Commanding Heart Part 1

Commanding Heart.

by Madeline Evering.

Chapter I.

Catherine Gibson stood alone at the bustling naval dock in Portsmouth, amus.e.m.e.nt and wonder playing across the features of her lovely face. She turned in a small circle, the starched white petticoats of her dress brushing the dust in a soft whisper. Catherine was captivated by sights and sounds completely foreign to a young, sheltered girl of nineteen. All around her was energy, motion, color and noise that spoke of important work and great purpose. In front of her, along the length and breadth of the great dock, a bevy of seamen bent to their tasks, carrying rope or lengths of chain, mending sails, or straining to load immense cargo into waiting barges. Enormous supply wagons rolled past her in a continual parade, drawn by teams of stamping, sweating draft horses whose iron shod feet set the cobbles ringing. One such wagon rocked past in great haste, forcing Catherine to leap nimbly aside, skirts twirling. The beautiful young woman drew a shaky breath and wisely chose a safer vantage point at the water's edge, a comfortable distance away from the traffic of the great dock. She turned her back to the sights onsh.o.r.e to marvel once more at the harbor itself; there in the sparkling water floated such a wealth of ships of every size and description that the masts seemed to create a forest on the surface of the sea. Somewhere within their number lay HMS Triton a her home for the next weeks. Catherine's clear blue eyes strained against the morning sun, seeking the ship with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. When she spied the great ship at last her heart skipped nervously against her chest. What could she expect from the journey to come? And what would be found at its end? Catherine mind began to run wild in speculation but she would not indulge her fears. She squared her shoulders resolutely, stifling her worries for the moment as she made another slow turn to survey the scene. The spectacle filled Catherine with awe as she took in each curious wonder.

Knowing that their time of departure soon approached, Catherine raised a hand to her eyes and scanned the dock for sign of her uncle, Lieutenant Robert Matthews. The lieutenant had urgent business to complete for his captain before they sailed, and so had left her briefly to make final arrangements. As she turned once more to survey the crowd, she caught sight of him at last. Catherine's rosy lips curled in a warm grin at the sight of Matthews making his way through the bustling crowd. He was a short but powerfully built man, strong in body and generous in spirit. When Lieutenant Matthews had married her aunt twenty years previous it was a matter of great scandal to his wife's wealthy family. A sailor of no name, and little means, was not a welcome addition to their way of thinking. Her aunt, however, found the young sailor to be very much to her taste. She made her own mind on the subject, ignored her family's wishes, and eloped with Robert Matthews. The end result of this mutinous act was a long, happy marriage, blessed with several children and an abundance of love, if not money.

"Catherine!" her uncle cried as he approached, "There you are you wonderful child! Why you've barely moved from the spot I left you more than half an hour ago! Were you concerned for your safety? What folly," he chided himself, "I should have taken you with me to the storerooms rather than abandon you so carelessly!" Catherine laid a gloved hand on his arm and gave a small, sparkling laugh at his speech. "Indeed, Uncle" she grinned, "Make yourself easy, I am completely well! I am afraid I have remained here out of country ignorance and astonishment at my surroundings, not from fear or worry. I have spent the entire time starring rudely at every soul that pa.s.sed my way, desperate to understand who they are and what they are about!"

Matthews gave a deep rumbling laugh at her report, his eyes twinkling with merriment at the honest p.r.o.nouncement. The lieutenant looked at his young niece, and was astonished anew by her changed appearance. War with France had kept him away from his family for most of a year, and in that time Catherine had blossomed from a carefree tomboy into a startlingly beautiful young woman. She stood before him in an elegant empire gown of finest muslin, topped by a pelisse of cornflower blue that matched her laughing eyes. Her thick, golden hair was carefully arranged under a straw bonnet, but a few stray tendrils escaped to curl loosely about the sides of her heart-shaped face. Fashion of the day dictated a pale complexion for a woman but Catherine's undeniable love of the outdoors produced a deeper rose in her cheeks than conventional tastes would prefer. "And all the better for it," thought Matthews, "For she does not look a silly, wilting hothouse flower, but a true English rose."

"Come," Matthews said with fatherly affection, tucking her small hand into the crook of his arm "We must get underway dear girl." At his words, the smile that seemed ever present in Catherine's face wavered a moment. Matthews' watchful eye noticed the change and he paused in his step. "Catherine," he rumbled softly, "I know how difficult this journey must seem to you, how frightened you must be..." Catherine pulled her gaze away from his a moment, but when she next looked at her uncle her features were composed once more. "You are mistaken, Uncle" she replied with some effort; "I am prepared.... Indeed, I am more than prepared for what lies ahead...." She trailed off uncertainly but gave the lieutenant a quick smile of encouragement. The knowing man was not fooled by Catherine's efforts, but he could not help but admire her nerve and firm resolve. With great tenderness Matthews led her to where an awaiting skiff lay ready to transport them to his captain's vessel, the HMS Triton. Catherine took one last look at the bustling banks of Portsmouth and nodded her readiness to her uncle. Matthews gave her hand a firm squeeze and handed aboard this most precious cargo to depart for Jamaica.

Chapter II.

The men at the oars set a quick pace for themselves, piloting Catherine and her uncle over the smooth water with ease. Despite her reservations about what awaited her at journey's end, she thrilled at this exhilarating moment on the open sea. After days spent traveling in a noisy, crowded, uncomfortable stage coach, Catherine felt a great sense of freedom as they crossed the sea surface. A slight breeze stirred the water and tore loose tendrils of hair from her carefully twisted knot. She gave a small chuckle of delight at the sensation, the salt air stinging her checks to even brighter color. At long last Catherine was freed from the drab rigor and routine of her former boarding school. The cold stone buildings, and the even colder matrons, were but a distant memory on this bright summer day at sea. Jamaica and all its difficulties still lay ahead, but Catherine was determined to seize the beauty of this moment, and worry about the future when it made itself present.

In short order the oarsmen brought the small skiff alongside the enormous bulk of HMS Triton. Catherine starred up in awe at its immense presence: two towering decks boasting 74 guns and countless berths made up the lower portion of the ship; topping all of this was a main deck that stretched over 180 feet in length from stem to stern. Far above the deck soared three enormous masts that carried the sails of the square-rigger. Catherine had heard many stories of HMS Triton from her uncle, none of which did justice to the awesome splendor of this magnificent vessel. The jet black hull with its gold embellishments glittered in the morning sun like a living thing. Catherine had developed great skill in sketching and painting while at school, and her eager eyes scanned every detail of the ship, committing them to memory until her nimble fingers held a paintbrush once more.

