Breakwater Beach (19 page)

Chapter 21

June 1876

Elisabeth had no need to read the cable. Somersell never let his captains rest for long. Edward would be traveling again. Their two months of time together was about to come to an end. She found him in the parlour reading and handed him the envelope.

Edward put the letter down on the table. “I’m going to Boston. It’s just a meeting. I do believe the next voyage will be my last, by mutual agreement. Our debts are almost settled, and Somersell is auctioning off most of his sailing vessels.”

“Just as you promised.” Her heart warmed at the thought of the danger and loneliness, coming to an end.

“I’ve always been a man of my word. In a few days, I’ll be off on my final trip. Perhaps this time, you’d like to meet me in a port? Or if it’s a short run, before the fall storms threaten, I might even bring you along.”

A thrill raced through her. Her plan had worked. “Really? And what made you reconsider?”

“I know it would make you happy.” He gathered her into his arms.

“Would we be back in time for Bethea’s confinement in March? I’ve promised to be with her.”

“If you come, Elisabeth, there is no guarantee of that.”

“Oh, well, I suppose we’ll just have to hope for the best. Since Katherine has miscarried, I don’t need to be concerned about her. And I’m so hoping Jared Sanders will propose to Sara.”

Edward laughed. “You certainly have a lot of things to keep you busy here, darling. But I think you best find another suitor for Sara.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Jared is here almost every day. He often stays to supper and is always doing things to help Paul.”

“I suspect he visits to see you, Elisabeth. He’s told me he doesn’t fancy Sara in that way.”

Elisabeth moved away. “Jared Sanders fancies me? Edward, that is the silliest thing!” 

“I saw him looking at you. You aren’t exactly dressed modestly in those riding breeches.” His hands wandered under the overcoat and lingered on her bum. 

No wonder he was taking her along. “So you’re finally starting to be concerned that life goes on here without you.”

Edward wore his jealousy openly. He kissed her on the mouth, and his lips wandered down her neck. Her head dropped back, her body relaxed and opened to him like a flower to warm sunshine.

Perhaps I don’t conceive because I enjoy marital relations. It’s some sort of punishment. That’s what Mama always said. Ridiculous.

“Why are you grinning like a sly fox?” Edward’s voice was husky, filled with desire.  

Like in chess, it was her move. “My mind wandered, thinking of an adventure with you at sea.”

“Shall we go upstairs for a rest?” he asked.

“I’ll bring up a tray for an early tea,” Elisabeth answered.

They’d both won.

Edward’s hands cupped her breasts, and he whispered good morning. He entered her from behind. Elisabeth relished his hands all over her, his breathing heavy on the back of her neck interrupted by his gasps of delight. The release was the most intense she’d ever experienced, sweeping from her neck to her toes. Her nipples and bottom tingled with the aftershocks. She must have conceived. Surely one’s body can sense something so momentous.

He held her until the sky lightened. She savored the last moments, entangled so deeply it was impossible to tell where she ended and he began.

Edward finally eased away, sat on the bed, and tousled her hair. “I’m off. Stay right where you are and rest. I’ll be back as soon as I can to retrieve you.”

Elisabeth was far too comfortable and relaxed to resist. She had never before not gotten up to see him off, but goodbyes like this were preferable to hurried kisses on a public dock. Swathed in scented linens, peaceful and calm, she imagined the babe growing inside her.

Edward and Paul’s voices drifted through the open window on the summer breeze. The thud of baggage being loaded into the carriage, the horses’ typical snorts of displeasure at the before breakfast toil, and the clatter of the harnesses as they drove off didn’t seem nearly as foreboding as usual.

The next time both the master and mistress would depart for an adventure at sea. Elisabeth drifted back to sleep, awash in the afterglow.

The sun was high when she finally awoke and reluctantly bathed, washing away the remnants of their pre-dawn encounter, sponging off the melancholy of the past year. They’d be together every day, starting in one week.
By the time we get back, Mr. Sanders and Sara might be engaged, and Katherine pregnant again. And I as well
.

Over the next few days, Elisabeth paid visits to friends, cancelled her lessons at the library, and spoke to Sara, Paul, and Jared about how to handle household matters. Katherine packed her trunk.

Elisabeth stared out the window, hoping to hear foghorns declare
The Sea Mist’s
return. “Florida, I hope it’s Florida. The weather will be quite warm, and I’d love to see the south.”

Katherine looked up from folding and arranging. “You’ll be the only lady aboard. “‘Twill will be rather strange, will it not?”

