by Dana Roquet
“You will be staying in a port town—you are lucky on that count. But most of the upper colonies are rather prudish. No theatre or balls. Not so many years ago, you might well have found yourself with your head and hands in stocks displayed for public humiliation due to your rich, costly clothing. Thanks to the religious fanatics. Taverns and drinking have only recently become commonplace. If you happen to see a poor fellow with a D burnt into his forehead, you will know that he most certainly was charged as a drunkard in years past.”
“Mon Dieu!” Desiree gasped, “You are certain it has changed?”
“Fear not my sweet—you have heard how it was—now you can be pleasantly surprised by the improvements, bleak though they still may seem, compared with France.” He laughed.
***
Evenings had become a terrible bore for Bridgett and Desiree. As the sun waned, they were forced to light candles about the cabin, making reading drudgery, in the inadequate light. They had begun retiring early, for lack of better pastimes, until one night an invitation had come from the captain to join him in his quarters for dinner and it had quickly become the high point of their days. Many pleasant evenings were spent in his company, sharing conversation and an occasional game of cards or chess.
Stephen found himself trying to teach the women the most basic theory behind games of chance and skill. Never having the inclination or opportunity to learn such things, they struggled to comprehend. Or at least they appeared to struggle. He wasn’t convinced that either of them had as much trouble understanding as they professed.
One such evening, while Stephen explained the basics of chess, Desiree and Bridgett giggled, teary-eyed with mirth. Desiree was making it as difficult for him as possible, he felt certain.
“Now these are your kings, queens, pawns, knights…” he began, pointing out each piece while attempting to explain their movements and limitations.
“Why I don’t believe this looks one little bit like our dear Louie!” Desiree interrupted, picking up the tooled cherry wood king and examining it closely by candlelight for a resemblance. She pursed her lips, shaking her head, “Absolutely no likeness whatsoever—much too thin for Louie. What do you think Bridgett?”
Desiree placed the small figure into Bridgett’s hand for her scrutiny and then squelched a giggle, catching Stephen’s expression of disbelief over their ridiculous perusal of the piece.
“Definitely not our King—not a trace of a likeness! Captain Colter you have been taken I am afraid.” Bridgett announced, shaking her head in mock sympathy.
“Ladies please!” Stephen groaned, rubbing his brow as if pained. He sighed heavily, then snatched the figure from Bridgett’s hand with exaggerated effort, “If you are going to continue with this foolery, then I refuse to try and instruct you further!”
He set the piece back upon the board firmly, giving Desiree a stern scowl when she laughed at him. Then he sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and waited silently for them to finish their merrymaking.
Desiree finally gave in and reached out to pat his shoulder consolingly, “I am sorry Captain. I honestly do wish to learn. I shall be good—I promise.” She said with feeling, until he gave her a comical look from beneath lowered brows, causing her to burst into giggles once more.
“You will be quiet and listen?” he scowled, not quite convincing either of them of his anger. Desiree grinned and crossed her heart with an overstated nod of her head. He looked to Bridgett and she too, nodded enthusiastically.
“All right—but I am only going over this once, so pay attention.” He warned, leaning forward over the playing board once more.
Desiree studied his face while he was engrossed in his instruction and was totally consumed with affection for this man. At every turn, he showed a bit more of himself. Showing his fun-loving nature and quick wit and she wanted nothing more than to be in his company. With each day and each week that passed, she felt herself being drawn to him, more and more. She found also, that when she was not seeking him out, he seemed to be seeking her. In but a few short weeks, they had surpassed even her relationship with Rene’, which had taken years to acquire.
Chapter Eleven
Desiree leaned next to Stephen at the helm. He held the spokes of the large wheel loosely, as the ship moved smooth and even, running with the wind. The sails were taut, with a steady draw and the moaning and creaking of the timbers was comforting, almost like a soothing symphony of winds and strings. It was a quiet, peaceful time for the crew of the Windward.
“Stephen?” Desiree questioned, smiling coyly up into his eyes.
“Ah-huh.” He replied, raising his brows expectantly.
“I have never asked before but—are you married?”
He face lit up with his usual engaging grin, “Would I be paying such constant attention to you if I were?” he asked in return.
“That is not an answer.” She gently rebuked him.
“No Desiree I am not married.” His grin mellowed to a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Why the sudden curiosity in my marital status? You wouldn’t be setting your sights on me would you?”
His outrageously cocky grin returned when her mouth fell open in surprise and she snapped, “I was simply making conversation and a very common inquiry! I am not one to set my sights on any man!” she lifted her nose, expressing a definite snub and whirled around to depart.
Stephen reached out, grasping her arm to halt her departure and chuckled warmly, “Here now—come on, don’t go. I apologize.”
She looked up into eyes that were sincere but it irritated her that he thought her capable of such schemes. She felt he should know by now that she would never even think along those lines. She had spent so many years detesting that very trait in girls that were her peers—to be accused of the same, was a grave insult. He had spoken it lightly as a jest, but the thought had irked her just the same. It took her a few moments of angry brooding before her mood regained its gaiety and she ventured to ask him another question.
