A/N: You have our sincerest apologies for this long-overdue chapter. Thank you so much for those who continue to read it. Believe us, we have missed it as much as you have. This chapter is short, but important, and though we cannot tell you if the next one will come any less slowly, we CAN promise that this story WILL be finished! So do not trouble yourself with writing reviews that beg us to continue or say that you hope we haven't given up on the story. We have not. But since the last chapter was posted, both authors moved and got new jobs and have been intensely busy. One of them graduated from college. So if the chapters take a while to come, it is because of the interference of "real life." But moving on, please do enjoy this next installment, and thanks for reading!
The breeze picked up by the time Nat was in sight of the Dolphin drifting slowly downstream. Despite his stern warning before, Captain Eaton waited until his son was safely aboard before continuing. Weary from the day's ordeal, Nat showed no outward sign of exactly what had happened ashore. He was resolved to tell no one until he had regaled Hannah with every detail. Sensing this, Gabe and Caleb asked him nothing, but greeted him cheerfully.
"I thought thee would be hungry," Hannah said, "so I saved some of my bread and cheese for when thee came back."
"Hannah," Nat said with an exasperated chuckle, "we have plenty to last us until Saybrook. You needn't go hungry on my account."
"Oh, well," Hannah said, "the ship's movement does my stomach little good as it is. I can't really eat much anyway." She broke off a piece of cheese and offered it to her cat, who was curled up on the ship's swaying floor.
"I'm sorry." Used to the ship's rocking, Nat had never thought that Hannah might get queasy from it. "But it won't be long, I promise you."
Hannah waved her hand dismissively. "Enough of that. I can see in thy face, thee is bursting to tell me what happened, and I am eager to listen."
He needed no further prompting before he propelled himself into the story, how he snuck into town and overheard the gossip, how he had fetched Prudence against her parents' wills, and taken her to the trial itself. Every detail he could remember, he repeated back for Hannah, trying to give her the fullest account possible, right up to the moment he had to flee from his past sentence. Not a single emotion did he hide from her—the anger, the triumph, even the sorrow at losing his chance to say goodbye to Kit. To his astonishment, Hannah's eyes betrayed no sly understanding or satisfaction. She simply nodded, sharing both his joy and his regrets. Indeed, it was likely that she would never see Kit again, either, Nat realized.
"Everything will be well for her," Nat said, trying to convince Hannah, realizing he was trying to console himself, also. "She's resourceful, obviously…"
"Yes," Hannah said. "I only hope that young William will be able…able to keep that alive in her." She frowned thoughtfully. "Thee never mentioned him. Did he have no part in her defense?"
Nat stared at Hannah, shocked himself to realize that William Ashby had not been at the trial. He had wondered beforehand if the man had done anything to help his fiancée, but once at the trial, his existence had completely slipped from Nat's mind. The recollection brought a strange sickening feeling to Nat's stomach, but he did not mention that part to Hannah when he told her that no, William Ashby had not been at the trial.
"Perhaps he was not in town?" Hannah said.
"I'm sure that must be it."
"Yes. He will set things right when he returns and finds out what happened." Her voice sounded choked, as though she was restraining her emotions. "When I think of what could have happened to her, I just…" She shook her head, staring down at her lap. "Thomas did what he could…Oh, thee would have loved him, Nat. Everyone who knew him loved him." She sighed. "If thee doesn't mind, I think I should lie down. Living on a little ship seems more exhausting than on land."
"I don't mind at all," Nat said, standing up. "I had better get back to my duties anyway. As I said, we'll be arriving in Saybrook very soon."
Every concern Nat had about Hannah vanished when they arrived at Saybrook. His grandmother accepted both Hannah and her cat wholeheartedly and immediately went to work putting a decent meal in front of them. Nat's mother was delighted to meet Hannah at last before she boarded the ship to join husband and son on their journey to the Indies. It seemed, finally, that all was well and somewhat back to normal. In his heart, Nat knew it could never really be so.
"You are both too thin," his mother observed when they were sharing the evening meal as a family on their way across the sea.
"Rest assured, my dear," Captain Eaton said, "we are perfectly well, and long may it remain so. It has been something of a difficult year." He looked directly at Nat, who suddenly lost most of his appetite.
"Oh, I cannot believe what they did to poor Hannah," Mistress Eaton groaned. "She is everything you said she is, Nat, and more. I absolutely adored her, and I think she and my mother will be wonderful company for each other."
