At twelve o’clock, as the forenoon watch drew to a close, Captain Knight called an end to the exercises at the sails and sent the men for their mid-day meal. Accompanied by Lieutenant Matthews, Knight ascended the ladder from the quarterdeck to the poop deck where Catherine remained seated. “Miss Gibson” the captain said with a polite bow, “May I ask how you enjoyed the morning’s activities?” Catherine rose to her feet, self-consciously smoothing her muslin gown as she replied: “I enjoyed it very much, Captain Knight. I am in awe at how the men and the equipment all work together. However, I fear the exercises have demonstrated how much I have yet to learn about the working of a ship.” A fleeting smile touched the captain’s lips: “Then it is fair to say, Miss Gibson that you soon wish to join His Majesty’s Navy?” Catherine and Lieutenant Matthews shared a small laugh in response. “Come,” Matthews said to Catherine, “Before you catch a notion to stowaway onboard the Triton! Let’s go below for our meal, dear girl. I need some strength before the afternoon exercises at the guns.” Catherine laid a hand on the lieutenant’s arm a moment to stay him: “I had hoped, Uncle Matthews,” she said tentatively “that we might dine together on deck today, rather than in the officer’s wardroom?” She looked somewhat nervously from her uncle to the captain before continuing: “There is but little time left and I would…I would welcome a few moments with you alone… before we reach Jamaica.” Matthews gave a somber nod before wrapping her in a fatherly embrace of assent.
The captain looked closely at the two, his brows knit together in a look of deep concentration. Reading his changed expression, Catherine feared she had given the captain offense with her request. She moved to where Knight stood and laid a trembling hand on his arm as she spoke: “I beg your indulgence, sir” she said quietly. “Might I have this time with my uncle if it does not interfere with his duty?” Captain Knight stared down at her from his great height, his dark blue eyes full of some emotion Catherine could not read. “Please, make yourself easy, Miss Gibson” he replied in a low voice: “Enjoy this time with your uncle. I shall arrange to have your meal sent here, as you request.” With that, Knight took her hand in his and raised it to his lips in brief salute before turning and leaving Catherine and Matthews alone on deck.
Catherine remained rooted to the spot after he left, her hand tingling from the contact of his lips. Matthews looked over his niece, carefully choosing his words before speaking: “He is a good man, Captain Knight. He is all generosity as you can see. I feared at first that you seemed to dislike him, Catherine?” he finished questioningly. Catherine turned slowly to face her uncle, struggling to hide the many emotions at play in her face. “Yes….. No!” she stammered then started again; “I fear I did not form a favorable impression of Captain Knight at first, uncle. But now…” she trailed off. “But now?” Matthews pressed gently. “Now,” Catherine said haltingly, “I must agree with your assessment. Captain Knight is a fine man, indeed.” Matthews nodded his head sagely, struck not only by her admission but by the wistful tone in her voice. Perhaps, he thought, there is more than one reason she does not wish the journey to end? The wise lieutenant kept the thought to himself and settled down to enjoy Catherine’s company before the afternoon’s duties would take him away.
The sun shone brilliantly overhead in a startling blue sky. The waves lapped gently against the Triton’s bulk and all seemed at peace – all save Catherine. Matthews watched his niece closely as they talked together over lunch. Though she did her best to engage in discussion, Matthews could sense her unrest. He paused in his speech and asked with fatherly affection; “What is troubling you, child?” Catherine turned her lovely face skyward and closed her eyes a long moment. The sun warmed her skin and a gentle breeze tugged at stray wisps of her golden hair. She strove to find calmness in the beauty of this moment but she could not. So many things were troubling her, but at the heart of all was their imminent arrival in Jamaica. She opened her eyes once more and turned to her uncle, her face wreathed in sadness; “What do you think will happen to me when we reach Jamaica?” The bluntness of her question took Matthews by surprise. He blinked and looked away as she had just done and tried to find an answer that would satisfy her. Before he could answer she spoke once again: “When my father sent word that I was to join him, he requested that a recent portrait of me be sent ahead…..” Matthews stiffened in response to her words. The brave man had encountered many difficulties and hardships throughout his life but nothing prepared him for the agony he felt in this moment. A father to three sons, he knew what it was to worry about a child, but Catherine’s words caused him pain beyond anything he had ever thought possible. “You should prepare yourself, Catherine,” he said with great tenderness. “I expect it is as you guess…. That your father wishes for you to marry….” Catherine turned away, her bright eyes spilling over with tears. Her voice was husky as she spoke; “I thought as much, Uncle Matthews, although I confess I had hoped there might be some other answer.” Matthews pulled Catherine to him and embraced her with fatherly affection as tears came into his own eyes.
