Siren's Song

by Trish Albright

  “It’s good of you to see us off. We should be back in Kent by the end of the week. Perhaps we will meet again then.” She put the offer forward. She would like to talk to him and get to know him when things were not quite so impossible, and she could have time to figure out if he was or wasn’t quite so impossible.

  His grin widened toward her. “Actually, I’m here to escort you, Miss Stafford.”

  “Captain,” she corrected, automatically. “And just where do you plan to escort me?”

  “Out to sea and back. With Paxton’s whereabouts unknown, two ships are better than one.”

  “Two ships?” Then it clicked. He motioned to the sleek vessel she’d been admiring.

  “She’s a beauty,” Stephen chimed.

  “You’re welcome to sail with us,” Joshua offered.

  Stephen laughed. “No thanks. I’ll stick with the sure thing.” He nodded to his sister.

  “A challenge?” Joshua surveyed them.

  “I doubt it would be much of one,” Alex rejoined, grateful for her brother’s improved humor along with his loyalty. “For us that is.” She gave him the course plots followed by a breezy, “Try to keep up.”

  “We’ll wait for you there,” Joshua returned. “Don’t feel bad. None have beaten her.”

  “Ha, there’s a first time for everything, Duke. But we’ll let you lead us out to sea before setting the record straight.”

  He smiled at her genuinely for the first time in a while. “I think the sea air is going to suit me, Captain Stafford.”

  “Aye, I think the same, Captain Leigh.”

  They shook hands and prepared to outwit each other.

  “So that’s her, eh?”

  Joshua’s first mate, Mick Leeds, stood at the rail and watched Alex inspect the deck. In fact, several of his crew watched her. Curiosity, envy, or desire, he wasn’t sure. Her antics had already made it around London. It was scandalous to society, but on the wharves, and amongst men of the sea, she had gained notoriety—and respect. And with the new stories, old ones surfaced. Stories from crew who no longer sailed with her. Stories about how she could manipulate the sea to her whim and all the creatures in it. An exaggeration to be sure, but curious.

  Joshua called his crew to hand. He gave his instruction, and they made the ship ready. “Mick, you’re at the helm. I have only one order,” he commanded. “Don’t let them pass us.”

  Later that afternoon, Joshua lazily made his way back on deck, enjoying the full sail of Sultan’s Prize. It had been pure ego, having her made for speed, but he liked to win. They would go two days out, spread the ashes of her men at sea, then two days back. Plenty of time to think about the beautiful captain.

  Joining Mick at the helm, he looked back at Alex’s ship. “How’s she doing?” he asked.

  “Keeping up,” Mick grunted.

  Joshua returned to him quizzically. “What’s wrong?” Mick was near sixty, still lean and fit, but more important, experienced. Joshua caught some frustration.

  “Nothing. Can’t lose her. That’s all. Been staying steady on our tail without worry or effort, it seems.”

  Joshua went farthest aft and gazed out. As if spotting him on deck the Sea Fire sped up on their leeward side, then mysteriously she pulled in some sails and made to turn.

  “She’s turning.”

  “I see that! But, she’s going to lose the wind. It’s lunacy.” Mick shook his head. “Women.”

  Then they heard the sharp sound of a whistle. A warning from the Sea Fire.

  Mick laughed. “She intends to overtake us?”

  “And apparently is being very polite about it,” Joshua noted, for the warning wasn’t required, and none expected an American to show them courtesy at sea. Hell, anywhere, for that matter.

  “Well, good luck to her. I guess we’ll have the opportunity to teach the cocky young lass a thing or two about real sailors,” he said, relishing the opportunity.

  Joshua slapped the older man good-naturedly and turned his attention back to the American vessel, curious. Mick was right; they had a strong wind. No need to switch course midsail. What was Alex thinking? He watched as each of her sails unfurled. He could barely make out the sound of commands being shouted from across the water. And strangely, as each sail opened, wind seemed to fill it. He was so enamored by the scene, he didn’t notice his own ship losing wind. Not until Mick shouted out to the crew, then to him.

