by V. E. Ulett
‘Bulletin — The King of the Sandwich Islands departed this life at four o’clock this morning. His doctors state that his anxiety and depression of mind after the death of his queen seven days prior aggravated his disease, which, but for this cause, might have terminated prosperously. The alarming symptoms of his disorder rapidly increased within the last few days, and King Kamehameha II at length sunk under it without much apparent suffering.’
Doctor Russ was with them early the day the Blackwells were invited to view the Royal couple. Afterword some of the party, the men primarily, would accompany the caskets to the church of St. Martin’s in the Fields. In the vault under this church the British government had decided to deposit the bodies, until such time as Kamehameha II’s wishes could be complied with.
“What I should like to know,” Doctor Russ called to Mercedes, putting on her clothes after his examination in the dressing room, “is how you feel about this appointment. Should you welcome it, do you wish to remove to the other side of the world, my dear?”
“I cannot help but feel it would be good for James and the children. It will be much easier for James to find another woman there, if the cancer should come back—”
“God between us and evil,” Doctor Russ said.
“Amen, sir. But you know what I mean, not that he could not find a woman in England. It is just they view relations much differently in the South Seas, in a way that I know will bring him comfort. And as for the children...”
She walked out of the dressing room and saw the exasperated expression on the Doctor’s face.
“I beg your pardon, Don Guillermo, you asked me how I would welcome the appointment. I will encourage him to accept it, because I’m quite serious about his happiness. I do not care to see it destroyed. I want to see my children settled and contented too, and those islands, that culture, may be the best chance they have.”
“For two of them, I quite agree.”
She leaned forward and took Doctor Russ’s hand. “The only hesitation I have, this is hard to admit even to a medical man because it springs of vanity. The Hawaiians go about without much clothes at any time, and they bathe often and in communal pools.”
Tears stood in her eyes. They seemed to put Doctor Russ quite out of countenance.
“You have a beautiful body despite the children and the surgery, it is a simple matter to cover the wound. And as for bathing, you shall just have to find a private pool. Or you might forego it, a lack of washing is not insalubrious, I find.”
“I’m afraid I could never do that, Doctor.”
Mercedes smiled, she could almost have laughed but for a wish not to offend, and she wiped the tears from her eyes. She was grateful to be alive. Today they were burying a twenty-two year old woman and a twenty-eight year old man.
The bodies of the King and Queen of the Sandwich Islands had been prepared by their countrymen, and then properly encased and sealed by the English into an inner coffin. The coffins were then fitted in large caskets, and it was these that were on formal display on a raised wood platform in a large apartment of the Osbourne hotel.
The two Royal caskets were draped in crimson velvet ornamented in intricate patterns of embroidered gold thread.
“It would be a pleasure to die in England,” said the King’s treasurer, Kuanoa, “to have one’s body so honored.”
The Englishmen in their black clothes formed a ring around the periphery of the room, on the three sides facing the caskets. Before them, on fine woven mats, sat the King and Queen’s followers. The wood platform on which the caskets rested was completely obscured by capes and mantles covered over in yellow, red, and black feathers.
“The yellow are from the Nectarina Niger or Uho in the native,” Edward told Doctor Russ. “The black is the Drepanis Vestiarius, and the red is Nectarina Coccinea. I made drawings of them, part of my juvenilia, if you will, sir. They are at Merton.”
“I am with child to see them,” Doctor Russ said. “How fascinating to view the gorgeous plumage of those birds in life.”
“My brother is with child to discover who will command the ship that will carry the Sandwich Islanders home. Can’t comprehend why. What do you say to it, Doctor?”
Doctor Russ’s cold stare was elicited, but as Edward’s gaze was turned away it did not profit him.
“Lord Byron is suggested.”
“The Right Honorable Baron George Anson Byron Byron,” Edward said. “Otherwise known as Foul Weather Jack.”
“You are acquainted, sir?”
“Not at all.”
Doctor Russ could still be surprised in conversation with Edward, who never forgot a thing once he’d read or observed it.