Matthews watched his niece's expressive face with delight, thrilled at the way in which she took in the scene before her. For two years now, the HMS Triton had been his home and he was more than a little proud to show off its beauty to one of his family. Four hundred men made up the Triton's able crew, and they had been well tested in recent years in the war against Napoleon. The ship had seen action countless times, from the coast of France to the Mediterranean, and in every instance HMS Triton had proved victorious. Matthews knew the ship well, knew how capable a vessel she was to any task the Admiralty set for her; but Matthews also knew that much of the ship's success rested in its adept handling by his captain, John Knight.

Captain Knight was several years Matthews' junior, but his skill at sea suggested the wisdom and capabilities of a man far older. He had rapidly moved up the chain of command within His Majesty's Navy through hard work and skilled decision making. Knight was a born leader, carefully choosing and shaping his crew, working every moment to get the best out of his men and HMS Triton. In a time of war, when captains necessarily ruled with an iron fist, Knight commanded his men with respect and led by his own brave example. He demanded much of every soul onboard, but no more than he demanded of himself. He deservedly held the respect of every crewman aboard HMS Triton for his sound judgment and skill. The men in return held their captain in the highest esteem, loyally giving their all in tribute to his careful management of the ship and their very lives.

All these thoughts raced about Matthews' head as the skiff made its final approach to the Triton's accommodation ladder. Matthews stepped lightly up the ladder, watching Catherine's progress behind him until they finally came level with the deck. Catherine's keen eye was captured afresh by the incredible scene that met her there. Everywhere men bustled to their urgent tasks, the ship teaming with activity as marines paraded at drill, men climbed rigging, ropes were coiled, and the business of a ship of war busily continued. At her uncle's approach, a handful of officers stepped forward and stood to attention. Matthews nimbly hoisted his bulky frame over the side, landing on the deck with the lightness of a cat. Catherine grinned at the image, seeing in this one movement how at home her uncle was...o...b..ard a ship a more so than he ever appeared to be on land. Lieutenant Matthews greeted the men quickly, and then returned to his niece. Catherine placed one hand in Matthews extended grasp and looked down a moment to find her footing. Her head lifted up in surprise; however, as her other hand was caught and held in a powerful grip.

Catherine's startled gaze met with the imposing frame of the HMS Triton's leader, Captain John Knight. He towered before her, well over six feet tall and powerfully built, with broad shoulders that reminded her of a figure from a Cla.s.sical painting. His jet black hair was short-cropped and curled about his head to frame a strong, deeply tanned face with an aquiline nose and sharp cheekbones. He was dressed in full uniform and Catherine could not help but notice how the captain's dark eyes seemed to match the deep shade of his naval jacket; they were the most intense blue color she had ever seen. Catherine blushed as she realized how she was starring, and quickly looked down before stepping lightly aboard with the aid of her uncle and his captain.

"Captain John Knight," Lieutenant Matthews proclaimed warmly, "I present to you my niece, Miss Catherine Gibson." Catherine bowed in curtsey at the introduction and received a strict bow from the captain in return. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Gibson" the Captain replied formally, his low voice cool in tone. Her own words came haltingly as she returned his greeting: "I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well, Captain" she replied. "My uncle has told me a great deal about you... about his life onboard the Triton," she stammered. "I am very grateful you agreed to grant me pa.s.sage to Jamaica. It is very... very kind of you." she finished awkwardly. The captain looked at Catherine a long time, taking in her careful, elegant attire so completely at odds with the rough surroundings of the ship. His lips twisted with wry amus.e.m.e.nt; "I am afraid your grat.i.tude is misplaced, Miss Gibson" Knight replied brusquely. "As I am sure your uncle has told you, I do not believe in allowing women onboard a ship of war." Catherine started somewhat at his frank words and felt the smile fall from her face. Her uncle had made such comments to her before, in his tales of life at sea, but when she had been notified by her father's agent in London that pa.s.sage had been secured aboard HMS Triton, she a.s.sumed it had been with the captain's full agreement. "I think you should know that your presence on this ship is at the direction of the Admiralty, not by my desire..... It would appear that your father has some very fine connections" Captain Knight finished dryly. Matthews gave an uncomfortable cough while a flush of color came into Catherine's cheeks at the captain's words. This journey was neither her wish nor want, and to be accused of manipulating her way onboard was offensive to this young woman of integrity. Catherine's eyes sparked with anger as she met the Captain's gaze and replied sharply: "I apologize, sir, that my presence gives you such offense. I will endeavor to keep out of your way and I am sure, given your sentiments, that you will do the same."

Knight's eyes glittered dangerously and a stern note of warning entered his voice; "Miss Gibson, you are to be transported to Jamaica as quickly as my duty will allow but know that while onboard you are at my command, the same as any other soul here. You will follow my instructions, obey my wishes, and avoid any interference with the efficient management of this ship. Foster!" he barked to a young deck hand who came racing forward at the command. "Mister Foster will show you to your cabin, Miss Gibson. Your things will be brought to you there directly. We sail in one hour. We will meet again for supper in my cabin at precisely 8pm. Good day to you" he finished curtly and strode away without a backward glance.

Catherine remained rooted to the spot in mortification. "Uncle," she implored softly as Matthews touched her on the arm. "You should have told me. You should have said something before we left Portsmouth..." Her uncle grabbed her hand tightly in his own and gave her an affectionate squeeze before speaking: "I am so sorry, dear Catherine. I did not know how to tell you. I know how hard it is for you to make this journey; I did not want to add to your distress. I am so terribly sorry my dear." "It is true, then" Catherine replied flatly, "My father has used his influence to gain my pa.s.sage to Jamaica? He has forced the captain's hand?" Matthews could only nod in mute agreement. Catherine felt the weight of this knowledge settle heavy on her soul. She gave a wan smile of resignation and patted her uncle's arm as she prepared to go. "It will be alright," her uncle proclaimed with more conviction than he felt. "It will, dear girl. You'll see". She nodded once more, and then stepped forward to follow the young cabin boy to what would be her home for this already troubling journey.

Chapter III.

Tom Foster, the cabin boy, led Catherine to a small, spare room on the ship's first level. Though of no great size, it boasted a bed, a small writing desk with a suspended lantern, a silvered gla.s.s on one wall, and a built in wardrobe opposite. A small porthole window looked out onto the sea. To Catherine's surprise the s.p.a.ce was immaculately clean, not at all the dark, uncomfortable s.p.a.ce she imagined a ship's cabin to be. Tom settled her small bag at the foot of the bed and shyly asked if he could be of any further service. Catherine gave the young boy a kind smile and insisted that she would do very well in the cabin until the rest of her belongings arrived. "We sail almost immediately," the young boy interjected nervously. "You might wish to stay below as we get under sail...." he stammered, trying to advise her on how his captain would likely wish things to proceed. "But once we're under way," he finished "you should come on deck, Miss. It's a beautiful sight when we first make way." Catherine caught Tom's well-intentioned meaning and agreed to his plan. "Yes, Tom. That sounds lovely. I shall do exactly that." The boy grinned hugely, grateful that she'd understood his kindly advice. He left in a flash to return to his work while Catherine settled into her new lodgings.

