Readers and reviewers, you are all so awesome! This chapter is dedicated to Bilokka, 21.1runnergirl, ElizabethSoph, ladymuraski26, DimmDimms, and ronaleem. You've given me such wonderful encouragement to keep forging ahead on this story.
My writing process often begins with my brain imagining a single thought or line from a character's perspective that makes a new chapter begin, with this often occurring soon after awaking or while busy doing something else. This is how this chapter began, with Admiral Croft's initial thought and me having known for a while the general plot of this chapter for days before the spark of his thought that set the whole thing off. You can also credit my waking up at 4 am two days in a row for why you are getting a chapter now.
For the next couple of chapters, we are back with the ladies aboard Admiral Croft's ship.
36.
They aren't very good sailors, was Admiral Croft's first thought as his ship neared the other and he prepared for what came next. Or perhaps, he amended, their ship is in rather poor shape, and they are distracted by the fate of their cargo.
The previous two days, Admiral Croft's ship and the others accompanying theirs had been sailing in less-than-ideal conditions. "Less-than-ideal conditions" was perhaps an optimistic way of putting it. There had been a horrible gale, a squall, and rough seas. But his men knew their duties and worked well under such tribulations, so he had no real fear about anything happening to their ships, although of course he worried about his men being injured or being swept out to sea as the ships tipped and swayed, with the wood so slick from rain. It was especially dangerous to be aloft in such conditions as was needed in those first few minutes to get the sails taken down so they would not be damaged in the storm or the masts broken, so he sighed in relief once that was done. No sailor of course liked that after such removal their course would be determined by the vagaries of the storm rather than their skill in capturing the wind in their sails, but it was necessary even though it cost them much needed control.
Admiral Croft was much occupied with making sure the men did their duties and addressing challenges as they occurred, and therefore he had little time to think of the women huddled below the deck, except to reassure himself, I am sure Sophy has everything under control. When things settled down, I shall send someone to check on them.
Have things under control Mrs. Croft did, although that involved tending to the two women who had been somewhat disordered from sailing in ideal conditions. That first stormy night, poor Anne was sitting in the corner of their tiny cabin, trying to get whatever benefit she could from feeling two reassuring walls against her shoulders (even if they trembled and it felt as if the whole world was being tossed about. She was hunched over a bucket and had cast up her accounts until there was nothing left but bile, and over and over she was forced to expel that, too; in between bouts of sickness her chest ached, her throat burned, the sick smelled, and her mouth had the most horrible taste. Worst of all for Anne perhaps was the growing worry that she had made a terrible mistake in trying to reach Frederick for she could not imagine sailing with him and being so sick and the thought of being a shore wife was not appealing at all. While the neglect of her father and eldest sister was at times difficult to endure, at least she had the ready friendship of her godmother* and could be of use to Mary, and she had the time to study with the *. As a shore wife settled near a port, she would have no one, but the servants and perhaps, by and by, children.
Anne's imagination could be vivid and even while she grasped the bucket and begged God to ease her sickness, her mind imagined her role as the mistress of a neat but spare house. She would engage much of her time in charitable endeavors, in helping the other shore wives until the first baby came, planted in her womb when Frederick had some leave, but born after he had long since departed. It would be the same with her other children, who would know of their father from the letters he sent, letters she would read to them until they were well creased, and the lines of his firm hand were half faded away.
But she would not read the entirety of the letters to them. No, she would not. For near the end, he would always pen some lines just for her, lines too precious and intimate to share with anyone, lines that clasped her tightly to him while his arms did not, lines she would bury deep in her soul to renew her faith that he would again return to her. He would return time and again, and in those brief months or perhaps even years on occasion, she would store up memories to take out and relive the rest of the time, for she would never feel so much alive as when he was beside her and her family was complete.
Then there would come the time when her beloved Frederick would not return, when a letter penned by one of his crew members would briefly recount his demise and how his body was laid to rest (most likely in the sea, but perhaps in a distant land if they happened to be near a port). Or perhaps Frederick would return when he was old, stooped, and considered himself unfit for duty. That old man with sparse white hair and deep wrinkles embedded in his wrinkly skin and wizened eyes, aged beyond his years by his service under the bright sun, would be all that remained of her love, but she would treasure that he would never leave her again until called home by God.
Wrapped in such thoughts, Anne mourned the future she had dreamed on while training with the Robinsons, living with her husband aboard his ship, listening to him and keeping her own counsel, being useful to the injured and ill men. So consumed was she, that Anne scarcely noticed that her sickness was waning even as the ship continued pitching like a bucking horse.
As for Mirabella, she too had felt terribly ill and thought she might feel better if she could expel her roiling dinner but she was not prone to vomiting easily and so she simply suffered while she waited to see if she would keep it down or not. Eventually she had to snatch the bucket from Anne and contribute to the mess within it. Afterwards, the two women sat together holding the bucket, uncertain who might need it next.
Sophia could not do much for either of them but wipe their sweaty brows (for in addition to being disordered was their unvoiced fear that the ship would break apart and they would all drown and as there was no way to fight the storm or run away from their fate this anxiety came out in trembling and perspiration) and reassure them. Anticipating the likely source of their worry, she noted "This ship is well made, we could not be on one better. We shall weather this storm well. Why I remember my first storm and I was disordered, too. Adapting to life aboard ship takes some time, but you are both doing splendidly, and you shall never suffer so badly again."
