by Lorri Dudley
“Well, sleeping beauty has awoken.”
Lottie twisted to see a man seated in a chair made out of a barrel. His features were weathered by the sun, and his fingers curled with age, but he still wore the uniform of a sailor.
“Needed to catch a few winks, didn’t ya?” His lips curled into a smile, and his face folded into a mass of wrinkles. “She’s an out-and-outer, all right. A russet mane with da spirit to go with it, I’m sure. She reminds me of me wife, the lovely Maria.”
Nathan let go of his hold on her to scoot himself up higher on the bench with his palms. Lottie used the opportunity to slide off his lap and sit next to him on the bench.
“Do you feel any better?”
The kindness hadn’t left Nathan’s eyes, and Lottie nodded. His niceness set her on edge. Would this state be temporary?
“Let me introduce you to my long-time friend, Cobble. Cobble, this is Charlotte Winthrop, my wife.”
Did he hastily add the last bit, or was that her imagination?
“I’m honored to meet such a lovely vision as yerself.” Cobble removed his tri-cornered hat and bowed. Tufts of white hair stuck out in all directions and blew in the breeze before he patted his hat back on.
“The honor is all mine.” Lottie inclined her head.
“We were swappin’ stories of when Nathan here first came aboard. Never seen a boy as hardworking as Nathan, but he thought he knew everything. Captain was a first mate back then and had to bring Nathan’s hubris down a notch or two.”
“That he did.” Nathan nodded.
Cobble’s eyes glittered as he eased himself back into his barrel seat. He laughed a hearty cackle, intermixed with a hissing hee hee. “Remember the time you thought you saw a pirate ship, and it turned out to be a flock of birds on the horizon?”
“I still believe it was a sloop. I saw the oars raise. You don’t forget a pirate ship.”
Cobble cackled even louder. “Bayonets and broad swords. Gator woke every living soul on the ship. He even started filling the cannons. Captain was spitting mad.”
“I’ll say. I received ten lashes that night.”
“All mates get a lashing at some point. It’s good for ya. Puts hair on yer chest.”
The normalcy of the conversation seemed too good to be true. She hesitated even to ask, but her curiosity won over. “You called him Gator. Why is that?”
“Ah, my dear, now that is a tale.” He rubbed his hands together and leaned in.
“No exaggerating, Cobble.” Nathan’s voice carried a friendly warning.
“Our ship had taken a beating from a Spanish frigate. Even though we were friendlies, they mistook us for a pirate brigade. They sunk a cannonball into our hull, so we pulled into the Indian River down in the Seminole territory of Florida to make repairs. Nathan, being small and lightweight at the time…” His gaze rolled down the length of Nathan, and he winked at Lottie. “He certainly got big for his britches, didn’t he?”
The corners of her mouth twitched in a feeble attempt at a smile. It felt strange, as if she’d forgotten how.
Cobble said, “We put him over the side and hung him there as he patched the hole and filled the gaps with pitch. At one point, he lost his balance. ’Bout took a swim, but he’d done what I’d taught him and wrapped his foot around the line. Good thing, too, because an alligator the size of me hauled up out of the water and snapped at Nathan dangling there like a worm on a hook. I’d been passing down a hammer at the time, and I’ve never seen a man scream so bloo—” Cobble paused and dropped his eyes. “Pardon my language. I’m not much in the presence of ladies, and I forget meself—”
“We can save the story for another time,” Nathan said.
Cobble hung his head, and his shoulders slumped.
Lottie scooted forward. “Go on. I want to hear the rest.”
Cobble’s head snapped up. His eyes lit, and he cracked his knuckles across his chest. “Well, Gator here screamed loud enough to wake the dead. He climbed the line faster than any sailor ever to sail the Atlantic. Lieutenant Fielding hustled over to see what the fuss was about as Nathan reached the top. Except Nathan kept climbing. He reached the end of the rope, then climbed up Fielding like a monkey. There he sat, one leg swung over Fielding’s shoulder and both his hands clinging to clumps of his hair still screaming like a banshee. His lungs grew two inches that day, and his mouth was open so wide we all got a glimpse of his breakfast down in his gut.”
