Commanding Heart (9 page)

The following day proved fascinating
for a young woman from a sheltered upbringing. Catherine’s keen mind had been
readily engaged with ship’s business throughout their journey, but the
exercises at the sails and at the guns on this day was unlike anything she had
experienced thus far. Catherine felt as though she were given an intimate look
at the ship’s life as it truly was. At 8 am, the start of the forenoon watch,
Catherine arrived on the poop deck where her uncle had arranged a seat so she
could best watch the crew at exercise. From below on the quarterdeck she could
hear Captain Knight’s authoritative voice as he relayed a sequence of orders to
his men. The initial call saw the men fast at work scrubbing and preparing
sails in anticipation of the morning’s exercises. As the men worked the shrill
call of the boatswain’s whistle, or the fife and drum of the ship’s marines,
were used to mark time and speed the motion of sailors’ hands as they worked.
Catherine marveled at the beauty, simplicity and efficiency of their movements.
Once the sails were prepared to the captain’s satisfaction, the orders began to
fly for the exercise of reefing and furling of sails. At a word, dozens of men
scrambled up the ship’s rigging while their mates below bent to rope and
tackle. In careful choreography, the men moved to the commands of the captain
and his lieutenants. In very little time the enormous sails were loosed from
the yardarms, spread wide, and lashed into place as ordered; then just as quickly
at the captain’s next command the stays were loosed, the ropes hauled, and the
sails were furled once again. The pattern was repeated over and over with small
corrections made at the captain’s command on each attempt. Catherine had seen
the men at work in the sails and rigging throughout their journey but this
complex series of exercises demonstrated how they managed their work with such
care and efficiency, even in the worst of weather. Each man knew his task and
knew it well and every motion of their work was orchestrated with precision by
Captain Knight’s thorough orders.

At twelve o’clock, as the forenoon
watch drew to a close, Captain Knight called an end to the exercises at the
sails and sent the men for their mid-day meal. Accompanied by Lieutenant
Matthews, Knight ascended the ladder from the quarterdeck to the poop deck
where Catherine remained seated. “Miss Gibson” the captain said with a polite
bow, “May I ask how you enjoyed the morning’s activities?” Catherine rose to
her feet, self-consciously smoothing her muslin gown as she replied: “I enjoyed
it very much, Captain Knight. I am in awe at how the men and the equipment all
work together. However, I fear the exercises have demonstrated how much I have
yet to learn about the working of a ship.”  A fleeting smile touched the
captain’s lips: “Then it is fair to say, Miss Gibson that you soon wish to join
His Majesty’s Navy?” Catherine and Lieutenant Matthews shared a small laugh in
response. “Come,” Matthews said to Catherine, “Before you catch a notion to
stowaway onboard the
Triton
! Let’s go below for our meal, dear girl. I
need some strength before the afternoon exercises at the guns.” Catherine laid
a hand on the lieutenant’s arm a moment to stay him: “I had hoped, Uncle
Matthews,” she said tentatively “that we might dine together on deck today,
rather than in the officer’s wardroom?” She looked somewhat nervously from her
uncle to the captain before continuing: “There is but little time left and I
would…I would welcome a few moments with you alone… before we reach Jamaica.” Matthews gave a somber nod before wrapping her in a fatherly embrace of assent.

The captain looked closely at the two,
his brows knit together in a look of deep concentration. Reading his changed
expression, Catherine feared she had given the captain offense with her request.
She moved to where Knight stood and laid a trembling hand on his arm as she
spoke: “I beg your indulgence, sir” she said quietly. “Might I have this time
with my uncle if it does not interfere with his duty?” Captain Knight stared
down at her from his great height, his dark blue eyes full of some emotion
Catherine could not read. “Please, make yourself easy, Miss Gibson” he replied
in a low voice: “Enjoy this time with your uncle. I shall arrange to have your
meal sent here, as you request.” With that, Knight took her hand in his and
raised it to his lips in brief salute before turning and leaving Catherine and
Matthews alone on deck.

