Hot Winds From Bombay

by Becky Lee Weyrich

It was, indeed, a striking room. Victoria Whiddington had given the traveling artist specific instructions, and he had carried them out to the letter, even adding a few imaginative flourishes of his own. The walls depicted the shipbuilding yards at Quoddy Cove, with tall ships riding at anchor beyond in the water. Another section featured the exotic ports Captain Whiddington had visited in his travels—the West Indies with Carib indians in their canoes, fishing the palm-sheltered waters of a turquoise lagoon; the Cape of Good Hope with a storm tossing a square-rigged ship; Madagascar, Bombay, Tahiti, Shanghai. And finally, there was Gay Street, showing in every vivid detail the white, Federal-style house with its porticoed front and widow’s walk high above. A woman and two girls stood in the yard, welcoming a sea captain home, while a black-and-white-spotted dog—Persia’s own contribution to the mural—yapped and cavorted beside the girl with burnt-sienna hair.

  The long table gleamed with white lace, brilliant blue Chinese export dinnerware of the finest grade, crystal from Ireland, and the company best pearl-handled silver flatware. Mrs. Whiddington was not one to let anything go lacking when it came time to entertain, especially if her guests were possible husbands for her daughters.

  As they all took their places, she glanced at the two young men before her. Seton Holloway was everything she wanted in a son-in-law. He was learned, mannerly, attentive at all times to Europa, and best of all, he possessed no longing to go to sea. The absence of such a desire was a unique quality in down-east men, and one to be much sought after in Victoria’s opinion.

  She loved her husband dearly. She had from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him over twenty years before. But that love, warring for the upper hand over his love of the sea, had cost her much through the years.

  He had been thousands of miles away when Europa, their first, was born. He never saw her until she was three years old. Again, when Victoria’s next labor pains started, Asa was half a world away. He had planned to be home for this birth, but their second daughter came early and lived only a few hours. He was there to attend the baby’s funeral, however, since she was born and died in the dead of winter. By the spring thaw, when earth could be turned and the tiny white coffin lowered to its final rest, the captain had sailed his ship home. But as they had stood together in the greening burial ground, holding hands and weeping quietly, she had known that she could never again bear a child alone. There was an ache in one dark part of her heart, put there on that lonely blizzard-wild night when she had given birth and cradled her tiny daughter in her arms as she died, that would never go away again.

  She could no more stand the thought of one of her daughters going through that than she could have allowed her husband to sail off when she found she was in her third pregnancy. She had insisted that Asa stay ashore from that time until Persia was two years old. This was the reason, she felt sure, that their youngest daughter had always been the captain’s favorite.

  And now that favorite, that child the father had taught to love the sea and all its glamour and adventure, was gazing up at another seafaring man—one who could bring her nothing but pain, in Victoria’s estimation.

  Yes, it was good that Europa must marry first, Victoria told herself silently. For she could see in Persia’s eyes a deep emotion and desire that mirrored her own twenty-odd years ago when she’d looked at Asa Whiddington. Victoria ached for her daughter, knowing that pain was ahead for her. If she wanted him—and it was plain that she did—but could not have him, she would be distraught. On the other hand, if by some outside chance they should marry someday, Persia would know a far deeper and more lasting pain. There was nothing so terrible as seeing your man sail away, not knowing when or if he would return.

  Before grace was said and the first course served, Persia’s mother had made up her mind. Never would she allow her youngest to marry a man of the sea!

  Persia meanwhile was thinking thoughts quite to the contrary.

  For a time after Fletcher served the meal, the silence grew as thick as Mrs. Whiddington’s pot roast gravy. Even Persia, lost in her romantic reflections of following her husband to sea, paid close attention to the richly browned beef, potatoes, carrots, and boiled cabbage. She, like other down-east women, possessed a stout appetite that guarded the body and soul against Maine’s freezing winter breath. She had heard that women in the warmer, southern climes ate like birds and were thought unladylike if they ever finished an entire meal. But such delicate belles would never survive outside their hothouse climates. Fuel your body against the cold, her mother had always told her. And Persia was at all times obedient.

