by J. Jay Kamp
Chapter Twenty-Three
A few hours after dawn, Ravenna felt fingers shaking her awake. “There’s Indians coming,” Paul whispered in her ear.
Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, Ravenna looked down to see canoes surrounding Discovery’s sides. Native men chanted in time with their oars as they circled the ship; sea-otter skins were tossed on deck as a gesture of the Indians’ trading intentions, and grabbing her chemise from the mess of their clothes, Ravenna hurried to cover herself. She knew at the merest suggestion of commerce every sailor would be on deck, and if just one of them were to look up, Vancouver would hear about how she’d been naked. Then she’d really be in trouble, or worse—Paul would.
By the time Vancouver appeared, however, everyone was fully clothed. Ravenna climbed down the shrouds in a rush, and as she followed Paul, clutched her skirts together and hoped nobody had seen her sans chemise, she saw the Indians come aboard and greet Vancouver with friendly smiles.
Like I needed to worry, she thought. Vancouver—as well as everyone else—was totally immersed in talking to the native guests. Although she didn’t understand their Chinook jargon or the gestures they used, she heard the translation: The chief of the village had invited Vancouver to come ashore.
Soon the pinnace was swayed out and lowered to the main chains. Officers and marines were picked from the company, and in the midst of this, with Mr. Whidbey at his arm entertaining the guests, the captain called Paul and James forward.
“I have a job for you,” he said to James, “another sporting excursion, if you will. I’ve sent for your muskets, and this chief, he’ll direct you to the best hunting grounds, lest there be any confusion.” He gave Paul an obvious glare, and without waiting for an answer from either of them, Vancouver went back to talking with Whidbey.
Ravenna was in shock. Go ashore? Here? Admiring native villages from the safety of Discovery, even greeting nice people like this friendly chief, these were controlled situations, supervised by sixteen well-armed marines. To send Paul ashore by himself with only James to guard him…this was madness. Ravenna was more than frightened. There’s a river over there, she thought with a tremble.
Paul seemed to be thinking the same thing, for as the sailors and officers hurried into the pinnace, he didn’t move. After a moment, James bent down and whispered in his ear, and Ravenna could easily guess what he’d said: Don’t do it, my friend.
Paul glanced at James nervously; he scanned the crowd until finally, having found Ravenna, he said the words that made her feel a bit better. “Permission to remain aboard, Sir.”
Vancouver turned around. He didn’t speak, but it was obvious when he glowered at Paul that the captain wouldn’t tolerate his orders being questioned. Still Paul went on. “Em…I suppose I can’t justify myself,” and he didn’t take his eyes from Ravenna’s, so she felt his uncertainty when he continued, “In fact, I reckon there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go ashore, but—”
Vancouver glanced around to see what Paul stared at. He found only sailors. Ravenna had ducked.
Wise to the situation all the same, Vancouver turned back to Whidbey and the otter pelts. “Get in the boat, Killiney,” he said. “You’ll act as your captain dictates, not your woman.”
Paul’s lips tightened before he answered. “I’m not trying t’be disrespectful, here, but if you think I’ll walk into an Indian village—”
“You will, Killiney, or I’ll arrest not only you, but Lady Elizabeth, as well.”
“But she’s told you about the Columbia River, hasn’t she?” Paul glanced at Puget for support. “What about the strait that Cook said didn’t exist? She’s not been lying, she’s been tellin’ you history, and I wouldn’t think you’d be daft enough t’send me down a river, yeah?”
“Do you hear yourself, Killiney, Sir?” An uneasy silence settled amongst the men as Vancouver turned slowly, his words intended for everyone. “My orders aren’t for pondering, they’re for execution, by able seamen such as yourself, for that is what you are, Sir. You’re not a viscount on my ship, you’re a sailor, a crewman, an ordinary subordinate. Now leave off the woman and get in the boat.”
“You can’t stand the thought of it, can you?” Still Paul didn’t budge, but stood fiercely waiting for Vancouver to answer.
Vancouver didn’t answer.
“You just can’t bear havin’ a woman knowing something you don’t,” he continued, glaring at the captain, “only you’ve not got the guts to admit as much, that Ravenna’s been right all along about Vancouver Island, about your illness an’ that. You’d kill me before you’d say it—”
That was the breaking point. With a shout, Vancouver had the marines up and running, along with Mr. Whidbey who was big enough to intimidate even Paul. Together they stormed toward him, and seeing them, his back straightening with defiance, Paul stared down the sailing master, raised his fists against the marines.
“Come on, now, m’lord,” Whidbey said softly. “You’d best do as the captain says. You don’t want m’lady locked up in chains?”
Paul tensed as Private Bonchin stepped nearer.
“I’ll do it, Killiney,” Vancouver called across the deck, and with a dip of his head, he signaled Puget to detain Ravenna.
After that, all hell broke loose.
Ravenna was dragged toward the companionway. The irons were brought out, and when James saw them, he turned on Vancouver, face contorting furiously as he threatened legal action and disembowelment, spitting on the captain with the force of his shouts. The crew erupted in response to this attack, cheering James on, siding with him, so that six more marines were dispatched to control both James and the mutiny-minded sailors.
All this and Paul didn’t move. Marines surrounded him on every side. From within Puget’s grasp, Ravenna felt weak when she saw Mr. Whidbey motion toward the larboard rail, saw Paul utter a curse and grudgingly turn in that direction.
“Paul!” she cried, and fighting to make her voice heard, she struggled against Puget. “I don’t care if they chain me, I don’t care what they do—”
But with his hands held fast behind his back, Paul had made up his mind. The marines walked him toward the boats, and although there were yards of planking between them, Ravenna could still see the emotion in Paul’s eyes. Love you, he mouthed, and she felt an icy dread deep in her heart when they forced him around at the railing, turned him to face Vancouver. Mr. Whidbey gave him a shove, but Paul couldn’t be budged from delivering to the captain one last violent glare before he was ushered toward the waiting boat. The six marines holding James in check now released him, pushing him forward, and Ravenna heard him swear as he followed Paul over the side.
Frantic, terrified, she wanted to scream at Vancouver, urge Paul to fight his way back on board, take her ashore with him, anything other than simply give up.
But she didn’t make a sound. Puget released her as soon as Vancouver had boarded the pinnace, and she watched in silence when they cast off from Discovery’s side.
Paul’s defeated eyes remained locked onto hers until at last the distance became too great. Then Ravenna strained to see the boat beached at the village, where Paul with his gun got out and lumbered up the hillside through the painted houses. James’s tall figure was ever beside him, and after some discussion with their native hosts, the entire party ducked through the central door of the largest of the houses and disappeared from view.
