The Last Killiney

by J. Jay Kamp

  * * *

  Christmas came as they neared Tahiti. Discovery had been at sea for nearly nine months, and throughout the voyage Vancouver had frequently assembled the men for readings from “The Articles of War,” a document outlining the military code of conduct. In the light of what he’d seen between Paul and Ravenna, Vancouver must have anticipated trouble at the first sight of topless Tahitian women—the captain celebrated the holiday with a lecture.

  Along with the standard “Articles,” he warned the men of the punishments they’d receive if any one of them were caught using ship’s property to earn the bare-breasted women’s affections—a common problem in Tahiti, as many a captain had found his ship stripped of all supplies, fittings, even the nails holding the ship together in order to pay these women for their services. “They’re not to be approached,” Vancouver growled. “There’ll be no sexual intrigue nor foolishness of any sort or heads will fall and hell will be paid!”

  So when he’d ordered Discovery around the main island to a safe mooring, Ravenna approached the captain cautiously. He’d thus far forbidden her shore leave, he claimed in the interest of safety, and now she wanted to go ashore to do the very thing Vancouver forbade. How could she persuade him to let her join Paul? How could she keep from revealing her intentions?

  She approached the captain carefully, sidling up to where he stood waiting for the boats to be lowered. His hand leaned obviously on the railing near his side. He’s tired and hot, Ravenna told herself. He’ll dismiss my request out of hand.

  Still, she had to ask.

  “Sir, I was just wondering if Sarah and I could join the party ashore,” she said in her most respectful tone. “We’d promise to behave ourselves and do exactly as we’re told.”

  Vancouver shifted his attention from the native girls to Ravenna’s request. The captain’s brow knit into a grimace. His leathery face began to glisten under the heat of his hat and, as he glared at her standing beside him, drip with sweat. Here it comes, she thought. I should never have asked, he’ll never in a million years allow me to go.

  But his voice wasn’t angry when he spoke. “Out of the question,” he said to her quietly. Swaying a little, he pointed to the beach with a flimsy wave. “Until matters are considered secure among the natives, no one will leave the ship without direct orders from myself or the senior officers. We will have no…no incidents here.”

  “But I haven’t set foot on land in—”

  “My lady,” and he caught his breath before he continued, “I fully appreciate that you’ve joined us from an era in which matters of this nature are undoubtedly different. However, you do not and will not enjoy the privileges of a man aboard my ship, let alone an officer. I won’t have you stoking mischief at my every turn.” He then raised his voice for the benefit of the entire complement. “There will be no off-duty crew on shore, do you hear? We’ve not come all this way to partake of women!” He turned back to Ravenna with a warning glance. “Now get below with you. I’ve had quite enough.”

  “But I’ve been on this ship for—”

  “I said get below.”

  She hesitated. Across the deck, James must have seen this exchange because he strode across the deck, approached to defend her in the face of Vancouver’s obvious anger. With the fearless expression she saw on James’s face, she was certain she’d begun a war. Yet rather than challenge him, James halted beside Vancouver, stared at him with something like concern.

  She noticed then how Vancouver’s eyes were strangely unfocused. He gripped the railing with talonlike fingers. In an almost imperceptible movement, he appeared to list forward, as if losing his balance.

  “Captain?” James asked, taking a step toward him.

  Swiftly and suddenly, his free hand shot out toward James, keeping him at bay. The glaze lifted from the captain’s eyes, and with a murderous shine that seemed to come from nowhere, he looked up slowly. “Yes, my lord?”

  James paused, glanced at Ravenna. “With all respect, Captain, the women need to go ashore. It’s been nine months. You can’t keep them on board forever.”

  “Can’t I, my lord.” It was a statement, not a question, and whether from lightheadedness or rage, Vancouver was shaking ever so slightly, Ravenna saw it in the skirts of his coat.

  James saw it, too, but still he persisted with the captain stubbornly. “Do you want the women to get sick?” he asked. “Surely from the standpoint of keeping them well, you’d see they need exercise, just like everyone else on this—”

  “You’d have me play governess to young ladies, Wolvesfield?”

  Vancouver’s gaze shifted furiously toward the marines, toward Sergeant Flynn a few yards away. James took his meaning all too well. “They’re my responsibility, yes,” James admitted. “I’ll own that, but—”

  “Then keep your promise, Sir. Women have no place in naval affairs, and I’ll not have them encroaching upon the business of this ship.”