They remained together like this for a long moment before Matthews could speak once again; “Oh dearest heart, what shall I tell you….” he said with great emotion. “How I wish your aunt was here with us now. She would know just what to do to make us both feel better.” Catherine gave a small, sad laugh at his words and leaned against his comforting bulk. At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Catherine pulled away quickly to wipe her eyes. She did her best to compose her features but her distress was still evident as Captain Knight appeared before them. Knight looked from one to the other before speaking in respectful tones; “I regret the interruption, Miss Gibson, but I am afraid I need your uncle’s assistance before our afternoon exercises.” He gave a slight bow as he spoke but his eyes never wavered from Catherine’s face. She nodded her head in understanding and attempted a slight smile as she replied; “Of course, Captain Knight. My uncle and I have enjoyed a pleasant meal together. I thank you for sharing him on such a busy day.” “Not at all, Miss Gibson,” Knight replied quietly. “In fact, I should be thanking Matthews for sharing your company with us on this journey. You have been most gracious in enduring our rituals and routines. I do not imagine it has been easy for you.” Catherine could sense a hidden meaning beneath his words but her troubled heart would not allow her to think upon it. She drew on her last reserves of courage and sent her uncle off with wishes that the afternoon’s exercises would go well. The two men took their leave but as they reached the stairs, Captain Knight turned to her once more. He seemed on the verge of speaking, his dark eyes full of unspoken things, but at the last moment he simply bowed to her and descended to the quarterdeck. Catherine tried to dispel the disquieting thoughts in her mind but not even the noise of the guns at the afternoon drill could drive the many worrisome thoughts from her heart.
Like the morning’s work in the rigging, Catherine soon found that an exercise at the guns was a much more detailed – and noisy – activity than she could have ever imagined. After completion of the midday meal, the officers and crew were summoned to the guns by the beating of the marines’ drum. Catherine remained on the poop deck which carried no guns; this way she could observe the action without being in harm’s way. Matthews had explained to her how the entire ship would be made ready, as though they were truly engaged in battle. From the short 12 pounder cannons on the quarterdeck to the huge 32 pounders on the lower gun deck, everyman would stand ready at his station. Each cannon was manned with a crew of five to seven men: a gunner who aimed and fired the gun, several crewmen who sponged, loaded and rolled out the massive canon, and a ‘powder monkey’ who kept the gun supplied with powder cartridges from the magazine.
Catherine sat motionless as the men made ready. Below her on the quarterdeck, she could see Captain Knight taking careful inventory of the scene before him. He stood rigidly at attention, broad shoulders braced, hands clasped behind his back, with feet squarely set on the deck’s surface.