Lottie found herself nearly smiling again.
“Fielding was stark ravin’ mad, but he didn’t give you a lashing, now did he?”
Nathan snorted. “Much worse.”
“He made Nathan not only finish fixin’ the hole, but also paint the sides—of the entire ship. The devilish alligator stayed underneath the boy the entire time, hoping for a tasty Nathan morsel. Blasted creature tailed the ship all the way to the ocean.”
Cobble’s guffaws, followed by his raspy hissing, drew several of the crewmembers’ attention, and they paused in their work of lowering the mainsail.
The contagious laughter lifted the corners of her lips, and she struggled to bring them back down, for she shouldn’t laugh at her husband’s expense.
“Ever since, Nathan hates gators—”
“Gator,” Nathan said. “One particular alligator.” He crossed his arms, but the lopsided twist to his lips showed he wasn’t irritated, merely amused.
“Aye. He hates that gator with such a passion he won’t do a single bit of trade in Florida, no matter how good the price.”
“We can get perfectly good lumber from South America,” Nathan said.
“Of course, the crew never let him live it down. They teased him mercilessly. Baby even carved out a log to look like an alligator. When most of the crew took to bathin’ in a hot spring, Baby set the thing afloat right near Nathan.” Cobble smacked his knee. “I know it’s only Jesus who can walk on water, but that day Nathan came right close.”
Lottie dared a glance at Nathan. His fingers picked at a small piece of thread on the inseam of his pants. The telling set of his jaw alerted Lottie to his irritation, but it was the reddish tint to his face that drew her attention.
Cobble pulled himself together enough to force out the rest of the story. “The most unfortunate part—or fortunate, depending on whose viewpoint you see it from—was that Cook was walkin’ down to another section of the stream to clean up when Nathaniel ran by naked as the day he was born. We’ve called him Gator ever since.”
“Winthrop, you’re needed at the helm,” the captain bellowed from his post.
“Duty calls.” Nathan rose and faced her. “Will you be all right here with Cobble for a bit?”
She nodded and blinked at the genuine concern in his eyes.
“Saved from further embarrassment.” He flashed a boyish smile, and Lottie’s heart did a little flip.
The captain turned his head and yelled, “A good captain knows when a shipmate is in need of rescue. You are in my debt...” He paused for effect, and, with a wicked smile, added, “Gator.”
Nathan walked over to the captain shaking his head.
“Hey, Gus!” Cobble yelled.
“Aye, Cobble?”
“How many arms does an alligator got?”
“Depends on how far down he’s swallowed his lunch.”
Raucous laughter sounded from the crew.
“Hey, Cobble?” Gus asked.
“Yeah?”
“What do alligators call Nathan Winthrop?”
“Supper!” Cobble shouted, and his eyes disappeared into the smiling folds of his skin.
Loud guffaws followed.
Cobble leaned in toward Lottie. “We’re blessed to have an employer who’ll let us joke at his expense, especially considering all he’s been through. Nathan’s a good man. Yer a lucky lady.”
Nathan’s linen shirt billowed in the breeze as he stepped up to the helm. He towered a couple of inches above Captain Fielding. Nathan’s large muscular
frame, paired with the stern expression he always wore, usually intimidated her, but today she’d seen a softer side of her husband. The same man who, several nights ago, had reduced her to a heap of tears, had only moments ago cradled her in his arms and gently stroked her hair.
Warmth spread through her stomach. Nathan was more complicated than she’d first thought. Perhaps he was more deserving of her respect. And, to hear the tales of him as a boy and see the way the men teased him, maybe he wouldn’t be a horrid husband. She certainly enjoyed being on the receiving end of his smile. If only he did a little more smiling and a little less scowling.
She licked her lips and focused on the old man in front of her. “What did you mean by ‘considering all Nathan has been through?’”
