The Immortelles (6 page)

“I wish we were already there,” Juanita said. “Long journeys can be so tiresome.”

“I hope you brought plenty of warm clothes along,” Elena fretted. “I know that those ships are as cold as can be. What's the name of the ship again, dear?”

“The
Orestes
. A good ship,” answered Alfredo.

“I thought we might get to go on one of those steamships, Papa.”

“No, I know the captain of this one. We've done a lot of business together. Captain Williams is a fine fellow and a good seaman. I don't trust those newfangled steamships. They're always blowing up.”

They chatted all the way to the dock. Then Alfredo said, “I'll see that your luggage is taken on board. We have a little time before the ship sails.” The group stepped down from the carriage.

Despite the frigid air and her numb fingers, Damita was excited. She had never been on an oceangoing ship before and was eager to start her trip to Savannah. She had slept little the previous night, and now she followed the men her father engaged to transport their luggage. They had brought one large trunk and two smaller ones, in addition to the small night cases that both women carried. As they crossed the gangplank, Damita looked up at the tall masts that seemed to touch the sky. The sails were all furled, but she saw ropes everywhere. She could not imagine having to keep track of which was which.

When the group reached the deck, Alfredo inquired about the women's stateroom. A short but strong-looking Asian man smiled and nodded. “This way, please. I will show you.” He led the party downstairs and then through a corridor. The hall was dim, lit by only two flickering lanterns, and when he opened the door, he stepped inside, carrying one of them. There was no window, and he lit a lamp that was mounted on the wall. “Very nice cabin,” he said.

“It's so small!” Damita exclaimed.

The four of them had trouble crowding in, and Juanita looked at the bunk beds, the small table, and shook her head. “We won't have room to turn around when our luggage gets in here.”

“Best you leave your big luggage in the hold,” the steward said. “I will bring your small luggage here. Better hurry. The ship is due to leave in fifteen minutes.”

“This is a miserable room, but you won't be in it long,” Alfredo said reassuringly. “Come along. Let's go see if we can find Captain Williams.”

They left Batist to put the smaller luggage inside and see to the storing of the trunks and went topside. They found Captain Williams, a robust, red-faced individual with direct gray eyes and windblown white hair. He greeted them all fulsomely and said, “So, Señor, you're sending these ladies to Savannah?”

“Yes, Captain. I want you to take particularly good care of them.”

“I'll be sure to do that.” He started to speak, then ran to the side of the ship and said, “No more! Don't bring any more cargo on this ship! You hear me?” He came back, shaking his head, and said, “The
Orestes
is a good ship until she gets heavy laden—then she wallows like an old lady. I've already got too much on now. It works the men hard to keep the sails trimmed when she's loaded like this.”

“Captain, the weather looks bad,” Elena said. “Do you think it will get better as you travel?”

“I wish I could say so, Señora Madariaga, but I fear it's not going to improve much.”

“Do you think we'll meet a storm?” Damita asked with alarm.

The captain grinned, and his eyes were twinkling. “Ma'am, there's always danger of a storm at sea, but I trust we will be in Savannah before we have any really bad weather. We should make it without trouble. I wouldn't try it if I thought it was dangerous.” A sailor called for his attention. “Excuse me,” the captain said. “I hope you two ladies will have dinner at my table tonight. I will see you then.” He rushed off, shouting directions to the crew. The sailors, agile as monkeys, began climbing up the masts.

“They'll be setting sail soon,” Alfredo said. “We'd best say good-bye.”

Damita embraced both her parents and kissed them. Her aunt did the same.

“You take good care of Damita, won't you, my dear sister?”

“Yes, I will, Alfredo. And I will give all the family your best wishes when we get to Savannah.”

The Madariaga family crossed the gangplank, and almost instantly, the captain began issuing orders through a large trumpet-shaped object that amplified his voice. The lower sails fell into
place, the wind caught them, and the ship began to move. Damita felt slightly afraid as she stood at the rail. She waved at her parents, and they waved back.

“I wish we were setting out in better weather,” Juanita said.