  But once the plates were cleared and coffee and a steaming plum pudding served, the diners relaxed and took up polite conversation.

  “Seton, what do you think is the answer to this present financial panic sweeping the country?” the captain asked.

  The lawyer looked slightly embarrassed at being singled out for such a difficult question. He had no answer. No one did.

  “It’s come as a hard blow to the whole country, sir. I hear in Boston the harbor is crowded with ships unable to sail because markets have dried up for lack of funds to purchase cargoes and supplies. I see no end in sight.”

  “Aye,” the captain replied, frowning. “It will get worse before it gets better, I’m afraid. I’ve been thinking of investing as part owner of a ship out of Boston. But with times what they are, I’m not sure I want to risk it.”

  Persia’s eyes lit up. “You’re going to buy your own ship, Father? Why haven’t you told us?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Calm yourself, little sailor. The deal’s not set, and as I said, I’m not sure it ever will be with times what they are.”

  “But Father, you’re a wealthy man. Surely—”

  “Persia,” her mother said in a warning tone. “We don’t discuss finances at the table.”

  “But a ship, Mother! Did you know?”

  Victoria did not, but she wasn’t about to admit it in company. In answer, she only smiled and looked at her husband, letting him know that she would speak to him later.

  “Sir, if I might make a comment?…”

  “Please, Mr. Hazzard. I’d welcome your opinion.”

  “This panic, as I see it, is a passing thing. The United States is too strong economically to stay long in its grip. I would be willing to wager all I own in the world”—Zack paused and cleared his throat, remembering suddenly that he had done exactly that on the previous evening—“little as that is, that in a few months we’ll be coming out of this financial slump. If a man owned a ship and was willing to send it out to trade among the foreign ports at this time, in two or three years when the ship returned, he would make a fortune. Money will be plentiful by then, but foreign goods scarce because of the cutback in shipping activity at the present time.”

  Captain Whiddington was nodding his agreement. “You’ve a good head for business on those broad shoulders of yours, Hazzard. Have you ever thought of seeking an assignment as supercargo on one of our merchantmen?”

  Zack matched his host’s smile, answering, “Oh, I’d like that, sir. But I want more. I’ve been all but guaranteed a promotion to second mate the next time I ship out. I figure in another few years I should be ready to take command myself. Then I’ll act as my own supercargo.”

  Zack pressed the knee next to his under the table and offered Persia a sidelong glance. She smiled, unaware that he was rubbing her sister’s ankle with the toe of his boot at the same time. She welcomed his attention but longed for it to come somewhere besides at the dining room table with her whole family in attendance.

  “I congratulate you, Mr. Hazzard,” said the captain. “It’s not every young man these days who knows what he wants and has the ambition to go after it. You’ll do well, I’m sure.”

  Zack chuckled softly and found Persia’s hand beneath the table. He pressed it to his thigh. “Well, I’d like to think that I’ll realize my goals, Captain, but at times I wonder. Right no
w, I need to get back to sea as quickly as possible. Would you know of a crew needing a second mate, by any chance?”

  Persia turned to stare at the man who was holding her hand, caressing the soft flesh of her palm with his thumb and making her quiver inside and out. He couldn’t mean what he was saying! They had only just found each other. How could he possibly leave her so soon?

  Europa voiced Persia’s own disappointment. “Zack, you can’t go yet! Why, I simply forbid it!”

  Persia seethed and her eyes flashed blue sparks at her sister. Forbid it indeed! Who did Europa think she was to approve or forbid anything that had to do with Zachariah Hazzard? In her anger, she dug her nails into Zack’s hand, making him wince.

  “Mr. Hazzard is quite right, my dear,” the captain said to Europa. “A man must be about his work if he ever hopes to realize his goals. And I might be able to say a word or two to friends in Boston to speed you on your way, Zack.”