“Would you tell me of your homeland Stephen? You are obviously not from Europe, unless England but then your accent is odd, even for there.”
She pulled her flowing hair over her shoulder, twisting it and held it with one hand to prevent its whipping about in the wind. Stephen admired the long white column of her throat with undisguised pleasure. With her head tilted slightly to one side and soft alluring eyes slanting up at him, he felt a warming in his loins. He regarded her for a moment thoughtfully, before putting his longing, once more, to the back of his mind.
“My family originally was from England as a matter of fact—but many years ago. My parents, as a young couple, set off from England for the New World; more or less on the northern route we are taking now but a storm blew their column of ships far off course.” he pointed off port, to the south. “The ship went down on a treacherous coral reef that surrounds the Bermuda Islands—a reef that has claimed many a ship. My parents were stranded on one of the islands and fell in love with the tropical charm. They stayed on and bought rights to some land from the British—the Virginia Company and my father built a merchant trade with the West Indies, Europe, the Colonies and now the Orient. Three brothers and I were born on the isle; hence my accent is a bit diminished.” He gazed into the violet blue eyes contemplating him. “Does that satisfy your curiosity my sweet?”
Desiree nodded with a gentle smile, feeling close to him for his openness.
“So!” Stephen said, flashing a grin, “Now you must tell me of your life. Tell me of your family—your home.” He paused as he saw a shadow of pain cross her face and her eyes lowered. Slowly she walked around to the opposite side of the binnacle, releasing her hair to fly free in the wind and stroking the smooth glass of the large compass.
“What is it Desiree? Your eyes have lost their light. Don’t you wish to tell me of your home?”
Desiree brought her eyes up to meet his. Puzzlement was evident on his handsome face, “It isn’t
that Stephen—it still seems too fresh to talk of—at least certain things—but let me see…” her face brightened, “I am from just outside the town of Rouen, on the Seine. Not far from Le Havre, where we first met.” she crinkled her eyes accusingly, remembering that first meeting.
Stephen lifted both hands from the wheel, palms toward her as if surrendering. He grinned with a shrug of his broad shoulders and took hold of the wheel again. He lifted his brows and pointed a finger at her, “Rouen—cotton and woolens!” he announced, proud of his limited knowledge of the busy little town.
“Oui for years my father has exported those very items. You might well have been doing business with him unknowingly. Aside from that, the only distinction of Rouen is the fact that Joan of Arc burned at the stake in our town, centuries ago.”
“Aye, I’ve heard of that story. Not a very honorable distinction for your home.” He quipped with a wry smile.
“True Captain it is not but then—it was you English who did the deed.” Desiree reminded him.
“But what of your family? Have you a throng of beautiful sisters at home?” he leered slyly but his mood sobered as he watched a tear slip down her lovely face. The full lips trembled slightly.
“I’m afraid—”she wiped her eyes impatiently, “I am sorry Stephen but you see—I have no family at all.” She wiped at her eyes again, angered by her inability to stop the flow.
Stephen slapped at the back of his breeches and the pocket of his shirt, searching for a kerchief but she shook her head, digging through the folds of her skirt, finding her pocket and producing a white lace handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and tried to smile but instead, it turned to a trembling frown.
“I never used to cry so easily but of late that is all I seem to do. I am so embarrassed.”
He shook his head, with a gentle and concerned expression, “Don’t be silly Desiree.”
She sighed a trembling breath and continued bravely, “I have no brothers or sisters and just weeks prior to our setting sail; my parents were both killed in a carriage accident.” She looked out over the blue green water, taking another deep breath and turned back to him. He waited patiently, understanding of her pauses, “Murdered—they were both murdered. It was discovered that the axle had been tampered with intentionally and just days later—our home was burnt to the ground. Someone meant for me to parish in the blaze, for I was left unconscious in an upstairs room. Bridgett and Mary our housekeeper rescued me from certain death. We have no clue as to who wishes me dead.” She slowly walked back to stand at his side, “That is my reason for this excursion. It is unsafe for me in France.” She finished with a sad smile.
On impulse, Stephen reached out and pulled her to him, “I am so very sorry Desiree. I had no idea.” He whispered softly, with his lips touching her silken hair at the crown of her head. His arm slipped over her shoulder and across her back, resting about her waist, feeling compelled to comfort her with no underlying motive.
Desiree allowed herself to relax against his solid frame, feeling the sturdiness of his body against her. She rested her cheek upon his chest and the slow, steady pounding of his heart brought a sense of warmth to her—secure and sheltering. She felt at home in his embrace.
After a brief minute Desiree pulled back, feeling more in control, “Forgive me for my tears Stephen and the damper I seem to have put upon our afternoon. Please excuse me—I believe I shall go to my cabin for awhile.”
She lifted on her toes, her hands lightly resting upon his shoulders as she placed a light kiss upon first one cheek and then the other and walked down the steps, disappearing beneath the stern castle.
Stephen watched her decent and had an urge to follow her, to hold her within his arms and wash away all the sadness. He felt distressed by her distress, oddly, his thoughts unselfish; wanting only to see her happy. It was a strange revelation of a deep regard for her, as a person and loving companion.
