Beyond the Savage Sea

by JoAnn Wendt

  Working together, she and Drake tended to the details. They stocked up on supplies: tools, clothing, food staples, medicines. They ordered extra parts for the grinders, agreeing that it was better to be prepared than to take a chance that Matthew Plum and Alvis Nansellock might reach mid-harvest and find themselves with a broken grinder. They applied to the governor for tickets to leave the colony, and notified the other planters. Determined to avoid pirates, Drake booked passage for them on a safe, well-armed ship.

  As the time to leave drew near, Edwinna’s anxiety grew. She was leaving her home, her plantation, everyone she loved. She began carrying Tutu everywhere, hugging and kissing him. She wouldn’t see him for a whole year.

  “Mixed feelings?” Drake said as they lay in bed too excited to sleep the night before they were to sail.

  “Yes. I will miss being here for Kena’s baby.”

  “David will write us.”

  “I know. But it’s not the same. And I worry that Thomas and Harry will come home while I’m gone.”

  Drake lifted up on one elbow and gazed at her. “That would be all to the good, would it not? Then they’ll be here when you return.”

  “That’s true. But...I will miss them all—Tutu, Kena, Matthew Plum, David, Macaw, the boiling house, the grinder, everything.” Then, lest he think she didn’t want to go with him, she gave him a fierce look. “But it will be thrilling to be in London. I can watch my sugar come in by ship.”

  He looked at her with amusement. “I’ll take you down to the docks every day and let you knock on sugar hogsheads to your heart’s content.” She smiled. She liked it when he teased her. She felt loved, even though she knew he extent of that love was limited.

  “Do you have regrets, Edwinna?” Drake asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Do you?”

  He covered her mouth with his and kissed her with passion.

  “None. Not one regret.”

  They sailed out of Bridgetown on the afternoon tide, standing in the stern of the ship, watching the island slip past them. Sailing past Speightstown, they looked up the terraced hillsides to the plateau and saw the tip of their own windmill above the cane fields. Edwinna swallowed with emotion. Drake squeezed her waist.

  “You’ll come back.”

  “I know.” But she could not help wondering. Would he?

  * * *

  Chapter 17

  Years later, when Edwinna looked back on it, she remembered the voyage as the happiest time of her life—a honeymoon spent in the arms of the man she’d sworn to love, honor, and obey.

  The trip was glorious. She was seasick the first two days when the ship left the calm Caribbean and plowed into the rough Atlantic Ocean, but she soon got better and took to sailing with zest. When she’d recovered, she found Drake eager—his arms waiting for her, his mouth curved with passion, and his ways in bed wildly exciting.

  If she never got to heaven, this would do, this bit of paradise with Drake—lying in his arms every night, being his companion every day. With the vast, unending sea surrounding them, the ship became their little world and they the only people in it.

  At leisure for the first time in their hardworking lives, they spent all of their time together, and with immense pleasure. They made love, they talked for hours on end. Drake shared himself with her, told her private things: his goals, his aspirations, his disappointments, his philosophy of life, his intense love for his children. He didn’t speak of Anne. He kept that private, sacrosanct, shut away from her. More than if he’d spoken of her, it told Edwinna how much he had loved Anne.

  Yet Edwinna knew he was pleased with her. She saw the fondness in his eyes. She tried to please him in small ways. Because he liked it that way, she wore her hair unbraided, loose, wind-tossed, full of sea air and sunshine. Occasionally, she put on a gown because he smiled so whenever she did. She would wear gowns in London, of course. She wouldn’t embarrass Drake by wearing breeches. But aboard ship, breeches and shirt were more practical. Sometimes, sunning themselves in the privacy of the rear deck, Drake’s muscular chest bare, he would gently remove her shirt, too, giving her sun; and he would lie there with his spiky black lashes partly closed, watching her. Now and then he would lean over and take her swollen nipple into his warm, wet mouth and suckle. She trembled with anticipation whenever that private, intimate gleam came into his eyes. She wondered if all the things they did in bed were normal. Then she decided she didn’t care. If she and Drake were happy doing them, that was all that mattered.

