Windswept (6 page)

Sidonia pursed her lips before spitting out a warning. “Fanny, please. We won’t have stomach for the remainder of our meal.”

“Yes, of course, Sid. I’m just saying how fortunate we were to have escaped such an indelicate experience.” She grinned at her young cousin. “
Sais vrai, n’est pas, cherie
?”

Nora had been sending Fanny a silent warning with her eyes. When she realized her cousin was not going to give them away, she relaxed. “Yes, it’s quite true, Fanny.”

“No more talk of hangings, I insist,” Sidonia said, and for once, Nora agreed with her mother.

The main course was served, and Nora waited for a pause in conversation before asking her second question. “How did everything go in court today, Father?”

“Well. I would say my arrival has created quite a stir, just as I’d hoped it would. I checked the credentials of over a dozen wreckers this morning.”

“Did you find them all in order?”

“All but one actually.”

A feeling of unease churned in Nora’s stomach. “Really? And whose papers were lacking?”

“A man named Milton. Isaac Milton from Connecticut. Seems he has a criminal record he neglected to report to the previous judge. He’ll no longer be salvaging in Key West after today.”

“And the captain we met that first day, the one who jumped into the ocean to save me…his papers were in order?”

Thurston stopped chewing the forkful of chicken he’d just guided to his mouth and stared at his daughter. She smiled sweetly at him. When he finished swallowing, he said, “Yes, his papers were fine. His attitude, however, was not. He’s cocky and brash and gives every indication that he would defy the law as easily as draw his next breath.”

“Maybe so,” Fanny said, “but he is undeniably handsome!”

Thurston grunted with impatience. “I wouldn’t know about that. But I do know I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him. I don’t trust how he’s made his fortune or how he conducts his salvage operation”

Thurston narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “And I don’t want anyone in this family to associate with him. I may not have caught him with faulty papers, but I’ll find another way to put him out of business. I feel strongly that he is at the heart of this island’s wrecking problems.”

Nora didn’t want to argue with her father. After all, she had no reason to, but she didn’t want to believe him either. For now, the only thing she really believed was what Fanny had just said. Jacob Proctor was indeed handsome.

Chapter Four

“Milllk! Milk on the hoof!”

Nora had heard this cry every morning since she’d come to Key West, and she’d already recorded her impressions of this odd custom for the Baltimore Sun readers she hoped to have one day soon. She hurried down the stairs just after sunrise to get another look at the plump Holstein as she was marched down Southard Street.

After hastily closing the last buttons of her dress, she rushed into the dining room nearly bumping into the young maid. “I’ll go, Lulu,” Nora said, reaching for the bottles. “Just give them to me.”

Lulu was more than happy to give Nora the containers.

Nora went out the back door and across the yard to the gate. When she reached the street, she saw the elderly milkman, and Francesca, the cow. And also Felix Obalu. Surprised to see her young nemesis involved in yet another enterprise, she leveled her most sober gaze on the young boy and said, “Felix, you can just get all thoughts of my money out of your head. I’ve bought milk before, and I know very well how much each bottle costs…”

He flashed her a devilishly guilty, but charming grin. “Oh, no, missy, I’m not here to take money for milk. I’m just here to learn. Abraham teach me today to milk cow. Then maybe if I do real good job, I come back by myself someday.”

Felix winked, and Nora couldn’t resist him. She laughed and pretended to cuff his ears. “Don’t even think about it. Just give me two bottles of milk at five cents each.”

The Bahamian milkman slipped a three-legged stool off his shoulders and set it beside the animal. Then Felix sat down, put a wooden bucket under the cow, and positioned his hands on her swollen udders. With impressive skill he squeezed and tugged until thin streams of milk hit the sides of the pail. When Nora’s two bottles were full, he said, “Felix learn good, right?”

“Yes. You did a fine job, and I’m proud of you for wanting to learn.” Nora wondered at the boy’s interest in expanding his knowledge. He seemed so proud of each accomplishment Once again she thought it a shame that he was denied schooling.

Denied schooling
. The injustice of it all had bothered Nora since she’d first heard about the children’s plight days before. As she carried the milk back to the house she decided to do something about it, today.

Nora wanted the milliner’s shop, or at least a small part of it. The location was perfect, one block from the wharf on Duval Street. She found the proprietor, the Scotsman Mr. McTaggart, on a ladder. He was brushing dust off the stovepipe hats on the tallest shelf in the store. “Excuse me, Mr. McTaggart?”

The man peered down at her over his beak of a nose. “Ah, Miss Seabrook, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. I bought this straw bonnet the other day.”

As he came down the ladder, the dust motes which had accumulated on his otherwise impeccable suit danced in the rays of sunlight streaming in a large window. Another reason Nora had to have this shop. The lighting was exceptional. Even in the storeroom in back.

“I remember that bonnet,” he said. “A wise choice, young lady.”

“Mr. McTaggart, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve had a look around your shop this morning, and I notice you have a small room at the back. I ventured into it and all I found there was a sewing machine and a few boxes of hat trim.”

“Yes, I haven’t much use for trims and shouldn’t have ordered so many. The few I sell are to ladies who have enough leisure time to affix their own feathers and flowers on their bonnets.” He unnecessarily smoothed the hair which had been plastered with bear grease to the left of his straight middle part. “I don’t mind really. Stitching flowers on hats is not such a manly occupation.”

“Then the room I mentioned is not used very much, is that right, sir?”

“Not so much, why?”

“Mr. McTaggart, I’d like to suggest a proposition to you if I may.”

He was interested, at least so far, and he indicated his willingness to listen by escorting Nora to a pair of chairs under the window. “What is it you have in mind, Miss Seabrook?”

