Make Sail
By the time Jack went up on deck, all hands were busy and he had Pullings pass the order to weigh anchor. When he went up to the quarterdeck, he found Mrs. Stirling standing back and well out of the way, silent and motionless, her eyes turned up to the rigging. She wore her cloak and flat brimmed hat and looked every inch a captain's wife. Yes, the lady was a sea-bird who had been too long ashore. No other creature could gaze so affectionately at the shrouds of a man-o-war and the crying gulls that soared above. The annoyance he felt at having a female aboard was tempered when he imagined himself confined below deck while the ship – any ship – was making sail. No, the place for any true seaman was on deck at such a time, and Mrs. Stirling had taken the most unobtrusive position possible. She knew she would be perfectly out of the way there.
When she saw him, her expression changed. Looking up, she had seemed vibrant and alive, transported to bliss, yet serene and relaxed. It was as one coming home with all the complex emotions experienced upon such an occasion. Now she was startled, and a slight worried frown turned down her brows as she looked uncertainly at him. It was clear enough what she was thinking. Not familiar with him, she was worried that she had come on deck without permission and he would order her below. Not so cruel, he merely nodded before striding off to be about his business.
The men were in high spirits and went about their jobs joyfully. There was hard, backbreaking work to be done, and those weighing anchor grunted and sweated, their bare backs glistening, as they pushed the wooden capstan bars. The sprightly young midshipmen reminded him of young goats, springing from deck to rail to rigging with energy he vaguely remembered having. One or two cast glances at the form of Mrs. Stirling, the violet of her gown standing out and the deep red of her hair not completely hidden up in her hat.
Interesting. He watched his crew more carefully now. In all of sea life, there were few times more exciting than making sail before a long voyage, and the men performed their tasks expertly and with gusto, for the joy and excitement of the new voyage was bursting from their hearts. There was something else, though. The lady stood watching from the quarterdeck, a pretty, elegant lady, and the men knew she was a captain's widow. They performed for her, he now saw. They wanted their ship to be seen in the best light. Jack had seen such things before. Even captains and admirals, men who were respected and feared at sea, capered like fools before a pretty woman.
It was considered unlucky to go to sea with a redhead, and having a woman aboard was thought to make the sea angry. How much worse a redheaded woman! Still, it was good motivation for the crew to work harder, better, and more cheerfully. Women were a devil to have aboard, and the Surprise carried no wives; however, one of the few benefits of having one was the desire of the crew to impress her. Knowing the ways of shipboard life, Jack mused, a lady of Mrs. Stirling's appearance and experience must be intimately aware of the effect her presence had upon a ship full of men. In all probability, any woman would know how to employ the effect. The crew would have to be watched, he knew, and not be given idle time. Other than that, he hoped that the lady's temperament would prove to be even and gentle and that the dangerous cruise would be quick and painless as possible.