  “Blimey! The wind changed! Just like that. How did she know it?”

  Joshua laughed. Mick had the crew scrambling, their pride about to take a hit, as the American ship gained on them. Joshua had underestimated the ship, thinking it merely designed to be a merchant vessel. Clearly the Staffords had earned their reputation for delivering on time. Alex’s Sea Fire seemed to glide across the water like it had wings, tilting magnificently against the wind, and to his amazement, dolphins rode the crest ahead of the ship creating a magical vision.

  He spotted Stephen at the helm, a cheeky grin splitting his face, and Alex behind him, a hand on his shoulder as she pointed something out in the sails, guiding him. Then she turned his way. He waved. He realized it was with a bit of awe, for she was truly as magnificent as her ship. She stood with pure confidence, her hair in a tie behind her, flapping wildly. Her blouse and skirtlike pants billowed to reveal the outline of her figure. And her smile, relaxed and carefree—something he hadn’t seen before. A smile that said in that moment, she didn’t have a care.

  She seemed the picture of something joyous.

  It struck him hard what a beautiful window into her being, into her life, he was being allowed to witness. And doubly hard when he realized how desperately he wanted to protect that woman. The woman she was at sea. The one who didn’t have the cares of a business and social pressures, and threats on her life.

  The Sea Fire was close enough now for him to hear her captain’s orders. If he was not mistaken, the command was, “Crew, give a wave to our British mates!” A lineup of men came to the windward rail, and just as the two ships were parallel, the Americans quietly, uniformly, lifted their hands in a ceremonial wave. Wicked smiles on them all, Joshua noted.

  Joshua checked on Mick, who still scrambled to catch up. He tapped the older man on the shoulder before he missed the sight of his life.

  “Mick, wave to the lovely lady, my friend.”

  Mick pressed his lips, shook his head with defeat, then turned from the helm. At the sight before him, he did what any gracious seaman would do. He saluted. Looking somewhat surprised, Alex bowed humbly, accepting the honor.

  “Good God, she’s a beauty, Your Grace. The ship and her captain.”

  “Yes,” Joshua thought, watching the sight of them pulling away for as long as he could.

  Mick grinned, then turned to their crew. “Come on, ya rascals. Going to let some rebels get the lead on us?”

  The morning of the second day, Alex was anchored and had lowered a longboat to the water so she could visit with the dolphins. Stephen and a few men joined her while others tossed bits of fish they had netted the night before over the side.

  The dolphins clicked noisily and Alex clicked back playfully, having some fun before she had to address her more serious duties.

  When it was time, later that morning, Joshua and his men joined them while the minister prayed some final rites over the remains of her men, doing his duty with the utmost sincerity. Only his words were so somber that Alex felt compelled to intervene before the ashes were released.

  Each small urn was held by a friend of that seaman. She started with the lowest rank and as Stephen came forward to lead them, she added something that she hoped was kinder, more personal. She’d never had to do this before and faltered at first, the emotion of remembering Whitley painful. But she knew this was the time to comfort her crew, not think of herself.

  The men released the ashes, more solemn than monks. Then they waited a moment in silence. It was quiet but for the sound of a very light wind and the gentle l
apping of water on the ship. Then there was something else. A shiver crawled up her arms. She sensed something familiar, but even knowing it, doubted herself. A sound, but not a sound. A vibration. With a hand to her crew for silence, she climbed the shrouds to the foretop, standing on the platform and looking out. She saw a spout of water shoot up in the distance and smiled. Sure enough. Whales. A double pleasure to be had this day.

  Joshua and the crews of each ship watched bemused as Alex climbed the mast, each jostling to get a view of what she apparently had spotted. Some of his crew, he could tell, became uneasy. The whales had been behind them. She could not have seen them, and she could not have heard them. But perhaps the sea had already shared some of its mysteries with her. He knew some sailors could sense certain animals, though how was unknown. It was usually something eerie and uncommon. But what unsettled the men the most was what she did after spotting them. She held to the mast and began a long, low tune that was picked up by the wind and carried out to sea.

