“Do you feel as if you’re coming home?” Kenna asked curiously. She was standing in front of Rhys at the taffrail. His arms were resting lightly on her shoulders and over the top of her head his eyes were watchful. Boston was becoming more than a point on a map asCaraseasailed closer to the harbor.
“Yes. Frankly, it surprises me. I hadn’t thought I’d feel this way.”
Kenna reached back and put her hand on one of his. “Is any of it familiar to you?”
He nodded. “See the building there, the one at the end of Long Wharf? That’s the State House. The Declaration of Independence was announced to Bostonians from its balcony.”
“Stirring, but treasonous, literature,” chided Kenna.
“Indeed it was.”
“What is that building there?” She pointed to the second cupola rising to the left of the State House.
“That’s Faneuil Hall. At least I think it is. I was nine when I left Boston. I’m afraid my memory may not serve. It has market stalls and in one of the upper meeting rooms Sam Adams planned the tea party.”
“Why would one have a tea social above a market place?”
Rhys laughed outright at her question. “What did your tutor teach you in the schoolroom? I was talking about the famous, or infamous, Boston Tea Party.”
“Hmm. I never heard of it,” she said tartly. “Pardon me for pricking this newfound American pride of yours, but I hadhundredsof years ofEnglishhistory to study. Your little rebellion was a mere hiccup in time.”
Rhys laughed again, giving her a tiny shake. “I hope you don’t intend to make your view common knowledge. Americans like to think the English still smart a bit at losing their colonies.”
“I doubt the subject will come up, and if it does, well, I shall try not to embarrass you.”
“You couldn’t embarrass me.” He kissed the top of her head. “Have you ever heard of Paul Revere?”
“No. Is he someone you shall be doing business with?”
Behind her Rhys rolled his eyes heavenward and found himself giving Kenna an impromptuAmericanhistory lesson as he pointed out the Old North Church. He told her what he remembered of the early colonists, the transplanted city dwellers who had aspirations of becoming gentleman farmers but had little knowledge of the soil. He explained how the natural resources of the untamed land led the colonists to seek sustenance from the sea. It began with codfish, the lifesaving food of the settlers, then ship building followed, to export the fish to other settlements. As New England learned to sail, Boston became the center of the coastal trade.
Kenna hung on every word, eager to learn all she could about her new home. By the timeCaraseadocked at the wharf she admitted to some newly found American pride herself.
Captain Johnson came to stand beside them as their trunks were loaded on a carriage. “I’d be happy to escort you to your home personally,” he offered.
“No,” said Rhys. “I know you have matters here that require your attention. It was kind of you to arrange for our transport and give us two men to help with our things.”
Johnson had to smile at that. “Hardly gave them to you. After all, you employ them.”
Rhys grinned then. “That will take some getting used to.”
“Thank you for all your patient assistance, Captain,” Kenna said sincerely. “You made the voyage a delight. As soon as we’re settled I want you to be our first guest at dinner.”
“Happily, ma’am. Most happily.” The easy smile faded from his face. He looked beyond Kenna and Rhys and tugged at his chin thoughtfully.
Kenna and Rhys turned simultaneously to see what had captured Johnson’s attention. A three-masted schooner was swiftly approaching the harbor. It was an elegant vessel, flawless in design, bearing red and white markings of another line.
“She’s yare!” breathed Kenna. “How I wish she were one of ours! Look how she flies!”
“That’s your competition, Mrs. Canning,” Johnson said gruffly, though he could not quite keep the admiration for the sleek vessel out of his voice. “She’s a Garnet schooner and they don’t come any finer. If you’ll pardon me for saying so, Mr. Canning, your father didn’t have much good to say about the Garnet Line. Says they’re no better than pirates. There’s no love lost between the families.”
“My husband is not his father,” Kenna said, unknowingly echoing Rhys’s earlier sentiments. “The Garnets will have ample opportunity to discover that for themselves.”
Johnson coughed to cover his astonishment at Kenna’s spirited defense of her husband. “There are no Garnets any longer, ma’am. The family name’s been gone more than eighty years though it’s still a family enterprise. Tanner Cloud runs the business now. Has since the end of the war. His wife, his sister, and her husband all have an interest in it. In fact, his wife comes from a Caribbean shipping family. Ever heard of Quinton Lines?”
“I have,” said Rhys. “It was mentioned in my father’s notes.”
“Quinton ShippingisMrs. Cloud. Tanner did all right by himself. That marriage to Alexis Quinton is what kept Garnet afloat when things turned bad during the war.”
