by Bev Stout
Annie waited for the laughter to subside before she started again. "One warm night on a street in Port Royal, a handsome young sailor, Christopher was his name…"
She immediately had her audience's rapt attention.
Annie had to stop several times during her tale for her audience to oh and ah. It made little difference to the men that Christopher had never been to Port Royal or that he would surely run from a fight rather than be in the middle of one. The part where Christopher jumped between a fair maiden and six scoundrels, who had lust in their eyes and wickedness in their hearts, made the men cheer. But for Annie, all that mattered was that each new storyteller would embellish her tale of Christopher for years to come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Annie woke with a start. It was always the same dream. Nothing she did could prevent Christopher's death.
She quickly lit the lantern. It wasn't only the dream she found disturbing. It was also the feelings her one kiss with Christopher had stirred inside her.
Annie ran her hands along her slim waist and fuller hips. The changes to her body confused her. Changes, so many changes, Annie thought.
When she realized Doc was watching her, she blushed and tucked in her shirt.
He rolled out of his hammock. Without a word, he opened a drawer in his desk. He rummaged around until he brought out a tarnished sterling silver hairbrush. Several strands of golden hair clung to it. Doc tenderly wrapped the strands in a handkerchief before handing the monogrammed brush and matching mirror to Annie.
"I can't possibly use Emily's brush," Annie said.
"She would want you to," Doc said as he patted Annie's hand.
While Annie peered into the mirror, she studied every detail of her face, her slightly arched eyebrows. Her ice blue eyes contrasted with the red hue of her complexion, the color of the common sailor.
Annie brushed her hair behind her dainty ears. "Doc, do you think I am pretty?"
"You are just like my Emily, beautiful."
She put the mirror down and frowned.
"Is something wrong?" Doc asked.
"Why should I care? I'm a sailor."
"Only if you want to be."
Annie brought the mirror back to her face. Changes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The next evening, Annie gazed at her reflection in Emily's mirror. She then pulled her cap down to her eyebrows, pushing the dark strands of hair back under the cap and headed off to Captain Hawke's cabin.
She knocked, but got no answer. Annie shrugged and pushed the door open. No sooner had she entered to collect the captain's supper dishes, Annie ducked out of the way of a book flying toward her. It thudded against the door just above her head.
She picked up the book at her feet, wiped it on her shirt, and put it carefully on the shelf. "If this isn't a good time, Captain, I can come back later," Annie said as she looked about the book-strewn cabin.
"No, this is as good a time as any. Do you want them? I have no use for them."
Annie gathered two more books off the carpet. "But you love your books, Captain."
"They are old and mildewed," he replied.
She continued to shelve the books. "That never bothered you before."
The captain slouched in his chair. "It never bothered me before when I could see. There—I said it." He looked relieved with his confession.
Annie tiptoed across the rug. Inches from Captain Hawke's face, she waved her hand in front of his eyes.
He cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow slightly raised. "What are you doing?"
Annie stumbled backward. "You said you couldn't see."
"I didn't say I was blind. I can't see the words in my books. My eyes have been going bad for some time now. It is almost too painful to read."
Without hesitating, Annie said, "I can read to you."
She watched him ponder the offer while he brushed his stubby black beard on the back of his knuckles.
Annie made the proposal more appealing. "If you order me to do it, Captain, then I must."
"Then an order, it is."
"When should I start, Captain?"
"Now."
While Annie perused his collection, Captain Hawke asked, "What are your plans when we drop anchor in England, boy?"
Annie pulled out a book, thumbed through its pages. "Except to visit Christopher's mum, I have no other plans."
"England's your home. There must be someone you wish to see?"
She put a book back and pulled out another. "Everyone I ever cared about has either died or will surely have forgotten me by now."
"You have been gone months, not years, Andrés, and I doubt anyone could forget you."
"I am quite content with being your cabin boy, Captain."
He pulled off his boots and dropped them next to the bed. "One day that will change."