“So do I, but we'll soon be there. You say they have a fine house?”

“Oh, yes. You'll have a good time—you'll meet lots of young people. I'm sure they'll be having balls.” She looked up at the sky and shook her head and said, “I hope I won't be sick, but I fear that I will.”

As soon as the ship left the harbor, Juanita began to feel nauseous, and she ate almost nothing at the captain's table. Halfway through the meal, she turned pale and whispered, “I feel so ill. I must go to our cabin, Damita.”

Damita had barely managed to get Juanita undressed and into the lower bunk before the older woman began retching. The ship was rolling as ships do, creaking and swaying, and the cabin seemed to close in upon them.

The night passed, but no one slept well. Juanita suffered frequent bouts of seasickness, and Damita could only nap fitfully. Though she brought her aunt water, Juanita was too sick to swallow it. It was a miserable night.

The next morning, her aunt dropped off into a comalike sleep, and Damita dressed and left the cabin. She felt dirty and droopy from lack of sleep. Since they had dined in the captain's quarters the night before, Damita had no idea where the dining area was. She asked a sailor, who led her to it. “Right in there, ma'am,” he said.

Damita entered and found the same white-clad Asian who had welcomed them on board. “My name is Wong, Miss.” He shook his head apologetically and said, “I am afraid you will either have to wait or share a table.”

Damita was very hungry. “I don't mind eating with other passengers.”

“Very good. This way, please.”

As Wong led her through the dining room, she saw that there was indeed little room. The tables were full. Damita smelled coffee and frying meat. Wong paused beside a table where two men and one woman were sitting and said, “Excuse me, please. This is Miss Madariaga. Miss, will you take this chair?”

As Damita sat down, a young man no more than twenty, she thought, with glowing cheeks freshly shaved and warm brown eyes, bowed slightly. “I am Robert McCain, and this is my wife, Esther.”

Damita smiled and said, “I am happy to know you.”

“And this is Mr. Yancy Devereaux.”

Damita had been aware only of a large man wearing a gray suit. She turned quickly, and her eyes widened when she recognized Devereaux. He said smoothly, “Miss Madariaga and I have met before. It's good to see you, ma'am.”

Damita felt blood rush to her cheeks and knew it showed. She could only say, “How do you do, sir?”

Wong asked, “Would you have coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.”

Wong left. Damita sat, keeping her eyes on her lap. Devereaux spoke and made her look up. “I didn't expect to see you again.”

“Nor I you, sir.”

Devereaux nodded at the couple across from him. “Miss Madariaga and I met at one of the balls in New Orleans.”

“Is that right?” Robert said. “Do you live in New Orleans, then, Miss Madariaga?”

“Yes, my family is there. I've always lived in New Orleans.” Damita turned toward the petite young woman at Robert's side. She had large, expressive brown eyes and a happy glow about her. “You're going to Savannah, Mrs. McCain?”

“Oh, yes. I'm so excited. I've never been on a ship before.”

“Neither have I. We don't have the best weather for traveling, though.”

“That won't bother these two,” Devereaux said. “They're on their honeymoon.”

A rich color rose in Esther McCain's face, and she laughed. “Yes, we are. We were married just two days ago.”

“And I'm out to make the best husband the world ever saw,” McCain said, beaming. He reached over and laid his hand on his wife's. “I must say, married life is the thing. You ought to try it, Yancy.”

“Not everyone has your good fortune, Robert.”

The three chatted with such familiarity that Damita could not help but ask, “Have you known each other for a long time?”

“Oh, no,” Esther said. “We just met Yancy yesterday. We boarded the boat at the same time.”

“You make friends quickly on ships,” Yancy explained. “I trust that by the time we get to Savannah, we'll all be warm friends, Miss Madariaga.”

Damita knew he was teasing her. She glared at him and said coldly, “I think that is unlikely, sir. In my opinion, friendship needs a good foundation. It takes a long time to make friendships really work.”

“Do you think so? I'm of a different opinion. Some people I've known for twenty years and can't bear, and others, the first time I lay eyes on them, I say, ‘Now, there's a chap who is going to be a good friend to me.'”