“I have books to read, and needlework. And I hope for shore excursions.” Leaving Katherine to finish, she went downstairs where Sara bustled about, fixing dinner.

“I’m so excited, I can’t stand it,” Elisabeth said.

Sara smiled. “Just what you always wanted.”

A horse’s whinny brought Elisabeth to the door. The courier handed her a cable. She signed for it, and gave him a generous gratuity. Before he’d mounted, she’d torn it open, anxious to see what their destination would be. By the time he had trotted out of sight, Sara found her sitting on the floor, her dress a puddle of linen around her, sobbing and clutching Edward’s message to her chest.

“He promised he would take me, but he left for Florida alone! Why? No explanation? He didn’t even stop back in Brewster to say goodbye.”

“Perhaps he didn’t have time to stop. They could lose a day or even more, with the tides. And see here, the Captain says he promises to be home soon, for good.” Sara had never been particularly soothing and today her cold, hard pragmatism was too much to bear. 

“I should have gone with him to Boston. Then he would have had no choice but to take me along.” Elisabeth snatched the cable out of Sara’s hand and went upstairs.

Katherine scurried away, not daring to ask.

Elisabeth stared out at the bay until she felt a familiar cramping in her stomach, an ache in her back, the warmth of blood soaking her underclothes. No adventure, and now no baby. She rinsed her things in the bathtub, watching the pink tinged water spiral down the drain.

Curled up on the bed, pressing the pillow that still bore Edward’s scent against her, she tried to recapture at least a little of the dream.

Chapter 22

June 1876

Boston, Massachusetts

Edward sat in the airless office, anxious to be back on his ship where the sea breeze took the edge off the humidity. Negotiations with Neville Somersell were always a formal affair, but today, even he had removed his topcoat and rolled up his sleeves.

“So you want me to carry two steam engines from Boston to Miami. Overload
The Sea Mist
with the very things that mean the death of my livelihood?”

Somersell always pushed the limits for profit, but this was his most outlandish request yet. “Captain, my business is shipping, not ships. The fastest way to move goods, and people, nowadays is the railroad. No worries about wind and other hazards. You have the skill to handle this. I’ll make it worthwhile for you and your crew.” He folded his hands across his chest. The chair creaked as he leaned back.

“I should hope so, since it’s likely my last voyage,” Edward said. “Secured on deck, they’ll be rusted on arrival, but it’s the only way. And we’ll need to take other cargo for ballast in the hold.”

“Then, Captain, with two loads you should have a most profitable journey.” Somersell smiled and pushed a stack of papers toward him.

Edward dipped the tip of the pen into the inkwell and signed his name, wishing it was a severance agreement instead.

Somersell shook his hand, grinning. “We’ll talk when you return, Captain Barrett. Perhaps I can find something else for you, at least for a short while.”

“Thank you, sir. But I’ll stay on firm ground.” He left the office and headed for Western Union. His wife would be crushed but having her aboard this trip would be too distracting, and too dangerous.

Dearest Elisabeth,

Leaving Boston for a trip south to Florida/stop.

Sorry I can’t see you before/stop

I promise to be home soon/stop

For good/stop.

Much love, Edward

He walked through Quincy Market, past Faneuil Hall, and toward the harbour.

It took most of the week to secure the two gargantuan steam engines. They loaded starboard first, then sailed out and turned around to hoist the other onto the port side. Edward and Kyle rowed around to inspect the ship from a dinghy.

Edward used an oar to measure from the lowest portholes to the water line until satisfied the cargo set as ballast in the hold was centered and the ship was not listing. “She appears level.”

“Aye, sir. But if we should encounter anything except perfect calm that could change in a moment.” Kyle raked his hands through his hair. Sweat beaded on his brow.

Edward considered splitting transport with another vessel. “One attached to the stern wouldn’t work. It’s two or none, to ensure balance. The weather is generally good at this time of the year. Cape Hatteras can be dicey, but since it’s not far from Florida we could always put ashore if we can’t go around.”

“I’ve sailed the world with you, Edward. But this is the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done.” Kyle rowed a bit too vigourously.

“‘Tis
The Sea Mist’
s last journey before auction. The take from this will ensure our income for the next year. But if you want to sign off now, I understand.” Edward grabbed a line tossed from above. He scrambled up the rope ladder and faced the assembled crew. “We sail at first light. Enjoy yourselves tonight.”

“Aye, Captain. Should we send some belly-warmers ‘round to keep you and Mr. Vauxhall company tonight?” Cooky elbowed the sailor next to him and displayed his toothless grin.