Removing her bonnet and pelisse, Catherine stretched out on the bed and allowed the events of the day to run unchecked through her mind. It seemed like an eternity since she had risen at the small Portsmouth inn and prepared for departure to her new life. The many strange sights she had encountered pa.s.sed through her memory in rapid succession, but each was quickly interrupted by a recurring image of Captain Knight's face, his look dark and unforgiving, as he told her how little welcome she was on board his ship. Catherine gave a small groan of remorse and turned her face into the pillow. She was no timid flower to shrink from this information, but added to the weight of knowledge she already bore about her journey, it seemed more than her innocent heart could carry.

Without intending too, the exhausted Catherine drifted off into an uneasy sleep. The sounds and motions of the ship as it took sail did not rouse her and she did not awake until many hours later. When she finally came to in the unaccustomed s.p.a.ce, the sun was low in the sky outside her cabin window. She struggled to remember where she was, to understand the strange motion of the room. As awareness dawned on her, Catherine became aware of another, discomforting realization: her senses were in utter turmoil. Although the breeze was steady and the motion of the ship quite gentle for anyone accustomed to the sea, to Catherine a at sail for the first time a it was absolute torture. She grimaced at the realization, and was grateful for the fact that she had hardly eaten all day in their hurry to depart. She sat up slowly on the side of the bed, attempting to still her spinning head.

At the same moment, a gentle tap sounded on the cabin door. Clutching the bed post and the desk in turn, Catherine groped her way to the door and then gave an enormous effort to pull herself up straight to answer the summons. Outside, a shy, smiling Tom Foster stood waiting with her trunk. "I'm sorry to bother you, miss" he said, "I came by earlier but there was no response." "Oh, I am sorry to have caused you such trouble" Catherine mumbled feebly, fighting the waves of dizziness she felt. "I...I guess I must have been a bit tired after my long journey." The boy looked curiously into her face and read the signs of distress that she tried so hard to conceal. He hesitated a moment before he spoke: "I brought your trunk miss, as it is almost time for supper. It's just... Captain Knight is quite punctual about meals, miss. I thought you would want your things to prepare for supper?" The thought of eating sent another dizzying wave throughout Catherine's body. She closed her eyes a moment and nodded to the boy, "Yes, just so" she replied, her dark lashes sweeping against her pale face. "Please bring the trunk inside, Tom" and she motioned him into the room. The boy moved quickly and settled the trunk, then took the extra step of opening the lid for her in an effort to help in her moment of distress. He looked at Catherine with compa.s.sion as she slowly moved to the writing desk and gingerly settled in the chair. "I'll leave you now, miss" Tom said but made no movement to go, waiting instead for a sign from her, some request to be excused from supper. But Catherine was made of sterner stuff; she gave the boy another weak smile and said, "I shall be there directly."

When the door clicked closed, Catherine moved as fast as her aching head could manage. She would not allow the captain to see her distress or to accuse her of ill manners for not accepting his invitation. She reached into her trunk and retrieved a few toiletries, and a silk chemise of softest pink to change into for dinner. Painstakingly slow, she prepared for the meal, every movement requiring the greatest of effort. When Catherine at last managed to complete her dress, she tried next to arrange her hair into some semblance of order. Several long curls escaped the effort of her hands and she finally gave up on them and allowed them to fall around her face. She looked in the gla.s.s and gave a small grimace at the pale face that looked back at her. An urgent rap at the door drew her attention and she went to answer it a second time. The anxious face of Tom Foster met her once more. His eyes were full of apology as he performed his required duty: "I'm sorry, miss, but the captain asked me to fetch you to supper directly. It is well past the hour" he stammered, trying to balance duty to his captain with his great sympathy for Miss Gibson's obvious discomfort. "Oh, of course, Tom" she replied. "Could I ask you to please lead me there?" The young boy stepped aside as Catherine exited her room. After just a few small steps she paused, swaying on her feet, then reached for his arm in support. The boy flushed to the roots of his hair at the contact but he manfully kept hold of her arm as he led her through the maze of pa.s.sageways to the captain's cabin.

The stateroom of the HMS Triton was an intensely masculine s.p.a.ce. The dark paneled walls, heavy oaken furniture, and weighty draperies of dark green were perfectly at home amidst the serious business of a ship of the line. No feminine touch lit any corner of this somber room; nor had any female ever been present inside its forbidding walls. In this room, on this most unusual night, the senior officers of the Triton were nervously shifting about in their accustomed places. Only one chair at the table remained empty a that reserved for Miss Gibson a and upon that chair Captain Knight delivered a withering look of contempt. Dinner was to begin at 8 o'clock; it was now half past the hour.

"Foster," the captain had finally called with disgust, "You will please find out Miss Gibson." The cabin boy had quickly hurried from the room and those who remained fell silent. The gathering had started well enough with the men joking good naturedly about the beautiful woman Matthews had smuggled aboard. Matthews had basked in their compliments to his niece with great pride, and even Captain Knight had shared a slight smile at their words. But as the hour to dine had come then pa.s.sed, and the celebrated lady did not arrive, the clever talk and good humor began to fade. To men engaged in the efficient handling of a British ship of war, punctuality was an absolute necessity; especially on a day such as this when the business of getting a ship underway had kept most men from eating since morning.

Into this inhospitable clime, a very ill Catherine entered, clinging to the arm of young Foster in support. The boy led Catherine to her place at table and she gratefully sank into her chair at last. Every man rose at her arrival then resumed their seats as she was settled. Her uncle caught her eye and delivered a firm look of reprimand that was completely alien to his usual jolly manner with the girl. Catherine felt deep remorse for having so embarra.s.sed her uncle by her lateness, but the horrible dizzying sensations in her head kept her from speaking. An uncomfortable hush settled on the room, each man waiting for some word to free them from this nervous tension. Finally, with Herculean effort, Catherine found her voice and addressed the men: "I do beg your pardon, gentlemen, for joining you so late. I am afraid I... I took longer to prepare than I intended...." She trailed off miserably. The officers in their great hospitality were quick to murmur a.s.sent, a.s.suring her that all was well. But one look at the captain convinced Catherine otherwise. He made no acknowledgement of her speech and instead called sharply to the porter: "We dine now."

