The Merchant's Yield

by Lorri Dudley

  She bowed her head and prayed that the memories of Nathan’s lost family members wouldn’t be forgotten. She also thanked God for Nathan, who cared so deeply for his family. It filled her with hope that a man who could feel such love might find room to love her too.

  Guilt ate at her for invading his dead sister’s space. In England, men had their own chambers and wives an adjoining suite, but she had no idea how married couples handled sleeping arrangements on the island. Disturbing his sister’s untouched room unsettled her nerves. Lottie straightened. She’d sleep in her husband’s bed. It would keep her closer to Nathan, and if he objected, they could discuss a better solution later.

  Lottie entered Nathan’s room. She’d had a chance to see it before, but not the opportunity to linger. His bed was neatly made with tightly folded corners, and appeared way too small for such a large man. She should speak with Mr. Tallant about building him a larger bed with leftover wood from the addition. A watercolor of the island of Nevis hung above the headboard, the scene similar to the view from the beach at Frigate Bay. Upon closer inspection, she spied the initials A.W. Was Amory a painter? Was this his handiwork? If so, he’d been quite good. Did Nathan share his brother’s talent?

  A breeze waved the long gauzy white draperies dangling from the window, and Lottie inspected the top of Nathan’s dresser. A golden compass rested next to his wash basin. She placed it in the palm of her hand and turned until the arrows came into alignment. She flipped it over. Inscribed on the back were the words, To help you always find true North. A gift then. From his parents? A friend? A woman? A spark of jealousy flared, but Lottie snuffed it out.

  On the other side of the basin rested a silver bowl full of small shells. Each of them was unique. One looked like a tiny baby’s ear, and another was shaped like a small fairy’s top hat. It also held a small conch shell, and the smooth flat shell of a clam fanned open like a butterfly’s wings.

  Her breath stilled as her fingers came upon the ridges of a scallop shell. She pulled it out. This was the very shell she’d found on the beach the day they’d arrived. It had the small groove on the outside as if a worm or something had nibbled on it. She flipped it over to reveal the pinkish-lavender color underneath. He must have thought her green to have held it with such reverence.

  Next to the bowl lay a dried white rose like the one she’d placed in his buttonhole after they were married. Could it be coincidence, or had he kept that flower? And, if so, did these items hold sentimental value for him?

  She licked her lips. She wanted to believe she meant something to him.

  Lord, please make it so.

  A door banged shut below, then footsteps sounded on the stairs. Franny must have already settled into the small room under stairs and was coming up to tend to her mistress. Lottie smoothed her skirts and opened the door, only to come face to face with an unknown servant. The African woman shrieked as if she’d seen the dead. She spun to flee, but Franny stood at the bottom of the stairs peering up. The woman screamed again and clutched a small sack hanging around her neck with one hand. She squeezed her eyes shut and muttered something in a foreign tongue.

  Adana ran into the foyer, holding her skirts in one hand and wielding a wooden spoon above her head in the other. She skidded to a halt at the sight of Franny. Her head jerked in Lottie’s direction. She lowered the spoon and snapped at the frightened woman on the stairs. “Ya da not see a ghost. Master Winthrop’s woman still lives.” She glanced back up at Lottie and murmured, “Fer now.”

  Lottie stiffened. “I assure you I am very much alive, and you will be seeing much more of me, for I will be taking my rightful place here at Calico Manor.”

  Adana’s hand also rose to hold the tiny sack hung around her neck.

  Lottie ignored the gesture and addressed Franny. “Please bring up some clean water to freshen up.”

  Franny bobbed a curtsy and scooted down the hall.

  “What is your name?” Lottie asked the woman on the stairs.

  She opened one eye to peek at her. “Olufemi.” She dropped into a curtsy from an awkward position on the stairs. A duster she held swung, feather side up, as she bobbed. “But on da island, I am called Lu.”

  “Pleasure to meet you Lu. I’m Lady Winthrop, your mistress. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You may proceed with your duties.”

  The slave dropped her gaze and started up the stairs.

