He was getting heated as well, and she had never had such a heated fight with a man, too mortified to even have done so with her father. She could well imagine the scathing look she would receive if she so much as challenged him on anything.
Sarah crossed her arms again, her body drawn tight into itself.
"No doubt, without considerable help and no short portion of luck, she would have ended up as one of the girls working for Madam Guerier. That's what happens to women in the Caribbean. Is that what you want?"
With her head held high, she ignored his statement. He only presented the worst outcome. She knew there was more for women in the Caribbean than being prostitutes—she'd seen it. Women here ran businesses, establishing fine, happy lives, able to do what they wanted. That was what the Caribbean offered to everyone who came, but he was right: not everyone flourished.
"Please leave," she stated. "I want to be alone."
He shook his head as if she was being absurd and he was at the very end of his patience. "This is my cabin," he said.
"Not anymore. It's mine now. And you're not welcome." She acknowledged that she sounded a bit childish, but she was beyond caring what he thought of her. His opinion of her was obviously atrocious, so why worry about making it worse?
She watched as he stepped out the door and slammed it hard behind him. With an intake of breath, she sighed out heavily at being alone again. She was still so very angry that he'd come and scuttled her plans. It was unconscionable, saying it was her father's wish. That might be so, but she needed to have a say in her own life. And she did not want to return to England, but she knew he wasn't going to listen.
Throwing herself down on the bed, she tucked her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. She wasn't going to be able to negotiate with him. She was being taken back whether she wanted to or not.
How could he be so adamant she'd be miserable? She hadn't been miserable exactly, even when she'd had nothing at all. There had been a part of it that she'd enjoyed, and she knew she could work to change those other parts. But still, his certainty made her doubt herself. Perhaps her ideas and hopes were a little far-fetched. He had been there longer than her and it was possible that she'd misunderstood, wasn't capable of emulating the women who'd achieved success. Many of the women here had nowhere else to go and the Caribbean was still better than the misery they had come from.
Sitting up, she looked out the windows, seeing the bright blue sky outside. Maybe it had all been a dream, the notion of finding a life where she was in charge of her own destiny.
*
There was a knock on the door and Sarah ignored it, but they knocked again, louder this time. "Supper, Miss," said a young man. The handle on the door depressed and the door cracked open. "I must serve supper now," a man said.
Looking out the window, she noticed it had grown dark. "Oh, I didn't realize," she said, lifting herself off the bed.
"For the captain, we serve at his table, and for guests, of course, such as yourself," he said cheerily as he walked in and placed a tray on the table.
"Oh, I see." This was the captain's quarters, even if she'd commandeered it. She was depending on Mr. Havencourt's good manners to enact her decision. Technically, he did have the rights to these quarters, but she insisted on taking them—although it would be unconscionable, as a gentleman, not to lend her his quarters, particularly as there were no cabins on the ship. Saying that, she wasn't entirely sure Mr. Havencourt could be depended on to be conscionable. He was the pirate, after all, and had a tendency to act like it when he wanted to.
At no point had she felt unsafe in his company and she expected he would never trespass upon her person. Although, she did seem to annoy him to a great degree. Mr. Havencourt didn't like her, that much was clear, but she didn't care. She didn't like him either. For a worldly man, he was remarkably close-minded, and saw no value in any other lifestyle, saw only the rightness of English society.
Footsteps sounded above her head, and she knew he was coming. The youth who'd carried in the tray was placing platters on the table, which included some pork, a fish dish and fruit from the region.
The pirate appeared and marched to the head of the table, where he sat down. He was served before the galley hand prepared a plate for her. This was what she was used to, being served for anything she required. It had been a shock to her at first when she'd had to fend for herself, but she had grown used to it now. This service seemed unnecessary now, being served when they were fully capable of doing so themselves. But soon she would return, to again never do anything for herself.
Her stomach asserted itself now that food was available. It had been a while since she'd eaten and her stomach growled in anticipation, even if she didn't entirely like her dining companion. Her plate was served on the opposite side of the table, as far away from him as possible.
"And what will you be returning to when you get back to England?" she asked, watching as he ate.
"Shropshire," he said. "That is where my family is."
"And what will you do once you return?"
"Perhaps not so different from the life I had when I was young; return to my family and re-establish my life, I suppose. Maybe seek a new profession."
"Such as?"
"I haven't had time to consider it to any degree. I will, of course, purchase a property. I have the means to."
"By ill-gotten means," she accused.
"Perhaps so, but I had little choice. And I'm not about to forgo the advantages it has provided to me."
She continued eating and when she was satisfied, she sat back and watched him again. The galley hand served claret and he accepted a glass.
"Where we going?" she asked.
Looking up into his eyes, she saw they sparkled in the candle light. For a moment it seemed as if he wasn't going to tell her. "We are sailing directly for the Bahamas, where we will change and sail north on one of the merchant ships."
"And if I don't want to go?"
"I must take your father's wishes into account."