“You're that kind of fellow, Yancy,” Robert McCain said with a laugh. “What do you do for a living? Are you some kind of a confidence man or card shark?”

“Robert, don't say such things!” Esther protested.

Yancy chuckled, saying, “No, nothing quite that romantic, I'm afraid. I've been a farmer most of my life.”

“A farmer! You don't look like one. Farmers don't usually dress so well.”

“I don't either, when I'm grubbing in the earth. You'd hardly know me then, with dirt up to my eyebrows! But I sold my plantation in Shreveport six months ago. Since then, I've been learning how to become a gentleman. It's difficult. Old habits die hard.”

Damita met his gaze. His vivid blue eyes seemed to dance with some sort of humor. She understood that he was daring her to speak of their first meeting, and she took up the challenge. “At least you have learned to dance. That's one step forward. Fine manners usually take a little longer than learning to dance does.”

“Perhaps you'll be able to help me on this voyage—you and Mrs. McCain. I'd like to achieve some of the polished manners I observed in some of those young men in New Orleans, at the ball we attended.”

Damita knew that her face was reddening. He was mocking her about Lewis Depard! She answered sharply, “I don't think I'm qualified to give lessons in manners.”

“If I didn't believe you to be an honest man, I'd think you were mocking us all,” McCain commented. “Your manners are finer than most—than mine, certainly.”

“I doubt that.”

“Why are you going to Savannah, if I may ask?” Esther queried. “Do you have family there?”

“No, I'm thinking of buying half-interest in a ship.”

“You're also a sailor?” McCain asked, his eyebrows lifting.

“No, not really, and I'm too old to start. You really need to go to sea when you're twelve years old, I understand. But a good friend, who
is
a sailor, offered to split ownership of his schooner. He tells me we can get rich, making the run from the Bahamas to the coast.”

“What sort of cargo?” McCain asked.

“Slaves are the most profitable ones, and my partner is inclined to that—but I'm not in favor of selling human beings. I've got him convinced that we can do well shipping cotton to England.”

Esther McCain looked distressed, and Damita saw that she found the subject unpleasant. She turned to Yancy, saying, “You're opposed to slavery?”

“Yes, I am. I used them on my plantation, and it disgusted me. I was glad to get out of it.”

“I think there's going to be trouble over slavery, sooner or later. The feeling in the North is strong against it,” McCain said.

“You're probably right. So I'll have to make my money quickly and get out.”

When Wong brought Damita's meal, she ate hungrily. The food was delicious, and she felt refreshed. McCain and his wife excused themselves, and as soon as they left, Yancy said, “This is awkward for you, I'm afraid.”

“Yes, it is.”

For a moment he did not speak. Then he said, “Miss Madariaga, I would like very much to apologize to you.”

Of all the things that Damita had assumed about Yancy Devereaux, one was that he was not a man to apologize. She saw a hardness about him; he seemed a man unlikely to admit wrong or make himself vulnerable. She looked up with surprise and met his eyes. “Apologize, sir?”

“Yes, I was quite a boor at that ball. I suppose I did offend in some way. I wasn't joking about learning some manners. You don't learn manners planting seeds and harvesting crops, and that's what I've done for most of my life—first in Virginia and later in Shreveport. So, without meaning to, I know I broke some sort of rule that your friend called me to account for. I behaved badly to him and to you. I hope you'll forgive me.”

Damita searched his face for some sort of mockery in his expression, but she found instead a guilelessness. She answered, “Of course. I'm sorry it happened.”

“And if you notice that I make any more impolite moves, I hope you'll feel free to correct me.”

“I wouldn't feel qualified to do that, Mr. Devereaux.”

“Are you traveling alone?”

“No, my aunt is with me. We're going to Savannah to see her family. She's a widow, but she has a son and two grandchildren there.”

Devereaux nodded, then changed the subject. “I'm afraid we're going to have some bad weather—at least so the captain says.”

“I hope not. My aunt's already terribly seasick.”