Knight gave a sudden sharp command: at the word, all hands sprang to life and the work of the guns began in earnest. In quick succession the gun ports were opened, the canons loaded and rolled out. The captain’s sharp call of “Fire!” rang out and the fuses were lit. Nothing on earth could have prepared Catherine for the resulting noise and sharp motion that rocked through the ship as the cannons gave bear. Clouds of dark smoke drifted upward obscuring her view. But before the echo of the first shots had ended, Catherine could clearly hear the order to roll out the guns again in preparation for the next shot. In the same measured way the men bent to their tasks again and again, many stripped to the waist as they worked furiously to load, fire and reload the great guns. Catherine coughed a little at the smoke that continued to rise but felt in no way persuaded to leave the fascinating scene. She remained in position throughout the exercise, taking in the details with rapt attention. She was determined to create a sketch later of this unbelievable event and swept her artist’s eye excitedly over the whole, attempting to capture every detail. One sight, however, kept drawing Catherine’s attention: that of Captain Knight standing unwaveringly at attention. His attitude of authority and control never changed no matter the organized chaos playing out before him. Catherine knew in an instant that he would be the same in the face of a real battle. It was little wonder the men so trusted and respected their captain. Little wonder as well that he had dedicated his life to the business of the navy – he seemed born to the task. Catherine could not help but think that a man so wholly absorbed in the drama of life at sea could have no room in his heart for the simple joys of a life onshore. Her uncle managed to live happily in both worlds but Catherine felt certain that it could never be so for Captain Knight. The idea made Catherine feel strangely sad but she quickly reminded herself that the captain’s life – whatever it might be – would no longer be her concern in just a few short days. Certainly an unusual tension seemed to exist between them but she knew it could never be more than a passing notion: the captain would never abandon his life at sea, and if her guess was correct, her life would soon no longer be her own to command. Though the sun shone brightly on Catherine, a cold shiver passed over her that she could not shake.
After several more rounds, the captain gave the order for the men to belay firing. The frenetic energy of their exercises was replaced by a much more leisurely pace as the gun stations were returned to their original order, everything carefully stored for future need. As the smoke began to clear, Catherine was met once more by her uncle and his captain as they came aloft to where she sat. Catherine’s eyes flashed and an unwonted grin came upon her features at the sight of the two men. Soot from the guns had settled on them both, streaking their normally immaculate faces and clothing to wicked effect. The captain stood casually before Catherine his smile gleaming white against the darkness of his face, his coat slung carelessly over his arm in an attitude at once casual and commanding. Captain Knight looked, in fact, a perfect devil sent to disrupt Catherine’s thoughts. “I must surmise from your look” the captain said, “that we are not what one would call, polite company, Miss Gibson.” Her eyes danced with mischief as she replied: “Indeed, Captain. I must admit I thought you might be two devils come to fetch me.” They laughed at her words but Catherine could not help but think to herself “there is an element of truth to what I say.” The captain apologized for their appearance before making his next request: “After such an exercise, Miss Gibson, the men normally take some time on deck to refresh themselves and remove the grime from the guns. Might I ask that you retire to your cabin while they wash on deck?” Catherine reddened at the thought and quickly gave her assent, turning to leave with all haste. “Miss Gibson?” the captain spoke to her retreating back. She turned to face him once more, anxious to depart before the men got on with their ablutions. “Might I make a further request? After the efforts of the day the hands might enjoy some evening entertainment on deck. Would you care to join in these amusements after supper?” Catherine nodded her head in response; “I shall be delighted, Captain.” Then, with no further pause she hastened to her quarters leaving the men to their washing on the great ship’s deck.
Chapter XIII
Knowing how hard the crew had worked this day, Catherine made certain she was ready well in time for the evening meal. While the crew spent their time on deck washing off the soot from the guns and donning fresh clothes, Catherine also prepared for the night’s festivities. In expectation of the evening’s gathering, Catherine searched her trunk for a favorite gown for dancing: a muslin gown of purest white, patterned softly with embroidered flowers. The neck and empire waist were trimmed in silk, with ties at the waist falling in long graceful ribbons behind her back. Catherine carefully plaited her hair, capturing its silky weight into an elegant twist at the base of her neck, securing the whole with tortoiseshell combs. As she looked in the mirror, Catherine noted her high color from spending almost the entire day in full sun. Her checks were an even deeper shade than usual, highlighting the angular planes of her face and making her blue eyes gleam brighter. Catherine chastised herself for not carrying her parasol on deck earlier, and then gave a quick laugh of mirth at the thought. The idea of sitting on deck beneath a silk parasol while the smoke and noise of the guns curled up around her was ludicrous, and more than a little amusing to Catherine’s mind.
