It was not long before Nat had the opportunity himself to encounter Prudence Cruff. A few weeks after the incident at the Woods' threshold, the Dolphin again docked at Wethersfield to deliver mail and a few passengers. When Nat arrived at Hannah's, he found her at her spinning, with a little girl at the table, reading from the Bible.
"These old eyes of mine just barely saw the Dolphin coming in," Hannah said, never pausing in her work. "Prudence, this is my sailor friend, Nat Eaton."
"I remember you," Prudence said, offering him a shy smile when she looked up from her reading. "You're the captain's son. You jumped into the water to rescue Kit because you thought she couldn't swim."
Nat lifted his eyebrows, surprised not so much by the words—of course a child would remember such a thing—but by her appearance. He only vaguely remembered Prudence, but he had pictured the scrawny, pinched face and sunken eyes of months ago. This Prudence Cruff, however, he would not have recognized in a crowd. There was color in her face, and a clarity in her expression, that could have come only from the loving care of someone like Hannah. Or, he reluctantly considered, from Kit.
"She told me you're a good student," Nat said, hoping to lead the conversation away from that unnecessary plunge into the water. Prudence's smile broadened into a proud grin.
"'Tis true, indeed," Hannah spoke up. "Why does thee not show him? Let him see how well thee can read the Good Book." She suggested the 122nd Psalm, and Prudence carefully turned the thin pages until she reached it.
At first, her voice trembled a little, but with continued reading, it gained confidence.
I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord.
Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem.
Jerusalem is builded as a city that is compact together:
Whither the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks unto the name of the Lord.
For there are set thrones of judgment, the thrones of the house of David.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee.
Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces.
For my brethren and companions' sakes, I will now say, Peace be within thee.
Because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek thy good.
When she had finished, she took a deep breath, as though she had emerged from underwater with buried treasure.
"Very well done," Hannah said. "Thee has progressed so rapidly. I've never known a brighter child."
"Thank you, Hannah," Prudence said, closing the Bible. The three of them were quiet for a few moments, until Nat spoke up again.
"'Peace be within thy walls,'" he murmured, looking around at the single small room. "It reminds me of this house." He watched the specks of dust swirling languidly in the golden light coming through the window and listened to the steady humming of Hannah's spinning wheel. Even the warm, welcoming scent of fresh bread still lingered in the air.
"I could stay here forever," Prudence sighed, leaning down to stroke the cat sitting at her dangling feet.
"As could I," Nat said.
Hannah chuckled gently. "Nat, I don't believe thee could endure being on land forever. One more day, and thee would be begging to return to the Dolphin."
"I suppose you're right."
"What's it like," Prudence asked, "being at sea? I've only ever been up the river between Saybrook and Wethersfield."
Grinning, Nat leaned closer to the child, as though sharing a great secret. "If you'll go to the meadows and just stand there, with the grasses swaying, and the breeze in your face as you breathe in the scent of the river…that's a little bit what it's like. Nothing but blue waves all 'round you, and the great stretch of sky overhead…"
He paused, and Prudence bit her lip, waiting anxiously for his next words.
"'Tis the most deliciously terrifying thing in the world," he went on. "Especially when it storms, and the ship is being tossed about, and everyone in the crew is working together for their very lives. But when it's tranquil, no sight is more beautiful. There's nothing like sailing to make a man feel free."
"Can I be a sailor?" Prudence asked. "I wish I could up and sail away, like Kit did. Have you been to Barbados? Is it as magical as she says it is?"
Nat glanced at Hannah. Though still busy with her spinning, he knew she was listening to every word. To answer Prudence's question, he said, "It is. Colors everywhere, like nothing you've ever seen, and it's warm all year. Though I understand the heat is near to unbearable in the summer months."
"She says that all you do in the summer is go up and down the river," the child said.
"Not all," Nat said. At first he was slightly affronted, but the feeling quickly subsided as he wondered why Kit was talking about him at all. "We were in New Orleans a few weeks ago, and we'll be going to Boston next. Once winter's settled in, we sail to the Indies, and then it's back to the Connecticut River for another season. But wherever we are, it makes little difference as long as we're on the Dolphin." He grinned as though he spoke about a woman he was courting.
"It sounds exciting."
Nat was beginning to like this child—they seemed to share a common interest. Unfortunately, time was swiftly passing, and so was daylight. It was high time he went back to the ship and prepared to leave once again. He made his apologies to both females as he scrambled to his feet, and then addressed Prudence directly.
"I would like to hear you read the next time I come to visit," he said. "You're every bit as clever as they tell me. I expect to see a vast improvement in your education." He winked merrily at her, and she smiled back at him.