At Captain Knight's command, the places were quickly set with steaming bowls of broth, loaves of bread, and generous quant.i.ties of wine. On any other occasion, Catherine would have been delighted at the well prepared meal set before her. The ship's fare and fine table settings were the equal to any she had shared in a country manor house. However, on this occasion, Catherine could only stare at the bounty before her in utter dismay. Under the table, she fiercely kept grip on the side of her chair with her right hand, willing herself in place. Her left hand rose tremblingly forward and picked up her spoon. As she struggled with the problem of what to do next, a question from her tablemate caught her attention: "Did you have an opportunity to go above decks as we departed?" asked the junior lieutenant opposite her, anxious to engage the lovely young woman before him; "It is always a glorious sight as we get underway" he finished with friendly enthusiasm. "Ah, ..... no..." Catherine responded uncomfortably. She stirred the soup in front of her, unable to even contemplate taking a bite, and tried desperately to think of a proper response to the young man's question: "I have been in my cabin since coming aboard earlier" she said curtly, with neither the will, nor the clarity of mind to come up with a better, more civil answer. The young man looked somewhat abashed at her unceremonious reply while Captain Knight's face drew tight with scorn. Knight glared at Catherine as he addressed her coldly: "I know this is not exactly a society ballroom, Miss Gibson. But I would have thought the operation of the ship might hold some interest for you." Catherine blushed at his criticism, fully aware how badly her behavior must look to the Captain and his men. She raised her head to meet his gaze and replied levelly; "The ship is of great fascination to me, Captain. I am anxious to explore the Triton... I hope I might even be allowed to make some sketches of the ship, of the men at their tasks?" she finished hopefully. Captain Knight looked at her flatly and replied, "As long as you keep out of the men's way and offer no further disruption of their duties." His pointed barb was well aimed and Catherine's head lowered in embarra.s.sment.

Trying to prevent further offense, Catherine avoided any more attempts at conversation. While the men spoke to each other of the day's activities, she busily stirred her soup and picked at her bread, giving the impression of eating without ever actually taking a bite. Her body was in agony at the effort, her spinning head made her want nothing more than to lie down and sleep the entire journey to Jamaica. She struggled valiantly to keep herself in order and felt a great sense of relief as the porter finally removed the offending food from in front of her. Catherine's relief was short lived, however, for to her great dismay she was presented with an immense second course a a plate loaded with mutton and vegetables. As the men tucked into their food with great relish, Catherine began to tremble, fighting back tears as another dizzying wave pa.s.sed over her. How on earth could she manage her way through this? Captain Knight chose this inopportune moment to attend his duties as host: "Miss Gibson, you are very quiet" he said, "May I ask how you enjoy our humble ship's fare? I trust the meal, at least, is to your liking?"

It was too much. Catherine looked in helpless silence at the captain, her blue eyes watery in her ashen face. She turned to her uncle and gave her head a small shake of resignation, then stood up in a sudden, violent motion that knocked over her winegla.s.s in the process. Lieutenant Matthews, Captain Knight and every man at table watched in startled surprise as she turned on her heel and quickly left the room.

Captain Knight kept staring at the door a long moment after her departure, his eyes burning with anger at Miss Gibson's complete incivility. Lieutenant Matthews reddened in embarra.s.sment as he began to offer apologies for his niece: ""This is most unusual, Captain" Matthews mumbled, "Most unusual. She is normally a very sensible child; I cannot imagine what she is thinking. I will go speak to the girl...." he trailed off uncertainly. At these less than charitable words, Tom Foster sprang forward suddenly to Catherine's defense. "Sir!" the cabin boy cried with great feeling. Each man turned in surprise at Tom's cry; the boy was painfully shy and such a loud outburst from him was completely out of character. "Sir,...." Tom began again, uncertainly. Tom had been watching Catherine the entire time from his position of duty by the stateroom door, his heart filled with pity as he watched her struggle. At Matthews' poor defense of the young lady, however, Tom could remain silent no longer: "I believe...," he stammered, "I believe Miss Gibson might... might want some... some ginger tea...." he stuttered. Captain Knight raised his eyebrows in surprise and a guilty look of realization came to Matthews' face. "Ginger tea?" the captain enquired: "Miss Gibson is unwell?" Ginger tea was well known as a cure for illness at sea a but it was not an item much in demand on a ship such as this with a well-seasoned crew. "Yes, ginger tea" the boy responded again simply. Lieutenant Matthews cursed himself silently then asked the captain for leave to find his niece. Captain Knight readily agreed to the request, then called to the porter and ordered the calming tea for Miss Gibson's cabin. As the porter turned to attend his duty, the captain made one further request: "You will also take bread and some of the best fruit from my stores. When Miss Gibson is feeling herself again she will be in need of some refreshment."

Catherine, lying ill at ease in her cabin under her uncle's watchful eye, would never know of this small kindness. When she rose in the morning, refreshed from her sleep and at peace finally with the motion of the ship, she enjoyed the offering of bread and fruit with great relish, never once imagining it was a kindness of the captain's, not her uncle's.

Chapter IV.

The following day dawned bright and clear, golden rays lighting the sky and streaming into the tiny cabin where Catherine lay at rest. She blinked slowly against the growing light, long lashes sweeping across pale cheekbones. As consciousness returned, Catherine was delighted to find she was feeling completely herself once more. The dizzying sickness of the previous day was long past. Catherine stretched languorously in her bed, enjoying her returned sense of well-being. Her relief was tempered, however, by the memory of her ungracious departure from the captain's table. The events of the previous evening came flooding back to her, filling her with a fresh sense of humiliation. When her uncle had found her in her cabin last night he was all kindness, a.s.suring Catherine none had taken offense at her unusual departure. Catherine had not been convinced by her uncle's words then and a deep flush came into her face now as she remembered the captain's stern face as she retreated from table. "He must think me a complete fool" Catherine moaned with dismay. To date, her encounters with Captain John Knight had been nothing short of disastrous. While she held no notion of ever becoming a close acquaintance of the somber, unyielding captain, Catherine did wish to at least have something of his respect. Giving herself a stern shake, she pushed aside troubling ideas of Captain Knight and rose from her bed, determined to make a fresh start.