"Perhaps that was your experience . . ." Mirabella replied. She had grown bolder the longer she had been in the company of both women and adding to her confidence was the admiration she had received from Purser Perry and the other men. Purser Perry asking to court her was not anything she could have imagined, although she had put off giving him an answer, telling him she wanted to consider it further. "But how can you know it will hold true for us as well?" Her old pessimism reasserted itself.
Before the storm, Mirabella had felt herself to be on the brink of happiness. She knew in her heart that Purser Perry was a good man, that she had more of a chance at happiness with him than she had when married to her love Mr. Holmes and left upon the shore, for if she accepted and Admiral Croft would let her live aboard with her husband (a privilege that was usually solely reserved for captains, though her status as his wife's friend, the widow of a captain and the mother of another sailor were certainly marks in her favor of them getting permission) her life would have purpose all of the time. But in the midst of the storm, well it all seemed impossible. She found it difficult to imagine Perry truly cared for her at all. How could he? The time of their acquaintance was too short, and she was growing old and worse than useless upon the ship, except as a sort of maid. Perhaps she was simply to be a source of pleasure for him (something that men with their wives upon the shore must do without), someone who could have been replaced with any other woman who was allowed to stay aboard.
It was easy for Mirabella to doubt her own worth from the years of being a poor relative who was given a place in the name of "Christian charity." Living with her sister's family had been an act of desperation done more for her son Eddie than for her, but sometimes she wondered if she had paid too high of a cost for such a place, for it had cost her dearly, with among the worst and soonest of the penalties paid was the fact that they insisted she be separated from her son when he was at too tender of an age so that they might be spared the shame of living with a child whose appearance was a constant reminder of how she had contaminated their blood by marrying someone of African descent. Sending her son to the navy was a terrible cost, for they were eager to send him on the soonest ship rather than let her make inquiries to place him with a captain or even an officer that had served with Captain Holmes and could sponsor his advancement.
Each time Mirabella was forced to give way to their demands, she faded a little more, until she scarcely knew who she was, until she saw herself as a creature of who Captain Holmes would never have taken any notice. And as she faded, her sister delighted in seeing how she could diminish her further and make her own star shine brighter for the contrast.
Sophia could see that her friends were both morose and struggling, but she of course could not know that their inward struggles regarding deeper contemplations about their lives were perhaps even more severe than their bodily struggles in being disordered by the storm. Therefore, she addressed Mirabella's voiced question and tried to be reassuring but not dishonest. "I cannot, of course, know that you will have less bodily ailments as you become more accustomed to life aboard, but I speak not just from my own experience but from having also been in company with other captains' wives. Most improved in their ability to handle the tossing of the sea." Then her honesty asserted itself. "I only know of one woman whose difficulty was such that she was forced to live in England away from her husband. The odds are with you." She considered further, "It may even be that this was in part an excuse for her, for his ship was small, his control of the men lacking, and I think she was scared once or twice that something bad might befall her when aboard. Men can be short tempered when so tightly packed and mankind the world over can act badly whether in a town or upon a ship. But where the captain has the crew's loyalty, the good men (and they vastly outnumber the bad) see it as their duty to protect any women aboard and that is even before they develop a loyalty to the woman herself."
Her words reassured Anne more than they did Mirabella, but while Mirabella still doubted the wisdom of accepting Purser Perry's attentions with an eye toward marriage, she was canny enough not to question Sophia further when Anne seemed reassure and Anne's whole future happiness depended upon being able to handle being a captain's wife living aboard a ship.
When the storm was gone, the bucket clean and once again devoted to a different use, the ladies took advantage of the fair day to go up to the deck. Anne found to her amazement that she was beginning to gain her sea legs and could walk without stretching her arms out to the sides. Mirabella, however, still had to grasp at Sophia's arm now and again to avoid taking a spill. They took a turn about the deck and then noticed a midshipman looking through a spyglass off the starboard side. Sophia was of course the first to spot it, but all Anne and Mirabella could see once she pointed it out was something small and brown, or rather something that looked small and brown due to the distance.
Sophia asked the midshipman, "What type of ship is that? Not a navy ship, I wager."
"Slaver, most likely," he replied, "but she's sustained heavy damage and her mainsail is broke. probably from the storm. We'll render aid of course after we board her, and there will be prize money for us all. The admiral is meeting with the officers now to make a plan and then we will signal our other ships as to what role they shall play." He handed the spyglass off to her.
When Admiral Croft returned to the deck, he greeted the ladies and told them "No doubt you have heard all about the slaver. Certainly, her crew must know we are here, but they have not the capacity to flee, not with their current damage. We must move quickly. I do not expect much trouble from them, but I would feel better if you were all below until the deed is done."
Anne nodded in acknowledgment even though he seemed to be mostly speaking to his wife rather than them.
"Anne and Mirabella shall go below," Sophia declared, "but as for me, I should like the diversion of observing such a boarding."
Admiral Croft looked as if he wished to argue with his wife, but with a sigh he declared, "Well, you always do as you like in such matters, and the danger should not be very great."
Anne was curious about what assuming control of the other ship would entail, but she would certainly obey the indirect order. She and Mirabella were just about to leave when Mrs. Croft suggested, "Would you mind, dear, if the ladies went to our cabin? I do not know that they shall see very much from the windows, but whatever they see shall be more intelligence than they would gain in their own."
"Certainly," he replied magnanimously.