“If his lordship declines, Captain Verson is spoken of.”
“Ah? Perhaps for his experience with m’father on the survey mission gone wrong. Captain Verson knew us as nippers, Aloka and I. I daresay no appointment could better suit Aloka.”
Captain Verson received a letter shortly after his appointment to H.M.S. Blonde, 46-guns, from Lieutenant Aloka Blackwell requesting an interview. Aloka arrived promptly on the day named for the meeting in rural Chelsea, on the outskirts of London. Captain Verson shared a house there with his long time companion and particular friend, Mr. Juan Luis Montelongo.
Mr. Montelongo ushered Aloka into a parlour, where Captain Verson was waiting and rose to shake his hand.
“Mr. Blackwell tells me Miss Mercedes has been most unwell,” Mr. Montelongo said, after the initial handshakes and greetings. “I was just about to inquire if she is well enough to receive visitors?”
“I should think so, sir, she receives one or two friends at home. She suffered from a cancer, and was obliged to endure a surgery.”
Captain Verson and Mr. Montelongo both looked deeply concerned, and said so.
“They are much taken up at the moment with this diplomatic appointment proposed to my father.”
“I cannot image a man better suited to the post,” Captain Verson said.
“You are very kind, sir. Those were apparently King Kamehameha’s feelings as well. It is on a related matter that I intrude upon you today, Captain Verson. I understand you are to command the Blonde, the vessel that is to return the Sandwich Island chiefs to their home.”
Captain Verson, from his seat in an arm chair, bowed his assent. He was thinking how like Captain Blackwell’s son was to him.
“I’d like to volunteer for the mission, sir. I served under Captain Lord Cochrane in Imperieuse the last four years, and I was with her during the action in the Aix Roads.”
“We’re very much aware of the battle in the Aix Roads, Mr. Blackwell. Mr. Montelongo was Master of Indefatigable in Rear-Admiral Stopford’s squadron. He will be Blonde’s sailing master. Government is decommissioning at an appalling rate, so I must ask why you wish to join as volunteer, sir, and not seek an officer’s commission to the ship?”
Aloka shifted his shoulders and stared down at the threadbare rug.
“May I offer you a glass of wine, sir?” Mr. Montelongo said. “Perhaps hock or cider?”
“Cider would be most welcome, thank you, sir.”
With his refreshment in hand, Aloka took a deep breath. “I wish to volunteer, not be appointed, because there are a few irregularities...that is to say, this will be a one way voyage for me, sirs. I will most likely not be returning to England. And I will have a young lady under my protection, if you will accept her as a passenger, Captain Verson.”
Captain Verson and Mr. Montelongo exchanged an unconcealed, startled look. Apparently there were more similarities between father and son than mere physical resemblance.
“What young lady, Mr. Blackwell?”
“Miss Emma Blackwell.”
“Your sister?”
“My half-sister, sir.”
“But will not she travel with Captain and Mrs. Blackwell in the Blonde anyway, if they are to take up residence in Hawaii?”
“My father intends to accept the appointment, wi
th the condition government share in the expense of a ship for his use in the Islands. He will make the voyage to Hawaii in that vessel. I know it is irregular, sir, but I have particular reason for wishing Miss Emma to travel aboard the Blonde, under my protection.”
Captain Verson could not at first conceive what those reasons might be, until he chanced to look at Mr. Montelongo. The eager attentive way he leaned forward caused Captain Verson to think of all the younger man meant to him. The situation revealed itself at a stroke.
Captain Verson rose and strode over to the window, where there was a view of his neighbor’s kitchen garden and orchard. He did not need to ask Aloka to return until he should decide. He was a post-captain used to making critical decisions on the instant, without recourse to anyone else’s opinion. Captain Blackwell and his lady had always treated him and his with great consideration and esteem, never any judgement in the case, and Captain Verson was perfectly willing to return their kindness. He considered Aloka Blackwell, nervously awaiting his reply, so like the man who had mentored him in the Service. Then too there was self-interest. If Lieutenant Blackwell left the ship, Captain Verson could move up his own son, also commissioned on the Blonde’s cruise. Young Jack Verson had lost much active service time as a prisoner of the French, having just been exchanged.