  Mick whispered by his side, “Is she singing to them?”

  “I believe so,” Joshua answered.

  “Do you think they can hear it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, but …” Joshua swallowed at the sight of several waterspouts shooting out of the sea. “… I believe they are coming to visit.”

  Mick released a curse of fearful amazement. “Who is she, Your Grace?”

  Joshua gave him a questioning look.

  “I’ve been around the sea a long time. I’ve witnessed glories untold. But this? Legends coming true? I did not think I would live to see it.”

  “What legend is that, Mick?”

  “The sirens, Your Grace. The legend of the sirens.”

  “She sings to whales, not men. And there’s no land near for us to be shipwrecked upon.” He could see his assertion was useless. “It’s not like you to be superstitious, Mick.”

  “I never was, before today.”

  Alex rejoined them at the rail for a view of the whales. She called out to his crew to assure them. “Gentlemen, be steady!”

  It seemed to be a family of whales. Five in all. Joshua watched as Alex waved delightedly and called out to the mammoth creatures. The first surfaced miraculously between the two ships, causing waves to rock both vessels, revealing an immensely long, brownish grey form.

  “Good lord, a leviathan!” Mick expressed, somewhere between awe and fear.

  “No, sir,” Alex corrected, “balaenoptera physalus.”

  “What gibberish is that, Captain Stafford?”

  “Science. This is a fin whale. One of the biggest, I’m certain. I have seen them before. I have a book in my library if you would like to borrow it. I always get a funny feeling when they are around. Do you feel it?”

  “Aye,” Mick agreed. “Guess I do.”

  The crew was more relaxed now, enjoying the antics of some baby whales that circled around them. One practiced an acrobatic leap from the water, earning loud gasps of awe from both crews. Another lifted its tail and slapped it down so near his own ship that some of the men got wet. He heard their surprised laughter.

  “Wait!” Alex cried out. “There’s one more!”

  It was the largest yet, following at the back. Joshua estimated nearly eighty feet. It, too, surfaced between their ships, but this one blew from the furrowed spout, causing a spectacular display. It was perhaps the most remarkable demonstration of sea life, nay, any animal life, that Joshua had ever observed. And it was over too quickly.

  “Spectacular!” Mick stated it most succinctly. “Strange,” he added, “but absolutely spectacular!”

  When at last the whales dove into the depths, Alex gathered her men, and made a final declaration. “Though their death untimely, let it be known that it was their time. And this day, the sea has blessed their passing and welcomed our friends home to the place that they loved and that loved them back.”

  A cheer went up. When it settled down she continued.

  “Birdie, each man who wants it, may have three cups of ale, one for each passing soul.” Another cheer went up. “Three cups,” she warned. “No more. We make sail at midday. For now, enjoy a meal and some remembrance.”

  Mick turned to him and made a request. “I should like my burial to be done like that, Your Grace. You’ll make the arrangements, won’t you?” Clearly the old sailor was more relaxed now that it was over and nothing sinister had happened. “She missed her calling, though. Should have been a whaler.” Mick winked, before preparing to depart for their ship.

  Joshua watched as Mick made his farewells to Alex, followed by the reverend, who said something that caused a shadow to fall across her face. Joshua was immediately at her side.

  “Your Grace,” Alex greeted him. “The reverend has asked that he might return on your ship. He believes your men would benefit from some ministering.”

  Joshua laughed. “My men?”

  “Your service is complete, Reverend. If the duke,” she corrected, “if His Grace, permits, you may collect your items and return with him. Come see me for payment before you leave.” With that she was gone. Joshua watched her leave, stopping to say a few words to others before she disappeared.

  “No offense to her, Your Grace, but there’s something evil about,” the reverend said.

  Joshua scowled. “Evil?” He deliberately looked about. “Where?”

