Sail Ho

An adult stories – Sail Ho by ronde,ronde The barque Rislane’s bow split the low swell of the azure Caribbean as she tacked with the sou’westerly tradewinds toward St. Kitts. She was homeward bound from Jamaica with a cargo of molasses, cotton, and cocoa. Once she breasted St. Kitts, she’d turn north to put the tradewinds at her stern and sail for home – Weymouth on the south coast of England.

The sun had just risen over the low swell of the sea when from his watch station a hundred and fifty six feet above the deck, the lookout on the main mast shouted, “Sail Ho, off the starboard beam.” The third watch crowded against the starboard rail to look. They were quickly dispersed back to their various tasks by the First Mate. He looked through the telescope he carried and then went below to the captain’s quarters. He knew Captain Knowles would be having his breakfast by then.

His knock was answered by the command, “Enter”. The mate opened the door and walked into the small room at the very stern of the ship.

“Captain, a sail has been sighted off our starboard beam. She looks to be a schooner rig and rides high in the water. She is paralleling our course.”

Captain Knowles stopped his knife in mid stroke through the dish of butter.

“What flag does she fly?”

“She is too far away to tell, Sir.”

He scooped up a generous glob of butter and smeared it on the piece of bread in his other hand.

“Most likely a slaver that has unloaded and is sailing under ballast to pick up her return cargo. Nothing to worry about.”

Captain stopped the travel of the bread to his mouth and thought for a moment, then looked up at the mate.

“Still, ’tis a foolish man who ignores a squall line on the horizon. Put the men to readying the guns and watch the schooner to see what course she sails.”

By the change of the watch at noon, the schooner was still abeam and had halved her distance from the Rislane. Captain Knowles watched her through his long telescope for several minutes, then turned to his first mate.

“She flies no colors and she’s tacking with us with all her sails set save the headsails. I would bet my dinner her crew is the rotten scum of the sea and they plan to take the ship. We could out-run her were she loaded, but she will be a close match as high as she rides. Set the royals and if she still closes in an hour, the stun’sls on all spars.”

At Mr. Wainwrights’s order, half the watch climbed like monkeys up the ratlines on the shrouds until they were at the royal yard on each mast. They worked their way out on the yard by standing on the footropes and then loosed the royal sails. As the white canvas caught the wind and billowed from their hands, the remaining crew manned the clew lines and pulled them tight through their blocks until the mate was satisfied.

The Rislane picked up speed. The mate watched through his telescope as the schooner added a headsail to keep pace.

After an hour had passed, the mate ordered the stunls set. All hands turned out to join the current watch. Some climbed out onto the yards, worked their way to the ends, then attached the stu’nsails to their booms and ran the booms out. Others of the crew took up the lines, hauled them taut and secured them with belaying pins on the fife rails.

An hour later the schooner had added another headsail and closed half the distance again. The cargo in the hold of the Rislane made her sit low and her wide beam slowed her progress even under the cloud of canvas that seemed to brush the true clouds that scudded through the bright blue sky.

Captain Knowles was concerned. His primary cargo of molasses, cotton, and cocoa would fetch a good price should the pirates be able to seize it. The other cargo he carried would be worth a fortune more than all the molasses, cotton and cocoa in the West Indies. She was the daughter of Neville Bonner, the most wealthy plantation owner in Jamaica.

Marie Eleana Bonner was eighteen, and her father had purchased her a passage on the Rislane to visit her grandmother in England. Mr. Bonner had spoken to Captain Knowles before the Rislane slipped her cables and left port. He had wanted assurances that Captain Knowles would do all things within his power to guarantee his daughter safe passage to Weymouth. There, she would be met by a coach that would take her to the family estate in Oxfordshire and his responsibility for her would cease.

Captain Knowles had assured Mr. Bonner the journey was a common one and not particularly fraught with danger, the way being well charted and much traveled. Mr. Knowles had asked about pirates, to which Captain Knowles replied the British Navy had mostly eliminated that threat and that the Rislane was equipped with ten guns of twelve pound bore and her crew was trained in their use. Mr. Bonner had seemed satisfied. He shook Captain Knowles’ hand and promised a reward should his daughter reach England well in health and in good spirits.

Now, with the threat of pirates looming ever closer on the horizon, Captain Knowles worried that he may have spoken too confidently. Should the young girl and her escort, an older woman by the name of Madeline Mayes, be taken captive, it would be better he died fighting than live to face Mr. Bonner. That pirates would hold her for ransom was a certainty. The thought they would use both women to satisfy their immoral urges was a possibility he wished were not in his head.

The schooner was still closing, but more slowly now. The sun was low on the horizon, and it was probable she would only keep pace with the Rislane until morning. Then, she would attack. Perhaps the delay held the answer. Captain Knowles consulted his chart and then tapped his finger on a small, irregular shaped island he knew to be only a few leagues from their current position. Taking up a charting pencil and piece of thin, nearly transparent paper and placing it upon the chart, he quickly drew the coastline and features of the small island, and then the outlines of Hispaniola and Jamaica. He added an arrow for north and a rough scale at the bottom, then turned and left his cabin.

Captain Knowles walked down the steps to the First Mate. The mate was frowning.

“Captain Knowles, they close more slowly now, but they still close. What trick do they intend to play upon us?”

“No trick, Mr. Wainwright, just prudence. Their captain knows there is not enough daylight left to press an attack. They will pace us, staying just out of range of our guns until morning. We must be ready to fight to the last man then.”

“The men are ready. The guns have been charged and need only primed and a match. I have issued muskets, ball and powder to fifteen of the crew. The other fifteen will man the deck guns.”

“Good. Set half a watch tonight so most of the men can rest. Have the ship’s carpenter and cook rig the galley as an aid station. We will send any wounded there. Be certain the carpenter has a sharp saw and the cook has a fire with several irons in the coals.”

“As good as done, Sir. I will have them ready. All you need do is give me the order to fire.”

“Come to my cabin that we may further discuss our course of action.”

Once inside his cabin, Captain Knowles put his hand on the first mate’s shoulder.

“Mr. Wainwright, you have served me well on this voyage, and I am certain you would serve me equally as well in command of my small force in battle, however, our circumstance requires I must ask you to serve me in another way.”

“I am yours to order, Sir.”

“Your orders are to take Miss Bonner and her escort off the Rislane and take them to a place of safety until the battle is decided. Should the pirates take the Rislane, Miss Bonner and her escort would suffer greatly. I can not allow that to happen.

“You will place the jollyboat on the davits but still sitting upon the deck. You will then load the jollyboat with provisions for three months. Do this only when we tack towards the schooner. She will be watching us just as we watch her and will not see the activity as the sails and heel of the ship will mask it. Put powder, ball, and two muskets on board and two casks of water and such other tools and items you will require for building a shelter and maintaining some sort of reasonable comfort for them.

“When the sun sets, see to it the men light several lamps. I want the schooner to know our course. She will be sure to follow if she can see our lamps.

Captain Knowles spread his hand drawn chart on the desk and pointed to the small island.

“There will be no moon tonight. I will extend our northerly tack as long as I can without alerting the schooner to our plan. By midnight, we will be within a league of Isla Alto Velo. It is uninhabited as of last reckoning by the Royal Navy, but it is sometimes used by their ships to fill their water casks.

“At midnight, you will place Miss Bonner and her escort in the jollyboat along with yourself. I will then tack towards the schooner that you may lower the jollyboat to the water unseen. Once you are free of the davit lines, do nothing for half an hour. That will allow the Rislane to lead the schooner away. Then, set sail for Isla Alto Velo.

“You will have to reckon your course by the stars lest the schooner see a light, but you’re a sailor through and through. You should be able to make the westerly side of the island in about two hours. According to my charts there is a small river there deep enough for the jollyboat. Sail up the river until you can not see the coast. Then seek a refuge where you may build a shelter.

“If we win the day, I will come about and fetch you from Isla Alto Velo. If not…”

Captain Knowles squeezed the mate’s shoulder tightly.

“If we lose the Rislane, you will have to trust in your judgement to steer the best course. The jollyboat is large enough to make Port Royal should you decide to leave the island. Take the small compass and binnacle from the longboat to assist you in navigation to that end. Keep to shallow water as much as possible. The jollyboat would not weather a heavy sea well.

“If you stay to wait for another ship, beware. The Spaniards are none too friendly in these waters. They yet bear a grudge against the French and trust the English less.

“It is by my faith in your courage and judgement that I entrust the safe-keeping of Miss Bonner and her escort to you. I would trust no other of my crew with such a task. Go now and make your preparations. I will inform Miss Bonner and Mrs. Mayes of what shall transpire tonight.”

Marie was shocked at Captain Knowles’ explanation of their plight and the course of action he believed necessary to provide for her safety.

“We are to be set ashore on an island? Will there not be natives on the island? I have heard some are cannibals, and others practice the rites of the Devil.”

Captain Knowles shook his head.

“No, there are no natives. The Royal Navy put in on Isla Alto Velo some months ago for the purpose of determining just that. They found no natives nor evidence of recent habitation other than by various nesting sea birds.”

“Where will we live? What will we eat?”

“Mr. Wainwright shall construct a shelter to protect you from the rains and any creatures that might be about. I have ordered him to take provisions for three months, and there are fish to be caught in the sea. Turtles also visit those shores. Mr. Wainwright is fully capable of providing for your meals.”

Madeline had remained mute during this discussion but now spoke.

“Captain Knowles, I fully appreciate your concern and efforts, but is there no other way — perhaps sailing for a nearby port that we may stay among civilized people?”

“Alas, Mrs. Mayes, we have not the time. There be no ports closer than two days sailing, and I fear the attack will commence at first light.”

Madeline held Marie’s hand.

“‘Tis best we follow the captain’s instructions, Marie. He is experienced in these matters, and he is a gentleman. He would not place us in way of greater harm than we risk by staying on board. Hurry now, and pack a small bag with things you must absolutely have and I shall do the same.”

Captain Knowles caught Madeline by the shoulder as she passed him.

“Mrs. Mayes, I fear you must take all your possessions along. Should the pirates board the Rislane and discover women’s effects, they will suspect your escape and also the only destination available in so short a time. I will have the mate see to it your things are transferred to the jollyboat.

At midnight Marie, Madeline, and Mr. Wainwright took seats in the jollyboat amongst their two trunks, the supplies and weapons. He gave the sign with a wave of his hand, and the crew swung the davits to move the jollyboat from the deck to over the water, and then slowly lowered the boat to the bubbling wake of the Rislane. When the lines went slack, Mr. Wainwright freed the hooks. The three watched as the Rislane slowly sailed away.

Mr. Wainwright waited half an hour by the watch in his vest, then scanned the horizon. He could just barely make out the lamps of the Rislane.