***
Desiree sat at the table, a warm cup of tea held before her lips, as she lightly blew to cool the steaming liquid. Her eyes lifted to Bridgett who was seated across from her and the concern was obvious on her nurse’s face as she watched her tears slip down her cheeks, unchecked.
“I am fine, truly I am. I told the Captain of my parents, bringing the pain a bit too close to the surface. I will be fine.” She assured, sipping from her cup.
Chapter Twelve
After more than a month of perfect weather, this morning had heralded bright enough. The sun was warm and brilliant in its intensity. Desiree stood at the helm rail, as always of late, near Stephen, as he fought for control of the ship with the heaving sea. To the northwest a black blanket of angry clouds slowly spread, intending without doubt, to cover the entire sky.
“It shall be upon us soon!” Stephen called, above the singing of the wind in the sails.
Desiree braced herself against the railing as the ship heaved beneath her. The sea churned at an ever-increasing pitch, plunging and rising, sending her stomach into a squeamish lurching. She watched as water began breaking over the bow in a fine spray. The vessel seemed to drop into large holes on the ocean surface, only to haul back up to the crest, before plunging once more into a trough.
Desiree turned from the sickening movement to face Stephen with her hand clutched over her stomach. Stephen chuckled but the sound was carried away in the wind and she frowned at his amused smile.
“How long will the sea be like this?” she shouted, moving to grasp the binnacle at a momentary lull before a plunge.
“Its only begun my sweet.” He surveyed the rapidly approaching storm, now able to see streaks of lightening slashing through the menacing clouds, “This could go on for days!—Desiree you had best make your way below, before those clouds are upon us.” he said with a grin, watching her wince with another buck of the ship.
She nodded, turning away but turned back, “You will be careful won’t you?” she asked, unsure of why she should feel concerned.
“No worries Desiree. This will pass—they always do.” He smiled reassuringly.
She turned and made her way once more to the railing and she slowly walked to the stairs. She glanced back at Stephen, shouting above the roaring wind, “Days?” she asked, unable to bear the thought.
Stephen’s eyes gleamed with warmth, taking in her enchanting beauty. With a slow nod, he smiled softly and Desiree rolled her eyes with a shake of her head and then moved down the stairs disappearing below. The smile slowly waned from Stephen’s lips and he grew serious, as he watched the boiling blackness racing toward them.
***
The wind gained force throughout the day. By midday the sun seemed to have set. The only light, a dark leaden gray that masked any horizon and the ocean took on the same dark ashen hues beneath frothing whitecaps. A fine mist began to fall.
Stephen relinquished the helm briefly at around noon, going below to don foul weather gear; his much used leather jacket and long breeches, tanned to repel water. He sat to a quick meal, downed a warm cup of coffee and then headed back up on deck, to prepare to do battle with the sea.
By dusk, the wind grew to a ferocious pitch and the rain cut like small barbs into exposed flesh. Stephen and his first mate Davison remained at the helm as men set the sails, bringing in most of the sheets but the forward tops and the ship dug its heels into the wind or tacked leeward as the dance began. The sea plunged over the bow, sending a shower of chill droplets against the men as they set about running up or bringing down the sails in response to the roll of the ship. Lifelines were secured on deck from mast to mast and the battle against the gale began in earnest.
***
Night closed in, with a pitch-blackness that engulfed the sea. Not a star, not the slightest hint of the moon broke through the dense cloud cover. Within their cabin, lanterns pierced the blackness, where Bridgett and Desiree fought to stay upright against the pitching and yawing. The timbers creaked and moaned, as if they would be torn asunder and the combination of elem
ents caused Bridgett to become dizzy and nauseated and she crouched upon her bunk, leaning against the wall. Her face was white and tense as she tried desperately to keep the room in proper focus. Desiree also had no choice but to sit upon her bed, where it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay astride, as the ship was tossed like a leaf upon the raging sea.
With his hair wildly mussed and soaking wet and his leather clothing dripping puddles upon the wooden floor, Ham entered, carrying a tray bearing their evening fare. Desiree made her way to the table and seated herself, eyeing the unappetizing contents. Salt pork and hard rolls; obviously the cook was unable to do more with the intense storm raging.
“Ladies I am afraid this meager fare will have to do for now, until the storm abates.” Ham confirmed as he wiped droplets of water from his face and with a smile, he turned to go.
Bridgett joined Desiree and the two grabbed the tray to keep it from slipping off the table as the ship tilted sharply.
“Ham are we in danger? Is this storm unusual?” Desiree asked.
Ham stopped at the door, turning back to face them. He slapped at his wet clothing with a wide grin, “No not unusual and don’t fret, it’s well in hand. We have weathered far worse than this! At least it is spring! Storms on the Atlantic in winter, now those are a seaman’s nightmare. This—” he held his arms out, with eyes upturned as if looking into the angry sky, “This is but a bit of fun. A welcome break in the monotony, don’t you think?” he chuckled at their open-mouthed surprise, “Best get back ladies. Enjoy your meal. I regret it couldn’t be more.” He stomped out, closing the door firmly behind him.