As Nora talked, McTaggart’s facial expression changed from alert attentiveness to disinterest and finally to disapproval. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Miss Seabrook, but frankly I can’t perceive a boon to my business by having a ragtag bunch of Key West’s Bahamian Negro children occupying my shop.”

“But Mr. McTaggart, it would only be for three hours a day. Surely you find it deplorable that eager, intelligent young children are denied the opportunity to learn?”

From his expression, he did not find it so at all. At least he had the decency not to verbalize his opinion.

“We wouldn’t be a distraction,” she continued. “I would start class at seven thirty, and you don’t even open the shop until nine. We will be gone when you have only been open an hour and a half. The children would be so grateful, and your name would be recognized in the community as a pioneer in education. I’m quite certain that no account of Key West history would be complete without the mention of Angus McTaggart.”

He rubbed his mutton chop sideburns thoughtfully. A good sign she hoped. “Well, I don’t know…”

“Mr. McTaggart, I’ve just come from Baltimore, and there the Free Blacks are being educated in enormous numbers. It’s only a matter of time until this trend sweeps the country. You could be an innovator, sir, an explorer into this totally unchartered territory.”

“An innovator you say?”

“Definitely. Few men have such a rare opportunity. And Mr. McTaggart, don’t the Bahamian women purchase their bonnets here?”

He nodded somewhat enthusiastically. “Why, yes, yes they do.”

Nora spread her hands palms up. “Then my plan would most definitely be a boon to your business. Their gratitude would be immeasurable. I’m sure they would decide they need an extra hat or two, from the generous Mr. McTaggart.”

He considered his options for a tortuously long moment. “Still, you’ve offered no rent.”

She affected a forlorn look, one that always worked on her father. “That’s because I have no money of my own. Besides, what price can be put on education?”

Her would-be benefactor shook his head, and Nora sensed she was loosing him. How could she deal with the no rent problem? If she could come up with a solution, she was certain the thrifty Scotsman would be swayed. The idea came to her as if delivered by Providence.

“Mr. McTaggart, let me propose a compromise. What if we hold class for two hours only. Then the last hour I will see that two of the children each day volunteer their services to help in the shop. They can dust the hats, or sweep the floor, or even stitch trims if you get a call for that.”

His eyes lit like Roman candles, though he kept his voice less than enthusiastic. “Miss Seabrook, you present good arguments. I’ll agree to your conditions on a trial basis only. We’ll see how this experiment of yours works out for two weeks. After that time we will meet and reevaluate.”

Nora bounded out of her chair. “Thank you, sir. You won’t regret this. We’ll start Monday morning.”

She returned to the small cubicle behind the shop and estimated the size of her classroom. The she made a mental note of supplies she would need. Slates and chalk and a blackboard and benches. And books and quills and inkwells, and…the list was extensive. Where would she find these things? Who in Key West was likely to have many of these items and be willing to donate them? One establishment came to mind immediately. “Proctor’s Warehouse and Salvage.”

After thanking Mr. McTaggart again, she left his shop and headed across Duval toward Front Street by the docks. A distant clap of thunder and a darkening of the sky did not diminish her euphoria.

Next to the heart thumping adventure of racing toward a wrecked ship in competition with his neighbors, Jacob liked watching for wrecks. And if he didn't find himself on the Atlantic Ocean, the domed cupola above his warehouse was his favorite place to be. Here, in a room without walls, the sound of the sea, the rush of the wind and the smell of the salt air brought him as close to a life in the water as a man could get while still admitting his inability to survive in a world of fins and gills.

Jacob didn’t even mind the loneliness of the watch. As a man with responsibilities to his business and employees, most days he welcomed his solitary time as lookout. The cool, sleek brass telescope in his hand and the calls of the seagulls were companions enough.

And today there was much to watch for. For the past three hours, since dawn, the sky had been clear, the wind calm. In the last minutes however, conditions to the east had changed. The sky had darkened to a threatening gray, with thunderheads blocking the sun. Harbingers of a storm rumbled above him. The wind had intensified and now buffeted the little island.

Jacob had seen sudden fierce storms often enough during his five year stay in Key West. He’d witnessed their fury and he’d profited by their destructive power. For with a storm, often came a wrecked vessel, and today, as every day, ships were expected in Key West’s harbor.

When he heard footsteps on the stairs to the cupola, Jacob assumed Willy had heard the thunder and felt the unexpected coolness in the air and was coming up to discuss the possibilities. Like himself, Willy was in love with the sea as a life force and as a business. Jacob didn’t mind sharing the cupola with his trusted assistant. This morning the old sailor’s footsteps were soft, as if he were showing respect for the steadily rising crescendo of the storm.

Jacob leaned on the railing three stories above the ground and peered through the telescope at the approaching tempest. “Good morning, Willy,” he said without turning around. “I see you’ve heard her coming.”

The voice that answered him was definitely not Willy’s. “Excuse me, Captain. Your friend downstairs said it would be all right if I came here to find you. I’ve come to have a word with you if I may.”

Jacob turned to face a frothy, ruffled confection of yellow fabric and white lace draped over the shapely form of Nora Seabrook. The wind sweeping through the cupola played havoc with her attire, pressing the folds of her gown to her legs and revealing their slim shapes beneath the nearly translucent organdy. Her woven hat, normally so practical for the island, was losing a battle with the wind. The brim blew back from Nora’s face and crackled with rent straw.

To save what was left of her bonnet and to keep the wind from blowing it, and her, back to the stairs, Nora untied the ribbon at her throat and removed the hat. As she did, pieces of straw caught in her hair and pulled strands loose from the heavy net at her nape. Raven tresses trailed around her neck and away from her face.

“My goodness,” she said. “It looks like we’re in for a storm.”