The smile was still playing about her lips as Catherine was summoned to the door by the customary knock of Tom Foster. She opened the door wide, her lovely face wreathed in smiles, to greet her young escort. To her surprise, Catherine found a very anxious Tom at her threshold.
“Miss Gibson,” Tom said quickly, “The captain sends his apologies but there is to be no supper or festivities this evening. A French ship has been spotted to the west and we are to give chase.” Catherine listened with growing alarm: “But what can a French ship be doing here? We are very close to Jamaica now, to be sure?” Tom nodded his head in agreement; “You’re right, miss. There is no reason for a corvette to be in these waters. We will give chase to determine what they are up to. The captain wanted you to know so you would not be waiting on us as we will be at stations.” The unmistakable pride in his voice as he spoke these words gave Catherine pause. She knew Tom was already used to such events in his life at sea but she worried for him just the same. “I think I shall join you on deck first, Tom to see the spectacle for myself.” The boy reddened at her words. “That is the other part of my message, Miss Gibson. Captain says you are not to come above deck until the situation is resolved. He wants you to remain below, in the orlop, if you please. It’s not a fit space for a lady but Captain Knight says it’s better fit for a lady than the main deck during a battle.” Catherine could not help but bristle at this reported speech. She did not pretend to be a brave soldier of any sort, but she refused to be summarily dismissed like a child. Tom saw the hint of anger in her face and tried to make amends. “Please, miss! It should not be for very long. The surgeon will be there for you to talk to… and I’ll come fetch you as soon as the worst is over.” Catherine did not wish to create problems for Tom but there was no way she would miss this opportunity. Before Tom could protest further, Catherine was through the cabin door and heading for the quarter deck, a nervous Foster trailing in her wake.
The sight as she reached the main deck filled Catherine with awe; she could not help but feel an undeniable thrill at her first view of an enemy ship. Britain and France had long been at war and the news of naval battles filled the papers – and the everyday talk – of every city and town in England. Like her countrymen, Catherine was well versed in the heroic actions of England’s navy and to be here, ringside at such an event seemed like something out of a dream. The French vessel was much closer than Catherine imagined it would be. From her vantage point she could clearly see details of the vessel; the cannons run out the gun ports, the men aloft in the rigging, and the tri-color flag snapping in the wind as the French sought to escape the English ship’s determined pursuit. T
he flurry of motion on the French ship was matched on the decks of HMS Triton. Like the French vessel it pursued, the English ship was busily preparing for engagement with the enemy. Catherine saw the hands arrayed in an almost exact replica of the morning’s exercises: many were aloft in the sheets working furiously to move the Triton at even greater speed while others hauled ropes to the shouted commands of their lieutenants. In formation further up the deck was the ship’s company of marines, arms at the ready. At stations the length of the deck, cannons were made ready by the gun crews. And orchestrating all from his position on the quarter deck was Captain Knight; issuing commands rapid-fire to his men, seeking every advantage, driving the Triton to greater gains on the enemy ship.
Gripping scenes played out everywhere before her but Catherine found her gaze drawn time and again by the awesome spectacle of Captain Knight. He stood towering on the deck in his immaculate uniform, determination and authority flowing from him like a living thing. He seemed to anticipate every move of the French and used that understanding to guide his own men, ensuring their rapid gain on the enemy. No small detail escaped his constant calculations so it should not have surprised Catherine when his all-seeing gaze found her in his survey of the ship. A dark flush came into Captain Knight’s face at the sight of her on deck and his look of composed concentration was quickly replaced with anger. Catherine knew her mistake and stood fearful at her discovery. Without moving from his spot, the captain barked at young Tom: “Foster! Get that woman below decks immediately!” Then Captain Knight turned sharply away, not waiting to see if his order would be carried out. Catherine felt a burning shame in her cheeks at being so brutally dismissed – but she knew better than to disobey Knight’s order a second time. With all the good grace she could muster, Catherine accepted her chastisement and left immediately for the orlop.
Commanding Heart Page 7