  Drake encouraged her to talk during that long, leisurely voyage. With her love for him growing every day and her trust deepening, she unlocked her heart and told him things she’d never revealed to anyone. Painful things. Childhood things. How she’d felt when her mother had left. Her father’s beatings. How she’d loved her father despite the beatings. His terrifying bouts of drunkenness. And the worst—his ultimate violation. Drake held her in his arms in the darkness of their small cabin, rocking her back and forth.

  “The wounds need to heal, Edwinna. They won’t heal unless you speak of these things. You need to say them with your own lips. You need to hear yourself saying them. And you need to grieve a little. I am here for you. Lean on me. I’m here.”

  So she experienced a deep cleansing of her soul on that voyage. She gained a sweet peace. Not a complete peace; she would never have that. She knew she would never be completely healed. But at least the bitterness was passing. In its wake came an aching wish: She wished her father had loved her.

  The ship anchored in Lisbon, Portugal, for two weeks, and here Edwinna saw a new side of Drake—the businessman. He shopped wine, buying for his business.

  Taking an interpreter along, they visited a different winery every day. She watched and listened with admiration. Wine was his element. He knew it as well as she knew sugar. He knew everything about it—what it should taste like in each stage of its fermentation, what it should smell like, look like. He knew which sediments should be in it and which should not. He also knew the price he wanted to pay and drove a hard bargain. He bought sixty barrels of assorted Portuguese wine, and they paid for it with sugar that they’d shipped with them.

  When he gave her an odd look one day and said, “I’m truly surprised to find you interested in my wine business,” she suddenly guessed Anne had not been interested..

  “Of course, I want to learn about wine,” she assured him. She wondered if it had hurt him, Anne not being interested. He would never say. That was private. But she knew the answer. Of course it had hurt.

  As the ship sailed north, Edwinna experienced her first cold weather. Though Drake insisted the weather was merely cool, she shivered, bundled in the wool cloak he’d had made for her in Bridgetown. She huddled in it for the rest of the journey. The ship made one more stop—a cold stop in the Channel Islands—where she piled on clothing by the layers while Drake strode about, comfortable in his shirtsleeves, relieved to be out of the Barbados climate.

  “Will we see ice soon?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

  He laughed and took her into his arms. He kissed her nose. “No, Mrs. Steel. This is only October. It’s not cold enough for ice.”

  She shivered. “That is news to me. I’ve never been so cold in my entire life.”

  “There’s only one tried and true way to get you warm, Mrs. Steel.” He whispered in her ear, and she smiled. He held her close. She rested her cheek against his warm shoulder and thought about what he had whispered, about what they would do later. She loved him so much it scared her. She wasn’t used to this much happiness. In her experience, happiness didn’t last. She shivered in foreboding.

  “Still cold?”

  “No. Just—an unpleasant thought.”

  “Then, we’ll have to give you a more pleasant thought.”

  * * * *

  They sailed into London by way of the upper Thames River, heading for St. Katherine’s Docks. Drake grew more tense with every passing minute. She knew his signs. He grew
private, quiet. She didn’t intrude. She left him to his thoughts, which were surely of the children he hadn’t seen in almost two years.

  When they debarked at St. Katherine’s Docks, Drake moved swiftly. He presented their Barbados permits to the customs officer, filled out the necessary paperwork, received their tickets to enter England, then made brisk arrangements for their cargo and trunks. Impatient to be gone, he hired a hackney coach.

  They clattered through the streets of London, Drake tense, she uneasy. She’d dressed carefully, wanting to make Drake proud. Under her cloak was a gown of teal blue wool with a low collar of lace, and she wore a matching hat. She suspected she wasn’t fashionable, but when Drake told her she looked lovely, she smiled proudly. If he was satisfied, so was she. His opinion was all that mattered.

  Drake had dressed carefully, too. He looked incredibly handsome with his deep Caribbean tan, his intense blue eyes, his black hair clubbed neatly to the nape of his neck and tied there with a black ribbon. His broad shoulders were comfortable for once under the coat of the black wool suit made especially for him. Gazing at him with fierce pride, she thought him the handsomest man in the world.