"I can assure you, Captain, that is the one thing in my life that will never change."
Lying on top of the blankets, he rested his hands behind his head. "Never be so sure, boy."
Annie sighed. "Which book should I read?"
He shut his eyes. "Surprise me."
After she picked one, Annie hopped on the foot of his bed. Her quick bounce made the captain open one eye.
"Which one did you choose?" he asked.
"Roxana by Daniel Defoe. I assume it is about a girl."
He bolted upright, snatched the book from Annie's hands and hastily slipped it under his pillow.
"Captain, you told me to surprise you."
"That you did, boy," he said. "But I shall burn in Hades if I let you read that book. Besides, you wouldn't like it. The poor woman died destitute and alone as I recall."
"Oh, that will never do. I don't want to read you a sad tale." She went back to his library. "What about this one? Works by Thomas Dekker." Annie held up the book.
"Ah, one of my favorites."
Before she could hop back on his bed, Captain Hawke pointed across the room, "Andrés, sit over there."
Annie plopped down into the needlepoint armchair and began reading passages from Old Fortunatus, "…and a wise man poor is like a sacred book that's never read; to himself he lives and to all else seems dead…"
With his eyes shut, the captain recited the next line, "This age thinks better of a gilded fool, than of a threadbare saint in Wisdom's school."
As her nightly readings continued, Annie realized Captain Hawke had memorized numerous verses and chapters from his beloved collection. Once his interruptions ceased, he had fallen asleep, signaling Annie to tiptoe out of his cabin.
On the last night before they were to drop anchor in England, Annie sat with a half-read book on her lap. As she listened to the captain's soft snoring, she wondered who would read to him if she were not his cabin boy. Mr. Montgomery? No, she thought, Captain Hawke was too proud a man to have his first mate read to him, even though she learned it was Mr. Montgomery who had taught him to read. But since I will always be his cabin boy, I needn't worry.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Leaning on the larboard rail, Annie waited for the sailors to put the gangway down. She turned to the first mate. "After we visit Christopher's mum, will you be visiting your family, Mr. Montgomery?"
"I will put off that happy reunion for as long as I can."
"I would think you would be anxious to see them."
"My brothers say I am an embarrassment to our family. Father wonders when I will give up this foolishness. And despite the fact that Mother loves Captain Hawke, she can be equally annoying. She is forever asking me when will I get married."
"Uh, what was that about your mother loving Captain Hawke?" Annie asked.
Mr. Montgomery laughed. "Mother can't help but love the man who saved her son's life."
"The captain saved your life?"
"In fact, he saved my life twice." Mr. Montgomery pointed across from the wharf. "The first time was over in that alley when I was ten years old. Father used to bring me here to look at th
e ships. But when he took ill one Sunday, I came by myself."
He chuckled. "My driver was too busy imbibing to notice me being dragged off into the alley by two hooligans."
Annie shivered at the sight of the alley, the same one where she had spent two chilly nights. She asked, "You must have fought back?"
"Hard to fight back when someone is holding a knife to your throat while the other one is pulling off your boots."
"No matter what, I can't imagine you not putting up a fight."
"You flatter me, lad, but back then I was scrawny and short. The captain had an advantage of having lived on the streets."
"If you were ten, how old was he?" Annie asked.
"About my age, but back then, he was taller than me. He came out of nowhere, whipped them both, took their weapons and told me I should do myself a favor and stay away from the docks."
"He thought my boots were small payment for saving my life. I agreed. Ten years passed before we met again. Hard to believe that was only three years ago. A lot has happened since then."
"Did you recognize him when you saw him again?" Annie wondered if Abigail would recognize her after only a few months of being separated.
"Aye, I recognized him. He was a taller, older version of the boy who had saved my life the first time."
"What about the second rescue? Did it happen at the docks, too?" Annie asked.
"No, out at sea," Mr. Montgomery said as he picked up the satchel lying at his feet.
