“I would advise you,” he said, spitting out his words with harsh finality, “to do your shopping earlier in the day.” He scanned the street in both directions. “It isabundantlyclear to everyone who sees you that you are an easy target in such a devil’s den as this.” He finally rested his gaze on her. “Ineptitude and timidity make for a deadly combination.”
The thank-you she’d been about to voice dissolved at his rudeness. For one moment he continued to stare at her, his serious eyes holding her gaze, and then he snapped his feet together and gestured in the general direction of the lodging houses.
Ann sucked in a breath, unsure if the sudden tightness in her chest came from his blunt delivery or his intense stare. His words were true but nearly as harsh as the weather they’d experienced this last week.
“Well, then,” she said, crossing her arms over the bread, “I will be on my way.”
“But not without your money, I presume?”
He held out her coin purse.
Right.
How had she forgotten about that? Surely this man thought her a most naive and inexperienced dolt, and every minute on this street accentuated that incompetent persona.
He dropped the purse into her hand, his ungloved fingers brushing against hers for an instant. His sure movement conveyed confidence far above what she felt. He tipped his head slightly and walked down the alleyway toward the wharf.
The man hadn’t offered to walk her home; not that she needed that. Someone who spoke so flippantly to a lady surely didn’t walk ladies home. But with every passing moment the light waned and more fear gripped her. If he had offered, she would have accepted.
He hadn’t even given his name or asked for hers, so there was nothing to be done but turn heel and pray she’d make it on her own to the lodging house. She hated that place, but she wondered if she’d like theWindermereany better once they sailed. Doubts about sailing to America threatened again, but she comforted herself that once they were on the journey, at least she’d never have to see the crafty Mrs. Rollins, this horrid street, or that blunt man again.
February 21, 1854
William Boyd paced the captain’s cabin inside theWindermere.“Maybe we’ve been cursed by accepting such passengers.” He glanced to the porthole. Thesky hung heavy and gray outside the ship, and the docked boat swayed a little as waves pushed into the harbor.
Captain Fairfield, who sat at his desk, followed Will’s gaze. Upright masts of the many other ships in port stood at attention, like Will should probably be doing. He stopped pacing and drew his feet together as the captain shook his head at him.
“Oh, come now, Boyd, surely you don’t believe—”
“Mr. Flynn says the entire passenger list is made up of zealots. All part of some newfangled church ...”
“Between you and me, Mr. Flynn is overly dramatic. His tale spinning can be amusing, but it does put ideas in people’s heads.” The captain pushed back in his chair, and Will marveled at the man’s nonchalance. “All four hundred and eighty-two of those passengers are paid for, and the cloth in the hold awaits delivery in America. That’s what matters. The passengers’ religion did not dictate the weather. You know as well as I do that England’s weather is as nasty and unpredictable as an alley cat.”
“Especially this February,” Will muttered. “My very bones itch for America.”
The captain chuckled to himself. “With any luck, the journey to New Orleans will take six or seven weeks once we leave this blasted harbor. If you want a little leave when we arrive, that can be arranged. Though a first mate like you shouldn’t be away long when there’s opportunities ahead.”
Every muscle in Will’s back tensed, but he took to pacing again so as not to seem too thrilled. This was the second time the captain had, in a roundabout way, mentioned a promotion. To be the master of his own merchant ship had been his dream since he’d become a new seaman at thirteen. Hard work over the next thirteen years had gotten him to his rank of first mate, and Will would do anything to make this journey successful if it brought him even closer to a captaincy.
“You are right. Never mind the passengers. There’s always some group of people and goods to be shuttled across that great deep. So we carry on.” He gestured out the window at the harbor.
“Exactly.” The captain clapped his hand down on his desk. “Which is why we leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But it looks like it will storm again today—”
“Tomorrow. The weather is beginning to break.”
Will wasn’t sure a darkened sky for the last three hours was an indication of the storm abating. “Sir, do you recall theEloise?” Will remembered the terrible recounting he’d heard of that doomed ship. “We shouldn’t be too eager, or we’ll end up at the bottom of the ocean.”
Captain Fairfield folded his arms, and Will noted several weatherworn wrinkles on either side of his eyes. Marks bred from myriad hard decisions, yet perhaps also from laughter and smiles. “Don’t fret like a mother hen, Boyd. We will be all right. TheWindermereis a worthy vessel, and she will do her duty.”
Will let out a tight breath. Captain Fairfield didn’t know all the reasons why Will wished to avoid toe-to-toe battles with the seas. But Will knew he must do his duty as well. “Yes, sir.”
“Get word to the sailors. And remind them of my cardinal rule.” He looked expectantly at Will. “You remember three crossings ago and the problems we had with the seamen.” Will nodded. The captain struck his fist against his desk. “Above all else, stay away from too much to drink and women in general or there will be consequences. I won’t have any of my officers or crew consorting with the females aboard.”
“As always,” Will said, “I quite agree with both parts of the rule, and I will inform the rest of the crew.”
The captain brushed his hands together. “And apprise the leader of their company, Mr. Garn, of our departure.”