  “It’s not proper for a woman to be among men, alone. Not good for the men. And sure enough there’s something not right with that woman. Only God can call to His creatures. God,” he paused knowingly, “or the other.”

  Joshua gripped the man by the shirt, tasting bile at the suggestion Alex could in anyway be evil. Crazy, insane, brash, hotheaded, and a lot more. But never evil. He let the man go. It wasn’t worth the effort. But it saddened him that a man of God could not appreciate the beauty of what they had just observed.

  “Mick!” he shouted. “The reverend will sail back with us. Make the arrangements.”

  “Aye, Your Grace.”

  Joshua made one last scan for Alex. The world had encroached on her domain and she was in hiding. For the moment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A short time later, Joshua knocked lightly on the door of Alex’s cabin. There was a light step on the floor as if she had been lying down and just stood up. Then he heard her response.

  “Come in.”

  When he entered, Alex was standing in the middle of the room. Her hair was free and tangled about her shoulders. Though she’d worn a hat most of the morning, it seemed as though the sun had kissed wayward strands with dashes of gold. He caught her brief look of surprise before she frowned and folded arms across her chest protectively, her stance widening. He smiled gently and ducked his head to enter, closing the door behind him. The action caused her brow to arch in a familiar way, but leaving a door open at sea would soon become annoying, as they both knew.

  “I came to see how you were faring,” Joshua offered.

  She ignored his explanation, still on the defensive. “We pull anchor soon. You should get back to your ship.”

  “I’ve switched places with the reverend. There were no extra cabins on my ship so I gave him mine. Stephen offered the reverend’s in exchange.” It was a blatant lie. He had plenty of room on his ship. He just couldn’t stand knowing that Alex had been hurt by the reverend’s inability to accept her. Worse, that she knew the man thought there was something so wrong with her that he wanted to get off her ship as quickly as possible. Alex had been relaxed, uninhibited, different than when she was trying to fit in and follow the social rules. She had not expected to be emotionally slapped when she was unguarded and in the place she thought of as her home. And certainly not from an unexpected source.

  Knowing he couldn’t say any of that, he offered a different clarification. “And I wanted to sail with ‘a sure thing.’ Thought I might learn something.”

  Alex smiled, or tried to. Failing it, she turned her back on him. “Please …” She swall
owed, her voice husky. “Please don’t be nice to me. I’m too tired for it.”

  Joshua understood instantly. That’s why he pressed forward and touched her shoulder. She stiffened and shrugged him off, moving away. He let her recover some composure, then persevered, turned her around, and enfolded her stiff body in his arms. Eventually, as if too tired to keep her head up by herself, she leaned in and rested her cheek on his chest. It was her undoing.

  And his.

  He felt her tremble, fighting the weakness of tears, and pulled her tighter. After a moment or so, she released a heavy sigh and accepted the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  Alex took another slow breath, closing her eyes, grateful that she had at least been able to maintain control until she reached the privacy of her cabin. Though she blamed Joshua for making her weepy now, after all her efforts. This last week felt like a lifetime. Too much to do. Too little time to sleep. And when she did find time, her dreams left her restless.

  Joshua stroked her back lightly with one hand, as if to communicate support. Or sympathy. Or simply that he was there. A gesture of friendship, she supposed. She didn’t care. He was warm. And surprisingly comfortable despite the hard muscles underneath her cheek and hands. She relaxed heavily, finding it easy to shut off her mind and drift off under the addictive motion of his fingers stroking through her hair.

  She woke up seconds later, still on her feet.

  “Come here.” Joshua led her to a chair and tugged her down on his lap.

  Alex complied, curling up comfortably, forcing him to adjust to her position. She smiled happily when he did. Not because she had control, but because it was very nice of him.

  More like the Joshua she remembered from Morocco. The one she liked.

  Her muscles relaxed. He took one hand and threaded his fingers with hers. Despite herself, a lazy desire spread through her body, warming her several degrees. She ventured a look upward, wondering if he knew the effect he was having on her. What she saw was disquieting.