"She was no trouble at all when we had her aboard," the captain observed. "Unlike other passengers we've had in the past…"
"Are you talking about Mistress Tyler?" Mistress Eaton asked, taking on a scolding tone. "It was terrible of them to arrest her and put her on trail for doing nothing wrong. I thought she was a bit strange when she came aboard the Dolphin, but she is a dear girl, and it is so dreadful of them to accuse her so horrid as witchcraft. Though I understand she acted in willful disobedience."
"She did what she thought she had to," Nat spoke up, before he thought better of it. His mother only took a bite of her bread and smiled at him, in a way strangely reminiscent of the way Hannah always did.
"Surely you heard of the terrible sickness in Wethersfield," Captain Eaton said.
"Of course," his wife replied. "The news spread all the way, so many reports. I thought we'd see it in Saybrook, but thankfully there seemed to be no more illnesses than usual for the time of year. I'm glad Hannah was well when she came aboard the ship. Nat, she told me you and Mistress Tyler were quite valiant on her behalf."
Nat glanced at his father before saying, "Kit—Mistress Tyler—was the one who came and hid Hannah when she found out they were coming for her. We were simply in the right place at the right time. She was the hero."
"Indeed," Mistress Eaton said. "Well, I'm very proud of you, Nat, to have gone back and made sure she was all right at the trial. I did ask you to look out for her, but maybe I never had to make that request in the first place." She smiled that same smile again, and Nat felt heat rise in his face. He looked at his father, but the captain had not caught his wife's expression. Instead, he looked a little nervous, and Nat realized that he had been even quieter than usual.
They continued eating in silence for a while, until the captain cleared his throat.
"Nathaniel," he said, "I need to speak to you about something."
"Yes, Father?" Nat asked, genuinely terrified at what he was going to say.
"I'll have you know that I would not be telling you this if I were not truly proud of the way you've conducted yourself in the past several days."
Nat frowned. What was his father talking about? "Thank you," he said, unsure if that was the proper response. The captain only waved the thanks away before he continued.
"You'll recall, I am sure, that I had voiced my doubts that you were at all prepared to be master of your own trading ship in the foreseeable future."
Nat's heart sank and his shoulders drooped, despite his efforts to remain impassive. How could he have forgotten it? He remembered it frequently, and doing so never failed to create the sensation that a knife was being stuck in his gut.
Captain Eaton cleared his throat again, then glanced at his wife. "What you did not know at the time was that, last spring, in Boston, I had put a down payment on the construction of a new ketch, to be ready this coming spring as a trading vessel."
A hundred things came into Nat's head, and he did not say one. If he spoke, he was afraid the spell would be broken and his father would take back what—Nat hoped—he was about to say. Or worse, that Nat would wake up and realize that he had only dreamt it all. He held his breath instead of speaking and looked at his mother. A smile pulled at her mouth and her eyes were aglow with what he thought might be pride. Two seconds was far too long to wait for his father to continue talking.
"I had hoped that it would be your ship. You will have to complete the payments yourself, of course, but I was rather convinced that you were ready and deserving of the assistance. The debacle on All Hallows' Eve certainly made me think twice, and I don't believe I was mistaken in doing so. But this week you have proven yourself more than capable of many things, Nathaniel, and I remain assured that you will make a proper sea captain come spring."
At last Nat felt free to smile, to the point that his face was unable to express the full extent of his joy. "Thank you, Father!" he said, this time with gusto. He leapt from his seat and hurried around the table to shake his hand. His mother laughed as he kissed her cheek. "Thank you," he repeated.
"All right, all right, that'll be all," Captain Eaton said, smiling in spite of himself. "You realize that I am counting on you, Nat, to justify this confidence."
"Of course, Father, sir," Nat said, still standing.
"Then sit down and finish your supper."
"I'm not so sure I can eat anything now," Nat said. "This is rather too exciting."
"I hope the excitement wears off soon," the captain said wryly, "else you'll starve to death before spring and I'll have wasted all that money. It'll be months yet before you'll even see her, so I recommend you sit down and eat and concentrate on today."
"Yes, sir," Nat said, his mood only slightly deflated as he took his seat again.
"Of course, you'll have to think of a name for her," his mother said before taking another bite of her own food.
Thinking on that, Nat grew more serious as he chewed and swallowed with great effort. Each epithet he considered before never seemed suitable—by now, he was quite sure he already knew her name.