twenty-seven
The next morn, Henri and his crew sailed from York with the tide. Theirs was a quiet passage, the blustery weather of the previous day and night a memory. The shallop soon had them across the Chesapeake, the island before them a shimmering mirage. High above the pines and dunes and beach heather rose the finished stone tower, soon to shine a piercing light to mariners. No more kindling sporadic bonfires on cliff tops to aid navigation, nor witnessing ships dashed to pieces on reefs or other perils of the deep.
“If there’s to be a war, the light shall go dark lest the French be guided by it,” the admiral had told Henri. “But in times of peace ’twill be a sure boon for ships coming and going, whether in stormy seas or no. Virginia should have risen to the occasion long ago.”
“The Norfolk architect who designed it will soon make a final inspection,” Henri replied, though the satisfaction he expected to feel was denied him. Why, he didn’t know.
“You’ve seen it through to fruition and have shouldered considerable expense.”
“’Tis a beauty at such a great height and crafted of local granite.” Henri carefully enumerated the details that had occupied him sincehe’d first taken to the sea and seen countless lights around the globe. “Hanging oil lamps, at least twelve of them, though candles will suffice if oil is scarce. A platform around the light’s lantern room will keep the glass free of snow and ice in bad weather. And a small cannon has been cast to answer ships in the fog.”
“Much like the Boston harbor light.” The admiral had looked pleased, even proud. “Lord willing, it shan’t be so cursed.”
Henri contemplated it now. Lord willing, it would only be a blessing, not just to the coming lightkeeper but to all those who encountered it. His vision was but one step from being realized. Nay, his and Esmée’s vision. Though he’d seen the project to a finish, he’d not forgotten it was her idea from the first.
“There’s but one matter that confounds me about Admiral Shaw.”
Henri had nearly forgotten Ned was close. The chaplain moved nearer him in the bow.
“He seems somewhat reserved about my pursuit of his daughter,” Ned confided, his tone perplexed. “And more than a little surprised.”
“As I wasn’t privy to what passed between you, I can offer little insight,” Henri replied, trying to dismiss his meeting with Esmée on the stair. But every detail badgered him like sand fleas. Her fragile expression. Her wind-tossed hair tumbling to her shoulder. The beguiling way she held his gaze.
“I presumed my ties to Mount Autrey would be of more merit than being a simple sea chaplain.”
“Admiral Shaw is an opponent of slavery. He may well wonder why a chaplain would espouse such by living there, even if you don’t inherit the plantation.”
“A predicament I’ve no peace with myself.” Ned shook his head.
“You should know he and Mrs. Shaw were among the founders of a Rhode Island society for freeing those in bondage. His daughter is assuredly of the same mind.”
“Then I am in a maddening quandary, am I not? A mere nephew, yet tainted by my relation. It does not help that the overseers are said to be cruel to Mount Autrey’s slaves.”
“Consider manumitting the enslaved Africans if it’s in your power to do so. Employ tenant farmers instead.”
“Like the mother country.”
“Cease growing tobacco and turn to more profitable endeavors like grain and white wheat.”
“You are ahead of your time, Captain. And you sound a farmer at heart, not a sailor.”
“Truth be told, I’ve grown weary of the sea.”
“Yet the governor and his minions are so desperate to foil the French they’ve agreed to all your terms, even your African crew.”
Henri said no more as two jacks reached for the mooring lines with which to dock. With a lightness he didn’t feel, Henri leapt to the pier.
Ned followed, expression still grim. “You’ve not yet said what you think of her.”
Henri walked on, caught off guard by the question. Had the admiral told Ned of his and Esmée’s former tie?
Finally he faced Ned, well out of earshot of the rest of the crew. “What do I think of her...” Heat sidled up his face, much as it had done when he was in the stairwell alone with her. Dare he say it?Speak truthfully.“I was in love with her once.”
Ned’s soberness turned to astonishment, and he parroted the words back to Henri. “In love with her?”
“Once,” Henri stated firmly. “I hardly know her now.”
Ned stared at him. “You’ve never spoken of it.”