  “Bless you, Captain,” Victoria said under her breath. She hadn’t missed the byplay between her younger daughter and the rugged seafarer all through dinner. Although she had no idea what was going on beneath the pristine lace of the tablecloth, from what she could see, the situation was apparently more serious than she had imagined.

  “I would be most obliged, Captain Whiddington. I’m afraid thrift is not one of my virtues. I seem to be in rather straightened circumstances at the moment.”

  The captain’s eyebrow cocked at this. Good Lord, the man had only made port the day before! He must have been paid a small fortune at that time. What could have become of his wages? Had he spent them in advance by borrowing from his shipmates? Or possibly he had been gambling… and losing… while at sea. However he had spent all his money, it was a foolish thing to do in such uncertain times. Suddenly, the captain wondered if Seaman Hazzard was officer material after all. But Zack had continued explaining while the captain’s mind whirled with uncertainties.

  “I should have been planning for this all my adult life, but somehow I never imagined that it would happen to me. Now I realize that I want a home ashore, some anchor to the land. I’d like to give up rented rooms and tavern cooking for all time. But plans like mine take cash. I want to buy some land, build a house, and then perhaps…” Zack let his words trail off but looked meaningfully at Persia and then Europa, flattering each with the intimacy of his unspoken words.

  “Ayah! I know the feeling well,” the captain said. “I remember exactly when it struck me. The first time I set eyes on the lovely Victoria Forsyth. I had to fight my way through a pack of suitors, any one of them a more likely catch than I was at the time. But, mark my words, both of you young men, persistence will win out in the end. And hard work will pay off. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

  He nodded toward his blushing wife.

  “And I’ll tell you another thing, Mr. Hazzard, you have the right idea. Put your money into land. Make a home before you make a family. You’ll be happy for it later on.”

  This remark from the captain, although addressed to Zack, seemed directed at Seton Holloway. The man knew it and squirmed in his seat. For some time now, Europa had been putting Seton off by telling him that she could only consider marrying a man who was well established in his career and financially stable. Holloway, as the junior partner in a small law practice, was neither of these. And because of Europa’s protests, he had not felt secure enough to approach her father and ask for her hand, even though he knew that Mrs. Whiddington was all in favor of the match.

  “Please tell me if I’m out of bounds in asking, Mr. Hazzard… but might there be a young lady who has prompted these domestic designs of yours?” the captain asked.

  Both Persia and Europa leaned slightly forward, staring at Zack. The silence that followed, although brief, seemed interminable to the pair. Zack, aware of their reactions, squeezed Persia’s hand under the table and offered Europa a smile that promised much.

  “Aye, Captain. There is.”

  “And have you spoken for her already, lad?”

  Zack cast his eyes down and shook his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m afraid I haven’t worked up the courage yet. You see, we’ve only known each other a short time. I fear she’d turn me down flat, and her family would probably cast me out and order me never to return again. There are certain manners to courting, as I’m sure you know.”

  “That’s very decent of you, Mr. Hazzard, to take the family into consideration,” Mrs. Whiddington said. She was feeling much relieved, assuming that he spoke of a Boston girl. But she added, just in case, “I would certainly not take kindly to any man who tried to sweep one of my daughters off her feet without the proper amenities being seen to first.”

  “Exactly my point, Mrs. Whiddington. But it’s difficult for a seafaring man to court a lady properly. We haven’t long ashore.”

  “You certainly haven’t,” Persia put in. “And I think that we’ve spent enough of it over Sunday dinner. Mother, do you mind if we go out for a walk?”

  Before Mrs. Whiddington could answer, Europa piped up, “Seton and I will join you.”

  “I suppose that will be all right, as long as you girls wrap up warmly. Seton, you and Mr. Hazzard bring them back home well before dark.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Whiddington,” Zack answered for the other man.

