Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I make no money from this work of fiction!

Christmas Tree Schooner to Schooner Bay

December 1983

Carolyn clutched the rail of the ship and breathed in the cold December sea air. The sunrise was glorious, and she couldn't speak as she watched the colours unfolding, reflecting in the rolling waves of the ocean.

"Magnificent!" came the Captain's voice at her side, and she smiled up at him before looking back out at the view. "Madam, this was truly an inspired idea of yours! And to think that seamen in the 1980's can build such a ship as this!"

"It wasn't just men," Carolyn reminded him, not taking her eyes off the deepening green and blue hues of the sea. Somehow being out here, seeing nothing around but water, hearing only the wind in the rigging and the cry of the occasional bird, made her more aware than ever of the Captain's previous life aboard a ship. She wanted to experience it for these few hours, and she loved it that he had agreed to accompany her on this trip.

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Jonathan had sent them an early Christmas card, a copy of Charles Vickery's painting, The Arrival: Here Comes the Christmas Tree Ship. That had given Carolyn an idea. Claymore was still getting in Christmas trees every year, trying to compete with the Boy Scouts for the profits, and consistently losing out. Carolyn had thought that if they went together this year as the town and brought in a schooner with the trees, sort of re-creating that part of the turn of the century, everyone would be happy.

As she spoke with the Captain, her eyes had sparkled with enthusiasm meeting his. "I know just the schooner! It was just launched this year, out of Rockland ... the Heritage! We could probably work something out with the owners. I'm sure there's a Christmas tree farm somewhere near Rockland. AND we could probably SAIL on the Heritage with the trees."

"We?"

"You and I," Carolyn had beamed up at him. "The Heritage is a working schooner designed along the lines of a 19th century coaster. You'd feel right at home!"

A gleam of genuine interest and longing had lit the Captain's eyes, but he had tried to speak nonchalantly. "That would be an experience. Naturally they could not have designed it exactly as it should be ..."

"I don't know, Captain, nowadays if they are trying to copy something, it's usually exact!"

"Well, were I you, I would not get your hopes up that that penny-pinching mewler will agree."

True to the Captain's forecast, there had been a few arguments with Claymore.

Carolyn had made her pitch. "This year we could re-create the times when Christmas tree schooners came in all along the coast of Maine, selling Christmas trees. We could arrange for a tree farm to deliver the trees to the harbour, rent the Heritage out of Rockland, and maybe we could go down to Rockland and board the ship and come back to Schooner Bay on a modern day Christmas tree ship!"

"No, I don't think so. I get seasick, you know."

"Claymore, you don't HAVE to go. I meant we could HIRE the ship..."

"That costs money, Mrs. Muir!"

"Couldn't the town use it as an expense? Think of the publicity we'd get for this idea! You have to bring trees in anyway, but if we advertised this 'old-fashioned way', we'd probably sell far more, because people would come from all over to say they had gotten their tree from the Christmas Tree Schooner! Surely you could find a way, Claymore." Carolyn employed every wile she could think of to convince him, inwardly grinning as she remembered the Captain speaking of the strength of "female trickery".

"Hmmm. You just might have something at that, Mrs. Muir. But we'll see what the rest of the Council thinks about it! Don't hold your breath."

"I won't, Claymore," but she had known it was as good as done.

In no time, it had been arranged. Bill Karas, the owner and manager of Evergreen Farms, had agreed to have balsam fir trees shipped to Rockland on December 15th. The farm was located just fifteen miles west of the seaport, so the shipping costs overland were minimal. The captains and owners of the Heritage, Doug and Linda Lee, had willingly agreed to take any passengers who wished to come with the trees. The entire Council of Schooner Bay and their spouses decided to take them up on the offer of the cruise, and early on the morning of the 16th, the Heritage was loaded with Christmas trees and ready to sail for Schooner Bay.

The anchor was hoisted, and the Captain had almost beamed at Carolyn as the distinctive sound of the gaff inching its way up the mast sang out, the sheets unfurling. The yawlboat had nudged the schooner along, and soon the sheets had caught the wind.

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"Amazing, isn't it?" Carolyn commented now. "If you don't look back, you'd think we were already way out at sea! You can't hear OR smell the diesel engine of that little boat and it's hard to realize that the Heritage isn't fully under sail yet."