"And my wishes mean nothing."
"I think you see a future that doesn't exist. I think you have been fooling yourself, perhaps it is a reaction to the things you've experienced, but you must be protected from these notions you are prepared to act on. You are young and perhaps even idealistic, but you would come to regret this decision. Mark my words. There is no need for you and your family to suffer."
"Suffer? That is an interesting turn of phrase, considering I am set to marry a man I don't want to."
"You think your father is unconcerned about what you want, but I think you're wrong. Father's care about their daughters’ happiness, probably more than you give them credit for."
She snorted. "Or perhaps it is you who is idealistic. There's too much at stake with regards to my marriage to be overly concerned about my happiness and benefit."
"If this man is known to your father, then he will be assured of the character of the man. A man's character is important, particularly in a husband. Much more important than a handsome face and charming personality.”
"Will you be forced to marry someone you don't want?"
"No,” he said. “I will not. I have the means to make decisions. I have no title—that belongs to my brother—so I don't have the considerations of the future of the family to the same degree that he does."
She appreciated his honesty, but it meant he didn't fully understand the position she was in—the position she’d been born into. These were the responsibilities that had been assigned to her from the moment she'd arrived on this earth. Her job was to better the position of the family.
Chapter 12
They arrived in Nassau early in the morning. The sun was just rising, painting colors across the township they steadily sailed toward. The girl stood next to him, her arms crossed, looking out across the bay.
"It's smaller than I expected," she said.
"It's not a large township, but important. This is a rough town, though. I'm warning you now.
"
"I'm used to rough towns," she stated. "I lived in one, remember? How long are we staying here?"
"Until I can find a ship going north. It shouldn't be too difficult."
Slowly the ship sailed forward toward the bustling activity at the port. He could see the township behind; the buildings, the church, as well as what was the administrative buildings. He'd been here before, prior to the Spanish ransacking it. It looked very different now.
Nassau's new governor had recently arrived, but he had little control over the population here. Nassau was very much a pirate town these days. The pirates had arrived and they were building in numbers. He wondered how long it would take before the navy from Port Royal would sail in and clear out the township of its less reputable inhabitants. But then Nassau had one distinct advantage, the big man-o-wars couldn't sail into these waters. The coastal waters around these islands were too shallow. So in that sense, the pirates, in their smaller and faster ships, were free to come and go as they pleased, without fear of being raided by the Royal Navy.
But the sentiments toward piracy were changing. The navy was not as allowing as it used to be. The tolerance for privateers had faded and their royal support had evaporated. Perhaps with the Spanish building their presence in the region, different tactics were sought and pirates had outlived their usefulness.
It took about two hours to finally reach the ports, where the crew was going through the work of docking. They would stay the day here and unload the cargo before heading back to Port Royal. Apparently, the navy was sending provisions to support the administration and it would take some time to unload. The sailing master would be taking the ship back—a capable man and Joshua had no hesitation that he would manage the crew finely.
Once a plank was extended to the jetty, they were the first to disembark. The port was busy, men and beasts waiting to unload the ship. They had to move out of the way. Ports were dangerous at the best of times. Taking a moment, he looked up at the ship, admiring its beauty. It wasn't the best ship he'd ever sailed on, but it was likely the last he would ever captain. That part of his life was now over.
"Come," he said. "I will find us a room."
"A room?" she asked. "I take it you mean two rooms."
"I would if I could trust you not to run away, which I can't. You've proven that already."
"I promise I won't."
"And what a place the world would be if I could take you at your word."
"My word is honorable. I'm not staying in a room with you."
"You'll be perfectly safe, I assure you. It would probably be the safest room you could have in this town."
Placing his hand at her elbow, he guided her toward the township, where he could see a few guesthouses. There were usually guesthouses down by the port in any township. New arrivals needed a place to stay and the port was the place where visitors congregated. He picked an inn made of gray stone, two stories with large windows. It was a smaller guesthouse, but he found they were often the nicer ones.
There was a dining room downstairs where the proprietor greeted them. A man in his late forties, with thinning hair and a white apron covering a proud belly.
"A room, please," Joshua said.
"He is not my husband," the girl stated adamantly.
The proprietor didn't quite know what to do or say. In a port like this, that wasn't readily a problem, but people didn't usually point it out.
Joshua smiled tightly. "She likes being difficult," he said, turning to her and looking down into her stubborn face. "I do, of course, have the necessary papers, with the naval seal justifying our business."
"I'm not your prisoner," she hissed.
"Effectively, you are, until I return you to your father. And these papers I carry give me the rights to conduct this any way I see fit. And no one will stand in my way, so it might be better for all concerned that you don't cause trouble."
"There is a room at the end of the hall upstairs," the man said, eyeing them suspiciously.
Joshua smiled and took the key. "Come," he ordered sharply.
She stood with her arms crossed tightly, as was her norm, unwilling to move. It wouldn’t surprise him if she actually tapped her foot with vexation.