Off to her starboard, he could see a single light from the aft portion of the schooner, no doubt the lamp over her binnacle. She was making way at the same pace as the Rislane. She would be doing that for no other reason than to attack in the morning. He blew out his breath and stepped the mast of the jollyboat as quietly as possible. When the stays were tight, he rigged the sail, and after looking at the stars to establish a bearing, turned the jollyboat in the direction of Isla Alto Velo.

Mr. Wainwright watched carefully for the dark mass that would block out the stars. An hour after setting sail, he perceived a looming black that could only be the island he sought. Half an hour later, the beach became visible as the white sand reflected the dim starlight. He steered for that beach.

He did not know if the river of which Captain Knowles had spoken was to their north or south. His intention was to sail north, and if he had not found the river before the shore turned to the east, to reverse course and follow the shore south. As luck would have it, he soon saw a gap in the white sand. Upon steering the jollyboat toward it, the passage of leaves and other small bits of flotsam into the sea indicated a gentle current flowing from that gap.

The jollyboat made way up the river under the overhanging canopy of the trees, though slowly, for Mr. Wainwright was required to tack back and forth and the river was not wide. Once the narrowing width made tacking useless, he lowered the sail and used the oars to row them up the river. It was a difficult task, but became easier when Madeline asked if she might assist. Mr. Wainwright set a pair of oars in the thole pins on either side of her seat and briefly instructed her in their use. Though Madeline was not so strong as Mr. Wainwright and her strokes were shorter, the added thrust of the second pair of oars made rowing easier.

The jollyboat was well out of sight of the beach when Mr. Wainwright began rowing with only one oar to steer closer to the shore. The sky was just turning gray when he spied a spot where the bank seemed to slope gradually into the water. He rowed to that spot, and when the keel of the jollyboat scraped bottom, dropped his oars, took up the bow line, and jumped into the water.

He was able to pull the jollyboat onto the sloping shore enough the women would only wet their feet when they disembarked. He tied off the bow line to a stout tree, and then went back to the women huddled together on the center seat.

“Miss Bonner, Mrs. Mayes, I have tied us off and we will not drift back out to sea. I believe it prudent to wait here in the boat until daylight is upon us. Then we will seek out a suitable location for a shelter. You should try to sleep if you can, for this day will be an exhausting one before it is over. I will stand watch to guard against anything that may befall us.”

So saying, Mr. Wainwright loaded and primed both muskets, leaned them against the rail of the jollyboat, and sat down on his seat.

Marie tried to close her eyes and did fall into slumber for a while, but was soon awakened by the sounds of the night. All had been quiet as they made their way up the river as if the creatures of the night were waiting for them to pass before continuing their lives. Now, they were going about their business. She knew not what those creatures might be, but her skin crawled at each sound, be it the quiet “swoosh” of something flying over the river or the splash of a fish.

There was an opening in the canopy above the jollyboat and the multitude of glittering stars cast a half-light down upon them. She looked to the bow of the jollyboat. There sat Mr. Wainwright in silhouette, his eyes scanning up the river, then down, then over the shore to which they were moored. She studied him for a moment.

She knew him only from dining with him and Captain Knowles. He was a little older than she, or so she thought. At dinner, he had been polite, though lacking in some of the social graces to which she was accustomed. He did not use his napkin before drinking from his cup, and sometimes used his knife where it would have been more appropriate to use his fork. He had seldom spoken at dinner, leaving the duties of conversation to Captain Knowles, but when he did speak, his deep voice had reverberated in Marie’s chest and caused her to breathe a little faster.

He was tall; that she knew. She’d seen him stoop to avoid hitting his head on the deck beams in the ceiling of Captain Knowles’ cabin. His eyes were particularly striking. Set wide apart in his rugged face, they seemed to be as blue as the sky over the Caribbean and flashed with an inner fire that caused an unfamiliar stirring in her mind when he was in her presence.

Marie knew he must be tired from the exertions of the day. Though Captain Knowles had forbidden her and Madeline from venturing out of their cabins lest they be seen by the pirates, she had heard his voice ordering the men about all day and then as night fell, ordering them to load the jollyboat. Tired though he might be, he continued his watch without pause, and his strength made Marie feel somewhat safer.

Marie was still awake when the first rays of the tropical sun sliced down through the canopy of leaves overhead and painted the openings between those leaves with splotches of gold light. She looked up in awe at the trees. At her home in Jamaica, all the trees of the plantation had been cut to make fields for sugar cane. Only in the dense jungle that remained were such trees, and she was forbidden to venture into them.

Here, the trees warmed her heart with their beauty and cooled her face with their shading branches of leaves. Vines climbed to the heavens on some of those trees, their embrace on the trunk holding them fast no matter the wind. She was sitting on the boat seat with her mouth hanging open when Mr. Wainwright chuckled.

“Have you not seen the jungle before?”

“No, Father would not allow me to go there on the plantation. He said there were wild boars there that would attack me.”

Mr. Wainwright looked up and smiled.

“The same could be true of this island, for the Spaniards set many pigs and goats on these islands to prosper and provide meat for the ships that followed. Even so, it is a beautiful sight, is it not?”

Madeline had awaked, rubbed her eyes, and sat up.

“I would much rather have the river and trees than the ship. All that rocking about made my innards queasy. I found it difficult to eat lest my stomach decided to evict my food.”

“It is a feeling that goes quickly once at sea”, said Mr. Wainwright. It is arriving on land that upsets a sailor. The land does not move about but he still does so.”

“Well, you may be upset, but I am hungry. What do we have that I might cook for us?”

“I brought but simple seaman’s fare, I’m afraid. There is salt pork, some hard biscuits, and some onions and potatoes.”

“I can fry the salt pork if you brought a pan, and the biscuits will do for dumplings if we soak them in the drippings. I shall save the onions and potatoes for an evening meal when we are more settled.”

The breakfast was filling if not particularly excellent in taste, though Mr. Wainwright praised Madeline’s fare.

“Would that the cook on the Rislane had cooked up such a meal from so little. He would have boiled the salt pork until the flavor was all in the broth he threw over the side, and the biscuits would have been served cold.”

Madeline blushed, but replied if Mr. Wainwright would find her some fresh meat and a few other vegetables she would fix him a feast he’d remember. She’d just finished speaking when they heard the sound of guns firing in the distance.

“Those are the Rislane’s guns. She must be under attack”, said Mr. Wainwright.

“Will they win?” asked Marie.

“I do not know. The crew is well trained, but they are not the Royal Navy.”

“How will we know?”

“If the Rislane is victorious, Captain Knowles will sail back and send a boat to bring us back aboard.”

“And if they are defeated?”

Mr. Wainwright frowned.

“It will be up to me to protect you both and to return you to civilization. Protecting you both must be my first task, regardless of the outcome of the battle. We must build a shelter from the heat of the day and the rains that come often. Let us begin our search now by following the river. We shall need fresh water and a level area somewhat higher than the river.”

The three walked into the jungle a few minutes later. Mr. Wainwright carried a musket over his shoulder along with pouches of powder and ball, and held an axe from the carpenter’s chest in his hand. Every few steps, he used the axe to slash the bark from a tree at about head height. The resulting white or yellow blaze contrasted with the dark brown of the bark and would lead them back to the jollyboat and all they possessed.

Madeline carried the second musket, loaded and primed, and a second supply of powder and balls. Marie carried a sack of hard biscuits as suggested by Mr. Wainwright. He said they would possibly spend the day in search of a proper site and would need provisions for their noon meal.

The sun was high in the sky when they found the small clearing caused by the toppling of a tall tree. The tree still lay in the center, but its fall had opened the canopy and allowed in the rays of the sun. A little over twenty feet away, the river flowed from a rocky outcrop to fall about ten feet into a pool with a bottom of the same stone. The river then flowed past the clearing over that stone bed and plunged over another ledge of rocks into the riverbed proper. Mr. Wainwright waded into the crystal clear pool and found it to be only as deep as his waist. He dipped in his hand, tasted the water, and then returned to the women smiling.

“This is the place we seek. The water is clear and pure, we are high enough the high tide will not flood our shelter, and we have the sunlight to purify the air and soil. We should return to the jollyboat and begin carrying our things here. I will stretch one of the tarpaulins I brought over the branches of the fallen tree as a shelter for the night. The second will become our mattress. Tomorrow, we will begin building a more permanent abode.”

As the sun crept toward the westerly horizon, the last of their provisions and equipment were arranged in the clearing. The casks of pork and biscuits were placed under the large tarpaulin that formed a tent without sides, muskets, power and ball under the same shelter, and tools, ropes, and a few blocks from the ship’s replacement stores on top of the fallen tree. Dinner was cold salt pork and a biscuit washed down with water from one of their casks. They were all too exhausted to attempt anything more elaborate.

After dinner, Mr. Wainwright said he would stand watch through the night again. Madeline’s answer was calm, but firm.

“Mr. Wainwright, you have been awake for nearly two days, and you must rest if you are to be of any use at all. My husband, God rest his soul, taught me to load and fire a musket years ago. I will stand guard half the night while you sleep. I will wake you then and take my slumber while you protect us.”

Mr. Wainwright protested, but Madeline would not hear of it. He finally lay down on one side of the tarpaulin and was quickly asleep. Madeline sat just outside with the musket cradled in her arms. Marie attempted to stay awake, but soon lay down and her breathing became the slow, deep breaths of slumber.

Madeline smiled at the sleeping girl. Up until yesterday, the girl knew nothing of life save fine meals served by servants, carriage rides, and a clean, soft bed. Today, she had carried her share from the boat though some of the parcels were heavy enough to cause a man to complain. Now, she slept on canvas after making a meal of salt pork more fat than meat and biscuits hard enough to crack teeth.

Even though taxed beyond what she had ever experienced, she did not complain, but smiled. She has the mettle of her father in her, that is for certain, thought Madeline, but also the gentle mind of her mother to accept what life has to offer. Would that Eleanor were alive to see how the infant she left behind has become such a beautiful woman. She would be very proud, as proud of Marie as I am.

Madeline was proud of the girl. Marie was the daughter Madeline could not have. As an orphaned girl no older than Marie was now, she had become a consort to the sailors whose ships berthed in Port Royal. Then she had met Jack, an overseer of Mr. Bonner’s plantation and once they married, thought her past was behind her. She looked forward to suckling babies at her breasts, but such was not to be. Though her husband had planted his seed many times, her flower did not bloom. She secretly believed her barren womb to be divine punishment for her misspent youth and accepted that punishment as just.