Catherine remained rooted to the spot
after he left, her hand tingling from the contact of his lips. Matthews looked
over his niece, carefully choosing his words before speaking: “He is a good
man, Captain Knight. He is all generosity as you can see. I feared at first
that you seemed to dislike him, Catherine?” he finished questioningly.
Catherine turned slowly to face her uncle, struggling to hide the many emotions
at play in her face. “Yes….. No!” she stammered then started again; “I fear I
did not form a favorable impression of Captain Knight at first, uncle. But
now…” she trailed off. “But now?” Matthews pressed gently. “Now,” Catherine said
haltingly, “I must agree with your assessment. Captain Knight is a fine man,
indeed.” Matthews nodded his head sagely, struck not only by her admission but
by the wistful tone in her voice. Perhaps, he thought, there is more than one
reason she does not wish the journey to end? The wise lieutenant kept the
thought to himself and settled down to enjoy Catherine’s company before the
afternoon’s duties would take him away.

The sun shone brilliantly overhead in
a startling blue sky. The waves lapped gently against the
Triton’s
bulk
and all seemed at peace – all save Catherine. Matthews watched his niece
closely as they talked together over lunch. Though she did her best to engage
in discussion, Matthews could sense her unrest. He paused in his speech and
asked with fatherly affection; “What is troubling you, child?” Catherine turned
her lovely face skyward and closed her eyes a long moment. The sun warmed her
skin and a gentle breeze tugged at stray wisps of her golden hair.  She strove
to find calmness in the beauty of this moment but she could not. So many things
were troubling her, but at the heart of all was their imminent arrival in Jamaica. She opened her eyes once more and turned to her uncle, her face wreathed in
sadness; “What do you think will happen to me when we reach Jamaica?” The bluntness of her question took Matthews by surprise. He blinked and looked
away as she had just done and tried to find an answer that would satisfy her. Before
he could answer she spoke once again: “When my father sent word that I was to
join him, he requested that a recent portrait of me be sent ahead…..” Matthews
stiffened in response to her words. The brave man had encountered many
difficulties and hardships throughout his life but nothing prepared him for the
agony he felt in this moment. A father to three sons, he knew what it was to
worry about a child, but Catherine’s words caused him pain beyond anything he
had ever thought possible. “You should prepare yourself, Catherine,” he said
with great tenderness. “I expect it is as you guess…. That your father wishes
for you to marry….” Catherine turned away, her bright eyes spilling over with
tears. Her voice was husky as she spoke; “I thought as much, Uncle Matthews,
although I confess I had hoped there might be some other answer.” Matthews
pulled Catherine to him and embraced her with fatherly affection as tears came
into his own eyes.

They remained together like this for
a long moment before Matthews could speak once again; “Oh dearest heart, what
shall I tell you….” he said with great emotion. “How I wish your aunt was here
with us now. She would know just what to do to make us both feel better.”
Catherine gave a small, sad laugh at his words and leaned against his
comforting bulk. At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Catherine pulled away
quickly to wipe her eyes. She did her best to compose her features but her
distress was still evident as Captain Knight appeared before them. Knight
looked from one to the other before speaking in respectful tones; “I regret the
interruption, Miss Gibson, but I am afraid I need your uncle’s assistance
before our afternoon exercises.” He gave a slight bow as he spoke but his eyes
never wavered from Catherine’s face. She nodded her head in understanding and
attempted a slight smile as she replied; “Of course, Captain Knight. My uncle
and I have enjoyed a pleasant meal together. I thank you for sharing him on
such a busy day.” “Not at all, Miss Gibson,” Knight replied quietly. “In fact,
I should be thanking Matthews for sharing
your
company with us on this
journey. You have been most gracious in enduring our rituals and routines. I do
not imagine it has been easy for you.”  Catherine could sense a hidden meaning
beneath his words but her troubled heart would not allow her to think upon it.
She drew on her last reserves of courage and sent her uncle off with wishes
that the afternoon’s exercises would go well. The two men took their leave but
as they reached the stairs, Captain Knight turned to her once more. He seemed
on the verge of speaking, his dark eyes full of unspoken things, but at the
last moment he simply bowed to her and descended to the quarterdeck. Catherine tried
to dispel the disquieting thoughts in her mind but not even the noise of the
guns at the afternoon drill could drive the many worrisome thoughts from her heart.

Like the morning’s work in the
rigging, Catherine soon found that an exercise at the guns was a much more
detailed – and noisy – activity than she could have ever imagined. After completion
of the midday meal, the officers and crew were summoned to the guns by the
beating of the marines’ drum. Catherine remained on the poop deck which carried
no guns; this way she could observe the action without being in harm’s way. Matthews
had explained to her how the entire ship would be made ready, as though they
were truly engaged in battle. From the short 12 pounder cannons on the
quarterdeck to the huge 32 pounders on the lower gun deck, everyman would stand
ready at his station. Each cannon was manned with a crew of five to seven men:
a gunner who aimed and fired the gun, several crewmen who sponged, loaded and
rolled out the massive canon, and a ‘powder monkey’ who kept the gun supplied
with powder cartridges from the magazine.