The criss-crossed lines of Cobble’s face sagged. “That, my dear, is his story to tell.”
He stared hard into her eyes for a long, awkward moment, but Lottie didn’t dare look away.
“Ya have a kind heart, and it fills me with hope. I do believe God brought the two of you together.”
Lottie’s gaze dropped, and she shifted in her seat. The ship was small, and talk traveled fast. She didn’t want her newest friend to be misled. “Cobble, we—”
“Oh, missy, love will come sooner than the changing wind.” He puffed out his chest as if proud of himself. “Of that, I’ll bet me right arm.”
Then Cobble turned toward the deck and belted out a line from a sailor shanty about a one-armed pirate. “Oi knew a man who sailed da seas who thought he wuz quite clever.”
Lottie startled at his unexpected bellow, but the crew answered with the next line in jovial harmony. “He had a lass in ev’ry port ‘til his arm his wife did sever.”
Cobble pushed himself up to stand and sang the chorus with his hat pressed over his heart and white tuffs of hair waving.
The entire ship responded. Men sang from the ratlines to the crow’s nest. Even the captain and Nathan joined in from the helm.
* * *
Lottie might have enjoyed the singing and merciless teasing more if her stomach settled. She studied Nathan as he conversed with the captain and crew. He hooked his thumb into the pocket of his breeches and the breeze rustled his thick hair. His face grew dark with concentration, and the crease between his brows deepened as he listened to the concerns and suggestions of the lowest crewmember with the same intensity she’d seen in him as he’d conversed with lords of the peerage. He honored these men, and they respected him in return. Only the captain, who was probably used to being in command, appeared slightly put off by Nathan’s authority. Captain Fielding solicited Nathan’s counsel, but when he offered advice, the captain crossed his arms and leaned away.
Charlie pulled up another barrel seat and worked on mending a torn sail.
The wind fluttered loose tendrils of hair around her face, and she pulled a strand away from her lips with her index finger. She inhaled a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity, then slowly exhaled. The fresh air acted as a balm to her ailing stomach, settling the constant churn to an occasional queasiness when the boat dipped substantially.
“Yer color’s returned. I think sitting above deck appeals to you.” Cobble fiddled with a pulley. He jammed a long tool into it and twisted. “You know what they say…”
When he didn’t continue, Lottie shook her head. “What do they say?”
“Rough seas make great sailors.” He disassembled the pully. “The first year I sailed, I slept above deck. T’was the only way my supper wouldn’t make a reappearance. I found that keepin’ an eye on the horizon helps too. Gives yer mind something to cling to until it can orient itself.”
She surveyed the gray horizontal line in the distance as the ship rose over a swell and dipped. Although she couldn’t discern a dramatic difference, her stomach didn’t protest, and certainly Cobble must know of what he spoke.
“Ow.” Charlie shook his hand, then sucked on his thumb.
“Yer gonna turn the sail red with all that blood.” Cobble lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair before plopping it back down. “And ya know what other passin’ ships are gonna think when they see red. They’ll start loading the cannons and preparing to defend themselves.”
Charlie stabbed the needle into the sail. “I told you, I don’t know how to sew.”
“I’d help you, boy, but”—he held up his thick, calloused hands—“these fingers couldn’t hold a needle, and my eyes would never be able to thread the blasted thing.”
Charlie almost bent the needle as he turned it around to poke through the other side. “Ow! Confound it.” He shook his thumb again.
“I know how to sew,” Lottie said.
Both Charlie and Cobble peered at her and then at each other. Cobble shook his head. “A lady like yerself doesn’t want to spend the day mending and toiling. Yer company is a gift in itself. We can’t ask fer more.”
“Nathan said everyone works on the island. I’d like to do my part.” She nodded to confirm her words. “Besides, it would keep my hands occupied and be a good excuse for me to stay above deck.”
Cobble’s gaze flitted toward Nathan and the captain. He sucked on his bottom lip and released a breath.
“Please, Cobble. It would take my mind off the rolling of the ship. My stitches are tight. I can show you some of my embroideries to prove it.”