Stepping back to her, he leaned down to her ear and spoke so only she could hear. "I will carry you.”
With a stiff back, she marched ahead of him, taking the stairs up to the landing above. The corridor was narrow, not wide enough for two people to pass. They found the door and it unlocked easily enough. The room was small, containing nothing more than a bed and a small table.
"This is ridiculous," she said. "You can't expect me to stay in here with you."
"I will sleep on the floor," he conceded. "But I must ensure you don't run away again. This is not a town where you should be roaming around on your own. I wish you would understand that, but you seem to have strange notions about your own safety."
She looked around the room, taking a few steps. "Now what?" she asked.
"Now we go inquire about ships leaving in the next few days."
Taking a breath, she sighed out. "If you insist."
Leaving the room again, he admitted they could have waited to rent it as they really had nothing to leave behind.
Once outside, they walked down to the port again and Joshua inquired with the harbormaster to see where they could potentially find passage going north.
"The best to fit your purpose might be the Arabel, which is heading up to Boston on the evening tide tomorrow." This was the news Joshua had hoped for. Everything was going easily, as he had expected it would.
Walking along, they found the Arabel and inquired to see the captain. A man, clearly a sailor on the ship, told him that the captain had gone inland for a day, but he would likely be found that evening at one of the taverns. Joshua nodded and gave his thanks before walking off the ship began.
The girl waited patiently until he joined her. "So are they giving us passage?" she asked.
"We will see tonight. The captain is not present at the moment. So we will have to seek him later."
"So what do we do in the meantime?"
"Perhaps we should rest, then seek out the tavern as the sun sets."
"Fine," she said, "but you’re on the floor."
Joshua didn't say anything, only clenched his teeth. She was the most annoying girl he'd ever met, he thought as they walked back toward the inn.
*
The tavern was raucous when they approached later in the evening. Light shone out the window on an otherwise dark town. There was no street lighting, so the only light came from people walking with lanterns or light shining through windows. The weather had clouded over and there was no moon that night, making Joshua nervous.
This tavern was as boisterous as any he'd seen in the Caribbean. Men were drinking and whores were plying their trade. The girl didn't seem bothered by the scene; she'd seen this before—he’d found her in a place just like it.
"I will inquire about the captain," he said. "After, I think we should eat. Why don't you take the table over there in the corner and wait for me there."
"Are you sure I won't run away?"
"I'll make sure to keep an eye on you," he said as he stepped away toward the barkeep, who likely knew every man in the place.
The barkeep was helpful and directed him to a man sitting at a table not far away.
"Captain Harrelson?" he asked as he approached the table.
"I'll be your man," a wide man said with a brusque voice. "How can I be of assistance?" He sat on a stool with his hand on his knee.
"I was hoping you could tell me if there's room for passengers on your ship. I understand you’re sailing north tomorrow."
"Aye, to Boston. Is that where you be needing to go?" The man had a Scottish accent.
"It is."
The man looked him up and down, taking in his clothes. "You can sleep on the deck, if you wish. I won't charge you for that, if you lend a hand."
"I will be traveling with a woman," Joshua said. "Hence, I'll be needing something more than a space on the deck."
"A woman, you say?"
Joshua knew not all captains were happy to have women onboard. He hoped this man wasn't one of them.
"A cabin will cost you," the captain said.
"I have the means to pay."
The man looked him in the eye, taking his measure. "I dare say you do. We sail on the evening tide; be there, if you will, otherwise we sail without you."
With a nod, Joshua retreated and returned to the girl, who was still sitting at the table. Placing his hand up, he waved the serving wench over to order two bowls of stew and some bread. “With that, I'd have an ale. Will you have one as well?" he asked, turning to the girl.
"I'll have a rum," she said to Joshua’s surprise.
"A rum? Not sure that's the drink for a chit like yourself."
"Which is exactly why I am having one. How often do you think I will have a chance to in the future?"
She had a point. If she wanted a rum, she could have one.
"Fine," he said to the serving wench, who scurried away behind the bar to place their order.
Sitting down, he watched the crowd in the tavern. These people were as rough as any in the Caribbean ports. Most were unwashed, poorly dressed as well, but the people who lived and worked in the Caribbean, particularly the one who liked spending their time in taverns, didn't care so much for fine clothes. A fight broke out across the room, two men slugging at each other.
"Why do they always fight?" she asked.
"Drink makes them feel entitled to better treatment, I suppose," he said.
The bowls of stew arrived, along with a half loaf of bread, which was freshly baked. The bread was soft and Joshua tore a bit off to steep in the stew, soaking up the broth. The stew was good, with chunks of beef and vegetables. Close to the Carolinas, the Bahamas had access to provisions, which tended to make for better food, even in the lowest of taverns.
The girl's rum arrived and she took a sip, shuddering at the taste. He would swear all his wealth this was the first time she’d tasted it, but she persevered, taking another sip.
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