The Blue Enchantress

by Marylu Tyndall

  “Amen,” Miss Sheldon and Nathaniel said in unison.

  Soon bowls and platters were passed, and they all piled the savory food onto their plates. Hope spooned the tasty pork, corn, and rice into her mouth as fast as ladylike decorum would allow. She had not had a meal like this since she left Charles Towne, and her stomach sang in thanksgiving with each bite. Succulent, moist, and spicy, the pork reminded Hope of Molly’s cooking back home. Home. Part of her missed it terribly—the security, the love of her sisters—but part of her dreaded going back, dreaded the memories of Lord Falkland on every corner, dreaded the accusing whispers behind her back, the ruined reputation she dragged behind her like a cannonball on a chain.

  But for now, she was far from home, enjoying the attentions and admiration of reputable men. Helping herself to more wine, she forced a smile. Her sister Grace would never allow her to indulge so at home.

  Nathaniel stabbed a chunk of pork. “Captain, I hear you are new to the Caribbean. If I may ask, where did you sail before?”

  “I sailed a run between Boston and Liverpool for many years.” He pushed his food around with his fork.

  “What brings you south?” Nathaniel leaned back in his chair.

  “I grew tired of the cold seas and North Atlantic storms,” he mumbled. A momentary glimpse of sorrow burned in his eyes before their gleam returned. “And word is there is a fortune to be made here in the West Indies. Mr. Russell, here, knows all about that.” The captain slapped the back of the man sitting to his right. “Don’t you, Herbert? He’s found his pot of gold trading on these seas.”

  Mr. Russell smacked his moist lips together, sending his pendulous jowls swinging. “Quite so. Quite so. Currently, I am on my way to purchase land in the Carolinas.”

  “Indeed?” Hope said. “I am sailing to Charles Towne, Mr. Russell. My family resides there.”

  “Then we shall see much of each other, my dear. I hear the land is plentiful and well suited for rice and indigo.”

  “You are correct, sir. Plantations and farms are springing up everywhere, and the town itself is growing so rapidly they are being forced to knock down the walls enclosing it for lack of room.”

  “So I have heard.” He grinned. “A perfect time to purchase land in these burgeoning colonies.” Mr. Russell plopped a chunk of pork into his mouth, chewed it to satisfaction, and then faced the man beside him. “Major Paine, pray tell, inform us of the happenings on the Leeward Islands.”

  The major straightened his already rigid posture and set down his fork, sprinkled with rice. “As you know, the lieutenant governor is sick with malaria. Hence I am traveling to England to convince Whitehall to instate me as the new governor should he die.” He glanced around the room as if looking for admiration.

  Mr. Keese chuckled. “Sink me. The poor man’s shoes will still be warm when you snatch them from his body.”

  Miss Sheldon brushed her hair from her forehead. “Heaven forfend, Major. We should pray for the lieutenant governor’s recovery instead of planning for his demise.”

  “Well said, Miss Sheldon.” Nathaniel dropped a slice of mango into his mouth and gave the young missionary a look of approval.

  Another sting of discomfort struck Hope. Without thinking, she leaned close to Mr. Keese—so close she could smell the sea in his hair—and asked him to pass the corn. Their shoulders brushed, and his eyes glinted with interest, but when she glanced back at Nathaniel, he covered a yawn with his hand and looked away.

  Fisting her hands beneath the table, Hope chided herself for her behavior. A proper lady did not draw so close to a man. Why had she done it? She flattened her lips. This task of transforming into a genteel lady was not going to be as easy as she first assumed.

  Hope rubbed her brow, trying to still the dizzying effects of the wine and make sense out of her unusual reactions to Nathaniel. Honorable, God-fearing Mr. Mason. He reminded her of Captain Waite, her sister’s beau back home.

  Major Paine’s jaw stiffened. “Of course I pray night and day for the man’s recovery, but in the best interest of England and due to the distance, the transfer of power must be done promptly, or chaos will rule on these islands.”

  “Aye, and we wouldn’t want chaos to rule.” Mr. Keese’s eyebrows arched mischievously.

  “Indeed, sir, we would not.” Major Paine huffed and adjusted his black cravat. “I hope, Mr. Keese, that despite your insolence, your loyalties lie with England.”

  “I am loyal to none but myself.” Mr. Keese shrugged and scooped a spoon of rice into this mouth.