Catherine sat motionless as the men
made ready. Below her on the quarterdeck, she could see Captain Knight taking
careful inventory of the scene before him. He stood rigidly at attention, broad
shoulders braced, hands clasped behind his back, with feet squarely set on the
deck’s surface. Knight gave a sudden sharp command: at the word, all hands
sprang to life and the work of the guns began in earnest. In quick succession
the gun ports were opened, the canons loaded and rolled out. The captain’s
sharp call of “Fire!” rang out and the fuses were lit. Nothing on earth could
have prepared Catherine for the resulting noise and sharp motion that rocked
through the ship as the cannons gave bear. Clouds of dark smoke drifted upward obscuring
her view. But before the echo of the first shots had ended, Catherine could clearly
hear the order to roll out the guns again in preparation for the next shot. In
the same measured way the men bent to their tasks again and again, many
stripped to the waist as they worked furiously to load, fire and reload the
great guns. Catherine coughed a little at the smoke that continued to rise but
felt in no way persuaded to leave the fascinating scene. She remained in
position throughout the exercise, taking in the details with rapt attention.
She was determined to create a sketch later of this unbelievable event and
swept her artist’s eye excitedly over the whole, attempting to capture every
detail. One sight, however, kept drawing Catherine’s attention: that of Captain
Knight standing unwaveringly at attention. His attitude of authority and
control never changed no matter the organized chaos playing out before him.
Catherine knew in an instant that he would be the same in the face of a real
battle. It was little wonder the men so trusted and respected their captain. Little
wonder as well that he had dedicated his life to the business of the navy – he
seemed born to the task. Catherine could not help but think that a man so
wholly absorbed in the drama of life at sea could have no room in his heart for
the simple joys of a life onshore. Her uncle managed to live happily in both
worlds but Catherine felt certain that it could never be so for Captain Knight.
The idea made Catherine feel strangely sad but she quickly reminded herself
that the captain’s life – whatever it might be – would no longer be her concern
in just a few short days. Certainly an unusual tension seemed to exist between
them but she knew it could never be more than a passing notion: the captain
would never abandon his life at sea, and if her guess was correct, her life
would soon no longer be her own to command. Though the sun shone brightly on
Catherine, a cold shiver passed over her that she could not shake.

After several more rounds, the
captain gave the order for the men to belay firing. The frenetic energy of their
exercises was replaced by a much more leisurely pace as the gun stations were
returned to their original order, everything carefully stored for future need.
As the smoke began to clear, Catherine was met once more by her uncle and his
captain as they came aloft to where she sat. Catherine’s eyes flashed and an unwonted
grin came upon her features at the sight of the two men. Soot from the guns had
settled on them both, streaking their normally immaculate faces and clothing to
wicked effect. The captain stood casually before Catherine his smile gleaming
white against the darkness of his face, his coat slung carelessly over his arm in
an attitude at once casual and commanding. Captain Knight looked, in fact, a
perfect devil sent to disrupt Catherine’s thoughts. “I must surmise from your
look” the captain said, “that we are not what one would call, polite company,
Miss Gibson.” Her eyes danced with mischief as she replied: “Indeed, Captain. I
must admit I thought you might be two devils come to fetch me.” They laughed at
her words but Catherine could not help but think to herself “
there is an
element of truth to what I say.”
The captain apologized for their
appearance before making his next request: “After such an exercise, Miss
Gibson, the men normally take some time on deck to
refresh
themselves
and remove the grime from the guns. Might I ask that you retire to your cabin
while they wash on deck?” Catherine reddened at the thought and quickly gave
her assent, turning to leave with all haste. “Miss Gibson?” the captain spoke
to her retreating back. She turned to face him once more, anxious to depart
before the men got on with their ablutions. “Might I make a further request?
After the efforts of the day the hands might enjoy some evening entertainment
on deck. Would you care to join in these amusements after supper?” Catherine
nodded her head in response; “I shall be delighted, Captain.” Then, with no
further pause she hastened to her quarters leaving the men to their washing on
the great ship’s deck.