"You will!" she said, delighted.
"Hannah," Nat said, bending down to give her weathered hand a little squeeze, "I will tell you all about the goings-on of Boston when I return—there is still time for a few decent visits before we leave for the winter."
"I hope so," Hannah said. "Give my greetings to thy family, Nat. I pray for a safe journey. We shall be waiting for thee when thee comes back, won't we, Prudence?"
The little girl nodded eagerly. "And maybe Kit will be here next time!"
Nat turned away with one last wave and walked quickly across the meadows. At the innocent mention of Kit's name and the idea of her being there the next time, a little knot had formed in his stomach. He could not ignore the feeling of disappointment that she had not appeared today, even though he was relieved, as well. He was never more uncertain about life, about himself, than when he was with her. At the same time, he felt something akin to when he and his crewmates faced a squall on the high seas—frustrated and scared to death, but never more alive. And in the end…quite content.
"I'd rather battle a storm," Nat muttered to himself as he proceeded down the road to the harbor, carefully avoiding the route that would take him past the Woods' house.
"That's everything, sir," Caleb said, tossing one final sack of rice into the cargo hold.
"Well done," said Captain Eaton. "See that the men are aboard and ready to set sail before dusk." Leaving Nat and the others behind to finish it, he moved away to converse with two other ships' captains who lingered at the Boston docks.
"Not quite ready," Nat said to Caleb, indicating the approach of Gabriel and three other crew members. The four of them staggered under the burden of several wooden crates, moving with far more care than they had used for the other supplies. Nat and Caleb watched them, amused.
"What have you got there?" Nat called. "Looks mighty heavy!"
"Only the most precious goods we've got to carry this trip," Gabe shouted back, punctuating his words every so often with a grunt that indicated what effort it took to carry the crates. "Take care getting them aboard," he said to his companions. "Drop one, and the captain will have your head. That is, only after he makes you pay through the nose."
Nat laughed at what he considered an empty threat. "We've been carting horses, rice, and lumber. What could we possibly be carrying of such worth that you have to use such care?"
"Perhaps they hold the chopped-up remains of Governor Andros," Caleb muttered in jest, referring to the man appointed by King James as governor in the Colonies, the source of a great deal of unrest. "They've finally found a way to be rid of him, and have given your father the honor of disposing of all evidence."
Nat laughed impulsively at that remark, but soon lowered his voice in warning to his friend. "Better watch your tongue while you're still in Boston, Caleb." He shrugged. "It's not a bad suggestion, though—I can't think what else they might contain." He raised his voice so that Gabe and the rest of the men could hear. "Surely no one in Connecticut Colony has any use for precious china or fine sculpture?"
"Not exactly," Gabe said, "but apparently they do have a use for sixteen diamond-paned windows. At least, fine gentlemen like William Ashby do."
"William Ashby?" Nat lifted his eyebrows slightly at the mention of the name. From what he'd heard of the Ashby family—and saw from the young man's appearance—they could certainly afford such a luxury. But what was William Ashby to do with an extravagance like glass windows—and sixteen, at that? In a town as austere as Wethersfield, they would be excessive to the point of being comical.
"Aye, indeed." Gabe finally reached the ship with his share of the freight, stopping to wipe the sweat from his neck and brow. "The merchant we picked 'em up from was a talkative fellow. It seems that young lady who sailed with us from Barbados last April has done quite well for herself. She's to be young Master Ashby's bride as soon as his house is finished. Judging from those windows, it'll be the grandest house in the colony."
"I see." Nat said, trying to keep his voice even. He stood stiffly and watched the men bring the valuable crates aboard. Fortunately, they were too busy to notice the tension in his face, the anger that had darkened his clear blue eyes, or the way he now gripped the side of the ship as though he would tear her apart, piece by piece.
All that time spent thatching the roof of Hannah's house—all those candid words exchanged between them—and yet she had failed to mention that she was being courted by that foppish dandy! Apparently a young seaman, even the captain's son, was not worthy enough to merit an honest, face-to-face explanation in plain English. No, she had to make him look foolish in front of her aunt and uncle, and in front of Ashby himself.
She had confessed to being lonely in Wethersfield, and Nat became concerned for her. He had even told her about that stupid bird he saw so long ago, that she had reminded him of it. What a joke it was—what a fool she must have thought him then—when all the while Ashby had been making preparations for a new house, the grandest Wethersfield would see for many a year to come! Surely she was pleased with herself that day, leading him back to her family and showing off her new acquisition to his face. Why did he not realize before?
Well, he could certainly stop worrying now about how she would get along in Connecticut. The next time they came to dock in Wethersfield, he had to make sure he extended his congratulations to her in person.