  While Drake sat tensely in the coach, enjoying the city as they rattled by, she watched it with dismay. She disliked London on sight. The sooty air and the close-packed houses made her feel breathless, trapped, as if she might suffocate. The London sun was a pale thing, not the fiery white ball of light it was in the Caribbean. For a moment she missed Barbados unbearably, but when Drake smiled at her, she smiled, too, and said nothing about disliking London. She loved him. If London was where he wanted to be, then so did she.

  “We’re almost there,” he said tensely, taking her hand and kissing it. “My house on Thames Street is closest. We’ll stop there first, to make sure it and my shop and my warehouse are still standing. Then we’ll go to Verity’s home at Cornhill. The children will be there.”

  Drake’s house on Thames Street was as small and as old as he’d described it. The whole of it could fit into Crawford Plantation’s great hall with room to spare. It was locked tight. Drake couldn’t get in. Since it was the Sabbath, his wine shop and warehouse were locked tight, also.

  They climbed into the coach and rumbled on to Cornhill, where Drake leaped out of the coach and banged on Verity’s door. Verity’s house was also small and a bit shabby. The Steel family had indeed suffered for the king’s cause, Edwinna thought with sympathy.

  As Edwinna watched from the coach, Verity’s servant came to the door. Recognizing Drake, the elderly man exploded with joy. The two embraced, talked briefly, then Drake came striding back, gave instructions to the coachman, and leaped in. With a lurch, the coach clattered off smartly.

  “They’re at Highgate Hal!—the whole family. My children are well and healthy. Verity and Arthur have a son, born four months ago.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  “Yes, it is.” Then he frowned. “Old Peel said some confusing things. Never mind. Young or old, he never had but half his wits about him. Verity keeps him on out of compassion, because no one else would be likely to hire him.”

  Drake smiled, took her hand and kissed it, then held it tensely all the way out of London, through the city gate, and out into the countryside. They went about a mile and then turned down a lane, with the coach rumbling along under trees that wore autumn color—burnished brown and saffron yellow.

  “Drake, it’s a beautiful house!” Edwinna exclaimed when he’d helped her dismount at Highgate Hall and sent his hired coach to the stable.

  He smiled broadly, pleased with her praise. She stood in the lane, charmed. The old Tudor mansion had a multitude of gables and steep, irregular, peaked roofs. Each generation of Steels had put its stamp upon the house, adding its own contribution—a small wing here, a new gable there. The surrounding grove of hickory nut trees bathed the old house in a blaze of golden glory. It was breathtaking.

  In the side yard, two children frolicked in fallen leaves and chased each other and shrieked, throwing leaves. Arrested by the sound of the coach, they stopped and turned to look alert, bright as new pennies. Drake drew a ragged breath and gripped her arm. One child was a little boy of about seven who had glistening black hair and wore a Sabbath suit of black wool. The other was a little girl half his age. She had blond curls and wore a long gown of green wool, a matching cape, and a little white cap that tied sweetly under her chin.

  “Oh, Drake,” Edwinna breathed reverently. “Your children are beautiful.”

  “Aboard the pirate ship I feared I would never see them again.” His voice was hoarse with emotion.

  With the natural curiosity of children, they came running. William was the faster. He stopped six feet away from them and stared. Katherine followed and stopped beside her brother.

  Drake went down on one knee and held out his arms.

  “William.”

  William’s intelligent eyes blazed. “Papa!” he whooped and hurled himself into Drake’s arms so hard he nearly knocked Drake over. Drake laughed and hugged him, kissed him. “William. How you’ve grown. You’re so tall.”

  “Papa, Papa, I can ride a pony. Do you want to see me ride? And I caught a fish this long.”

  Precocious, a chatterbox, William talked nonstop while Drake lovingly held him and extended a hand to Katherine. “Katherine? Sweetheart, I am your papa.” Shy, she stayed where she was and stared, thumb in her mouth. She’d been a baby when he’d left England. She didn’t remember him. Meanwhile, William jumped all over Drake, pulling at him, trying to ride on his back. Drake hugged him and kissed him but kept his gaze on Katherine. The eyes he lifted to Edwinna shone with tearful joy.

  “Drake, they’re wonderful,” she said with feeling.