  “Lu, you are needed outside in da kitchen.”

  Lu hesitated. She looked at Adana, and then back upstairs before turning to go down them.

  Was Adana trying to supersede her mistress’s authority, or was there truly a need in the kitchen? She didn’t want to stir up any animosity on the day of her arrival, so Lottie merely asked her, “When do the workers return from the fields for supper?”

  “When da sun is a hand above da horizon.” Adana held up her palm as if measuring it.

  “I see.” Lottie rested her arm on the newel post. “When you see Mr. Tallant, please let him know of my arrival and set a place for him across from me on the porch. We have much to discuss.”

  Adana’s lower jaw protruded, but she made no complaint. She bobbed a curtsy before she strode back outside to the kitchen.

  Franny carried a pitcher of water up the stairs and poured it into the wash basin in Nathan’s room, where Lottie waited.

  Lottie dipped her hands into the cool water and splashed in on her warm cheeks. Something about Adana always got her heated.

  Franny seemed to feel it too. “Something doesn’t sit right in my spirit about that woman.” She handed Lottie a dry towel.

  “I heard the same thing happened to Lady Irving when she married and became mistress of Fennel Park.” She patted her face dry. “Lord Irving refused to remarry for such a long time, and the housekeeper had been the sole woman in charge for over a decade. You can imagine the adjustment it must have been to report to the new Lady Irving, barely even of age.” Lottie handed Franny back the towel. “It’s probably the same with Adana. I must do my best to make her feel comfortable with my authority. It’s important things go smoothly. I need to prove I can be an asset as lady of the house. I don’t want Nathan to be disappointed.”

  Franny pulled the pins from Lottie’s hair to remake her coiffure. “I do hope you’re right, my lady.” She re-twisted Lottie’s mass of red hair back up into a knot. “But something tells me the woman is going to cause trouble.”

  Chapter 26

  Heavenly Father, watch over Nathan and provide him with safe passage back to me.

  ~ Penned in Lottie’s prayer journal

  “Ship at nine o’clock off our starboard bow, captain!” shouted Salt from the crow’s nest.

  Men paused to glance over their shoulders.

  A series of clicks sounded as Captain Fielding extended the telescoping spy glass and held it up to his eye. “Aye, it’s out there.”

  He passed it to Nathan, who peered through the lens. Sure enough, a speck of a triple-masted ship sailed on the horizon. Nathan’s hair rose on his arms.

  A frenzy broke out among the men as they set to work. They’d practiced this drill a hundred times. Nathan felt for his pistol on his left side and his cutlass on his right. Captain Fielding barked commands. “Raise the headsail. Cut us forty-five degrees into the wind. Man the guns. Salt!” he yelled to the young man high above. “Get an eye on what type of ship we’re up against.”

  “Looks like another schooner, Capt’n.”

  “Blast!” Fielding rounded on Nathan. “It must have come off the western coast of Cuba. Our ship has a full belly. It’s going to be challenging to outrun them.”

  Charlie hung from the ratlines, checking the rigging. Baby and Cobble loaded the cannons. These men were counting on him, and he’d put them in danger.

  “Prepare to gybe,” Gus called to the crew.

  Shouts of “Ready!” echoed from around the ship.

  Captain Fielding grabbed Nathan’s arm. “This is not your fault.” His eyes
softened. “I know you think it’s the curse, but this is typical for these waters.”

  The curse.

  He shouldn’t have come. When would the curse be satisfied? The death of his family hadn’t been enough. As soon as a semblance of happiness returned to his life, the spell took Lottie too. Would it not stop until it devoured the lives of his crew? His friends? Would it destroy everything he held dear?

  “It’s not too late to raise French colors.” Fielding’s eyes bore into his, awaiting the answer.

  The memory of Lottie’s smiling face appeared before him. He wouldn’t tarnish her memory by becoming a traitor. He wouldn’t betray her home. “No. We‘ll only fly our flag.” He grabbed Fielding’s lapel. “I shouldn’t have sailed with the ship.”