  Bundled and mufflered, the four young people set out for a brisk walk. The afternoon was fine, with a bright sun making the snowbanks gleam as if diamonds were buried in their depths. Many other townspeople were out for their Sunday-afternoon constitutionals. But Persia barely noticed them. The man whose arm held hers consumed her full attention.

  “Are you really planning to buy land and build a house, Zack?” she asked.

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Here in Quoddy Cove?”

  “Possibly.”

  She paused a moment before working up the nerve to ask her next question. “For us?”

  When he looked down into her upturned face, his dark eyes made contact with such an impact that it jolted her almost as sharply as his first kiss had.

  “Now what would make you think a thing like that, Miss Whiddington?” His voice was husky, playful.

  She forced her gaze away. She didn’t want teasing. She wanted serious discussion.

  “It’s just that, as you said, you don’t have long ashore. I think we should be direct with each other. I have been. But I’m not sure about you.”

  He covered her hand with his, stroking gently. “Persia, my sweet, you can’t imagine how I feel…”

  “Zack!” Europa hailed from right behind them, interrupting. “I’m freezing. Seton has come up with a grand idea. We’ll stop off at Jefferd’s for a mug of hot cider. Hurry along now, both of you.”

  Persia saw a frown crease Zack’s brow as he replied, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s perfectly acceptable, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Persia told him.

  That wasn’t what was bothering him. He was afraid that someone at the tavern would say something to the girls about his wager. Then he decided that it might not be a bad idea after all. He would show those land pirates that he was well on his way to winning the bet. And he’d let them guess which woman would soon be his bride.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “Some hot cider will taste good about now.”

  The tavernkeeper, giving Zack a sly wink, showed them to a rough-hewn table in the back corner near the fireplace, where great logs of oak crackled and hissed on the hearth.

  “Spiced cider all around,” Zack ordered.

  “Yes, sir, four mugs of sweet apple.” He moved off to fill the order.

  “Well, isn’t this nice!” Europa enthused. “Now, Zack, you must tell us all about yourself. Father kept you so occupied all through dinner that I felt like you were his guest instead of mine.”

  Zack felt Persia bristle beside him and touched her hand under the table.

  “What
would you like to know, Europa? I’m twenty-six years old. I was born in Salem, Massachusetts, and ran away to sea when I was twelve. I’ve been shipwrecked twice and barely escaped being eaten by cannibals on the isle of Borneo. That’s about it.”

  A general gasp went up around the table. Europa reached over and took his hand. “You poor, brave man! However did you escape?”

  He smiled, wondering what Europa would say if he told her he bedded the chiefs daughter and thus enlisted her aid in escaping the tribe’s big black pot. No, he decided, he’d better keep that story to himself.

  “I managed to slip past their guards and steal one of their boats. Luckily, I spoke a ship out of New Bedford after two days on the open sea. I was sunburned, thirsty, hungry, but I still had my head on my shoulders.”

  The young lawyer across from Zack was wide-eyed. “I can’t even conceive of living such a dangerous life, Mr. Hazzard.”

  “Please, it’s Zack. And I think your life here is every bit as dangerous as mine, Seton.”

  The man blushed and laughed. “Sure it is! I could get captured by Aroostook Indians walking to my office some morning!”

  Zack leaned across the table and lowered his voice to a whisper as if he didn’t want Europa and Persia to hear. “It’s not Indians a man has to watch out for in the woods around here, my friend.” He glanced at one sister and then the other and said hoarsely to Seton, “Women! The woods are fairly crawling with them. And they jump out and grab you on dark nights.”

  Seton chortled loudly, causing heads in the pub to turn toward their table. “I wish you’d tell me what woods you’ve been walking in after dark, Zack. I’ve been out beating the bushes and I can’t scare any up.”

  “Beating the bushes, Mr. Holloway?” Although she refused to commit herself to Seton, Europa considered him her own private property. That he would even joke about such a thing as trying to interest other women was an affront to her pride.

  “A figure of speech,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry, my dear. I simply forgot myself for a moment.”