Despite the early hour, Catherine felt the need to make up for lost time. She raced to dress so she might finally spend some time on deck. From her trunk she chose a long sleeved dress of pure white muslin, the neck of which was trimmed in embroidery. Over this, Catherine added a soft grey pelisse and a wide-brimmed straw hat which she tied loosely under her chin with a ribbon of blue that matched her eyes. The effect was altogether striking, accentuating the golden shade of her hair and her intensely blue eyes. Catherine, as usual, was oblivious to the image she created. She was too concerned with gathering her sketch pad and pencils, eager to be on deck capturing the many details of the ship she had witnessed when she first arrived.

As Catherine ascended the ship's stairs and emerged on the quarterdeck, her breath caught at the spectacle before her. The HMS Triton at rest was an impressive thing; but now, under full sail she was a living, breathing creature of unsurpa.s.sed beauty. From all three masts, square-rigged sails flew like birds' wings, coaxing the ship forward with their strong fluid motion; miles of ropes criss-crossed in complex designs, like elaborate spider webs; and everywhere in the action of the ship's crew were the precise measured motions of men long experienced in life at sea. Catherine smiled hugely at it all, her every sense awakened by this wondrous sight.

Catherine moved forward across the deck. At almost every step, a member of the crew would turn in greeting, respectfully touching hand to forehead with a kind, "Good morrow, Miss Gibson" at her approach. Catherine shyly returned their welcome, with only a quick word to each man. She longed to talk with them at length, to ask them so many questions about the ship and their work, but she feared the captain's wrath if she was found keeping the men from their duties. Instead, she filed the questions away, awaiting the time later in the morning when her uncle would be free to show her around the ship. As Catherine reached the s.p.a.ce directly below the main mast she stopped and turned in a slow circle. The early morning sun cast golden rays across the sea, lighting the sails of HMS Triton in brilliant hues of crimson and gold. Catherine longed to paint these vivid colors but would not risk interrupting the work of the ship by setting herself up amidst a jumble of paints and canvas. Instead, Catherine asked one of the men for someplace she might sit out of harm's way with her sketchbook. The sailor obliged by leading Catherine to an area next to the rail, bringing a small barrel for her to use as a seat. Catherine settled in at once and opened her sketchbook. Her quick eye and faster hand created several small studies of the scenes about her: the network of rigging; the pattern of the ship's rail; even a rough sketch of the view from her vantage point to the ship's bow. Catherine was completely engaged in capturing the scenes before her, looking up only to study an object before committing it to paper. Her intelligent mind was completely absorbed with its task, leaving her unaware that she was being watched in turn.

When Captain Knight left his cabin and entered the quarter deck, his knowing eye had quickly discovered Catherine at her position near the ship's rail. The captain watched with rapt attention as the young woman sketched. The same bright sun that had drawn Catherine's artistic eye was making a beautiful study of her as well. Amid the sharp lines and masculine order of the ship's main deck, Catherine was an oasis of soft, feminine beauty. The sun's rays played across her fine figure, highlighting the beautiful planes of her face, the gentle curves of her body, and the elegant motion of her hands as they moved across the surface of her sketchbook. Knight could not help but be struck by her beauty. Catherine was undoubtedly one of the handsomest women he had ever encountered, yet she had none of the vain pride so often found in beautiful women. Knight marveled a moment longer at this strange creature then moved across the deck to greet Catherine.

The captain's shadow fell across Catherine's sketchbook and she looked up in startled surprise. After the debacle of last night's supper party and his repeated warnings against interrupting the work of the ship, Catherine found she was at a loss as to how to greet the captain. She murmured a quiet, "Good morning, Captain Knight.... I hope I am not... intruding....." blushing as she spoke. She quickly rose to her feet, dropping her sketchbook in the process. She burned in humiliation at her awkwardness around this man and struggled to retain her composure. The captain searched her face a long moment, his unflinching gaze taking in her embarra.s.sment. A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth but he gallantly collected the sketchbook and held it out to Catherine without a word. She took his offering with a trembling hand, all the while cursing herself for her lack of control. She gave her head a small, defiant shake and drew herself up to squarely meet his look, determined not to speak another word until he himself spoke.

Captain Knight noted the look of determination that came into her face, the stiff pride in her stance as she met his gaze. He gave in to her unspoken challenge, and the whisper of humor that teased the corners of his mouth broke free into a full, dazzling smile. Catherine was completely taken aback by the transformation in his face; his strong, stern features softened, coming alive with humor and good will. He seemed another person entirely as the broad grin lit his handsome eyes. Catherine could not help but smile in return. "You are early to work, Miss Gibson," Knight said in rich tones. "Despite my earlier comments, you are not required to take a turn at watch during our journey" he finished dryly. Catherine reddened again at the reference to their earlier encounters but she held her ground; "Indeed, Captain, I must admit that I was most eager to start the day today. My uncle has told me much about the HMS Triton but I think nothing could prepare me for the beauty of the ship in person. She is an incredible creature" Catherine finished as she looked about admiringly. Captain Knight regarded Catherine quizzically. It was obvious her comments were genuine, but such sentiments about a naval war ship seemed out of place coming from a young woman of society. In his experience, such women could find little beauty beyond their personal fashions or the trappings of the drawing room. "I am all astonishment at your enthusiasm, Miss Gibson," replied the Captain: "I would think that to a lady of your background the workings of a ship would seem pedestrian at best." Catherine stiffened immediately at his reference to her upbringing. She could not help but remember Captain Knight's initial comments about her father's connections, and how those connections had forced his hand to bring her aboard. "I am sorry, Captain, that I do not meet your expectations of a lady of society" Catherine replied, her blue eyes sparking with anger. "In future I shall endeavor to better play my part. If you will please excuse me, I will take up no more of your time" she finished sharply and then left for her cabin. Captain Knight's face tightened into its customary stern look. He watched his strange pa.s.senger's every step as she crossed the deck and entered the hatchway. As Catherine disappeared from view his mouth settled into a firm line of resolve: having this young woman aboard was a great mistake. The best course of action was to complete the journey to Jamaica as quickly as possible. With this in mind, Captain Knight returned to the ship's wheel and began relaying orders to his men. The HMS Triton was capable of great speed and Captain Knight was determined to use this power to reach Jamaica with all haste.

Chapter V.

Later that same morning, Lieutenant Matthews was moving quickly across the upper gun deck, finishing his tasks with alacrity. Normally a driven man, his eagerness and diligence in completing orders on this day served to further astonish the younger men of his crew. They nudged each other, winking playfully as he sped from one task to the next. "Mr. Matthews," shouted one of the hands, "you seem in a rush to quit our fine company today!" The others laughed good-naturedly in agreement while Matthews smiled broadly. "I cannot help it if you poor brutes can't keep up with an old man!" he said, grinning at them in his joy. The men laughingly returned to their work; they knew his great fondness for the young girl that had joined them for their voyage. Often in the ship's mess he had regaled the crew with stories of Catherine's adventures with his own children. His talk then and his actions now made it more than plain that Matthews thought of her as one of his own.