When Eleanor Bonner succumbed to a bout of malaria, Mr. Bonner asked Madeline to care for the infant Marie. Madeline felt as if she had been given an opportunity to atone for those past misdeeds and had readily accepted. A year later, she loved Marie as a mother loves her own child. When her husband died of cholera, Marie became all of Madeline’s life.

The new moon was overhead when she gently shook Mr. Wainwright.

“Mr. Wainwright, it is your turn at watch.”

He took the musket from her and walked from under the tarpaulin. Madeline lay down beside Marie and was soon asleep.

The next morning as they dined on more fried salt pork, Marie asked the question that had occupied all their minds until they fell asleep the night before- what had happened to the Rislane. Was she still in the capable hands of Captain Knowles or was she at that moment being looted or perhaps being sailed to one of the remaining heathen ports? Mr. Wainwright resolved to determine the answer

“The chart Captain Knowles gave me indicated a rise in the land not far from where I believe we are at this moment. We will make a trail to that high area. Perhaps we can see the sea and result of the battle.”

For three hours, Mr. Wainwright blazed a trail through the dense forest with his axe, and for three hours the walking became ever more difficult because of the increasing slope of the land. At last, they reached a rocky outcrop devoid of anything except large heaps of bird droppings. Mr. Wainwright climbed to the top of the bare rock and looked to the southwest through the telescope he had brought with him from the Rislane. When he returned, he was frowning.

“The schooner is tied up beside the Rislane and both carry only headsails to maintain steerage. It appears as if the Rislane’s rudder has been damaged. With no rudder, she would have been an easy target for the schooner. Once she was out of control, the schooner could have approached her stern and boarded her there for she has no guns aft. I saw men on both ships, about forty I think, and none wore the seaman’s clothing of the Rislane’s crew. With her guns useless and her crew outnumbered, they could not have won.

“There are men working to repair the rudder, and other men carrying barrels from her hold and transferring them to the schooner, most likely the barrels of molasses. They will sell it to make the rum they seem to enjoy to excess. It would appear the Rislane has been lost and along with her, our hopes for a quick rescue.”

Madeline felt tears come to her eyes, but she forced them back.

“What shall we do now?”

Mr. Wainwright squared his shoulders.

“We shall do as Captain Knowles ordered — build a shelter and then decide to wait or risk making Port Royal in the jollyboat.”

In the manner of the native huts Mr. Wainwright had seen in the villages outside the cities where the Rislane unloaded and loaded cargo, he began building a house of sorts. Four stout poles of six inches breadth and twelve feet in length were hewn from felled palm trees and were sunk into holes dug in the soft earth with the aid of the small shovel the cook on the Rislane had used to clean his stove. Other trunks of the same dimension were notched into these corner posts and lashed there with supple vines Madeline and Marie collected from the surrounding forest. Small saplings were laid side-by-side over these horizontal members and lashed in place with more vines to form a rough, but sturdy floor.

The roof was constructed in a similar manner except the horizontal members were offset front to back, and the saplings lashed to them formed a sloping, rather than flat surface. Palm trees, felled for their trunks, also furnished their fronds as thatch. The corner poles were likewise crossed by widely spaced saplings and covered with more palm fronds to make walls, with other vertical saplings used to form a doorway in one side.

Though the hut was small, only about twelve feet on each side, Mr. Wainwright laid up a wall in the center with one doorway. He explained he did so as it would not be proper for a man and two women to share the same sleeping quarters. At the end of the week, Mr. Wainwright used his axe to hew the floor somewhat flat. There were gaps between the saplings and he stuffed these with mosses that grew by the river to keep out the creatures of the night. One of the tarpaulins on each side of the hut completed the floor.

Each and every morning, he walked the trail to the high place from which the sea was visible. On the third morning, the Rislane and the schooner were gone. He returned with this news and his decision they should wait for another ship to call on the island for water. They set about making their lives more comfortable. From small trees, Mr. Wainwright manufactured rough chairs that they might sit on something other than the soil of the island. From other small tree trunks he constructed a table of sorts. The mainsail of the jollyboat, folded into a rectangle and hung by vines became a door to their hut. The jib likewise served as a door between the two sleeping areas. The sea provided a few fish and there were always crabs that could be caught. Both filled their stomachs better than salt pork.

The next week, Mr. Wainwright noticed in the morning and a few times during the day — usually before the noon meal, and before dinner, both Marie and Madeline would walk to the waterfall pool. Since they carried the pan Madeline used for cooking, he assumed they were only washing up the cooking utensils in preparation for the next meal.

On the first morning, he shouldered a musket and prepared to follow them. Madeline smiled and chided him for being too protective. After all, she said, the island had no natives and no one in a ship or boat could know of their presence. Should they need assistance, the waterfall pool was within speaking distance, and he had better things to which to attend than watching them do women’s work.

One morning a few days later, he discovered the true reason for their trips to the pool.

He had been doing as he did every morning, noon, and evening, that being walking to his vantagepoint and scanning the sea for any sails. He found none, and started back to the hut. He was almost at the clearing when he heard talking from the direction of the pool. Thinking Marie and Madeline had been discovered by some intruder into their sanctuary, he checked his musket and then crept slowly along the now well-worn trail to the pool.

Madeline was standing in the pool and she was nude. Her back was to him, so he could see only the swell of her waist as it flowed into the crystal clear water to her wide hips, her back and shoulders and her arms. He quietly took a station behind a low bushy tree and peered between the branches.

Madeline turned then and Mr. Wainwright caught his breath. Marie had been hidden in front of Madeline, and she was likewise nude, though she was much different than Madeline.

Madeline had heavy breasts that sat low on her chest, and her large, pinkish nipples were likewise low on the pale, soft mounds. Through the clear water of the pool, he could see the mass of hair that covered her lower belly. It was dark brown, as dark or darker than the hair on her head, and tapered as it disappeared between her thighs.

Marie’s breasts were small and round, and her smaller, though darker nipples sat in the very center of the firm mounds like the stem of a boy’s spinning top, though not so long. Her lower belly was also covered with a carpet the color of the auburn hair on her head. Her hips were the hips of a woman, but not so wide as those of Madeline, and her belly was rounded only enough to accent the two bumps of her hip bones.

Mr. Wainwright had not thought about women for some time other than thinking of the safety and comfort of Marie and Madeline. The desires of a man now came rushing into his brain, and he felt his manhood stiffen until it thrust out against his trousers. He was about to take his leave when Marie spoke.

“Madeline, is it not odd that we have the curse on the same days?”

“No, it often happens that way when women live closely together. We have lived in the same house since before your first time. It is a perfectly normal thing.”

“At least it is done for this time. It felt so wonderful to bathe again. I always feel soiled.”

“Yes, as do I. ‘Tis a good thing we brought the small soaps and women’s towels I put in my bag, else we would be using moss like the native girls and washing with only water.”

“They use only moss?”

“Yes. It is held in place by a sort of harness made from leather or the soft fibers of a tree found just inside the rough outer bark.”

“I would think that very uncomfortable.”

Madeline smiled.

“When I was young girl, I used such a method. ‘Tis no more uncomfortable than a woman’s towel held between your legs.”

They walked out of the water then and began drying themselves. Mr. Wainwright was struck breathless by Marie’s slender thighs and calves. He remembered to breathe again when Marie spoke.

“Do you think Mr. Wainwright suspects what we have been doing?”

“No, and that is why we come here at the times we do and why I always carry my pot. He will believe we are only washing it. In any event, men do not think of such things unless they are married, and then only when it causes them disappointment.”

“If I were married to Mr. Wainwright, I would never disappoint him. There are other ways. You told me yourself.”

Madeline laughed.

“Marie, your mind is befuddled by Mr. Wainwright’s actions to save us from the pirates. You should not think of doing such things with him.”

“I can not help myself. Do you believe he thinks of me?”

“Most men think of women, but only how they would be between the sheets. I would suppose Mr. Wainwright to be the same.”

“Your husband, was he the same?”

Madeline paused the motions of the towel between her spread thighs and smiled.

“No. He was a friend, then a husband, and then a lover. He never asked anything of me that I was not more than happy to give him.”

“Why have you never remarried? Most women would have.”

“My Jack was too perfect to replace, so I never tried to do so after he passed. Besides, I am forty years old, and no man wants an old woman in his bed.”

“I want my husband to be like your Jack, and I too will give him anything for which he asks.”

Madeline laughed again.

“Marie, you think too much about such things for a young girl. Come now, get dressed. Mr. Wainwright will be coming back from his hill.”

Mr. Wainwright slipped quietly back to the hut and then far enough up the trail to the vantagepoint he could watch for Marie and Madeline but not be himself seen. When they walked up to the hut, he counted to a hundred and then walked back down the trail.

Mr. Wainwright spent an hour at the hut, but he was shamed by the fact he was constantly staring at Marie. She only smiled when she chanced to see him, but he was uneasy. Captain Knowles had entrusted him to protect these women, and having such thoughts was not being protective. He announced he would walk to the beach to see if he might find a fish or some crabs.

Mr. Wainwright was not looking for food so much as he was thinking. He had thought Marie to be just a girl up until he saw her and Madeline in the waterfall pool. Now, he saw her as a woman, her body ripe and arousing. His promise to Captain Knowles forced him to attempt to put aside those thoughts, but they would not leave his mind.

He thought again of her firm breasts and imagined them in his hands, then pressed against his chest as she embraced him. He thought of the auburn curls that covered her mound and sex and imagined feeling them with first his fingertips and then with his rigid manhood as he pierced the girl’s maidenhead and made her a true woman. Of course, he would never do such a thing here on the island. To do so would have been against everything he believed and would compromise his promise to Captain Knowles, but the thought of their bodies entwined as he pumped his seed into her caused his manhood to become erect again.

He stopped before reaching the beach, opened his trousers and released his raging erection from the confines, then closed his eyes.

He would kiss her, gently at first, and let Marie decide when those kisses would become the kisses of passions aroused to the heights of needing more. Marie would gasp when he touched her breasts, and would open her thighs to his exploring fingers. She would be damp there at first, then become slippery as his fingers caressed her secret lips. He would suckle at her dark pink nipples then, and her juices would flow to prepare her to accept his rigid cock.

He remembered Marie telling Madeline about “other ways” to please a man. Perhaps she would grasp his cock and gently stroke it as he was then doing. Her small hand would be soft and cause wonderful sensations that would increase his desire to plunge his rigid shaft into her clasping depths. She would gasp when he entered her and cry out when he made her a woman. Once the portal was opened, she would welcome his thrusts and hold him tight against her body as he spent.

His hips jerked as the streams of white erupted from his swollen manhood and he gasped with each spurt. When the spurts had slowed to a dribble, he stripped the length, then readjusted his trousers and closed them. Still in the daze of the intense release, he did not hear the quiet pad of bare feet making their way back to the hut.