She uncurled her feet from underneath her and made to stand, but her knees trembled from the exertion. Cobble stopped her with an outstretched hand.
“Only if ya feel up fer it. Anything would be better than Charlie’s needlework, but if Gator asks, I’m tellin’ him it was yer idea.”
“Go right ahead.” Lottie slipped the needle out of Charlie’s grasp. “I don’t give a fig.”
Charlie and Cobble exchanged concerned glances.
She felt someone’s gaze and looked up to see Nathan eyeing her instead of the seas ahead. The wind feathered his hair and pressed his shirt against his flat stomach.
She bent her head over her task.
Did she truly not give a fig, or had today changed her outlook?
Chapter 10
Dearest friend, how I wish you were by my side to witness the liveliness of the crew and hear their shanties.
~ From Lottie to Miss Priscilla Etheridge
With a task to give her purpose, the days melted into one another, even though the nights below deck continued to be long and torturous as her stomach reeled. If only she could sleep above deck like Cobble once had, but that would be indecent, so she suffered through.
Although their relationship had become less strained, Nathan still didn’t visit her chamber at night. Whether out of consideration for her ill health or because he still held misgivings about their marriage, Lottie couldn’t guess, nor did she have any idea how to go about inquiring.
The crew accepted her and teased her as they would each other. During dinner one evening, they even decided it was time she receive a nickname.
“I say we call her Red.” Baby smiled his toothless grin. “Cuz of the hair.” He spun a finger over the top of his bald head. The men all stood as Nathan pulled out a chair for Lottie next to him at the thick oak table in the crowded crew room. It had been converted into a dining area for the evening since a hard rain drove all but essential crew below deck.
“It’s not very original, I’m afraid.” Lottie sat, and Nathan pushed in her chair.
The men resumed their seats in the dim room. Save for a swinging lantern, the only other light emanated from a few candles set in bottles as a centerpiece. Over time, melted wax had glued the bottles to the tabletop.
The aroma of dried meats blended with the stale funk of sweaty men as Charlie brought in wooden trays of salted beef, sauerkraut, and hardtack. After setting down the food, he squeezed in to sit between Salt and Baby. The crew waited as Cook dished out portions for Captain Fielding, Nathan, and Lottie. As soon as Cook stepped back, the men dove for the rest of the food until nothing but scraps remained.
No one bothered to acknowledge him.
“How about Carrot Top?” Salt said through a mouthful of food.
“Nah, t’would make me hungry each time someone called her name.” Cobble tugged off a hunk of the salted beef with his teeth.
“I know.” Gus’s face perked up. “We can call her Flame.”
Nathan frowned.
“Or Candle?” Gus shrugged.
His frown deepened
“Matchstick?” Charlie’s blonde brows raised.
“No.” Nathan’s dry tone sounded annoyed.
“Definitely not.” Lottie squirmed in her seat.
Captain Fielding chuckled from the other end of the table. “What? Bring back bad memories?”
Nathan hit the captain with an icy glare, which only made him laugh harder.
Cobble pointed his carving knife in her direction. “Well, look at that glorious mass of hair. It’s like a crown of glory.”
Lottie’s throat tightened, and tears pricked the back of her eyes. They spoke of her hair as if it were a blessing instead of a curse. She’d never known anyone to see it in that way. Why then did she feel like crying? The swarthy seamen grinned at her. How had she grown to care for the opinions of such an aberrant group of men?
“She’s yer wife. What do you think her nickname should be?” Captain raised a brow at Nathan.
Lottie glanced at her husband lounging in his chair with one arm hooked over the back. His cravat hung loosely about his neck, and she couldn’t help staring at the open expanse of tanned skin stubbled with the growth of a beard. His other hand absently spun his cup in a clockwise direction, and he studied her with more than mild interest. An undeniable current electrified the air between them.
“Titian.”
He said the single word with such affinity that a wave of yearning crashed through her body. She sipped her watered ale to cool the heat flooding her cheeks.