"The guns have been cleaned and the charges lay ready for this afternoon's exercises, sir." Matthews reported to his stern faced captain. Captain Knight looked at Matthews with an attempt at reserve but the older man's infectious good will tempered his coolness. "Very good, Mr. Matthews," Captain Knight began; "You seem to be more than usually diligent. Whatever can be inspiring such activity today?" he finished with a wry smile. "Ahh!" Matthews harrumphed, flashing a wicked grin at his captain, "Sure you know, sir, that I have a lovely girl awaiting me. Catherine will have unpacked her trunk by now and I'm sure she's brought me some treasure from home!" "Of course, Mr. Matthews," Knight replied with warmth. "Well, off with you then; I would not wish to disrupt the young lady's entertainment with the work of a ship."

Captain Knight watched Matthews race off in search of Miss Gibson with amused curiosity. That she should elicit familial feeling in the lieutenant was understandable a she was his niece after all. But this exuberant display of sentiment on Matthews' part had Knight utterly perplexed. Matthews was one of the strongest men in his crew, one whose common sense and fierce nerve Knight had often relied on in difficult situations. To see such a man scampering about the ship like a young schoolboy in search of this outspoken girl was beyond his reasoning. The very existence of such a close bond between Matthews and Miss Gibson was incomprehensible to Knight. That the daughter of such a powerful, wealthy man should spend so much time with the family of a common sailor was certainly outside of the normal societal conventions. Knight's encounter with Catherine that morning came back to him once more and he frowned at the remembrance. How such a haughty young woman could be so tightly connected to a simple, honest man as Matthews seemed beyond all comprehension.

Below decks in Catherine's cabin, Lieutenant Matthews sat with eyes closed and hands outstretched, eagerly awaiting his promised present from home. Catherine laughed delightedly at the spectacle a she loved her uncle's great spirit and the kindness reflected in his honest face at moments like these. "You must guess the prize first, Uncle" she said with mock seriousness. "Hmmmmm..." Matthews mused, "Could it be one of Mrs. Matthews' delicious pies?" "No," Catherine laughed, remembering fondly how this same silly game would play out each year at Christmas in the Matthews' family household. Gathered around the fireplace, the exchange of their simple but heartfelt gifts was always a matter of great humor and joy. The small, intimate rituals of her uncle and aunt on these occasions were a welcome respite from the cold reserve always on display at her boarding school. The love Matthews and Aunt Elizabeth held for one another was undeniable, and to be included in such a union along with the Matthews' children was one of Catherine's greatest pleasures. Theirs was the only family life Catherine had ever truly known. Memories of her mother had all but faded over time, and as for memories of her father.....

"You must guess again, Uncle" Catherine implored, trying to keep her spirits even. She willed herself not to be sad at the thought of leaving this family behind, of never returning to England. Nor would she allow her thoughts to stray to Jamaica and of what awaited her there. "Is it a fancy new pair of shoes for dancing?" Matthews guessed mischievously. "No!" Catherine exclaimed in delight. As she finally held forth the promised gift to her uncle, a small doubt crept into her mind. She desperately wanted to please her uncle, to show her affection for both him and his family with the token she offered. Catherine bit her lip nervously as Matthews grabbed the offered present with his large hands. He opened one eye in a joking, tentative wink, but both eyes immediately flew open in astonishment at what they found there. "Catherine..." the lieutenant whispered softly. In his hands was a beautiful oil painting of the Matthews clan, executed brilliantly by Catherine; Matthews himself sat proudly in the foreground, Mrs. Matthews stood behind, her hand resting lovingly on his shoulder, and at their feet sat the three sons of their union. Matthews's eyes swept from one detail to another, astonished at the beauty of the painting, the love so clearly reflected in each pose. He ran his hands over the painting, marveling anew at his wife's great beauty, undiminished after twenty years of marriage; he was taken aback by the great changes in the sons he had not seen for a year. Unaccustomed tears came to the lieutenant's eyes and his words caught in his throat.

"Well, Uncle," Catherine said nervously: "What do you think? Are you... are you pleased?" Lieutenant Matthews looked at Catherine with great pride; "It is by your hand, Catherine?" he asked quietly. "Yes, Uncle" Catherine spoke shyly. "I tried my very best....." she trailed off uncertainly. The lieutenant came to his feet and wrapped his niece in an enormous embrace. Catherine returned his hug with great affection, tears falling from her eyes at his response. "There is but one thing wrong with it, Catherine" Matthews said as he pulled back slightly. Catherine's brows knit together seriously, "Oh what? What can it be uncle?" she asked worriedly. "You missed a most important part of the Matthews family. You have forgotten to paint yourself" he said simply. At his words Catherine's reserve broke and her tears fell in earnest. Matthews held her in his arms, gently rocking her as though she was a little child again. "Oh dear girl, my own dear girl" he repeated over and over as she wept her loneliness, frustration and fear into his comforting breast.

Chapter VI.

On this second evening when the tap came, Catherine was ready. She opened the door to her cabin at once and found a grinning Tom Foster at her threshold. "Good evening, miss" he said shyly. "Good evening Tom," Catherine responded with warmth. "Shall you escort me to the captain's table?" she asked with a smile. "Yes, miss, if you please" the young boy answered with great pride. Catherine stepped forward and once again took the cabin boy's arm. He led her, unselfconsciously this time, through the pa.s.sageways of the quarter deck to Captain Knight's dining room.

When Catherine entered the room, every eye turned to her in frank admiration. Her golden hair was carefully arranged in a twisted knot at the base of her neck, and held in place by a blue silk ribbon shot through with threads of gold. Her empire gown of ivory silk was elegantly trimmed at the waist with the same ribbon, and against her throat rested a heavy gold locket. She shone like a rare jewel in the light from the cabin's candles. The men at table were visibly struck by the beautiful figure before them as they came to their feet. Catherine blushed slightly as she took in their appraising glances. She thanked Tom for his a.s.sistance and quickly seated herself at the table, carefully avoiding any look to the head of the table where the captain stood. Catherine was resolute she would make a success of tonight's supper. After last night's miserable attempt at this same table, and her morning argument with Captain Knight, she was determined to pa.s.s this evening's gathering with decorum and civility. Catherine caught her uncle's eye and he winked broadly at his niece; she grinned quickly in return as she settled her napkin in her lap.