"You can't stop there."
"One day, you will hear the whole story, but not now."
"At least tell me this, what did the captain get for saving your life a second time, two pairs of boots?" Annie laughed.
"No, Andrés." Mr. Montgomery smiled. "He got this ship."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Once Annie and Mr. Montgomery disembarked, they made their way to Philip's Livery Stable. The first mate looked over the horses in the stalls before picking one that looked anxious for a good run.
"Wise choice, sir. 'E's a lively one, but you look like you can 'andle 'im," the stable boy said. As he led the horse out of the stall, he eyed Annie. "I will get you the grey mare."
Mr. Montgomery patted his horse's neck. "You do know how to ride, don't you, Andrés?" he asked.
Standing on a mounting block, Annie placed her hand on the pommel and hoisted herself onto the saddle. "Of course, I do, sir."
Annie chuckled to herself, thinking how Mr. Montgomery would be flabbergasted if he knew she had only ridden sidesaddle.
* * *
Annie trotted behind Mr. Montgomery on the meandering ride through the countryside. With images of Christopher playing over and over in her head, Annie observed little of the rise and fall of the landscape.
Mr. Montgomery waved Annie to come up alongside him. "This is not the first time I will be bringing bad news to a sailor's wife or mother, and it won't be my last," he said to her. "Remember, you must keep your own emotions under control. I will do most of the talking. When you talk to Christopher's mother, make sure you are ready. We don't want to make this anymore difficult than it already is. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Annie said.
Together, they neared a cottage where wildflowers wove their way through a small vegetable garden.
A dog greeted them with no more than a lift of his head and a sweep of his tail sending puffs of dust into the air.
After dismounting, Annie knelt down to pet the dog. "Good boy, Jasper. Christopher said you..."
"You know my son?" The voice came from the cottage doorway.
Like Jasper, Christopher's mother was plump and gray. After brief introductions, she warmly invited them in. Annie hesitated in the doorway, her hands clammy.
The cottage was much like the one she had lived in with her uncle's family, only smaller and in desperate need of repair. The blackened ceiling sagged, but the furniture was solid and welcoming.
Even though there was no chill in the air, Mrs. Doyle pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders. "You say you are shipmates of my son, but where is he?"
"I believe you should sit down, Mrs. Doyle," Mr. Montgomery said in a firm yet compassionate voice. "I am sorry, but we bring bad news about your son,"
Seeing the woman sway, Annie grabbed her elbow. With Annie and Mr. Montgomery's support, Mrs. Doyle staggered to a chair.
"Has Christopher taken ill? That boy was always getting sick, you know."
"I am afraid he did take ill shortly after we left the colonies." Mr. Montgomery said.
While Mr. Montgomery's story unfolded, Annie realized Mrs. Doyle wouldn't be learning the true nature of her son's death. Mr. Montgomery's tale ended with, "I assure you that Christopher died peacefully in his sleep."
Whether he died a gruesome death or in his sleep, Christopher was dead. Nothing would change that fact, and Annie knew his mother would grieve for him for the rest of her life.
Tears ran down Mrs. Doyle's cheeks as she motioned to a wooden bench. "Sit, please. Christopher would want his friends to stay for biscuits." With trembling hands, she stroked the oak table. "He made this all by himself."
While Annie fought back tears, Mr. Montgomery remained stoic. He ran his hand along the smooth grain of the wood. "We all admired Christopher's wood carvings on the ship, but I had no idea he was such a skilled craftsman. You must have been very proud of him."
"I have always been proud of Christopher. I thought he would be a cabinetmaker like his father, but he had other plans," Mrs. Doyle said. "I never thought anyone would hire him as a sailor, him being a cripple and all. He was born that way, you know, one leg shorter than the other and that one foot of his never quite caught up with the other. Nothin' we could do about it, and he never let it get in the way of what he wanted to do. When he told me Captain Hawke hired him, I can't ever remember seeing Christopher that happy.
