As the wagon slowed near the tavern, Nick caught a glimpse of the sun rising just beyond the waters. He had gotten away early enough; after grabbing his bags, he managed to catch a ride with a traveler just outside of Concord. He felt somewhat guilty for the quick getaway, but he had left Jo safe on the porch, quilt to keep her warm and a small note of affection. He didn't think he could have handled her pleas to take him to Boston; he was sure he would have never gotten out of the buggy had she been in it. This was the easiest way - for all of them.

He thanked the driver and made his way towards the docks, the sea air filling his senses. It took him back, the expectation of all those voyages before, the excitement before embarking. It was something only a true sailor could understand - the anticipation flooding over him. The ships were fairly quiet, the work day not quite started but soon there would be a bustle of noise around them - the urgency of men shouting, the constant drum of cargo heavily loaded, ropes grinding against wooden masts with the efforts of the crew. It was a symphony that had written itself inside of Nick and this time, he was part of the orchestra.

The Athena was the furthest along port, its size dwarfing the ships around it. Although he had been on others that rivaled it, Nick was in awe of the mass of wood and steel; the gleam of the rising sun against its water-brushed bow. A ship its size would be a lot to deal with, but Nick felt ready - the merchant marine that had lay dormant for the last two years suddenly reawakening. He surveyed the outside, taking note that the main sail needed to be adjusted and already calculating how they would deal with the extra weight of cargo that sat on deck.

As he approached the port side, a large, burly man was making his way down the gangplank, his official navy coat giving away his rank. Nick recognized Captain Wallace immediately, having sailed with him several times when they were both just crewmen. Wallace had eventually moved up the ranks - his time on the ships spanned decades and Nick wasn't surprised at all to learn he had made Captain a few years prior. His steps were wide and determined, a respectable air about him. As Nick got closer, he could see that the years hadn't been as kind to Wallace, visible scars, and weathering of his skin. But there was still the brightness in his eyes - the same excitement that had been there before every voyage.

"Riley!" Wallace called out as the two met on the dock in front of the Athena. His hand stuck out immediately and Nick was thrown off guard when he was drawn into a friendly hug.

"Captain Wallace," Nick replied, a respectful nod to his head when he stepped back.

"Bah…" Wallace scolded, "None of that Captain stuff - at least not while we're still on dry land." He shook his head, a huge smile on his face. "It's great ta see ya - I wasn't sure you were gonna join us when I sent in that request."

Nick was taken aback. "Request?"

A hearty laugh escaped from Wallace; his head thrown back in amusement. "Of course! Had to have the best men on this voyage - you know how the Caribbean can be."

That was something that Nick knew all too well. He had several made trips down through the West Indies, many of which were harrowing and hard to relive. The weather and currents coupled with the locals and the not-so-locals made things extremely dangerous and one of the reasons why Nick had been so hesitant to accept the offer. But if Wallace truly had the "best" men, then maybe this time would be an exception.

"So whatcha been up to?" Wallace asked, jabbing Nick in the side. "Yer brother seemed to think you were gonna be too busy for this trip."

Nick rolled his eyes, adjusting the pack on his back. "I've been workin' at a school…" He looked around the pier, suddenly confused. "Ben told me he was headin' to England - not Jamaica."

"Ah, he ain't here… I was talkin' to him the last ship we was on - I was Captain on the Demetri when we headed to Portugal. I've been planning this one on the Athena for awhile." Wallace looked dreamily up at the vessel in front of them. "She's a beaut. Biggest ship I've ever had the chance to man."

"I hear she can be temperamental," Nick replied, trying to test out some anxieties.

"Bah - all ships are that way," he smiled at Nick. "Just gotta learn how to coax them a little." Wallace started walking towards one of the stock houses that lay along the harbor; Nick quickly followed behind. "She might be a bit headstrong but with the crew I put together, we don't gotta worry."

"Who else is onboard? I ain't seen the manifest," Nick asked, holding the door open to one of the larger buildings. Inside, it was dark, the lamps still low and the sun not yet hitting the windows. After Nick's eyes adjusted, he could make out the rows and rows of cargo, some stacked as high as the ceiling. He just hoped this wasn't all going on the Athena.

"We got some new guys - ones that were on the Demetri with me. Good men - strong backs make all the difference," he reported, as they weaved their way through the maze of crates towards the front room. "O'Neill, Conners and McKenzie," Wallace listed out, searching the boxes for something. "You've been with them before, right?"

Nick nodded, relieved that these names were all competent men. And ones he got along with - a definite brotherhood formed all those years at sea. He could trust these men to do their job and ultimately trust them with his life. Things would be fine.

"What about me?" a voice came from behind one of the crates, a familiar one that tore at Nick's confidence just a little. A tall, well built man appeared in front of them, his clothes looking far too extravagant for a job as a merchant marine.

"Brady!" Wallace announced, turning to Nick. "You remember Brady, don't ya?"

Nick forced a smile and stuck out his hand. "'Course I do. Couldn't forget." Jon Brady returned the shake, a slight smirk on his face as he sized Nick up. There was hardly an age difference between the two men, but Brady held an air of childish arrogance – as if he had done and seen so much more than anyone else. On the few trips they had been on together, Brady always seemed to find trouble – mostly with his mouth and fists.

"Haven't seen ya around lately, Riley," Brady said, gesturing around the storage area. "Thought maybe the seas got too much for ya. But here ya are!" He let out a fake chuckle. "As usual - all this work to do and you're sweepin' in right before we leave."