Marie had decided to follow Mr. Wainwright to the beach, to help him find crabs, she’d said, though Madeline suspected a very different motive. She agreed but said she would also go as she had not yet seen the beach.

The shoes they had both worn for sea travel were stylish but not very comfortable if one did much walking. Since those first treks from the jollyboat to the site of the hut, both had removed their shoes and gone barefoot. Their footsteps on the rough path made little if any sound.

They had just rounded a turn in the path when Marie clapped her hand over her mouth and pointed. Madeline did not stifle a sound with her hand. She was struck mute by the sight of Mr. Wainwright stroking his manhood. Her lack of the ability to speak was of twofold cause.

Madeline knew Marie was seeing such a sight for the first time and would be aroused just as she had been at Marie’s age. She would have to explain and then watch Marie closely lest the passions of youth conquer the girl’s chaste upbringing.

She also remembered nights with her husband when she, being unable to satisfy him because of the curse, had taken his manhood in hand and stroked him until he groaned and his cock erupted with streams of white seed. She had caught his essence in a cloth, wiped him clean, and then snuggled close beside him. He would use his fingertip to give her the same pleasure.

As Mr. Wainwright’s seed spilled to the ground, Madeline pulled gently at Marie’s arm and then motioned for the girl to follow her. When they reached the hut, Marie was fairly bursting with excitement as well as questions.

“Madeline, Mr. Wainwright’s…his…his organ looked so large and hard. Is it always so with men?”

“Yes, though some are larger and some smaller, or so I have been told.”

“His eyes were closed. Why would that be?”

Madeline smiled.

“Men think about women when they do such a thing.”

Marie’s eyes sparkled.

“Madeline, I do so hope he was thinking about me.”

Madeline patted Marie’s hand.

“I think it more likely he was thinking of some trollop in a port where his ship called. He’s a sailor, Marie, and sailors are known for liking the ladies of the evening.”

Marie thrust out her chest.

“I will not believe a gentleman such as Mr. Wainwright would ever seek the company of one of those women.”

“‘Tis not company they seek, Marie. They seek the short relief of the tensions of the voyage, that is all. They care no more for the women than the women care for the sailors.”

Marie stared down the path Mr. Wainwright had taken.

“If it was Mr. Wainwright, I would care.”

“Marie! A young girl should not think in such ways. It is not decent.”

“Did you not feel the same about your Jack?”

“Yes, Marie, I did, but we were man and wife.”

Marie smiled.

“I shall continue to hope Mr. Wainwright was thinking about me, and I will continue to care about him. I do not mind if such thoughts are not decent for there is no one else here to judge me.”

Madeline sighed and shook her head.

“You have the looks and temperament of your late mother, but I swear your Father gave you the stubbornness of a cane-field mule. Think what you will, because I cannot change your thoughts. Just do not allow those thoughts to become something you will regret.”

“I shan’t, Madeline. You taught me about men and women and that what they do together is something that should only be between a man and his wife. I do believe that.”

They both turned at Mr. Wainwright’s voice.

“I have a fresh dinner for you if Madeline would do us the favor of cooking it.”

He laid a large, flat fish on the tree trunk that had served as their first shelter.

“I spied it digging into the sand not far from shore. Unless I am mistaken, it is a flounder of some type, and will give us a hearty repast.”

After their dinner, Mr. Wainwright seemed lost in thought, and Marie asked him what kept him from talking as they usually did at mealtimes.

Mr. Wainwright said he had been taking stock of their situation and related his thoughts to them.

“We have been on the island for three weeks by my reckoning and nary a ship has even passed by, much less put in. While our food stores are still ample and could be stretched if we continue to find fish, crabs, or perhaps a turtle from time to time, at some point wild foods would be our only sustenance. In a month hence, the hurricanes of the Atlantic will make their way past the island. It is doubtful we would weather such a blow very well in only a rude hut.

“The remaining option is to again load the jollyboat and set sail for Jamaica. It is a voyage of some four hundred miles that would expose you both to the rigors of life at sea for nearly a week.

“I do not wish to watch you cook in the tropical sun at sea, nor do I wish to reduce your lives to that of the common native people by remaining here. I cannot decide my course as both seem fraught with dangers or at least discomfort.”

Madeline laughed.

“You are concerned about asking us to leave this island to return to civilization? Surely, Sir, you are making a joke.”

Then, her face and voice became more serious.

“Mr. Wainwright, I shall trust in your judgement, but know this. Marie is young and strong and would weather such a journey well. I am not so young, but I am strong enough and will do just as well.”

Mr. Wainwright’s mouth was a firm line.

“There may be high seas at times. I would keep near the island coasts as much as possible, but there will still be at least one passage on the open sea. I remember you saying the rocking of the ship made you uncomfortable. Should a storm be upon us, the jollyboat will be tossed on the waves like a leaf in the wind.

“There would also be the problem of privacy for…for our normal bodily functions. On the Rislane, the seat of ease was at the stern and the crew was forbidden to use it or to look over the stern rail. In the jollyboat, it would be necessary to use the transom as a seat of ease.”

Madeline smiled grimly.

“‘Twould be better to feed the fishes with my dinner a few times than to grow much older on this small island I think. As for our privacy, I trust you would do us the courtesy of looking away just as we would do for you when the need arises.”

Mr. Wainwright turned to Marie.

“Miss Bonner, you are nearly a woman and should be allowed to speak your thoughts on the matter. What be they?”

Marie smiled.

“I trust in your judgement as well and I agree with Madeline. I do not find the island to be an uncomfortable place, but I would not wish to live here forever. I did not find the voyage here to be such a fearful one. I should think another will not be so much different.”

Mr. Wainwright nodded.

“We shall sail for Port Royal then, though we must spend a few days teaching you both to be sailors. I will need extra hands should the wind grow strong, and as we will sail day and night, we will have to set a watch of some sort to keep the boat on course and the sails trimmed.”

For each of the next three days, Mr. Wainwright let the river current take the jollyboat out to sea, then stepped the mast and attached the boom. He demonstrated how to raise the main sail and the jib, and once Madeline and Marie had become somewhat adept, they sailed a short distance from the shore and up and down the beach. He taught them how and when to tack, and how to use the rudder to keep the boat on course. He also taught them the skills required for rowing, for it was possible they might be becalmed and need to propel the jollyboat by using the oars.

After the second day, it became obvious to Mr. Wainwright that Madeline was the stronger of the two women, and he assigned her the task of adjusting the running rigging. Marie became his helmsman and was soon very good at keeping the jollyboat on the course she set by the small compass in the binnacle by the rudder.

On the fourth day, they carried all their belongings from the hut to the jollyboat, stopping only for a brief mid-day meal of salt pork. Mr. Wainwright, thinking they would all benefit from a good night’s rest, spread one of his tarpaulins over a vine suspended between two trees and spread the other on the forest floor. After a dinner of crabs Mr. Wainwright caught along the shore, the three lay down to the croaking of frogs in the river for the last night they would sleep on Isla Alto Velo. He saw no reason to set a watch.

The sun had barely peeped over the horizon when the Mr. Wainwright loosed the bow line of the jollyboat, pushed it away from the shore and then stepped into the bow. While Marie used the oars to keep the boat in the center of the river, he stepped the mast and secured the stays, then attached the boom. Madeline secured the jib to the forestay and then secured the halyard that ran from its block down the mast to the small cleat where it would be tied off. She rove the jib clew line through another block on the rail and then stood by to raise and set the jib.

When the jollyboat left the river, Mr. Wainwright raised the mainsail and began a sou’westerly tack into the tradewinds. When he had the sail trimmed to his satisfaction, he instructed Madeline to haul the jib to the top of the fore stay and tie it off. The jib filled with wind and Madeline pulled it in until Mr. Wainwright judged it to be satisfactory, and then belayed it to a cleat in the rail.

The jollyboat quickly picked up speed until the water racing under her keel burbled at the stern. Mr. Wainwright went back to the stern where Marie manned the tiller to check their course, and asked her to steer a bit more to the south. Upon her doing so, he adjusted the main and jib again, and then sat down on the seat amidships beside Madeline. Madeline asked if there was anything more to be done.

“No, Mrs. Mayes. We’ll tack nor’west in half an hour or so, but until then, all we need do is watch that she doesn’t get broadside to a wave.”

He pointed at Marie and grinned.

“As long as my helmsman keeps this course, that is not likely to happen.”

Marie grinned back and mimicked the usual seaman’s response she’d heard to such an order.

“Aye aye, Cap’n Wainwright.”

They tacked nor’west after half an hour and continued on that tack until the low green outline of land appeared on the horizon.

“That will be Hispaniola”, said Mr. Wainwright. “We’ll keep the island in sight until we reach the west-most point. From there, it is open sea to Jamaica and Port Royal.”

As the sun rose to sit directly overhead, Mr. Wainwright tacked sou’west once again, and then established the watch schedule.

“On a full ship, the watch would be four hours and each watch would be manned by a third of the crew. Since our crew is only three, our arrangement must be somewhat unique.

“Since I alone have the ability to navigate by the stars, I shall stand watch from sunset to sunrise. During the hours of daylight, Mrs. Mayes, you will attend to the sails and Miss Bonner to the rudder. I will sleep then, just as you will sleep during the night hours.”

Madeline nodded.

“That is a fine schedule for a day such as today, but what if a storm arises?”

Mr. Wainwright smiled.

“Should that happen, it will be all hands on deck, just as it would be on a full ship — Miss Bonner at the helm, you, Mrs. Mayes, assisting with the lines, and I, trimming the sails and determining which course is appropriate.”

“As we shall be in sight of land, might we not sail to the land until the storm passes? ‘Twould seem to be a more safe course.”

“Yes, if the storm proves to be more than the jollyboat can weather, but I know little of the natives of Hispaniola. Putting in there could be more dangerous than braving the waves. After we begin the voyage on the open sea, we will have to do as best we can, for there will be no land for at least two days.”

Madeline smiled.

“Your good judgement has kept us safe up until this time. I shall trust in that judgement to take us safely to Port Royal.”

Mr. Wainwright handed his watch to Madeline.

“I will take a short rest now. Tack on this course for another two hours. Then tack back to the nor’west until the sun sits on the horizon. If you should require assistance of any kind, wake me.”

Mr. Wainwright stretched out with his shoulders on the bow seat and his legs on the floor of the jollyboat. When he had loaded their possessions, he had purposely left this space open for himself and the women and had folded the two tarpaulins to form a surface somewhat softer than the wood slats of the bottom.. Their beds would be narrow and their pillows the hard, wooden seat of the jollyboat, but it was the only space not occupied by their trunks and bags.