“I will take you aboard as second lieutenant, volunteer, provided their lordships at the Admiralty do not object, Mr. Blackwell. As to Miss Blackwell, if she is a member of King Kamehameha’s suite, I have nothing to say to it. I will be berthing in the gunroom for the voyage to the Islands, giving the captain’s quarters entirely over to the King’s people. We shall endeavor to accommodate Miss Emma as genteelly as is possible in a frigate, and if you have no objection, the crew shall be given to understand she is your cousin.”
Aloka had leaped up and was wringing his hand. “None at all, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“I will send word as soon as I have confirmation from the Admiralty. You will wish to speak to Captain Blackwell without loss of a moment.”
Aloka sobered. “Yes, sir. I will speak to him.”
Out of mercy Captain Verson turned the conversation to more general topics, and Mr. Montelongo put into Aloka’s hand a letter for Mercedes.
After Aloka had taken his leave, Captain Verson sat down again in the shabby parlour. “I should not like to be present when that news is communicated. The poor fellow is likely to be blown up worse than he was in the Aix Roads.”
“Black savages ain’t in it,” Mr. Montelongo said.
The house on Curzon Street was all ahoo. The Blackwells were packing in preparation to remove to Merton, and then to Portsmouth to take ship for the Sandwich Islands. Captain Blackwell disliked the domestic hurry and bustle, and was concerned the move be beneficial to Mercedes’ health rather than cause a depression and strain upon her spirits.
Captain Blackwell was alone in the small parlour that adjoined the upstairs bedchambers, having encouraged Mercedes to retire early, when Aloka walked in.
“Can I have a word, sir?”
Aloka waited for his nod before taking a seat.
“I constantly have a feeling of having forgot something,” Captain Blackwell said. “It must be old age. I worry like an old woman whether we are to be too much cheek by jowl, in Albion.”
Albion was the ship Captain Blackwell had purchased with the subsidy of the British government, a neat schooner of the type called a Baltimore clipper. The captain’s private quarters might not be quite large enough for four people, especially given the temperaments of Edward and Emma.
“I wished to discuss something with you that bears upon that, Father. I’ve arranged for Emma to travel in the Blonde.”
Captain Blackwell gave Aloka a quizzical look.
“As part of the King’s suite, and under my protection.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what you can mean by either of those things, son. She is the daughter of a British subject, how can she be part of Kamehameha’s suite. What’s this about then, and under your protection?”
“I intend to marry her, Father, when we reach the Sandwich Islands. Emma has accepted me.”
Captain Blackwell’s eyes narrowed, a pain starting up in his chest. He could hardly credit what he’d heard.
“You intend, you’ve arranged. You presume an enormous lot. We don’t do what you are proposing in England. How could you think I should sanction such a thing? And how do you think that woman who loved you as a mother shall feel about this?”
The pitch of Captain Blackwell’s voice had risen with his indignation.
“Nothing to say? I’ll tell you then. She shall feel betrayed, having raised and loved a half savage creature all these years only to have him steal away her dearest child. Mercedes dotes upon that girl. She is to marry an English lord.”
“No, sir, that she is not. And I have stolen nothing. We are in love, sir, the long and the short of it. Many girls Emma’s age are already married.”
They were both on their feet now, toe to toe, speaking in loud quarterdeck voices.
“Not to their brothers!”
“I know a place where such a thing is countenanced, even approved. Emma is nearly of age, and may soon do as she pleases.”
“You had better leave now.”
Aloka turned abruptly and marched over to the parlour door, Captain Blackwell close behind him. Out in the passage they met Mercedes and Emma. Mercedes was in her dressing gown, both were wide-eyed and shocked. Aloka shook his head, casting a sad and rueful glance at Emma, and hastened down the stairs and out the front door.