  “I have heard pirates say as much.”

  “Indeed? Then I am in good company.”

  Major Paine scratched beneath his white periwig and slowly rose to his feet. “You implicate yourself with those vile blackguards, sir?”

  Hope’s breath quickened. Was there to be a duel? Right here in the captain’s cabin? Raising a hand to her throat, she eyed Mr. Keese, who sprang to his feet as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Pressing an open palm toward Mr. Keese, Nathaniel stood and leveled his other hand toward the major. “Ignore the boy, Major. He is clearly jesting with you and means no harm. Do you, Mr. Keese?”

  Before he could answer, the captain bellowed. “Aye, Mr. Mason is correct,” he said, a crumb flying from his mouth as he waved a biscuit toward the major. “I know the boy’s father. A good Dutch merchant. His mother is from Southampton. Mr. Keese is an excellent seaman and is loyal to whomever he sails with, but he is no pirate.”

  The major sat down with a growl. “A man should know how to control his tongue.”

  Mr. Keese took his seat. A daring gleam shone from his eyes.

  “More wine, Miss Westcott?” He held the decanter and began filling Hope’s cup before she could answer. Charming, brave, and adventurous, Mr. Keese was every woman’s dream. If he possessed wealth and land, he could have his pick of ladies, but for now, his attentions had the glorious effect of soothing her broken heart. The difficulty was, she had no idea how to respond to them without being unseemly. He continued pouring wine, caught up in her gaze, and splashed some of the red liquid onto the table.

  “Oh, forgive me.” He chuckled.

  “Truly understandable with such a charming lady at your side,” the captain chortled as he grabbed another biscuit from the tray.

  “And what about you, Mr. Keese?” Hope asked, taking a sip of her wine. The warm liquid slid down her throat, setting her belly aflame and her head into a daze. “How did you come to be traveling on board this ship?”

  “My father was in the Dutch West India Company, miss. He brought my mother and me to Curacao ten years ago. Sooner than I could walk, I learned to sail.” He chuckled. “And when I was of age, I left home to seek fortune and fame. I am on this ship because the opportunity presented itself to me and I took it.”

  Mr. Hendrick leaned forward to glare at Mr. Keese as if he were a commodity unworthy of his purchase. “To procure either, you must have a plan and the forbearance to carry it out. I sense neither in a man so brash.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but I have acquired some fortune. Not enough fame as of yet, but I carry a shipload of adventures in my pocket”—he patted his black doublet—“enough to stir a man’s soul for quite some time.”

  Major Paine snorted. “A man without discipline is a man without honor.”

  The ship lunged in a creaking protest, sloshing water from the top of a pitcher and spraying rice kernels over the table like sand. The brass lantern in front of Nathaniel teetered, and he grabbed it, steadying it before it fell. Light shimmered across his brown eyes—eyes that seemed to pierce right through Hope—offering a challenge. A flood of warmth swept over her beneath his gaze. Or perhaps it was simply the wine.

  “Well, I, for one, find that type of life exciting,” Hope declared, knowing full well she was not suited to such a reckless existence. It was her sister Faith who relished the unknown, who lived for each daring escapade.

  “I am
sure you will discover fortune and fame are overrated, Mr. Keese.” Miss Sheldon’s soft tone held neither pretentious accusation nor pious reprimand, but was said as simply a matter of understanding.

  Mr. Russell belched while Mr. Hendrick turned to face the young girl, a smug look on his handsome face. “Easily said coming from someone who clearly has neither.”

  “What a cruel thing to say.” Hope’s voice blared louder than she intended. Still, she could not let the pompous man insult such a sweet lady.

  Nathaniel directed a hard gaze toward Mr. Hendrick. “Apologize to the lady at once, sir.”

  “’Tis no matter.” Miss Sheldon suffered the insult with a grace that seemed to sweeten her face—if that were possible. She swept a reassuring gaze over Hope and Nathaniel before turning to Mr. Hendrick, whose face had purpled at Nathaniel’s command. “I assure you, Mr. Hendrick, I know of what I speak. My parents possessed great wealth in England, in addition to land. They gave up their worldly possessions to become missionaries.”

  “Perhaps, Miss Sheldon.” Mr. Hendrick stifled his anger beneath another swig of wine. “But a lot of good it has done them. I heard they were murdered by the very people they were hoping to convert.”