  “Sails are trimmed, Captain.” Gus appeared at Fielding’s side. “We’re at seven knots, but they’re gaining on us.”

  “Bring her on her beam ends.”

  “Aye, captain.” Gus’s voice boomed out to the crew. “Bring her to beam ends!”

  Winches cranked, and booms swung into position. Men braced as the ship heeled starboard until it was almost on its side.

  Spray from the waves splashed over the deck, drenching the crew.

  Gus wiped the end of his spyglass with the underside of his shirt and held it up to his eye. “She’s still on us, sir. Less than one league.”

  Charlie yelled from his position. “They’re hostiles, Captain. Preppin’ ta board. If I had ta guess, I’d say pirates.”

  God, don’t let them die because of me. A myriad of nautical strategies Nathan learned in school rushed through his mind, but none would save them with a full hold. He may have been a liability, but he’d do everything in his power to keep his crew safe.

  “They’ll be on our broadside in less than five clicks.”

  Broadside. A scene played in his mind. It might just work. Peace settled over him. God, let this be you. Nathan grasped the Captain’s shoulder to gain his attention. “I have a plan, but it will be a challenge to pull it off.”

  The captain’s eyes lit. “What kind of challenge?”

  “I’ll need to take the helm.”

  Fielding’s brows inverted into a V. “You want control of the ship?”

  “I want to keep my men alive without us getting boarded.” Nathan’s gaze swept across the deck, reviewing the plan in his mind.

  Fielding squinted. “Our chances might be best if we let them board and strike a deal with ‘em.”

  “If they board our ship, we don’t hold any of the cards. We’d be at their mercy. They could take our cargo and burn our ship with us in it. It’s too great of a risk.”

  “But you schooled with Lafitte.” Fielding waved an arm in the air. “Surely we could negotiate something.”

  “What makes you so certain this is Lafitte’s men?”

  The captain’s lips opened, and for a moment no words came out. “I …” He shrugged. “There’s no way to know for certain.”

  A warning shot pierced the air.

  Nathan pulled the spyglass from the captain’s fingers and held it up to his eye. The opposing ship outgunned them by at least double. They must take a head-on approach.

  “Bring her around for a faceoff,” Nathan instructed Gus before he turned to Charlie. “Help Cook bring all the bottles of rum above deck and pass them out to the men.”

  “You’re going to give a rum toast at a time like this?” Captain Fielding gaped at Nathan.

  “Do it quickly!”

  Charlie dashed below deck.

  Nathan turned to Fielding. “Have all our men grab a rag and an oil lamp and take cover in the stern of the ship. Have them lie down on the deck if need be.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You too, Captain. I don’t want anyone in harm’s way. I want them to stuff the rag into the bottle of rum. When I give the command, have them light the fiery cocktails and sling them at the other ship.”

  A second cannon boomed.

  Nathan had no plans to slow the ship. “Hurry. Get everyone in position.” He assumed the wheel as Gus sought cover.

  Cannons roared as they took on raking fire. One missile flew past Nathan, splintering a hole in the forecastle deck and scattering debris. Nathan covered his face with his arms, but a stabbing pain pierced his leg. A splinter of wood the size of a stake protruded from his thigh, and blood oozed through his breeches. Another cannonball busted through the railing and rolled across the deck and down the stairs.

  Nathan gripped the wheel tighter, forcing himself to ignore the pain in his thigh. His crew lay flat on the deck. All eyes were on him.

  The other ship drew closer.

  Hold fast.

  Closer.

  He could see the swarthy pirates waving their hooks to board, cutlasses ready for a fight.

  Only a boat’s length remained between the two ships. Nathan spun the wheel, and the ship veered off to the left.

  “Now!” he shouted. The men rose and bombarded the pirate ship with their assault. Fiery cocktails crashed onto the deck. Stunned, the pirates ducked to shield themselves. Many abandoned their posts to put out the fires.

  “Stations!” Nathan yelled, and his crew rushed to their positions to trim the sails for a fast getaway.