“Papa! How could you—”
“Go to bed.”
He turned on Mercedes.
“Will you order me to bed, too?”
In reply he gave a disgusted snort and slammed into his own bedchamber.
Mercedes went over and put her arms around Emma.
“Oh, Mama! What if he never comes back?”
“Nonsense, you know how fond your father is of him. Which probably hurts him the more, he feels betrayed.”
“Betrayed? This is not about him! We did not fall in love expressly to vex him.”
“Hush, Emma. Let me speak to him. You shall sail in Blonde with Aloka, bear that in mind will you? You are almost eighteen.”
Mercedes was able to leave Emma more composed with that thought. She recommended Emma go down and see if Edward had come back from the Royal Society meeting. Mercedes then crept into her bedroom and through the interconnecting dressing room. She stood in Blackwell’s doorway.
He lay in the dark on top of his bed, with his breeches and shirt still on, one arm behind his head, gazing abstractedly before him.
“May I come in?”
He rose rather wearily and came over to her. “Of course, sweetheart. Come. Forgive me for speaking chuff just now.”
Mercedes went and lay with him on the bed.
“Tell me what happened with Aloka?”
After a short pause, he said, “I hardly know how to say it, I am so astonished, and unhappy.” He related his conversation with Aloka. “I beg you will not be too much wounded by this, nor let it overset you—”
“I know, James. I’m sorry. I know they are in love, your son and my daughter.”
“How in the hell!” He turned to her, rising up off his pillows. But the sight of her arrested him, and he fell back again. “I suppose I must accustom myself to be the last in this family to know anything.”
“Forgive me, it is not the sort of thing that is easy to speak of. I had hoped Emma’s affection might change when she had her season and made the acquaintance of any number of gentlemen. It is partly down to me that did not happen, and it seems the attachment grows stronger. Once they learned the Royal couple were brother and sister, there was no stopping them.”
“I should like to stop them, indeed, and I deeply regret foisting my bastard on you all those years ago. Only to bring you this scandal and disgrace.”
She moved immedi
ately closer to him and laid her hand on his arm.
“Don’t say that, Jim, there’s no disgrace, you cannot mean it. And as to scandal, we are leaving the country. They fell in love. It isn’t suitable or convenient, but—”
“Do not tell me you condone this relationship?”
“I don’t think it matters what I condone. You may remember, when we fell in love it wasn’t convenient for either of us. And you did not at first wish to marry me.”
“Because I was a goddamn fool, but you bore with me. Even though you could have had my brother, handsomer, richer, and certainly smarter than a mere sailorman.”
“Darling.” She was lying on his chest now, hugging him with one arm. “The point is we really can’t help who we fall in love with. Aloka didn’t do this to hurt, or vex, or betray you, any more than he has led Emma astray. You know her, I don’t believe she can be led. He has arranged everything like a man, and declared his intentions to you.”
Blackwell ran his hand up from her waist, Mercedes was glad she still had on the little top under her dressing gown. If she could have made love to him, she would have given him the kind of comfort and release for his emotions he most needed now. But he had not seen her naked since the surgery, and Mercedes could not bring herself to initiate intimacy.
“You believe the attachment to be more than a thing of the moment?” he said.
“Oh, much more.”
“And to think I was afraid she’d fallen in love with a Frenchman.” Blackwell sighed. “Aloka could have left me to drown in the Boyart Channel. It might have suited his convenience to have the roaring old man out of the way.”
“Except he didn’t because he loves you, and because he’s a decent and good hearted man.”
Captain Blackwell lay still for a long time, Mercedes having fallen asleep on his breast. A great part of his anger and indignation had sprung from how he thought Mercedes would feel, and his wish that nothing interfere with her delicate health and recovery. But her kindness and the extent of her love knew no limit, felt no pride. She was willing to endure a long voyage to live in one of the remotest parts of the world, because it would be best for the rest of them. He kissed the top of her head.