"Hard, but not impossible." The Captain looked around, then grudgingly admitted, "I must confess, the Heritage retains the beauty of the historic vessels of yesteryear. I am impressed."

"I'm glad." Carolyn smiled up at him. "This is your Christmas present this year, so I'm doubly glad you're impressed."

He shook his head in mock resignation, "Madam, you have outdone yourself yet again. However, you know I cannot hope to reciprocate with a gift that can match this one of yours."

"Oh, I don't know," her gaze drifted out over the ocean, her eyes lingering on the rosy sunrise which was already beginning to fade. Then she looked back at him. "There's always another dream. I don't think I'll ever have too many of those."

For a moment, both were still, then the Captain cleared his throat. "Where are the others?"

Carolyn shook off her reverie. "Oh, probably down in the galley. We were told we could go down for coffee and muffins once we cast off."

"I see. Do you wish to go below?"

"Just to see it. I don't want anything to eat or drink, and I'm too eager to spend time out here on the deck ..." She stopped herself from adding 'with you', and continued with barely a pause, "but I AM eager to see downstairs."

"Below decks." he corrected her.

"Well, since they have stairs instead of ladders, it IS downstairs." she tossed her head. "Coming, Captain?"

After a brief tour of the spacious and well-appointed galley, noting the skylights which had been placed for added lighting, and the higher overheads making it possible for even the Captain to walk about without stooping as he commented with pleasure, the two went back up on deck, moving to the bow. The sea air was crisp, not warmed at all by the pale December sun. The view was infinite now, water, sky and waves as far as Carolyn could see in every direction. It didn't seem possible that anything else existed, or even that anything else had EVER existed.

Then Claymore came stumbling out on the deck, his complexion the colour of pea soup. "Are we any closer?" he whined, gripping the railing for dear life, his knuckles white as he listed back and forth in almost perfect opposition to the ship's rhythms. "Oh, please tell me that this infernal rocking will stop soon."

"Actually, no." the Captain winked roguishly at Carolyn. "We have decided to head for Michigan ourselves. Just like the REAL Christmas tree schooners used to do. I believe it is called a 'hijacking' in your day."

"That is not funny," Claymore replied, his cheeks puffing out once or twice, rendering it very funny indeed. And then he dashed across the deck to lean over the rail, retching miserably.

"Poor Claymore," Carolyn said.

"Poor Claymore? Why did the lily-livered, filth-spewing ninny come along on this voyage, anyway?"

"To keep track of his investment," grinned Carolyn. "And quite possibly to make sure you didn't make off with the ship!"

"Hmph. I am no pirate, Madam! No doubt he cares more about the profits than the ship itself!"

"No doubt."

"In the meantime, we owe it to the Captain to move him along to the stern."

"Which Captain?" Carolyn asked slyly, remembering Captain Gregg's horror upon hearing that the Heritage had TWO captains, and one of them was female!

Captain Gregg ignored her question and attempted to hustle a moaning Claymore to the stern, admonishing him that if he weren't careful, he would sully the merchandise and would be unable to sell it. That threat alone made Claymore straighten up, look around wildly, then dash below again.

Carolyn shook her head, "Oh, Captain, really! I do think you could leave poor Claymore alone for ..." Then she broke off as the Shoemakers and the Jenkins came up to look around.

"I understand this was your idea," Mrs. Shoemaker said to Carolyn.

"Well, I suggested it," Carolyn admitted cautiously.

"Excellent suggestion, I think," Mrs. Jenkens said timidly.

"Indeed it was!" the two men agreed instantly.

Mrs. Jenkins looked around, then looked at Carolyn with a puzzled expression. "You were talking to someone as we came up here, but there's no one here."

"Oh, I ... I talk to myself. Out loud." Carolyn felt her cheeks heat in spite of the cold breeze.

Rolling her eyes, Mrs. Shoemaker said, "Really, Mrs. Jenkins, you surely wouldn't expect a GHOST to be out here, would you? I know you think Gull Cottage is haunted, but I'm sure Mrs. Muir isn't followed by the fellow everywhere she goes!"

"Mrs. Muir, can you tell us something about the original Christmas tree schooner?" Mr. Shoemaker asked as he looked around the ship he was standing on. "Would it have been anything like this one?"