  He smiled with enormous pride, then gave his attention to Katherine. “Katherine,” he coaxed, trying to contain William, who wanted Drake’s entire attention and nothing less. “Do you see this lady? This is the lady who owns Priscilla. This is the lady who drew the pictures for you.”

  The little girl’s eyes grew big. Edwinna dropped to her knees, crisp yellow leaves rustling under her as she brought herself down to the child’s level.

  “Katherine?” Edwinna said gently, “Priscilla sent a big hug for you. Do you want the hug?”

  Katherine nodded solemnly, and Drake and Edwinna looked at each other with their hearts in their throats as Katherine came into Edwinna’s arms with a child’s accepting trust. “Oh, you’re so sweet.” Edwinna hugged her, eyes closed to savor the sweetness. It was like having Tutu in her arms again. “Priscilla also told your papa to give you a hug. Will you let your papa give you Priscilla’s hug?” Katherine nodded and trustingly went into Drake’s arms, or, rather, into his arm, there being only one arm free, with William tugging on the other.

  “Katherine,” he said emotionally. He squeezed her, kissed her, then kissed William.

  Edwinna watched with eyes brimming. She’d been wrong not to send Drake home the instant she had rescued him from Speightstown’s cove. He loved his children so. He belonged with them.

  The four of them sat happily on the warm, sunny ground in the autumn leaves, the children chattering incessantly, she and Drake answering them as best they could. William wanted to drag Drake off and show him everything at once: the roof he’d leaped off when he’d knocked out a baby tooth, a mashed squirrel carcass he’d found, his fishing pole, a dozen other things.

  “But where is Priscilla?” Katherine chirped sweetly.

  “I had to leave her in Barbados, Katherine,” Edwinna said.

  “Can’t you go get her? Right now?”

  Edwinna and Drake shared a smile, Drake’s full of paternal pride. “I’m so sorry, darling. I can’t bring Priscilla to England. She has to stay on my plantation. England is too cold for her. She would get sick.”

  Drake seized Edwinna’s hand and kissed it. “Perhaps, Katherine, we’ll all four of us make a trip to see Priscilla one day. Would you like that?” Though he spo
ke to Katherine, he looked into Edwinna’s eyes. She gazed at him, stunned, love welling up.

  “Oh, Drake.”

  “I mean it, Edwinna. We’ll do it.”

  Her heart swelled. They played with the children, Drake tussling and roughhousing with William, who shrieked in delight while Katherine shunned this wild behavior and sat contentedly in Edwinna’s lap, the two of them talking about Priscilla. Then Drake took each child by the hand, and they all four walked to the house. He suffered an emotional moment standing in front of the old arched front door, his voice going hoarse.

  “It’s been twenty years since I’ve been inside this house.”

  William wrenched the door open and went bounding in, shouting for his Aunt Verity. When they stepped into the entry hall, Drake looked about somberly, choked with emotion. Edwinna looked, too. She saw dark paneling everywhere. It was an old, staunch house. A dark, wide, handsomely carved wooden staircase dominated the entry hall, leading up to a landing and on up to the second floor.

  “Aunt Verity!” William shouted, bounding down an echoing corridor. “Aunt Verity, Papa’s home!” Katherine went bounding after him, taking up the chant. Edwinna smiled. Evidently, Katherine worshiped the ground William walked on.

  “Edwinna,” Drake said with emotion and hugged her close. She could feel the joy in him. He trembled with it.

  “Drake, they’re marvelous. They’re darlings.”

  William and Katherine went bounding out a door at the end of the corridor, into the yard and the fallen leaves, shrieking happily. Drake grinned. “So much for ‘Papa.”

  A door clicked open in the opposite corridor and a woman came clipping toward them. Edwinna stepped back, leaving Drake free. This had to be Verity. She was much as Edwinna had pictured her—sensible looking, of medium build, with Drake’s black hair, which she wore plainly, parted in the middle. Her gown was brown wool, conservatively high-necked.

  “Drake!”

  “Verity!” They hugged and kissed. A fair-haired man who looked slightly older than Drake came following Verity, a broad smile on his delighted face. Verity’s husband, Arthur, Edwinna thought.