Kyle shook his head at the ragtag bunch.

“No, thank you. Remember, we sail at dawn, with no extra passengers.” Edward dismissed them with a wave.

The men broke into groups, descended the gangplank, and wandered toward the taverns.

“So, the two happily married men shall stay and mind the ship,” Kyle said.

“That means you’ll be aboard in the morning, eh?” Edward breathed a sigh of relief. He needed his first mate.

“Aye, sir. Sleep well.” The door to Kyle’s quarters closed behind him.

Edward entered his cabin, recalling the time he and Elisabeth had spent there together when she first arrived from London, just about a year ago.
I’ll make it up to her. Perhaps a pleasure trip on a luxury liner, where someone else would be doing the navigation.

He ran his hands through his hair to sweep the distraction away, took out the charts and compass, and set their course for Miami. A faint tinge of lavender still lingered on her handkerchief. He fell asleep dreaming of Elisabeth and never heard the men returning from their revelry. They sailed at sunrise under a cloudless sky.

Two days into the voyage, Edward made notes in the ship’s log and studied charts to see how they could make up for lost time. The wind was calm, progress painfully slow. He reached over and picked up Elisabeth’s handkerchief, still smelling of lavender, and pushed it into his breast pocket, near his heart. “I’m trying to get back to you as soon as I can, my love.”

A welcome breeze worked its way around the cabin. The chart table tilted. His compass slid across, and he caught it just before it hit the floor. The heel of the ship indicated a strong north wind, sending more than a tingle of a chill up Edward’s neck.

Vauxhall knocked and entered without waiting for an answer. “I need you on deck, sir.”

He followed the first mate, and they stood behind the helmsman. The crew were adjusting the sails to take advantage of the wind, but glanced at Edward as the blue sky melted into a steel grey expanse. Sea birds flew in the opposite direction; their shrill calls sent another spasm down Edward’s back.

“We’d best be turning back, Captain. Steer closer to shore, maybe hole up somewhere. This promises to be a big one.” Kyle’s voice had shed its agreeable tone.

Edward weighed the possibilities. A calm port would be best, but if the weather overtook them before they got there, they’d be pounded to pieces on a lee shore. The eastern sky continued to darken. The best chance was to outrun it and head for shallower water if they needed to drop anchor.

“Aye, mate. But we won’t beat it back to Nantucket Harbour in time. And we’d lose more than a day, with the tide. There’s extra for all of us if we get the engines down there on time. It’s already taken longer than usual with the lack of wind.”

“So, you want to go on, sir? ‘Tis a nor’easter, moving fast.”

“Rouse the crew. Tell them to prepare for a rough night. We’ve come through worse,” Edward ordered.

“We’re overloaded, sir.” Vauxhall had never challenged him before.

Edward pushed aside his annoyance, and his misgivings. “If we turn back now, there is no guarantee we would make safe harbour anyway. And little chance of keeping to the timetable.”

“Timetable be damned! I’d really like to see my wife again, and my new babe being born.”

“I have a wife too, Mr. Vauxhall.” Elisabeth would be staring out their bedroom window at the approaching storm.

“You’d do well to remember that. I’ve never sailed with a better captain, but this time you’re wrong. If our ballast shifts, or one of those engines breaks loose, we’ll go right over.”

“We’ll dump them if need be.” Edward’s voice broke, and he suppressed the stutter. If the captain lost control of himself, he’d lose control of the ship. If they jettisoned the engines, Somersell reserved the right to deduct the cost from their salaries.

“We should do it now!” Kyle barked at him like an angry dog.

“I give the orders, Vauxhall. Secure the ship, get her rigged for tough going, and steer two points toward shore.” Edward brought his face closer to the first mate’s.

The men stopped what they were doing and listened to the angry interchange. Vauxhall didn’t move. A few walked over and stood behind Kyle in a show of support.

“I said all hands on deck, Mr. Vauxhall.” Edward stared into Kyle’s eyes. Neither of them moved or blinked.

“Aye, sir.” Kyle turned slowly and rang the ship’s bell as if summoning a cavalry to arms.

Each toll sent a jolt through Edward. Men scampered from below to take their posts, secure the rigging, and don foul weather gear.

Kyle circulated amongst them. “All hands to your positions! Shorten the sheets, mates!”

The wind picked up. Mist coated the decks with a slippery film. Edward checked the engines, their shiny black paint dotted white by saltwater, and assured himself they were secure.