He closed his eyes but had no intention of sleeping. He had taught Madeline and Marie to handle the jollyboat, but they had not yet been tested in the open sea. When Madeline brought the jollyboat to a nor’westerly tack, he would determine if they were capable or if he must stay awake at least for most of the journey.

As the first hour passed, the heat from the sun, the gentle rocking of the jollyboat and the fatigue of the day prior caused Mr. Wainwright to doze off. His thoughts upon doing so had been of Marie, and as sleep closed his mind to the sounds around him, he began to dream.

He was walking down the trail from his vantagepoint on the island. As he approached the hut, Marie emerged from the door and stepped to the ground. She began kissing him, and her kisses caused him to place his hands on her firm hips. He fondled her hips and Marie moaned.

He felt his cock stiffen as Marie touched the front of his trousers and moaned again as his cock lurched into her hand.

“You are so hard and I am fairly faint with desire. Oh, take me, take me this instant.”

He had been unbuttoning her dress when he was shaken from sleep by Madeline’s voice.

“Now, Marie, to the north west.”

He continued to feign sleep. It was with difficulty he did not smile when he heard the creek of the boom as it swung from one side of the jollyboat to the other, the luffing of the mainsail as it lost the wind, and then the soft pop as the mainsail bellied out when it filled again.

Through eyelids cracked just a fraction, he watched Madeline loose the jib clewline on one side of the boat and then haul in the other and sheet it home. Yes, they would do well unless heavy weather overtook them. Mr. Wainwright drifted back to sleep.

Once the jollyboat was sailing on the compass point Mr. Wainwright had given them, Madeline took her seat beside Marie. Marie checked the compass again, then turned to Madeline and whispered, “Did you not see Mr. Wainwright’s trousers rise as he slept?”

“Yes, I saw.”

“Why would his…why would he do such a thing? He was asleep.”

Madeline smiled at Marie.

“Marie, there are many things men do of which young girls normally have no knowledge. We are in a unique circumstance, and you are witness to things usually reserved for when a woman is wed. Men’s organs often rise of their own accord when they sleep. It is a perfectly normal thing for a man to do.”

“Is it as when he closed his eyes on the island and stroked himself?”

“Somewhat, though usually it is brought on by a dream, or so my husband told me.”

“Oh, I do so wish the dream was of me. It would please me to know he thinks of me that way, for I think the same of him.”

Madeline understood the girl was speaking from her heart rather than from her mind. She had done the same when she was Marie’s age. She tried to be gentle, but also to dispel Marie’s thoughts of what would likely never be.

“Marie. As I said, we are in an unusual circumstance. It is normal for you to be taken by Mr. Wainwright as he is our protector, but do not read more into the book than has been written. It is likely Mr. Wainwright will sail off on the seas again once we reach Port Royal. You will be but a memory of a task to which he was set by his Captain.”

“I shall make it so he wishes not to leave me then.”

“How would you do this?”

Marie smiled.

“I will give myself to him.”

Madeline shook her head.

“No, child. Such a thing never achieves the desired goal. He would enjoy your charms, and then board the next ship that would accept him. It is the way of sailors.”

Marie pouted her lower lip.

“Then how did you convince your husband to not do the same?”

“My Jack was not a sailor.”

“But he could have done as you say sailors do. Why did he not do so?”

Madeline squeezed Marie’s hand.

“Marie, Marie, Marie. I cannot give you a very good explanation of what happens between a woman and a man that makes each want to stay with the other. It is a feeling you must experience, and I do not speak of what you feel now. What you feel now is strong attraction and hope as do all young women with some of the men they meet.

“The feeling of which I speak is love, and though it is difficult to describe because it is a different feeling for every man and every woman, you will know when it happens. It is as if the other has stolen a part of you and you would die should that part leave. It is a feeling of wanting to do everything you can to make the other happy. It is a feeling of wanting the other to touch you, to couple with you, and to give you children.”

“I feel some of those things for Mr. Wainwright.”

“I know you do. Every woman feels some of those things for some men, and others of those things for other men. Love is feeling all of those things and more for one man, and he feeling the same things for you. That is why my Jack did not leave. He loved me and I loved him.”

“Could Mr. Wainwright not feel those things for me?”

“Yes, but it would not be of your doing. It would be because he felt those things in his heart. You could not put them there. Only he can do that.”

Marie lapsed into silence then. As she checked the small compass and made a slight correction she wondered that life was so difficult.

She was certain she wanted to do everything she could to make Mr. Wainwright happy, and she had thought often of bearing his children. She did not have the feeling that he now held part of her. Perhaps Madeline was right and her infatuation with Mr. Wainwright was just that — a strong attraction caused by his courage and strength and the hope he had similar feelings.

If he had those feelings would he not have told her by now? They had been together for nearly a month. Surely that was enough time for him to realize his attraction and tell her.

Marie sighed and looked again at the compass. The needle pointed to the course she was to steer. If only there were a compass for her life and someone to tell her what heading to take.

When the rim of the sun rested on the horizon, Madeline woke Mr. Wainwright. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then scanned the horizon. The jollyboat was not yet close enough to Hispaniola to enable him to make out the trunks of trees. Their progress was about what he’d anticipated.

He took the tiller from Marie and told Madeline he would tack to the sou’west again. She ducked low as the boom swept across the boat, then reversed the port and starboard jib clew lines. The jollyboat had slowed during the maneuver, but now picked up speed again. Mr. Wainwright asked Marie if she was hungry.

“Yes, I am ready for dinner, though I wish it were something other than salt pork. It will be good to be back in Port Royal. Even a roasted chicken will seem like a feast.”

Mr. Wainwright smiled.

“With luck, in four more days you will have your chicken.”

They ate the cold salt pork as they had since leaving the Rislane — each one dipping into the cask of brine, retrieving a lump of meat, and then using Mr. Wainwright’s knife to saw off a piece small enough to chew. The sun was halfway below the horizon when they finished. Mr. Wainwright tacked the jollyboat to the nor’west once again, and settled in for his night watch. In little over an hour, the stars would begin to show themselves, and as they did, his night map would be revealed.

When it became too dark to see each other, Madeline and Marie took the makeshift bed in the bow. They were soon breathing deeply in sleep, for the day had been long and tiring, and the hot sun that beat down on them had only made it seem more so.

Mr. Wainwright stretched out his legs, then leaned back against the transom and mused about their situation.

Were the situation different, had he not made the decision to go to sea, he would have never found himself in such a perilous predicament. He would have led the simple life of a farmer just as had his father and grandfathers as far back as anyone could remember.

Farming had been in his blood, placed there “when he suckled at the paps of his mum”, his grandfather had been fond of saying. He would likely have continued the family occupation had it not been for the stern upbringing he’d received.

His father was a man pious in nature and determined to pass that piety on to his children. His father also believed hard work was required if a man was to live a pious life.

Most things other boys were allowed to do were forbidden to him. Instead of playing at hoops or catching minnows in the brook, he toiled beside his father and brothers in the fields and barn during the day. Sundays were reserved for reading from the family Bible.

At the age of eighteen, his father had taken him to Weymouth when he went there to purchase a horse. In the distance, he had seen the tall masts of the ships at anchorage and asked his father about them. His father had frowned.

“Boy, those are the tines of the Devil’s own pitchfork. They lure young men away from their families and carry them to far away places, places filled with strong drink and loose women. The sailors sleep only on hammocks in the damp of a leaky room, and eat only salt pork or beef and wormy bread. It is no life for any man, much less for a man with the good soil of the land on his hands and the fear of God in his heart. I’ll hear no more talk about it.”

After a year of being worked more as a slave than as a son, he had again thought about those tall masts. Weymouth was as far from home as he’d ever been, though he knew the world was much larger. He was curious to see how much larger it truly was. His uncle on his mother’s side had traveled through England as a journeyman smith, and had worked in the shipyards in Weymouth when younger. When that uncle came to Sunday dinner one day, he asked about the ships as they walked together to inspect the fields. His uncle smiled.

“Had I been your age when I forged the iron for the hooks and rudder chains, I would have downed tools and joined the sailors in the forecastle. Such were the tales they told – lands where the chill winds of winter never come, lands with strange natives who go around mostly without clothing, lands where strange and tasty fruits fall from the trees for the picking up.”

“Father says the life of a sailor is harsh, with only salted meat and wormy bread to eat, and a swinging bed in a leaky part of the ship.”

“Yes, it is true that all ships leak some, and salt pork and salt beef is the common fare. As for worms, the bread our own women bake will do the same if not quickly eaten. Such has not yet killed me.

‘Tis all in how you look at it, boy. Would you rather eat salt pork and wormy biscuits on occasion, or taste the soil of England in your throat for the rest of your life? In port, there is food fit for a king, wine such as you have never tasted, and women”, his uncle nudged his arm and winked, “of a more agreeable nature than is any farm girl.”

The next morning, his father had spoken harshly to him for forgetting to even the traces on the plow.

“You’ll have this fine horse pulling with only one pair of legs and render him unfit to work after only a few hours. Do you not have a mind in that head of yours?”

He had resented that statement as well as the feeling his father seemed to think more of a horse than of his son. He stopped the horse, looped the reins over the plow handle and faced his father.

“I do not wish to be spoken to in this way again. If you find fault with what I do, you need only tell me and I will correct my error.”

His father had scowled.

“No son of mine speaks to me like this.”

“Then I am no son of yours, and I shall leave.”

With that, Mr. Wainwright had walked to the house, tied up a bundle of his two extra shirts and pants, and set off on the road for Weymouth.

Yes, he thought, had I held my temper, I would be married to a fine English girl and have children of my own to help in the fields, though such a life would never have been so exciting and fulfilling as the one I now lead. I would never have seen the Caribbean isles, never sailed across the vast ocean and, he smiled to himself, I would never have met Marie.

Ah, Marie. If only they had met in Port Royal when he was taking in the sights.

He had thought to leave his stern upbringing on that small farm in the English countryside, but found it firmly planted in his mind, just as firmly as the weeds he had pulled had been rooted amongst the rows of pease. He would not drink of the local spirits known as rum, nor could he bring himself to consort with the women of the alleyways. Instead, he wandered the town and immediate countryside, comparing the churches, houses and barns with those in England. Had he met Marie on one of his walks, they might have talked and then become more than just accidental acquaintances.

But he had met her on the Rislane, and had grown to know her only because his Captain had ordered him to protect her and her escort. She could never think of him as anything else. When they finally reached Port Royal, she would return to her life of ease and he would search for a mate’s berth on another ship. They would part, never to meet again.

That thought weighed heavy on his mind as he looked to the heavens, satisfied himself he was still on course, and then turned to look to the bow of the jollyboat.

