed the frigate. “Mama, this doesn’t quite seem safe.”

  “It’s high, Edward. But I’m going to do it.”

  I had my boots on. My striped dress was short, exposing my ankles. I used to climb trees in Montserrat, until Nicholas showed me Cudjoe’s feet.

  The niggling fear of my brother’s terror was mostly gone. I climbed the wobbly thing like I was Mamaí’s powerful goddess, Èrzulie Dantòr, one she’d learned about from neighbors.

  Edward needed to see me brave again. “Polk, you journey about the coast. Be back in an hour.”

  He grunted. “Not a minute longer, Miss Dolly.”

  When I made it to the top, I knew daring me had returned. I waved at the Dolus as they floated away.

  The prince held his hand to me. “Welcome aboard.”

  A few men seemed to laugh. Others stared, but I wasn’t there for them.

  “Captain, you have a very big ship here.”

  “Better to sail the seas than your little boat.” He took me along his deck and gangplanks. “This is a frigate, one of His Majesty’s most powerful weapons.”

  It was beautiful, a celebration of wood and fabric and metal.

  “The foremast, main mast, and mizzen harness the power of the wind, Miss Kirwan.”

  My heart couldn’t imagine what it felt like crossing the sea. “Where’s the farthest you’ve been, Captain?”

  “Here, the Americas, many places about the sea. I can say I’ve seen the world.”

  With his men looking on, the prince led me from stem to bow, from larboard to starboard, and everywhere in between. He pointed and puffed out his chest. “Now, Miss Kirwan, let me show you below. Down the ladderway.”

  My pulse pounded. I gripped my elbow and twisted the ribbons on my smooth half sleeve. “Below? That’s where they keep cargo.”

  “Yes, cannonballs, bread, my sailors and gunports. Nothing else.”

  His gaze at me wasn’t ignorant to my true question. Just ’cause no singing boats were in port today didn’t make them not exist. Just ’cause my skin was covered in lace and silk didn’t mean the slave songs weren’t in my soul.

  As if flutes played, his palm waved before me. Then his fingers froze. He waited as if it was an easy thing to follow him.

  We’d spent enough time together these past weeks. I was in no more danger from the son of the king than I was his crew.

  “Trust me a little more, Miss Kirwan. Down you go.”

  Remembering I was brave, I clasped the wooden ladder and went below. Soon my boots planted on flooring, more decking.

  The prince zipped down and seized my waist. Within the circle of his arms, he held me, smiling in the darkness, the low light.

  “Oh, yes, back to our tour. You’re in the wardroom bulkhead. To port is the first lieutenant’s cabin. Let me show you.”

  He danced me into a room, one with a hammock tied to each wall and a desk for writing. “See? Much better.”

  His arms were about me again. The way he touched me, the way I swayed—we didn’t need music to share this rhythm. It was too much to feel for a man about to leave. I wriggled from William, scooted under the hammock, and looked out a window hole.

  He joined me with his chin on my shoulder. “Will you miss me when I’m gone?”

  “Yes. You’ve made Roseau come to life. Is this the bowels? Is there more?”

  The prince spun me. The passion in his eyes made them jet. “I want to look at you.”

  His cologne water or soap teased of lavender.

  His tightening embrace said he wanted more than a kiss.

  Wasn’t sure what I wanted.

  Skittish, I dipped underneath the hammock sliding to the other side, readying for the door. “Where’s your next port.”

  “Barbados.”

  Fingering the tan canvas and the jute rope that anchored it, I pushed the hammock. It swung from me to him. “People sleep on this? Doesn’t look that comfortable. Couldn’t you put a bed in here?”

  “We could, but then the Pegasus wouldn’t have enough room for all my men. A hammock provides a certain amount of stability.”

  He slipped beneath the thing and stood beside me. “A demonstration?”

  Thinking he’d climb on I nodded, but his hands went about my waist and he cast me on it.

  I bounced as the thing moved. “This would be comfortable, if I were a fish.”

  He laughed and swung it faster. There was no getting out without tumbling.

  “See, very stable. In fact, Miss Kirwan”—he climbed atop and straddled me—“It’s cozy enough for two.”

  His eyes found mine. The rhythm of the rocking danced in my head. He sank toward me. I almost rose to him, with him looking at me, readying to devour me.

  “I should be going. You have—”

  A young man stepped into the quarters. “Captain, sir? Hmmm. That’s my bunk.”

  “You’ll have it back in a moment, Lieutenant. I’m just showing Miss Kirwan a thing or two about a sailor’s life.”

  I hid my face, pulling into his jacket. That must’ve made it seem worse.

  “Lieutenant,” the prince said with a chuckle, “I just need to say good-bye to Miss Kirwan.”

  The fellow covered his eyes, peeking through his fingers as he spun and darted away.

  “He’s new.” The prince hopped down. “He fumbles over titles but has such a nose for gossip.”

  “I don’t think you care much about your princely title, only that you dance better than most men.”

  Prince William lifted me high then brought me to the floor. His hands remained on my thighs.

  I patted his fingers away. “Thank you for the tour.”

  “Now, Miss Kirwan, don’t be like that. You can’t blame a man for searching.”

  I looked up into his eyes and the grin that made him seem boyish and misguided. “I think you brought the wrong woman on board.”

  “No, I brought the right one. I don’t have the time to show her.”

  “My son and my boat captain will return shortly.”

  He brushed his lips along my cheek. “I’ll need a proper good-bye. See me off with a kiss.”

  “That sounds like a command.”

  “I sense you’d rather give
orders. That won’t do with me.”

  With my pinkie, I flicked a ribbon adorning his uniform. “Then how will this end, my dear prince?”

  His arms wound around me. The medals on his jacket made a tingling noise. “One of us must bend.”

  “Maybe it’s a tie for evenly matched friends.”

  “Tied to a friend is better. Miss Dorothy, if I can manage port again in Dominica, will you call on me?”

  “I must do the seeking? I thought that was princely business.”

  “Yes, to search for a queen or a princess or a slipper, so I’ve heard.”

  “I’m not a shoe, and I am too old to be a princess.”

  “Well, Queen of Dominica, let this simple sea captain be sent away with the memory of the beauty he left behind.”

  My fingers clasped his thick lapels. I saw a month of laughs and lightness in his face. No love at all. That was fine by me. I’d be his Dominica kiss.

  I took his square chin in my palm. On tiptoes, I claimed his gaze. “Then I can pretend, too.”

  I kissed him, kissed like a woman sending away a lover, like a woman hungry for affection, like a woman owning her need.

  When his hands fingered the edge of my bodice, I pushed away. “Time to go. You must ready your crew.”

  “Sometimes being a dutiful sailor is dull.” He dipped his chin. “I’ll be back. Finish what I start. That’s a motto to live by.”

  After climbing back to the top deck, the prince walked me to the wobbly ladder. It didn’t take long for Polk and Edward to return. In the safety of the sloop, I waved.

  My prince watched from his deck. It made me smile, knowing a prince wanted me and would think of me every time he approached Dominica.

  That made me smile bigger.

  Polk, sweet Polk grimaced, and I grinned even more.

  Dominica 1786: A Kindling

  Frances crawled about my feet. She cooed and bumped into the sofa.

  “Are you telling me we need more room?”

  Mamaí wobbled down the stairs with a pile of blankets.

  With one eye on Frances and the other on my mother, I bounced up and grabbed the lot. “You don’t need to be carrying such things.”

  I put the blankets on the sofa. “The next place I lease will have a room for you to work downstairs. A nursery just for Frances. And something for Edward. He’s the man of the house, you know. Maybe he needs something that will not tax him, too.”