February 22, 1784
William Peck sighed as he thought of his clever and arrogant yet easily discouraged and emotionally fragile father. Standing amidst the crowd milling about on the docks, he felt the combined excitement and anticipation pulsing in the wintry air. Perhaps more so, considering their present circumstances were the culmination of the financial backing of a naval architect genius, with the genius being his own father. John Peck was standing alongside William's mother closer to the official "front" of the crowd, not at all happy to be in the center of such a crowd yet also understanding the responsibility he had to see off the gem of his naval architecture.
Soon enough, they would hear the thirteen-gun salute as the three-masted Empress of China slipped from the New York harbor on its maiden voyage to the Orient. The day had been chosen not for its pleasant weather but to honor General Washington's birthday, a man they all attributed their present freedom to, for if he had not rallied their forces in the end, they would not have so recently signed the Treaty of Paris and officially ended hostilities with England. While Washington had been unable to attend the festivities this day, he had sent a man to represent him, whose name William could not remember, nor did he feel remorse for forgetting.
The frosty wind moved through the gathered crowd and tugged at the Empress' sails as if impatient for the ship to be underway. It was almost as if mother nature understood the ramifications of what was at stake and was eager to begin the adventure. William smiled as he watched the ship's complement of thirty-four file onto the deck at attention under the watchful eye of their old Irish seadog of a captain, John Green. A former prisoner of war and veteran of the War of Independence, the giant of a man had every reason to walk with an agitated confidence. With the recent treaty, Americans were barred from trade with the British West Indies and most British colonies. This left Americans champing at the bit for new trading partners and acting as withdrawn addicts for lack of tea. Perhaps that was also lending itself to Captain Green's grimace this morning, a lack of warm tea to fight off the wintry morning of their departure. Green wanted to defeat the British in every way and give them a little of the pain they'd inflicted on him, if only through financial loss and American gain.
William moved his gaze from the towering captain to the rest of the crew. There were the gunners in charge of the four six-pounders that would serve as a protection against pirates or the British, and sometimes both at the same time. The carpenters and barrel-makers and ship's boys filed in next, all eager to begin their careers in the merchant marines. Then there was Samuel Shaw, the young Supercargo, decorated for gallantry in the War of Independence and now placed in charge of all commercial transactions aboard the ship during its long voyage into the unknown. Loaded with ginseng, lead, Spanish silver, wool, and other forms of specie the self-sufficient Chinese craved, Shaw was in charge of dispensing with the present cargo in favor of obtaining a more profitable one upon the return voyage. William clenched his fingers tighter in his gloves, fighting off the bite of the cold wind and his own misgivings at Shaw's inexperience in commercial endeavors and absolute lack of knowledge of anything to do with naval navigation, foreign language, or the region of their destination. He could only hope that Shaw had more substance than his charming smile denoted.
"See, uncle? The copper bottom protects the hull from the mermaids playing tricks on the sailors, keeping them at sea longer."
Curious at the mixture of fanciful and fact spoken in a young French-accented voice, William inclined his head to study the approaching pair. He first spied the child, a young exotic-looking girl bundled in colorful woolen layers to the degree that she waddled more than walked as she led her uncle closer to the edge of the dock for a better view. The colors and textures of her clothing belied a rich family, and William's assumption was proven accurate when his eyes moved to the man presently allowing himself to be tugged by a firm grip of mitten-to-mitten from his niece.
"Mister Morris," William couldn't help the interruption as he bowed his head in respect to the elder financier when they stood just beside William.
If it had not been for Robert Morris, William's father would not have been given the task of refitting the Empress for the merchant marine, and, likely, none of them would be presently standing about awaiting the official launch of said vessel. He'd never met the man personally, but he'd seen Morris coming and going from his father's workshop a few times, and more than that, he'd seen Morris during governmental sessions and well knew of the man's wealth and influence. It could be said that just as George Washington had led the troops into battle and won the war, Robert Morris had paid for those same men's salaries and had, in his own way, secured American independence from his purse strings.
When neither Morris nor the young girl said anything, William felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment. "I am William Peck, son of your naval architect, Mister John Peck."
"Ah," Morris allowed a half-smile to touch his lips as he bowed his head in return, "good to meet you, Mister Peck. You must be proud of your father's work."
William opened his mouth to reply, but the girl spoke up before he could answer, "I am! May I meet your father, Mister Peck? Or," she dropped her uncle's mittened hand to waddle closer, "do you also design ships as he does? May I see them?"
"Ellen Louisa!" It was strange to hear both chastisement and pride in Morris' voice when he called her name, effectively bringing her back to his side without having to touch her shoulder.
"I fear I do not share my father's peculiarities for naval architecture, Miss Morris, but may I presume you share a similar love for ships?" The girl's brown eyes widened, and her smile was as sunshine as she eagerly nodded. "I cannot say I have ever met another young lady with such interests." William did not intend the comment as an insult and hoped neither the girl nor her uncle took it as such.
"Before coming to my household, my niece lived in the coastal region of the Louisiana colony and along the coasts of southern France. From what I can gather, she has long had a peculiar interest in all things nautical, with naval architecture a recent addition thanks to my venture with your father."
A bellowing cry brought their attention back to the "front" of the crowd, where William watched his father work together with the representative from Washington to christen the ship. Immediately following, Captain Green's orders rang out clearly over the harbor, and they watched together as his crew scampered to do his bidding with precision.
"I design ships too," The young Morris girl spoke close by his side, evoking an eyebrow quirk from William when he glanced down, watching a mixed look of determination and hope decorate her unique features, "It is my dream to show my designs to your father. Maybe to learn from him too."
If Morris intended on chastising the girl again, the words were lost as the thirteen-gun salute began, startling a collective gasp from the crowd. William felt familial pride swell in his chest as he watched the Empress move with expedient ease through the choppy waters of the harbor and then on out to the water beyond it. It had been designed for speed and berth, every inch of the three masts covered in square sails. Perhaps it was the fastest ship on Earth, yet to be tested by the fates.
Though the crowd dissipated almost to the moment the ship was out of the harbor, William remained to wait for his father, and the Morris' waited alongside him. Looking back at the young Morris girl, William smiled.
"How about we make a bargain?" In his peripherals, he saw Morris tilt his head to the side, curious what sort of bargain a grown man could offer a young child. "If the Empress returns successfully, we will have proven evidence that my father has a genius for naval architecture worthy of studying. So preparing for her return, you continue to work on your ship designs, readying a portfolio to present to my father. Once the Empress is safely at harbor again, I will present you to my father and petition for your apprenticeship, pending his approval of your designs."
"You will really do that?" If it was at all possible to harness the wind and portion it into the form of a young girl, this Ellen Louisa Morris appeared to be that very thing based on her present quivering and near jig of anticipation.
"Only if the bargain meets with the approval of your uncle." William turned to Robert Morris. It was now his turn to be curious over the man's response to the presented bargain.
Morris smiled. "I believe the venture will cause personal growth and be a proactive time use. Better have the girl working on ship designs than chasing butterflies."
The men shook hands, and William hid his amused laugh when Ellen Louisa insisted on shaking his hand, not caring for social propriety. And it also seemed that Robert Morris was inclined toward giving the girl free rein, within reason, as there were obvious boundaries she worked within based on how they interacted with one another and others. Still smiling as he watched them depart the dock area, William shook his head. He hoped for the voyage's success for many reasons, and this girl's apprenticeship with his father was just one of them. Yet it seemed the most precious of them all in that moment.