Within the hour, a sustained wind blew rain sideways.
The Sea Mist
bobbled like a toy in the churning waters. Pea-sized hail pelted them. Waves crashed over the decks. They clung to whatever they could to avoid being washed overboard. Thunder rumbled.

The helmsman tried to ride the waves, but a massive one burst over the foredeck, tilting the vessel so far over, Edward imagined their keel sticking clear out of the water. It seemed like forever until
The Sea Mis
t righted herself. Edward’s stomach lurched as she smashed back into the sea.

“You’ve got to avoid those,” he yelled over the wind.

“I can’t steer through this,” the sailor screamed back, near panic.

The men struggled with the waterlogged rigging and canvas.

“Drop the sails!” Edward called. “We’ll navigate under bare poles.”

“We have to cut loose the engines, Captain.” Kyle took him by the shoulders and gave him a good shake.

Vauxhall froze, his mouth dropped open in horror.

A funnel cloud swirled in from the north.

Edward swallowed hard. “God forgive me, Kyle.”

“Apologize later, sir. Hand me an axe and give the order.” Kyle didn’t wait. He grabbed an axe, and started swinging.

“Cut loose the engines,” Edward screamed over the wind. “Half on one side, half on the other! It has to be done at the same time or we’ll capsize!” 

The men hacked. Forked lightning struck the water. Thunder cracked like a whip against flesh. Before the reverberation faded, more jagged bolts of light crashed into the seas as if the gods had up ended a quiver of arrows.

Edward’s hair stood on end. The queer metallic smell that preceded a waterspout stung his nostrils. The hull of the ship trembled as water boiled around it.

The crew struggled to maintain their positions as the ship swayed. With each swell, one or two went over. Howling wind drowned out the death screams.

“Help me, Captain. Sir!” Billy, the cabin boy, clung to a jagged piece of railing, his legs dangling overboard.

Edward grabbed his arm. Billy clutched him so tightly fingernails dug into his flesh.  

“Don’t let me die, sir.” The boy’s eyes were as wide as saucers. His shoulder dislocated and he shrieked in pain.

Edward braced himself and hauled him back onto the deck. The lad’s shirt tore and Edward’s fingers, numb with cold, lost their grip.

Edward watched as Billy went under and never re-surfaced, his final wail cut off at the peak. He shook off the image of abject terror on the child’s face. The child who had served him well, looked up to him like a father, obeyed every command, listened to every piece of advice as if it were the gospel of the Lord. He couldn’t dwell on it now. A clear head. He needed a clear head or they would all be lost.

The survivors chopped away, one-handed, holding on with the other for their lives. Saturated hemp resisted. A rumble emanated from the hold as the cargo shifted. The funnel cloud spun closer.

“Bloody hell!” Breathless, Edward staggered to help, wiping sodden hair from his eyes. A gash on his face seared and droplets of blood stained his shirt crimson. His pulse pounded with each desperate swing.

Wind spiraled, raising several men up like paper dolls and blowing them overboard. Debris pelted the few remaining. Edward felt himself drawn up into the air then thrown to the deck. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. Bloody water streamed down his arms.

“Done here, sir,” said a man from the port side.

“And just about here, Captain,” said another from starboard. “That’s it, all clear!”

Edward struggled to his feet, clutching his abdomen, struggling to catch his breath. “The funnel cloud has passed. We should be all right now. On the count of three, then.” He helped Kyle free his line. “Push with all you’ve got. One, two, three. Now!”

The engine on the starboard side disappeared into the roiling seas. On the other, the front end of the engine remained tangled in cut ropes as the back went over the gunwales. The ship listed hard to port. Edward tried to make his way across. A wave crashed over the deck from the starboard side. Those that hadn’t been tossed off already dropped overboard. Something he could only assume was the mast snapped. Splintered wood crashed around them, impaling men that lay dead or dying.

Time stopped. Vauxhall lay motionless, his head nearly torn off, his eyes wide in a stare that bored into Edward’s soul. The body, ensnared by cut ropes, dangled overboard on a bizarre gallows as the ship went over.

The Sea Mist
wouldn’t be coming back this time. He was the only one left alive, just punishment for killing every one of his crew by his own foolish selfishness. Whatever gods ruled the seas, and his own God, had spoken.

As much as he’d justified past transgressions, they couldn’t be erased. And for this one, for all the widows and orphans, maimed bodies and blood spattered sails, his hell would be an eternity to relive memories of each man’s last moments and the pain left behind in his wake.