"I am glad to have you join us once again" the captain said in his low voice. Catherine steeled her nerves a moment then looked to the head of the table where he sat. "I thank you for the invitation, sir" she said quickly; "You are most generous." Her eyes were caught and held by his a long moment. In the candlelight his eyes seemed almost black; two inscrutable pools of glittering light. She could feel the heat rising in her face as he took a frank, appraising look at her. Finally, with a slight nod, he turned his gaze away and began issuing instructions to the porter for the evening meal. Catherine gave a small sigh of relief and settled in to enjoy the gathering.

As the courses were unveiled, Catherine marveled again at the quality of the food set before them. The dinner was as fine as anything she had enjoyed at a country manor, but with one difference: the company was by far superior here onboard the HMS Triton. There was none of the old, worn out society talk that she encountered at every 'good' table she visited at home in England. All around her, the officers spoke with intelligence and great wit. This was no collection of rough sailors as some would have led her to believe. The men of Captain Knight's crew were well-read, thinking men capable of deep conversation, as well as of action. Each engaged Catherine in turn with details about the ship, the duties they performed, and how they came to sail aboard the Triton. Every man spoke with warmth and enthusiasm and it was clear to Catherine that each had been carefully chosen and trained by Captain Knight. It was obvious they all held the captain in the highest regard and she tried to reconcile this idea with her own image of Captain Knight.

From the other end of the table, Captain Knight was experiencing a similar difficulty. Although he did not engage Catherine directly in conversation, he caught every word she spoke to her tablemates. He was surprised at the depth of the questions she asked about the ship and the work she had viewed while escorted by her uncle earlier in the day. She seemed to have caught every detail and was deeply interested to know more, to understand how all the pieces fit together. Knight tried to resolve the notion of this eager, inquiring mind with the haughty, proud indifference he had met with earlier. He could find no explanation that suited him as he listened to her conversations with the others.

"Miss Gibson," a young midshipman began, "I must compliment you on your artistic skill. Lieutenant Matthews has been proudly showing off your painting to us all" he finished with a smile. Matthews beamed at his niece and Catherine bent her head in embarra.s.sment. "She is a fine painter, is she not?" Matthews enthused. "She even managed to make an old tar like me look a respectable gentleman!" he said with great mirth, and the men all joined in on the laughter. "Indeed," said the deep voice of the captain in acknowledgement, "You are a painter of great skill, Miss Gibson." Catherine looked at the captain, then back to her uncle before speaking: "You have seen the painting as well, captain?" she asked.

"Yes. And I thought it a very fine work. You obviously have a great talent to share" he said with sincerity. Catherine did not know how to respond to this generous comment and only nodded her head in small thanks. After a moment's pause she spoke aloud; "I hope that I might be allowed to complete some paintings of the ship while I am onboard, Captain Knight, if you are agreeable?" Captain Knight looked at her, and then gave another of those rare smiles that so completely transformed him. "I would be most honored if you would" he agreed. Catherine smiled in return and felt some of her former anxiety slip away from her. She returned to her meal and the conversation of her companions with renewed enjoyment.

At length, the evening drew to a close, and talk at the table turned to their destination of Jamaica. The men debated on the length of time it would take to reach Kingston, the weather to be encountered en route, and the changed sights they would find on their arrival at the busy harbor. As they spoke, Catherine seemed to withdraw into herself. Matthews watched his niece guardedly, concern writ large all over his face. Captain Knight noted the change in both of their behavior and watched the pair with curiosity. Matthews was as open and honest a man as Knight had ever served with, but something was obviously being held secret between the lieutenant and his niece. Knight felt a p.r.i.c.k of annoyance at this mystery that was playing out on his own ship but he would not seek explanation from either Matthews or the girl; his sense of personal honor and his regard for Matthews would never allow it.

As the discussion of Jamaica continued, the boatswain attempted to engage the lovely Catherine in this talk as well: "You must be excited yourself, miss, to see the many changes in Kingston since last you were there." Catherine's face burned red as she attempted a response: "You are mistaken, sir," she replied haltingly, "I shall note no change as this will be my first trip to Jamaica." Conversation around her seemed to stop completely as each man took this in with surprise. "But I understood," the boatswain continued in confusion, "That is, Lieutenant Matthews said your father has lived there some fifteen years?" Catherine wrung her hands in her lap before replying shortly, "Yes. It is true my father has long lived in Jamaica. But I ... I have been away at school. I have never visited the island during his time there." Her words hung uncomfortably in the room as all looked on in astonishment. Even Captain Knight could not keep a look of immense surprise from his face. For a family of their stature, a trip to Jamaica was not a difficult thing to accomplish. That such a journey had never been taken, that fifteen years had pa.s.sed since father and daughter had seen one another, was a complete shock, even to men who were used to long separations from their families. The painful silence continued until Lieutenant Matthews snapped into action: "I fear, dear Catherine, we keep you too long at table after such a busy day. I know you must be tired after my dragging you about the ship all afternoon. Come, I am sure the officers will excuse you." The men all murmured a.s.sent and rose to their feet as they watched Catherine, her face now pale and drawn, as she stood and took her uncle's arm. As the two turned to leave, Captain Knight caught her gaze. Catherine read his curious look and feared what he might speak; but Knight was a man of honor and said only: "I thank you again, Miss Gibson, for joining us this evening. It was a great pleasure that I hope we may repeat?" Catherine inclined her head in grat.i.tude and gave a small curtsey to the captain. "Indeed, sir. I look forward to it. Good evening gentlemen" she said politely as Matthews led her from the room.

Chapter VII.

Catherine's life aboard the HMS Triton quickly fell into a regular, and surprisingly enjoyable, pattern. Each morning she spent a great deal of time on the main deck capturing fresh sights in her sketchbooks. Her slim figure, settled upon a barrel or a coil of rope, became a habitual fixture on deck as she sought new and different images to draw. The inquisitive Catherine soon came to know the public s.p.a.ces of the ship in great detail and she also became well acquainted with many of the men onboard, often addressing them by name as she asked questions about their work. The men were delighted with their pa.s.senger a initially for the novelty of seeing a beautiful woman each day a but soon they grew to admire this young woman of keen intellect for her own worth.