  Miss Sheldon lowered her gaze.

  “Enough,” Nathaniel barked. “Can you not see the lady is still distraught over the loss of her parents?” A vein pulsed on his forehead.

  Envy burned within Hope. She could not recall any man coming to her defense so vehemently, not even her father—and certainly not an honorable man like Nathaniel. A sudden desire to become worthy of the esteem of such a gentleman welled within her. If she could capture his regard, especially since he knew of her past, then surely that would be proof she had achieved the status of a proper and virtuous lady.

  The captain slammed down his glass. “Calm yourself, Mr. Mason. Mr. Hendrick is my guest. But”—he pointed a finger at Mr. Hendrick—“I insist you treat all my guests with respect while you are on board my ship, sir.”

  Mr. Hendrick waved a hand through the air. “Egad. Cool your humors. I meant nothing by it.” He took another gulp of his drink as Nathaniel fastened his glare upon the peevish man.

  Captain Conway turned toward Miss Sheldon. “I do hope you’ll forgive the outburst, Miss Sheldon. I fear the company is not what you are accustomed to. Please tell us what brings you aboard my fine ship.”

  Miss Sheldon’s smile had returned. “I am traveling to Kingstown. A family friend, Reverend Hickman, has offered me a place to stay and a chance to continue my parents’ missionary work there among the natives and slaves.”

  “Quite admirable.” Nathaniel’s eyes reflected astonishment as well as admiration. He scratched his jaw and looked at Hope as if comparing her to this holy, pristine, selfless angel beside him.

  But of course there was no comparison.

  Instead of enduring the disappointment she knew she’d find on his face, Hope watched the last traces of light fade from the horizon as darkness hovered over the sea like a bird of prey.

  The food soured in her stomach, and she took another sip of wine. “Not sure you can save these savage Indians. They are far too ignorant to understand the complexities of Christianity,” Mr. Russell commented between shoving forkfuls of food into his mouth.

  “The Christian message is not complex, sir,” Nathaniel said, “but easy enough for a child to understand and embrace.”

  “Are you a religious man, Mr. Mason?” The captain shoved his plate aside and settled back in his chair.

  “I was raised by a reverend, but I would consider myself more Godfearing than religious.”

  Hope flinched. She knew Nathaniel had been reared by Reverend Halloway, but God-fearing? Truly, he and Miss Sheldon were a perfect match.

  Mr. Hendrick huffed. “There is no money in God’s work. And a man is nothing without wealth and land. When I began my own business at age eighteen, I had nothing, not a shilling to my name. Now I own a fleet of merchant ships and a plantation on St. Kitts. Respect, power, and freedom.” He cocked a condescending brow. “That’s what money can buy you, sir.”

  “It cannot buy you freedom, Mr. Hendrick,” Mr. Keese remarked, and Hope wondered why he dared to cross the man again. “Freedom you must take at your own risk. Money and land, they hold you captive, while I am free to go and do whatever I want.” He gave the man a sarcastic smirk.

  “’Tis my wife who holds me captive, sir,” he countered with a chuckle as he poured himself more wine.

  The man’s disparaging remark about his wife made Hope’s skin crawl, and she hoped the alcohol spoke for him and his careless words did not reflect his true opinions.

  “But pray tell, Mr. Mason, what is your business?” he asked.

  “I am a merchant as well. I own two ships or, rather, one now.” He huffed but did not look at Hope. “I built them myself.”

  “Built, you say? Odd’s fish.” Captain Conway wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Incredible feat. But how did you lose your ship?” He seemed to be holding back a chuckle.

  Nathaniel hesitated as his somber gaze flickered over Hope, renewing her guilt. “An unfortunate circumstance.”

  “Humph. Any captain who loses his ship deserves his fate. Makes me wonder if you are fit to navigate.”

  “I assure you, I am quite capable.” Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. “I have captained my own ships for years and intend to find another to replace the one I lost as soon as possible.”

  The captain’s brow grew dark and his eyes locked upon Nathaniel. “And how, pray tell, do you intend to replace it?”

  “I will either purchase one or build another.” Nathaniel shrugged.

  Captain Conway shifted in his seat and pressed a fat thumb over the worn table. “I run a tight ship, Mr. Mason, and my crew is loyal to me.” Spit shot from his mouth at the last sentence, and his eyes simmered, making Hope wonder if his statement were true.