"Well, there wasn't just ONE schooner. Two brothers started a business on Lake Michigan in the 1880's, and had a number of ships. Mostly they used old ships which they could get cheaply, and pack fully, which meant there were a number of shipwrecks. In fact, both of the brothers died in separate shipwrecks while bringing trees to Chicago. The ship we hear about most often, the Rouse Simmons which Charles Vickery painted, went down in a blizzard in 1912 with the last of the brothers. There was quite a tradition once, and not only in the Great Lakes. Trees from the Maine forests were also taken up and down the east coast. The maritime Christmas tree trade arose, crested and faded within fifty years after the Civil War. Christmas trees were big business, but by the time the Rouse Simmons sank, the business rested mainly in the hands of high-volume wholesalers and specialized tree farmers. Railroads and improved highways made the old wooden-bottom vessels obsolete, so the Christmas tree schooner became just a dim memory."

"So, why are we out here doing this again?" Mrs Shoemaker shivered and pulled her coat closer around her. "I'm not sure I like all this talk about shipwrecks!"

"To remember." Carolyn said simply. "This ship IS the Heritage. The Christmas tree schooners are a part of our heritage. It's likely that few people had ever given so much joy to so many others simply by doing their jobs as did the Christmas tree captains of long ago. And now we've given the captains of the Heritage a chance to bring some of that joy to Schooner Bay. When you think about it, before they could be completely eclipsed, the Christmas tree ships and their captains and crews made an unforgettable contribution to the triumph of tradition."

"I'm impressed." Mr. Shoemaker looked admiringly at Carolyn. "You really did your homework!"

"It's her job." Mrs. Shoemaker said, shortly. She tugged on his arm. "I'm freezing. Let's go back down and get some more coffee."

"But we came to be on the ship!"

"I said I'm COLD!" With that, Mrs. Shoemaker wheeled around and stomped downstairs. The others looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"One down," Captain Gregg said in Carolyn's ear. She stifled a giggle.

"Well, I guess I should make sure she's all right," Mr. Shoemaker said reluctantly. He heaved a sigh, looked around at the view again, then said, "At least she's not spending her time in the bathroom the way Claymore is."

"Could be worse," Mr. Jenkins agreed. "Claymore could be spewing all over this boat."

Mrs. Jenkins grimaced. "Please don't talk like that. I want to see the trees and over the rest of the boat here, assuming I can make it. The way my stomach is behaving, I'm none too sure of it. Not to mention the waves which are growing stronger. Coming, Mrs. Muir?"

"No, thanks," Carolyn managed to say, "I've seen the ship. My favourite spot is right here where I can watch the waves."

The others moved off. Captain Gregg looked at Carolyn smugly. "Now we can be alone again."

"Well, it wasn't exactly your doing," she pointed out. "So why the smugness?"

"Madam, who do you think fed you all that information so that you could bore the ladies silly, then brought up the wind so the waves would make them feel queasy and need to go indoors?"

Carolyn changed the subject. "Captain, did you ever sail a Christmas tree schooner?"

"No. I kicked the gas heater almost 20 years before that business got fully underway." He stared out over the water. "But I would have enjoyed it, I think. I do like what you said, about the captains bringing joy just by doing their job. That was almost poetry, you know."

"Thank you so much," she returned, smiling up at him.

He glanced at her, then back to the water. "That Charles Vickery did a marvellous job painting the water and the ship."

"I'll have to show you some of his other paintings. He is a wonderful artist, especially with ships and the sea." Carolyn said.

"I would enjoy that very much."

"As much as you are enjoying this sail?"

"Nothing could surpass how I feel at this precise moment, my dear, with a ship under my feet again, the sea spray on my face ... and you by my side."

Carolyn gripped the rail and felt as if she could melt at the sensual timbre of his voice, and his choice of words. Oh, how she loved him! She knew she always would. "Forever, Captain Gregg." she whispered, looking at him longingly.

He knew exactly what she meant. "Forever, Mrs. Muir." came his promise as his blue eyes caressed hers.

After taking a deep breath, never breaking their gaze, Carolyn murmured, "Merry Christmas, Daniel."

"And a very merry Christmas to you, too, Carolyn. And my heartfelt thanks for this present, in both senses of the word."