Catherine's afternoons were spent in 'training' at the hands of her uncle or a ship's officer. They took it upon themselves to teach Catherine everything from reading the compa.s.s, to splicing rope (which they insisted she do wearing heavy work gloves and a smock), to calculating the ship's progress with the s.e.xtant. Catherine proved a ready student, and what started as a token entertainment soon became the highlight of her day and of the officers' as well. Catherine felt completely free from the strict rules of society that had long dictated her life. These intelligent men felt her to be equal to all but the most strenuous work onboard. She delighted in their instruction and did her best to meet, if not exceed, their expectations. Lieutenant Matthews was justly proud of her accomplishments, but none was more impressed than Captain Knight. Each day he would find Catherine in yet another corner of the ship, head bent to different tasks, completely engaged in her a.s.signment. At first, when she would see Captain Knight approaching, Catherine would blush guiltily and offer to abandon the work and so free the officer for other duties. She feared another withering comment from him about interrupting the work of the ship. To her great astonishment, Captain Knight would merely look over her task, occasionally offering some insight on her progress, and then continue with his rounds. Catherine was mystified but pleased that a sort of truce had somehow established between the two of them. At table in the evening, their talk remained civil, and between them, indeed between all the officers, there developed an unspoken agreement that when Miss Gibson was present talk of their final destination of Jamaica was strictly forbidden.

One particularly bright morning found Catherine on deck, sketchbook in hand, as four bells rang to signal the end of one shift and the start of the next. From her vantage point she could see Captain Knight by the binnacle, deep in conversation with Tom Foster. The captain was carefully explaining something to the boy and Catherine was struck by the picture the two made together. Foster was all youthful attention at his captain's words, nodding in eager agreement, while Captain Knight appeared almost fatherly in his pose towards the boy. Catherine turned her book to a fresh page and worked quickly to try to capture the scene before her. The captain was patient, kind, yet firm with the boy, and young Tom responded in kind with his complete attention. Catherine's hand flew over the page attempting to preserve every detail of Tom's boyish features so strongly contrasted against the imposing, masculine strength of Captain Knight. Before she could take another look at the two, a shadow fell across her sketchbook. She looked up to find Captain Knight before her, smiling quizzically at the image in her book. "May I?" he asked quietly, extending his hand to Catherine. She paused a moment, then handed him the sketchbook for his review. "It is a fine sketch" he said at last, returning the book to her hand while looking at her with his deep, penetrating gaze. Catherine blinked and looked away uncomfortably: "I have tried to capture Tom several times," she replied softly: "He is always such a whir of motion that I never seem able to commit him to paper. This morning, with you," she continued uncertainly, "he seemed..... Well, he seemed to be still and at home for an instant. I wanted to capture that stillness, that contentment."

Captain Knight nodded his head knowingly. "You are right; he is an object in constant motion. Part of that is due to his youth but I think you also recognize that his position onboard is neither easy nor idle. Much is expected of a boy of few years...o...b..ard a ship such as this." Catherine was surprised at the frankness of his words. Captain Knight made no apology for the work he tasked his men but his words about Tom Foster seemed to hold something of regret. "May I ask, Captain, how Tom came to be part of your crew?" Catherine asked boldly: "He cannot be more than eleven or twelve years of age?" The Captain looked to where Foster darted about the ship, on yet another errand for one of the officers. "Yes, you are correct" Knight said quietly. "Tom is only just eleven years of age." "Then how," interjected Catherine, "how can he have come to be onboard a ship of war? He is but a child to do such work, to see such sights as you must regularly encounter!" Captain Knight bristled somewhat at her tone but kept his voice level as he responded to her accusing words; "I will not deny it; you are right, Miss Gibson. This is not the place for a young boy," he said flatly, "But neither was the home in which he lived previously." Catherine moved a step closer towards the captain as he spoke, her beautiful features wreathed in an expression of earnest concern. Captain Knight noted her anxious att.i.tude and chose his words carefully before continuing his speech: "Before sailing last year, we were ash.o.r.e to collect fresh hands. As we enlisted men at a local inn, Tom was brought before us by his own father. The boy was filthy, dressed in rags, and covered in bruises. He was cowed and beaten and made no protest as his father stood before us and offered his son to the services of His Majesty's Navy for the sum of ten shillings." The calm with which Knight began his speech was lost by the end, his final words spoken with icy coldness. Catherine listened in horror to the Captain's words then responded quietly: "And so," she began, "You took him on... took him away from that life?" "Yes" the captain replied simply. "I had no right to do so; it made no sense to bring such a young boy onboard, but the notion of leaving him there with such a man was completely offensive. Here, among good men, he can learn the skills necessary for a life at sea. He can create a future for himself. At least," Knight continued with a rueful smile, "that is the thought I content my conscience with when I see him so hard at work."

Catherine nodded sadly at the captain's words and stood quietly by his side as they watched Tom's quick movements about the ship. Captain Knight could sense the conflict within her at that moment, recognized the same guarded expression that came into her face whenever she overheard talk of Jamaica. Knight remained patiently beside her, awaiting a sign, any word that would indicate her willingness to trust him and speak the thoughts that so clearly gave her distress. After many moments, Catherine at last turned to the captain, unspoken words hovering about her lips. Before she could speak, however, there was a sound behind them and both Catherine and Knight turned to find Lieutenant Matthews approaching. "Such serious faces," Matthews teased; "Whatever can you be plotting?" Catherine gave her uncle a quick hug in greeting and Matthews sensed at once the anxiety within her. "Is all well, miss?" he asked Catherine directly. Catherine looked from her uncle to the captain, then back to young Foster once more. She smiled slightly and said; "All is as well as can be, uncle" and she turned and walked away from the two men to join Tom Foster on the far deck.

Captain Knight regretted the interruption, wishing he could have had but a few moments longer with Catherine, desperate to know what was causing her such distress. Knight turned to Matthews and explained the discussion with Catherine to his old friend. "I fear I may have disturbed Miss Gibson," the captain said directly, carefully watching Matthews's reaction to his words. "She seemed to be more than a little upset by Tom's history." The lieutenant shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and could not meet his captain's look. He struggled privately, not wanting to disclose the secret he bore for Catherine, but at the same time longing for some relief by unburdening himself. Matthews trusted Captain Knight completely as an officer and as his friend. After a moment's pause Matthews released his pent up breath and responded at last; "She feels for his situation overmuch, I fear. Those two share a good deal in common and I can but imagine what must be in her heart after hearing Tom's tale." A look of confusion crossed Captain Knight's face; "Miss Gibson and young Foster? What could they possibly have in common Matthews?" The lieutenant looked away from where his niece sat by Tom Foster, showing him the pages of her sketchbook. "You know yourself, sir; Foster did not choose this life at sea. He was abandoned by his father, sold into the navy. He was a pressed man, for all intents and purposes, only with the added knowledge that his own father profited from the affair. Taken from all he knew and loved, all for the sake of a bit of money; just as Catherine will surely be in her new life in Jamaica."

"What can you mean?" replied Knight, dark brows lifting with surprise. He knew young Foster's situation all too well and, like Miss Gibson, pitied the young boy's situation. But he could not see how Foster's difficult home an