  “I have no doubt, Captain.” Nathaniel regarded him curiously.

  “Rest assured, sir, we are less than adequately manned.” The captain picked up his glass. “And I will expect you to do more than a navigator’s duties.”

  “I believe you’ll find my work to your satisfaction, Captain.” Nathaniel’s calm, methodical tone belied the stiffness of his jaw.

  “Very well.” The captain tipped his glass and downed the rest of his wine. Then his glazed eyes widened and shifted between Hope and Nathaniel while a slow grin crept over his lips. “I believe you are escorting Miss Westcott home, Mr. Mason, are you not?”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “And how did you come to be in need of escort so far from home, Miss Hope?”

  Cringing, Hope stared at her lap, searching her wine-clouded mind for an explanation that would not mar her standing with these people. “’Tis a long, arduous tale, Captain. Suffice it to say, I took the wrong ship, ended up at St. Kitts abandoned, and Mr. Mason graciously offered to escort me home.”

  “Do you know the man?”

  “Yes, we are acquainted from Charles Towne.”

  “I am a friend of the family,” Nathaniel offered, finishing the last bite of pork from his plate.

  Major Paine clicked his tongue, while Mr. Hendrick snorted. “I’ll wager.”

  Hope’s heart melted at their accusing looks of disdain.

  “I assure you our relationship is quite respectable,” Mr. Mason added, as if he just realized the implications of his words.

  Innocent fool.

  “Respectable enough to have sold your brig to purchase the young lady?” The captain snickered and exchanged a knowing glance with Mr. Keese. Gasps burst through the cabin.

  Hope felt as if she’d crashed into a cold, hard brick wall.

  Mr. Keese’s chortle transformed into a cough, which he hid behind his hand.

  “Sold a ship to buy a woman?” Mr. Hendrick held his glass of wine in midair as if too shocked to know what to do with it.

  “Ah, that explains it, then.” Major
Paine’s eyes lit up.

  “And what would that be, Major?” Hope asked sharply, wondering what other sordid details were to be disclosed about her.

  “Yes, quite curious. I wondered what the man was doing,” Major Paine announced to the whole table with a chuckle.

  Hope directed an angry gaze his way. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Outside your door last night.”

  Shaking her head, Hope wondered if the man had consumed too much wine.

  As she had.

  She tried to fixate on his expression, but the red and white of his uniform blurred into a bloated pink stain drifting over his face.

  “You didn’t know? My word. He slept outside your door.” Major Paine pointed to Nathaniel. “I thought perhaps you two had a lover’s spat.” Chuckles rumbled over the table—chuckles directed at her, at her virtue. “Now I realize he was protecting his investment.”

  Hope stared at her plate of food, stunned. All through the night, she’d wrung her sheets into knots, fearing Nathaniel would either come in and collect his due or abandon her altogether. Instead, he had sacrificed a decent night’s sleep by guarding her door like a true gentleman.

  “Respectable, eh? I’d say she’d had enough for one night and tossed him out.” Mr. Hendrick scoffed.

  “I beg your pardon.” Hope sprang to her feet then wobbled and clung to the table to keep from falling. Tears swam across her already fuzzy vision. “How dare you?” For once she didn’t deserve these people’s scorn. For once she had done nothing wrong. At least nothing they knew about. But perhaps they could smell her shame like a festering wound. Perhaps she would never be healed of it.

  She glanced over the muted shapes at the table, searching for an ally, a champion, but she couldn’t focus on anyone’s eyes. She thought she saw Nathaniel rise from his seat, she thought she heard his deep voice bellow in her defense, but all she heard in the end was her shoes clomping over the wooden deck as she dashed from the room.

  CHAPTER 7

  Hot wind tainted with the scent of salt and wet canvas buffeted Nathaniel as he stormed up the companionway ladder. Fear rippled down his back. He had already knocked upon the forecabin door looking for Hope, but Mrs. Hendrick’s feeble voice squeaked from the other side, insisting she was alone. He knew Hope had partaken of too much wine. He knew she was distraught. What he didn’t know was what she might do in that condition. He hoped nothing foolish. Yet he had a sense, in the brief time he’d known her, that Hope gave rule to her emotions over her reason far too often.