  A thunderous boom shook the air and the ship. The pirates recovered a cannon, and its blast pounded the Katherine. The boom cracked, but fortunately, the spar was left intact. The sail now flapped in the wind, its lines whipping and snapping like the stinging bite of a snake.

  Orange flames licked the pirate’s sails as the crew rushed to lower them. A much-needed distance grew between the Katherine and the pirate ship. Nathan breathed a sigh of relief, but kept the vessel at full tilt until the other boat was only a dot on the horizon. Only then did he turn to survey the damage.

  “And here everyone thought I was the crazy one.” Fielding clapped Nathan on the shoulder.

  Nathan gritted his teeth against the pain throbbing in his leg. “We didn’t come out as unscathed as I would have liked, but at least the crew is alive.”

  “Indeed. We can make some repairs, but a broken boom is like a limping soldier.” The captain shook his head. “Maybe you’re right about the curse. What will it strike next?”

  Chapter 27

  Now that you will be mistress of your own house, it’s important that you set proper expectations immediately. The staff shouldn’t be fraternizing, and stiff punishments should be applied for gossip and tongue wagging.

  ~ From Lady Etheridge to her daughter

  “What a delight to see you, Lady Winthrop.” Mr. Tallant pulled out her chair to dine with her in the coolness of the porch. He sat across the table from her as dusk settled around them. The field workers settled on the ground and stone wall of the outdoor kitchen, where Adana prepared the dishes to be served. “Glad you’re hale. Not many survive the fever. You are most fortunate.”

  “I am grateful God pulled me through.” Lottie draped her napkin over her lap. “And for those who tended to me.”

  Mr. Tallant cleared his throat. “Your husband has faced death too many times for one soul to bear. I beg you not to believe ill of him for leaving.”

  “Have no fear, Mr. Tallant. I don’t fault him for…” A deep nagging cut off her sentence. Did she fault him? He’d not cared for her as he would have his mother and sisters. One person could only bare to witness so much death. But she was his wife. Shouldn’t he have stayed by her side, at least to make proper arrangements after she died? Instead, he’d passed the task off to Julia and her slave.

  “I’ve been informed you’re taking up residence here at Calico?”

  She shook off the thoughts. “Indeed.” She leaned back as Adana filled her cup with watered ale. “I’m overdue in assuming my wifely duties.”

  “We have begun the rebuild, but progress is slow. I must agree with your husband. The manor isn’t suitable for a woman of your station. Every available pair of hands is in the fields. It will be hard to afford you the n
ecessary servants.”

  A fire burned in her belly. She was tired of people assuming her to be weak, telling her what she should do and where she should go. “I will make do.”

  “If Winthrop were here, he’d agree with me.”

  Lottie set her jaw. “It’s most unfortunate he cannot be consulted.”

  “Then his last advisory should stand.”

  “Many things have happened since his last advisory, Mr. Tallant. I have prayed about this and sought God’s counsel. This is where I should be, and I shall remain until my husband returns and says otherwise.”

  “You are not accustomed to the daily hardships of living on a sugar plantation.” He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “There will be no one to provide you with high noon tea or prepare for entertaining guests.”

  “Forgive me for speaking so boldly, Mr. Tallant.” Lottie set her hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward. “But I do believe I will muster through without high noon tea.”

  “You’ve cheated death once, but it will be on my head if something happens on my watch.”

  “I understand your concern.” Lottie smiled over clenched teeth. “But I refuse to stay locked in a tower. Every person on an island works, and I can be of service. If we are agreed, then we shall get on well together.” She dragged in a deep breath to calm her ire.

  A broad smile swept across his face. “I didn’t believe Winthrop when he claimed you were spirited, but now I see he spoke the truth.”

  A mix of emotions meshed in her stomach—horror for appearing as a veritable shrew, pride for standing up for herself, and pleasure that her husband had called her spirited.

  A scream split the air around them. Mr. Tallant jumped from the table and raced down the porch steps. Lottie did the same. One of the slave workers ran in a circle, shrieking and shaking his arm.