The slip of the moon just beginning its monthly show cast enough light he could see her face. The face was beautiful in his estimation even though it was reddened by the exposure to the intense tropical sun. It was a face he would relish seeing at the end of every day. It was a face he would smile at as their children gathered around them.

He thought of her body as well, the body he’d seen that day in the waterfall pool. Her slender curves had fired his imagination on that day, but he had since discovered Marie to be more than just a well-formed young woman. She was an intelligent woman as well as a beautiful one. She had quickly understood the operation of the rudder relative to the needle of the compass, and her turns when tacking were timed to Madeline’s working of the rigging such that the jollyboat lost little headway in the process.

He’d enjoyed their conversations on the island as well. Marie could be serious, but she could also speak of things in a playful manner, and her smile when she did so was as the sun shining through an opening in the clouds.

As the hours passed, his mind engaged in an internal battle over the girl. Should he attempt to become closer to her, she would only suspect him of attempting to trick her into a compromising situation. He had once overheard Madeline telling her that sailors care not for the women they bed. How could she think otherwise?

If he did nothing, she would walk out of his life as soon as her feet touched the dock in Port Royal, but what could he do, get down on one knee and pledge his undying love? He could almost hear her laugh at him for making such a fool of himself.

No, he could not do such a thing. Their stations in life were further apart than just the distance between Weymouth and Port Royal. They were as night and day — her, the sun shining upon the plantation of her father, he, the darkness of a night at sea such as the one they now endured. Both were surely pre-destined to follow their separate paths.

Even were they not, he thought, surely if Marie felt anything for him she would have given him some sign. She did look at him and smile from time to time, that was true, but Mrs. Mayes also did the same. He thought it unlikely that Mrs. Mayes had any feelings for him, for she was old enough to have him as a son. If she smiled at him and had no other feelings, Marie was likely the same.

Mr. Wainwright sighed, looked at his watch, and then tacked back to the nor’west.

For the next two days and nights they sailed on onward under the Caribbean sun. The trees of Hispaniola passed by slowly until on the evening of their third day at sea, the trees seemed to disappear into the gentle swell upon which the jollyboat sailed. Mr. Wainwright, just woken from his sleep, looked toward the land and then back at Marie and Madeline.

“‘Tis the end of the safest part of our voyage. Now, we must turn more southerly and make for Port Royal over the open sea. So saying, he took Captain Knowles’ crude chart from his breast pocket and spread it the seat. After estimating the required heading, he gave Marie the same, and he and Madeline made such adjustments to the sails as was required to make best use of the wind.

As the dark of night pushed the sun below the horizon, Mr. Wainwright frowned at the line of clouds ahead. It appeared to be a line of squalls, and such were relatively common in this expanse of the ocean. Were he on the Rislane, he would have merely doubled the watch in preparation for the rain and strong winds. Here, on the jollyboat, his concerns were many.

Neither Marie nor Madeline had weathered even a small storm aboard ship. They would, no doubt be frightened, though their fright was not his major concern. A craft so small as the jollyboat could easily capsize in the heavy waves blown up by the winds. It would take them all to keep her climbing the waves lest she broach and dump them all into the churning ocean. He turned to the women.

“I fear a storm is approaching us. It could be a small one as most are, though the clouds would seem to bring one of more strength. We shall all need to be on watch tonight. As a precaution, I shall tie you both to the jollyboat with the bow and stern lines. It is not likely you will need them, but should a wave crash into us, it will save you a ducking.”

He used the sailor’s bowline to tie Marie to the stern where she would continue to operate the tiller. The bowline was a strong knot that would never slip and choke her around the middle. He used the bow line with Madeline at the center seat that she might be free to adjust the rigging at his command. Mr. Wainwright then used one of the spare ropes he had brought from the Rislane to tie himself to the thwart between Marie and Madeline.

By his glance at the watch in his vest when lightening split the heavens before the first raindrops began to fall, Mr. Wainwright knew it was just after midnight. He yelled against the rising wind.

“The storm is upon us. Marie, hold tight to the tiller and be ready to change the heading when I say. We must turn and sail with the waves for we cannot tack into this wind. Madeline, stay strong and haul in on the lines as I tell you. We shall make it through this storm and then be on our way.”

The light rain became a raging torrent blown across the sea by the wind. What had been the gentle swell that had rocked Marie and Madeline to sleep each night became waves as high as the mast of the jollyboat.

Strong winds tightened the stays of the mast and made them sing with a high pitch, and as the jollyboat raced up the front of one wave, slipped over the crest, and then down the back to the next, her bow was plunged into the water. The jollyboat was filled four inches above the slatted floor. Mr. Wainwright handed Madeline the cooking pot and screamed in order to be heard over the roaring gale.

“Madeline, bail as if our lives depend upon it, for they do.”

At that point, Mr. Wainwright loosed the halyard and lowered the mainsail to half-mast to slow their speed somewhat. After that action, the bow did not dip into the wave ahead again. Mr. Wainwright then smashed in the head of the water cask that was nearly empty and began bailing as well. Between them, the water inside the jollyboat was reduced to a tolerable level.

As the winds raged, Mr. Wainwright would feel for the direction the waves pushed the jollyboat. As the sky was black with clouds and the pouring rain, he could do little else to determine which way to turn the jollyboat that she might rise over the waves rather than broach and be filled with water. Marie answered his every screamed order with a turning of the rudder that kept the jollyboat pointed into the waves

“Starboard, to starboard.”

The jollyboat would turn, rise over that wave, plunge down the other side and then begin the task of climbing the next.

“Port, Marie, to port now.”

And so it was for nearly an hour before the waves became smaller and the rain seemed to diminish as well. Mr. Wainwright was hoarse from the screaming required to carry his voice to Madeline and Marie, and welcomed the easing of the storm. He was nearly ready to tell them they could be more at ease when the storm, as if frustrated by its futile attempts to send them to the bottom, gusted forth a last strong wind that seemed to blow straight down.

The mast stays that had held the spar upright through the raging winds had been strained to nearly breaking during the storm, and had become weakened with each gust. With this final blow, the fore stay snapped with a loud crack and the mast, now pulled by the side and back stays, fell towards the stern. Mr. Wainwright screamed a warning, and Madeline dropped to the bottom of the jollyboat, but his warning was too late for Marie. The falling mast struck the girl on the side of the head. She cried out and then fell forward into the bottom of the jollyboat at his feet.

Though he could not see her in the inky blackness, Mr. Wainwright knew by the cry of pain she had been injured. He felt for her head and raised it from the water that still sloshed over the slatted bottom, then turned her over. That she sputtered and coughed up the water that had filled her nose and mouth told him Marie still lived. He said her name, but got no response and her body was as limp as a rope.

He heard Madeline cry out, “Marie, Marie, are you all right?”

“No, she is not”, he replied. “I cannot see the injury, but she is unconscious. We will have to wait until the sun rises to find the cause.”

A few minutes later, the storm passed as quickly as it had arrived. The sea calmed to a gentle, rolling swell and stars once again sparkled in the black sky overhead. Madeline untied herself and came to the rear of the jollyboat. Mr. Wainwright was sitting on the floor and holding Marie upright in his arms. She felt down Marie’s slender arm to her wrist and searched for the soft throb caused by Marie’s heartbeat. After a few moments, she gently laid Marie’s arm in the girl’s lap.

“Her heart still beats strongly.”

“Yes, I determined that as well. It must be she was struck by the mast when it fell. If this wretched night would end, we could tell how severely she is injured.”

Madeline touched Mr. Wainwright on the shoulder.

“Attend to the boat, Mr. Wainwright. I will care for Marie.”

Working by feel, Mr. Wainwright inspected the damage to the jollyboat. As best he could tell, the mast had been snapped off at the base when the forestay broke. The broken stub was still stepped, and he pulled it out. Perhaps when he could see, he could cut a new step on the mast.

As he continued his inspection, he realized the mast was the least of their problems. The boom and mainsail had been carried away when the mast snapped and fell. With no boom and no sail, they had no hope of making Cape Royal. Then he breathed a sigh of partial relief. The jib was still there, being dragged along beside the boat by the clewlines. He could rig the jib as a small mainsail if he could repair the mast. The going would be slower, but at least they could make headway. He pulled the jib back into the bow and then verified the water cask and food chest were still aboard. Then, he went back to Madeline and Marie.

“Has there been any change?”

“No”, replied Madeline. “It is as if she sleeps, though she does not breathe as she would when asleep. How is the boat?”

“We have lost the main sail and boom, but still have the jib. In the morning, I will try to rig the jib as a main.”

“So all is not lost?”

“No. The jollyboat still floats, we still have food and water, and except for Marie, we are not injured. In another way though, we are lost. I do not know where we are. It is likely the storm blew us away from my estimated position. I may be able to tell more when the sun rises.”

When the first rays of the sun rose above the horizon and painted the surface of the sea with gold, Mr. Wainwright scanned the horizon. There, barely visible to their bow, was Hispaniola. He cursed under his breath. The storm had cost them a main sail and nearly a day. Using the jib as a main would add another day. They were still at least three days from Port Royal.

Madeline called to him then.

“Mr. Wainwright, Marie has been hit on the head. It must have been the mast as you suspected, though I believe it was a glancing blow. There is no bleeding that I can find, just a lump.”

He looked where Madeline pointed and saw the swelling. He had seen such before, once when a seaman was hit by a large, swinging block and again when one fell from the main spar to the deck. Both had lost consciousness. The seaman who was hit by the block had regained his senses in a few hours, and after a weeks rest had continued his duties.

The other had been unconscious for two weeks, and upon waking was hostile and abusive to everyone. He remained so until the ship made port three months later, and it had required locking him in the hold to protect the rest of the crew from his rampages. Mr. Wainwright could only hope Marie’s injury was light and she would be as she was before. Any other outcome was something he could not bring himself to think about.

He set about repairing the boat in order to take his mind off Marie. With his axe, he chopped the broken end of the mast until it fit the step in the jollyboat seat and false keel, then spliced the broken fore stay. The shorter length of the mast compensated for the shortened fore stay when he stepped it, and it was a small task to set up the other stays to the correct tension.

He then rove the halyard for the jib through what had been the block on the masthead for the main and then down to the foot. After pulling the jib to the top of the mast and tying the halyard fast to the seat, he used one of the two clew lines to secure the foot of the sail to the foot of the mast. The sail billowed in the wind when he let out the other clew line, and the jollyboat began making headway, though not so fast as he’d hoped. He pulled it in, then lashed one of the oars loosely to the mast by the blade, and tied off the clew line to the grip,

This time, when he let out the sail, it filled with air and began to pull the jollyboat along as a speed more to his liking. He took two turns around a thole pin in the rail to ease the strain on his arm, and then sat back on the transom and steered a course that would take them to Port Royal.