"I missed him terribly, but I never thought it would be…" She looked up, her mouth agape. "Forever."
Mr. Montgomery patted Mrs. Doyle's hand before reaching into his satchel. He handed her Christopher's Bible and then a letter. "This is from Captain Hawke. He thought a great deal of your son."
Mrs. Doyle took the letter and began reading it to herself. When she struggled with a word, which was often, she asked Mr. Montgomery for help.
Annie listened to the muffled sobs coming from Christopher's mother as she read the letter to herself. Annie's heart was breaking, too, as she waited for the right moment to tell Mrs. Doyle how much Christopher had loved her. The woman continued reading and then stopped. She looked up, puzzled.
"Such kind words from your captain, but I don't understand…"
"What is it that you don't understand, Mrs. Doyle?" Mr. Montgomery said gently.
"He speaks of a girl who was with my Christopher when he died. How is that possible?"
"A girl? There are no girls on the Realm." Mr. Montgomery appeared equally confused. "Only Andrés and our surgeon were with Christopher the day he died. I am sure there is a logical explanation. If you don't mind, may I see the letter?"
"Certainly," she said as she pointed to a passage. "Captain Hawke said her hair was black as a moonless night and her eyes the palest blue, but he never mentions her name."
Mr. Montgomery looked at Annie. "Do you have any idea who the captain is talking about?"
Annie shook her head while she gnawed on her lower lip. She felt her knees go weak when she heard Mr. Montgomery read aloud.
"Christopher shared an innocent kiss with the lovely maiden. She stayed by his side until he drew his last breath.
"I am sorry, Mrs. Doyle," Mr. Montgomery said. "But apparently Captain Hawke is privy to matters I know nothing about."
Although Mr. Montgomery appeared visibly shaken by the turn of events, he still managed to stay on task. He took money from his satchel and laid it on the table. "I am sure you know that Christopher saved most of his wages for you. However, some of this is from the proceeds collected at an auct
ion that was held in your son's honor.
"And Captain Hawke wants you to know that any debts you might have will be taken care of."
Overwhelmed, Mrs. Doyle hugged Mr. Montgomery. She then turned to Annie and squeezed her hand. "You have been rather quiet, dear. Did you know my son well?"
"Yes, ma'am. He was a mighty fine sailor and a dear friend. Christopher wanted you to know how much he loved you, but you already knew that."
Mrs. Doyle pulled Annie closer to her. Annie tugged on her shirt button while Christopher's mother stared deep into her ice-blue eyes. Mrs. Doyle pushed the rim of Annie's cap just high enough to reveal the slight curve of her eyebrows. With her head tilted to the side, Mrs. Doyle ran a thumb along the inside of Annie's cap.
"It is much too hot in here for you to be wearing this."
Before Annie could object, Mrs. Doyle pulled the cap off her head. Annie's dark hair fell across one eye. She wanted to run, but found it impossible to move.
Mrs. Doyle's voice cracked. "Mr. Montgomery said you were with Christopher when he died. Your hair and eyes are just like the girl's that the captain described in his letter. Tell me your name, your real name."
"My name is…Annie."
Mrs. Doyle put her hand to her lips. "Did…did you love my son?"
Annie answered truthfully. "Yes, I loved Christopher. Everyone loved your son."
Mrs. Doyle stood back and studied Annie. "How long did Christopher know you were a girl?"
"I would like to hear the answer to that question myself." Mr. Montgomery's voice shook.
"That night, he only knew that night." Annie looked from Mr. Montgomery to Mrs. Doyle.
While Mr. Montgomery looked pale and shocked, Mrs. Doyle appeared content.
"Please, I want to know everything about your friendship with my son and his days on the Realm," she said.
Annie sat down beside her. She described Christopher's life at sea and spared no details. While they shared tears and laughter about the friend and son they both loved, Annie glanced at Mr. Montgomery who sat in stony silence.