Nick sighed, trying to pass over the intentional provoking. "Ya, well – my letter only showed up last week. I had things to take care of first."

Brady looked confused, shifting his gaze to Captain Wallace. "Letter?"

Wallace nodded as he noticed a stack of books. He quickly stepped to grab the top one, flipping through the sheets. "Well, when you're Second Officer like Riley here, ya get an actual letter." Captain Wallace found what he was looking for and removed the page from its binding. "Here's the rest of the manifest," he said, handing the list to Nick. "I'm sure we'll pick up a few more while we're still in port."

Nick caught Brady's incredulous look as he took hold of the paper. He could see the contempt already forming in the man's mind. "Him?" Brady asked, his voice somewhat raised. "You? Second Officer?" Nick watched the man shake his head; his eyes riled at the prospects. Brady peered over at Wallace, his demeanor changing when he realized he was still in the Captain's presence. "Well, I guess that's just great," he mumbled.

Wallace continued to flip through papers. "I think there are a couple of barrels that need to go aboard, Jon." He looked up, his face showing disapproval.

Brady said nothing but nodded as he stormed out towards the dock. Wallace sighed, his eyes rolling. "That guy…"

"You'd think with a mouth like that he would've made Captain by now," Nick quipped, hoping the years as crewmen would surpass rank.

Wallace simply looked up and chuckled, sticking out his hand. "Welcome back, Riley."

And in a way, it was good to be back.

XXXXX

"What do you think Nick is doin', right now?" Tommy asked at the dinner table. It had been two days since Nick had left, his ship was scheduled to depart that evening, leaving the children dreaming of the open seas. It had taken all of Jo's willpower not to follow him to Boston, waking up the morning after his proposal, still on the porch swing. But the simple note he had left behind provided some much-needed words of comfort. The sky is ours – look for the brightest star. I'll do the same.

She knew he hated good-byes – she wasn't a fan of them either and the reason why she had secretly stuck her crafted letter into his bag after they had returned from their picnic. The words seemed so final – even though she knew his promise hadn't been. She felt the ring sitting against her skin, resisting the urge to remove it from its haven beneath her collar. She had told only Asia of their engagement, feeling the news would worry the children and slow down the days until his return. They barely spoke of anything else as it was – Jo didn't want to make the transition anymore difficult.

"I'm sure they've left port by now," Nat added, glancing at the grandfather clock across the room.

"You think they've got him swabbin' the deck and peelin' potatoes?" Tommy said dreamily, his fork playing with the mashed potatoes on his plate.

"Peeling potatoes?" Emil responded with disgust. "You gotta stop reading those pirate stories, Tommy. A Second Officer doesn't peel potatoes - he's too important for stuff like that." Jo had to smile at the pride behind the words. Even though they were saddened by his departure, she knew they were all proud of the fact that he had gone away – their "father" was doing something amazing.

All the children, that is, except for Dan. Jo could feel his resentment even after two days, his anger apparent in the daily chores and short responses. He kept his head down during class, his schoolwork practically ignored until they were dismissed when he would run off to the barn or the paddock, throwing himself into the work at a furious pace. She didn't know how long Dan could hold onto the bitterness – his mood was worrying, and she had hoped routine would mend the wound. But she had yet to see any signs of reconciliation.

"I bet they're eatin' dinner," Nan chimed in after a few beats. "But the food can't be as good as Asia's." She smiled over at the housekeeper.

"Ah – I'm not so sure 'bout that," Asia replied, "I bet they eat real well – 'specially when they get to Jamaica."

Jo smiled slightly, her sights still on Dan as the young man picked at his meal, barely any of it eaten. His face looked weary, a sadness in his eyes as the children continued to natter on about the wonderment of the southern islands.

After dinner, as the dishes were being washed and put away, Jo caught Dan as he attempted to escape out the back door. "Dan? May I speak with you a moment?"

She watched his shoulders droop, his hand falling from the door handle and he turned. "I got lots of work to do, Mrs. Jo," he said, avoiding her gaze.

She stepped towards him, her face softening to the boy's hesitation. "It'll only take a few minutes." She put an arm around his shoulders. "Let's go into the parlor." Jo led him from the busyness of the kitchen to the sitting room fireplace where she took a seat at her desk.

"Can I tell you a story?" she began, the young man standing in front of her, playing with the brim of his hat. His simple shrug allowed her to continue. "When I was your age, my father was a Chaplin during the war." She sighed deeply at the memory. "I can remember the morning he left – I was terribly angry. So much so that I locked myself up in our attic, refusing to let anyone in. I was angry at my father for leaving and at my mother for allowing him to do so. I was even angry at the army because I couldn't go with him." Dan's gaze didn't move from the floor, but Jo could see a bit of a nod to his head. "I spent three days locked in that attic. Finally, one day, my mother slid a note underneath the door. The only thing written was a single quote: "No space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused."

Dan finally looked at her, confusion set in his eyes. "It's from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens," she explained, "…something I had read a hundred times but never fully understood. Until that day." Jo rose from her chair and took one of Dan's hands. "As much as I wanted him to stay, the opportunity could not pass by my father. And I was misusing the opportunity as well. The anger I felt was preventing me from seeing the duty he had to his country and the good I could be doing at home."

Jo watched as the young man mulled over her words, hoping for a sign of understanding. Dan eventually sighed, removing his hand from hers. "You gotta wonder what kind of opportunities he might've had if he had just stayed home wi' ya." Placing his hat back on his head, Jo watched as Dan rushed out the front door.

Exasperated, she sat back down at her desk, her heart feeling the defeat. "I wonder that all the time."