Marie woke an hour afterward, and seemed almost her former self though she was very confused.

“Madeline, where are we? Where is my father?”

Madeline stroked Marie’s face.

“We are in a boat, Marie, and sailing home to Port Royal and your father. Do you not remember the storm?”

“No.”

“You were injured when the mast fell. Do you not remember that?”

“No, I do not.”

Mr. Wainwright spoke then.

“I have seen this condition before. Marie must rest until she is no longer confused and her memory returns.”

Marie looked at him.

“Madeline, who is this man?”

Had she stabbed him in the heart, it would not have been so painful, for had she done so, he would have died instead of having to endure the thoughts Marie’s question brought to his mind. He turned away as if to confirm his heading that she would not see the pain in his face.

Throughout that day and night, Mr. Wainwright steered the jollyboat on the course he had set, tacking first this way and then that way to make the best use of the wind. By noon, the trees of Hispaniola had again sunk below the horizon. As night fell, he aligned the course of the jollyboat with a star that lay upon his course and continued to sail.

He did not speak to Madeline or Marie again. There was no need for Madeline’s assistance, there being only the rudder and one line to manage. He could not bring himself to speak to Marie.

He continued to ask himself what he had done to make Fate treat him in this manner. Had he not always put the safety and wellbeing of his seamen before all else? Had he not abstained from strong drink and loose women as he had been taught? Why then, so soon after he had met the only woman who befuddled his mind with thoughts of marriage and children did Fate cause her to forget who he was?

Marie studied the man who sat in the stern of the boat and seemed to pay her no notice. He was strangely familiar to her, but she could not say where or when or even if they had ever met. She found she had an attraction to him, though she could not have explained should she have been asked.

Perhaps it was the pounding ache in her head that made her think these thoughts. If what Madeline had said was true, he had only been a sailor assigned to protect them from the pirates that threatened to attack the ship upon which they sailed.

She did not remember sailing on a ship, or the Captain telling them of his plan, or living on an island, but if Madeline said this was so, it must be the truth. It was frustrating to know she had lost part of her memory, but more frustrating was the feelings that plagued her mind about the man Madeline called Mr. Wainwright. She was still trying to remember as she fell asleep.

It was a little before noon the next day when Mr. Wainwright saw the sail. He knew it was close, for from his position so low in the water, he would not have seen it otherwise. He steered the jollyboat to an intercepting course and adjusted his sail accordingly.

As he grew nearer, he was pleased to see a rectangle of red, white, and blue flying from her main royal mast. She was British and most likely a merchant ship. He prayed the lookouts would see such a small craft as the jollyboat from their perches high in the rigging.

His fears left him when the ship turned and sailed in their direction, and he nearly jumped with joy when he saw the longboat being lowered over the side.

The waterfall pool seemed cool when Marie stepped into it, but it was always cooler than the air in the jungle. She smiled as Mr. Wainwright stepped into the pool with her, and she held out her arms. He walked slowly through the water, gathered her in his arms and bent to kiss her. His lips touched hers and she felt chills run down her back. His hands stroked her naked hips and she felt his stiff manhood against her thigh.

She’d been ready for him before they went to the pool. She was ready now, and whispered in his ear, “I want you.” He picked her up and carried her to the shore, then spread her thighs and —

“Marie, it’s time for breakfast.”

Marie sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and smiled at Madeline.

“I was dreaming about Mr. Wainwright.”

Madeline’s mouth fell open. She rushed to embrace the girl.

“You remember him?”

“Yes, why shouldn’t I remember him?”

Madeline sat down on the bed.

“Marie, do you remember the island?”

“Yes, that’s what I was dreaming about — the island and Mr. Wainwright.”

“Do you remember sailing to Port Royal from there in a little boat?”

Marie’s face was a face lost in thought. She frowned.

“No, I don’t believe so…”

Marie’s frown became a smile

“Yes, I do. I steered the boat, didn’t I? There was a storm wasn’t there?”

Madeline had tears in her eyes.

“Yes. It has been two weeks since the ship found us, but you did not remember anything of the past months until today.”

“Two weeks? It has been two weeks?”

“Yes, but now you are fine.”

“Mr. Wainwright…where is he?”

“Your father is showing him the plantation before he leaves.”

“He is leaving?”

“Yes. He is a sailor, Marie. I told you about sailors.”

Marie threw back the sheets and jumped from the bed.

“He cannot leave, not until I see him once more.”

Marie started to run toward the door, but Madeline caught her arm.

“A proper lady does not chase after a man, but if you must do so, you could at least dress like a lady instead of running about in your nightdress.”

Marie quickly pulled the thin nightdress over her head.

“Please help me dress, Madeline. I must see him.”

The carriage rolled slowly over the dirt road beside the cane field. Neville Bonner pointed to the fields of tall sugar cane that had been fired to strip them of leaves.

“The cane is pure gold, Mr. Wainwright. The people of England crave sugar so they will pay much for only a small parcel. It has made me a rich man.”

“So I see”, said Mr. Wainwright. “Only the royal estates in England are as large as your plantation, I think.”

Neville shrugged.

“I started with only a small field, purchased more land with the income from that crop, and continued so over the years. It is no different than beginning as a common seaman and working towards a captaincy. Both are hard work and take time.”

“I have often thought of becoming a captain of ships, though I think that is a way off. Most captains are older than I.”

Neville laughed.

“This from the man who brought my daughter back to me in a boat more fit for a cruise around Port Royal harbour than the open ocean. I am forever in your debt, Mr. Wainwright, and I am acquainted with certain ship owners who would take notice were I to speak to them of your skills. Perhaps a captaincy is not so far away as you think.

“Of course, that would mean leaving Port Royal…and my daughter. I believe you would not like leaving her very much. I saw how you looked after her when you brought her from the ship. It was with some difficulty I was able to take her away from you and bring her home.”

Mr. Wainwright turned to look at Neville.

“I was only carrying out the orders given me by Captain Knowles.”

“Mr. Wainwright, you may tell yourself that to ease your mind, and you may tell me that and expect me to believe, but your face told me you were obeying the orders of your heart as well. You looked at my Marie as if you care more for her than only a charge given you by your captain. Is that not so.”

Mr. Wainwright paused before he spoke. Yes, he did care for her. He had been responsible and she had been injured. The upset to his mind about that had been difficult to bear. It had been impossible to bear the thought of a woman who had captured his mind might never be the same again.

“Yes, it is so, but she does not remember me.”

“Perhaps not at the present, but the surgeon said with rest, she would regain her memory as the injury was not so severe. Already she remembers most of her life before the voyage. Marie is a strong girl. I have no doubt ’tis only a matter of time and rest.”

“Even if she should, what could I offer her? She has a life of ease and wealth. I have nothing.”

Neville smiled.

“Sometimes nothing is enough. It was enough for my Eleanor when we began. If what Madeline tells me is true, I think it might be so with Marie. Before the accident, she was apparently quite stricken with you. Sometimes, though, what you may think is nothing is indeed something. You might find you have wealth of which you are not aware.”

Mr. Wainwright chuckled.

“I felt in my pockets this morning. They were empty save for my pocketknife. I doubt Marie would think my pocket knife to be riches.”

Neville placed his hand upon Mr. Wainwright’s shoulder.

“I believe my daughter desires you more than she desires riches, and I did not say you would have riches. You would have enough wealth to begin, though. Before he took my daughter on board, I gave Captain Knowles my promise of a reward for her safe passage to England. Given the circumstances, I am overjoyed that safe passage was instead back to Port Royal. I do not give my word lightly, and as she is safe and Captain Knowles is undoubtedly with his maker, the reward shall be yours. It is a small sum, only two hundred pounds.

“There is another thing as well. My former overseer was elderly and ill, and passed to his reward some months ago. I have not yet found a man of the correct disposition to replace him. Should that man be you as I believe to be the case, that sum would increase by, say, a hundred pounds each month.”

Mr. Wainwright pondered that offer for several moments.

Two hundred pounds was more than he would earn for a two years voyage across the Atlantic. He could not bring himself to accept it, though. His promise to Captain Knowles had been made expecting nothing, and the knowledge he had kept his word was reward enough. As for the suggestion he might remain at Port Royal as an overseer of the plantation, he was certain he had no proper qualifications. He smiled as he attempted to politely refuse both.

“I can not accept your reward, for I only did as my captain ordered. If you are suggesting I become your overseer, I thank you for the opportunity, but I must say I know nothing about how to undertake such a responsibility.”

Neville laughed.

“I think that is not the case. Did you not look after and order men to their tasks each and every day at sea? ‘Twould be no different on my plantation other than the sea rises and falls while the land does not.”

Mr. Wainwright frowned.

“Yes, I did so, but I know nothing of raising sugar.”

“There is not so much to know. The cane is planted, grows, and then is fired, harvested and crushed to remove the sap. The water is then boiled away to leave the molasses or sugar. You would soon learn what needs to be done and when.”

“Be that as it may, I am no master of slaves. I was raised to believe that one man does not have the right to own another. I have not changed that belief.”

Neville smiled.

“And you would not be, for I own no slaves.”

“I see only blacks working in the fields.”

“Yes, freed men, one and all, as are the household help. Some came to me as freedmen from Saint-Domingue during the revolution. The others, I freed on the day of their purchase. Like you, I also do not think it right for one man to own another. My income is high because of the acres of the plantation and not because I break the spirits and backs of slaves. My blacks have become loyal and hard workers. You would not drive them. You would only oversee their efforts.

“In any event, if I hear correctly from London, those days will soon be over. Parliament is preparing to outlaw the practice. I am only a few years ahead of their schedule.”

Mr. Wainwright thought for a moment. He had enjoyed his position as First Mate under Captain Knowles. Captain Knowles was a fair man who worked his crew hard, but knew the difference between working them hard and forcing them to work when they were worked out. Another captain might not be so understanding, and once he’d signed on board would be forced to remain for over a year. Should he accept and then come to dislike the position of overseer, he would be free to leave and again go to sea.

Neville Bonner seemed much like Captain Knowles to him in that he thought both to realize men will work well for a man they respect and not so well for a man for whom they have only fear and hatred. Working for Mr. Bonner would possibly be as enjoyable as working for Captain Knowles. It would mean returning somewhat to his life as a farmer, but as he remembered those times, knowing his efforts had raised and harvested the food to feed the family had been satisfying. Only the stern discipline of his father had caused him to leave that life.

“Mr. Bonner, I would accept your offer, though should Marie regain her memory and not have feelings for me, I will be forced to leave. I could not work every day knowing she is near but cares nothing for me.”

Neville smiled.

“Excellent! Let us return to the house and get you settled in the overseer’s home.”

Neville clucked to the horse and drove them back toward the buildings of the plantation. As they neared the house, they saw Marie running toward them. He urged the horse to a trot, and stopped the carriage when she was beside them. Marie looked up at Mr. Wainwright.

“Mr. Wainwright, please do not leave until we can have a talk together.”

Neville’s mouth fell open.

“Marie, you remember Mr. Wainwright?”

“Yes, Father. I remembered this morning. I remembered everything, and I must speak with him.”

Neville smiled and clapped Mr. Wainwright on the shoulder.

“Saints be praised. My daughter is herself again as I told you she soon would be. Perhaps you should walk back to the house with her. I trust you will tell her of our discussion. I believe she would enjoy hearing of it.”

As Neville drove the carriage away, Marie touched Mr. Wainwright’s hand.

“Mr. Wainwright, when I awoke this morning, I remembered you and our stay on the island and our voyage back to Port Royal. I thought I should thank you for looking after myself and Madeline.”

“I was only doing my duty to my Captain.”

“I understand, but I hoped you might…”

Marie looked at her feet. Her voice was soft and quavered somewhat.

“I hoped Madeline was not correct about sailors.”

“And what did Madeline tell you about sailors?”

“She told me you would leave us and go to sea again as soon as we reached Port Royal.”

He shrugged.

“It has been two weeks and I still remain here. It would seem Mrs. Mayes does not know sailors as well as she believes. At least she does not know this sailor very well.”

“Why did you stay?”

“It was my doing that caused you to be injured. I wanted to be certain you recovered.”

“My presence on the Rislane was not of your doing, and neither was the threat of the pirates that forced us to the island. The accident was caused by the storm, not by you. Your only doing was your care for us on the island and bringing us safely to Port Royal.”

“Yes, but your pain caused me a great pain as well. Had I not stayed to see you well again, I would have carried that pain forever.”

Marie sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“And now that I am well, you will leave?”

“Is there some reason I should stay?”

“Yes. I — I do not know if I could bear your leaving.”

He touched her on the shoulder.

“Would it be a surprise to you if I said I agreed to become your father’s overseer for that very same reason?”

She smiled.

“You did…you will stay…to be with me?”

He chuckled and held out his arms.

“Yes, Marie, I agreed to stay because of you. We would have to be man and wife. Is that something to which you would agree?”

“Is taking me as your wife something you truly want?”

“It has been so since the island.”

Marie put her arms around his neck and pressed her body close.

“I will agree if you will do two things.”

He touched her cheek and smiled.

“And what might those things be?”

Marie smiled.

“If you are to be my husband, I cannot continue to call you Mr. Wainwright. What is your given name?”

He put his arms around her.

“Todd. My name is Todd. What is the second thing I must do?”

“Kiss me, if it is not too much trouble for an overseer to do so.”

Marie’s wedding dress was one sewn by Madeline’s own hands over the next two months. She thought Marie looked very much like her mother as she walked down the aisle of the church on Neville’s arm. She began to weep when Neville was asked, “who giveth this bride” and answered, “Her late mother, her guardian, Mrs. Mayes, and I do.” She was still wiping her eyes when Marie and Todd left the church, got into the carriage, and drove to the overseer’s house on the plantation.

That night, Madeline sat alone in her room and wondered if Marie was fearful or excited about what would happen. She and Marie had discussed this night on several occasions and she knew Marie understood what would transpire and did not seem to fear it. She only hoped Mr. Wainwright would be as caring on this night as he had been with the girl before.

In the bedroom of the overseer’s house, Marie removed her clothing, slipped the thin, white silk chemise over her head and shoulders, and then smoothed it over the swell of her hips. She was excited by what she knew would happen, but also a little fearful. Madeline had said there would be pain, but not so much.

She remembered his size from the island. He seemed so very large. How could something so large not cause pain? She was nervous when she opened the bedroom door and called to Todd.

“Husband, I am ready.”

He stood for a moment and drank in her soft beauty. She looked delicate and fragile, as delicate as the petals of a flower and as fragile as the snowflakes that fell on his home when he was a boy. He undressed, then took her in his arms.

“I have dreamed of this moment since the island.”

“As have I, my husband. I wished for this until I could wish no more.”

“Do you fear what is about to happen?”

“A little, though Madeline explained a way to ease my becoming a woman.”

“What might that way be?”

Marie gently placed his hand on her breast.

“If you are to touch me here, I will respond and become more open.”

Marie moved his hand to her mound.

“Then you should touch me here, until I am overcome with desire for your entry. The way will be more glib.”

He smiled.

“I shall do as Madeline suggested then.”

He lifted the chemise from her body and then over her head. Marie trembled as he laid her gently on the bed and then reclined beside her.

With one hand he cupped her firm breast and squeezed gently.

“Is this as Madeline instructed.”

Marie felt the tingling sensation race to her center.

“Yes. You must touch the tips as well.”

He traced the dark circle around her nipple with a fingertip and smiled as he felt the skin pucker. His fingertip on Marie’s nipple caused her to gasp as it stiffened and grew longer. She moved closer and kissed him as the tingles became strong enough to tighten her belly. She moaned softly when he lightly pinched the stiff nub.

“Oh…I did not believe it would cause such strong feelings, but it does.”

He chuckled.

“So I see. Perhaps were I to do this –”

He bent and took her nipple in his mouth, then suckled gently. Marie gasped.

“Oh Todd, again and again and again.”

As he mouthed Marie’s rigid nipple, he let his hand stroke down her flank, then over her rippling belly and down to the auburn curls of her mound. His fingertip found the separation of her lips, then slipped between them. Marie gasped again, then once again as his fingertip moved lower and found the portal. Her hips lifted as he gently moved the fingertip in and out.

Todd knew something of the making of a woman, though he had never yet had the experience. He knew Marie’s maidenhead would be snug and that tearing away that maidenhead would cause her pain. As Marie’s hips lifted to press his finger deeper inside her, he felt the tightness. As gently as he could, he pressed his finger deeper and then deeper still. He felt the wet warmth of her passage around his finger and understood that would ease his entry.

Marie became lost in the feelings his fingertip caused to race through her body. Both those feelings and the tingles from her nipples crashed together at her center and forced moans from her throat. She felt her body becoming tense, as if some preparing for something to happen. Madeline had said this would be so, and Marie put her arms around Todd and whispered, “Now, husband, make me your woman.”

He knelt between Marie’s upraised and open thighs and place the head of his cock between her curl-covered lips, then pushed forward. His cock slipped up and over a small bump at the top of those lips. Marie gasped, rocked her hips up, and clasped her arms around his back.

He pulled back, then moved the head of his cock lower and pressed forward once again. He felt his cock sliding between Marie’s soft lips and then, just at her entrance, it met her maidenhead. Ever so gently, for he feared causing her great pain, he began to move his cock in until it pressed firmly upon that guardian and then out until he nearly slipped from her wetness. With each stroke, he pressed his cock with a bit more force.

Marie gasped at his first real assault upon her maidenhead, but the sensation was one more of a building of the tension in her body than of pain. She began rolling her body into his gentle, but firm thrusts as her breathing became shallow panting.

Her body tightened more and more, and her mind became cleared of everything except the exquisite feeling of his cock stroking at her portal. She raked his back with her nails as yet another wave of sensations caused her thighs to open wide and her hips to rock up.

“Oh Todd, now…do it now.”

She took a deep gasping breath as she felt him pressing deeper, then deeper still. Her body began to shake then as a wave of sensations caused her to cry out. The sharp stab of pain she felt as his manhood swept away the girl and created the woman was mixed with the contractions that wracked her body and made her cry out again. She felt him throb inside her as he spent.

Afterwards, as he lay cradled between her thighs and with his chest pressing her breasts softly into hers, she stroked his back. He kissed her and then raised himself up with his arms.

“I am crushing you, but I could not do otherwise. I am sorry, Marie.”

Marie chuckled and tightened her arms about his back and pulled him down again.

“”Tis a crushing I hope to feel often, my husband.”

The sun was beginning to stream its rays through the window of the bedroom when Madeline entered. She smiled as Marie opened her eyes and stretched.

“Little Eleanor wants her breakfast.”

Marie pulled open the sleeping dress and uncovered her right milk-swollen breast. As the little baby girl with auburn hair found the nipple and began to nurse, Marie chuckled.

“She grows so quickly. It seems like only yesterday you placed her on my breast and then tied off the cord.”

Madeline smiled.

“Before you know it, she will be running through the house and getting into mischief, just as her mother did.”

“Was I so much trouble?”

“No, though at times you did cause me a fright or two. You were curious about everything and feared nothing. As you seem to be of such a disposition still, I would think Eleanor will be the same.”

Marie stroked the moving cheeks of the baby at her breast.

“I do hope so, or her brothers will be a torment to her.”

Madeline laughed.

“You are already thinking of a brother for Eleanor?”

Marie grinned.

“Yes, more than one and perhaps a sister or two, but I am not just thinking of a brother for her.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Does Mr. Wainwright know of this?”

Marie chuckled.

“I am certain he knows of the cause. He does not yet know of the result. I shall tell him in another month, though he may guess before that. It was so with Eleanor. He said I felt differently inside.”

“As you would. It is a perfectly normal thing for a woman with child to be so.”

Marie stroked the little girl’s small, soft cheek and then smiled at Madeline.

“Madeline, do you remember telling me you had never tried to find another man to replace your Jack?”

“Yes, I do remember.”

“Do you still feel the same?”

“Yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it is just something I saw in Father’s face yesterday. I believe he might think of you as more than the woman who raised his daughter. He does not smile often, but he smiles when you are with him.”

Madeline laughed.

“Marie, I think you have been dreaming again. Mr. Bonner is a man of property. I am just a housemaid.”

“I remember you telling me much the same thing about myself and Todd, and yet here I sit with his baby at my breast. Could not such a thing happen between you and my Father?”

Madeline waved her hand.

“Girl, you have indeed been having dreams. I shall go to fix your breakfast now and leave you to give Eleanor hers.”

As Madeline walked to the kitchen, she smiled. She had noticed Mr. Bonner seemed to be more attentive to her since they returned from the island. Mr. Wainwright had told Mr. Bonner of the things she had done on the island and voyage to Port Royal. Mr. Bonner had seemed very impressed and said he was in her debt, but to Madeline, it had been perfectly normal for her to do those things.

Fate did work in odd ways, though. Perhaps it was perfectly normal for Fate to do so. Fate had brought her and her Jack together. Fate had given her Marie, the daughter she herself could not bear. Fate had made Marie love Mr. Wainwright and he to love her. Mr. Bonner was a good man. Perhaps…but no… and yet… Madeline smiled to herself again…perhaps….