Authors: Madeline Evering
Catherine gave a visible start at the
captain’s request. Matthews saw her distress and was uncertain what to do; he
never refused the captain but his niece’s discomfort was palpable. He looked
from one to the other before finally conceding to the side of duty: “Of course,
captain.” Matthews said haltingly. Then with a sympathetic look at his niece he
continued, “Catherine, I shall wait for you in your quarters.” The statement
was posed more as a question and Matthews awaited some sign of acceptance from
Catherine. She looked very unhappy at his words but gave her uncle a nod of
assent, still unspeaking. The lieutenant cleared his throat then stepped outside,
gently closing the door behind him.
Captain Knight moved back to the
table and poured himself another drink. Absently he turned and asked Catherine
if she would care for a glass as well. “No,” she replied sharply without
looking at him. Knight raised his own glass to her in mock salute and emptied
its contents in one swift motion. He held the glass a moment longer then
returned it to the table before turning to Catherine: “I do not wish to keep
you, Miss Gibson, but I’m afraid we have something to discuss.” Catherine drew
in a long shaky breath, her face coloring a deep crimson at the remembrance of the
last time she was alone together with Captain Knight. She could not believe
that he would be so ungentlemanly as to revisit the unfortunate event. Catherine
blinked furiously and looked away, mortified. Before she could speak he
continued in cool level tones; “The matter of Tom’s sister, Miss Gibson. I
thought we should make a plan as to how we will proceed once we reach Jamaica.”
“Tom’s sister?” Catherine said in
relief as she turned to face the captain; “Yes, yes of course. Indeed you are
right. We will need some means to… communicate what is required…..” Captain
Knight nodded in agreement. “I will send inquiries to England through the Admiralty as soon as we reach shore. We should be able to obtain a
response rather quickly but there will be items to discuss before all can be
arranged. Would it be acceptable for me to visit your father’s home when the
time comes, or… do you wish to make an alternate arrangement?” he asked
carefully. Catherine sensed his meaning immediately: for the captain to show up
at her father’s home requesting a private interview was certain to raise
suspicions on a matter she wished to keep private. “I do not believe that would
be wise, Captain Knight” she said with all the grace she could muster, “I fear
I may not be… in command of my own time and my own affairs once I am returned
to my father.” Captain Knight sensed the quiet anger beneath her words as she
spoke. He waited patiently until she continued; “I think it would be best if we
were to meet somewhere else, away from my father. Somewhere public, of course!”
she added quickly, lest he think she was looking for another type of interview
with him. “Of course,” Knight replied with great civility. “Might I suggest
that we meet at Spanish Town Cathedral?” “At a cathedral, Captain?” Catherine
asked questioningly. “Yes,” he responded; “The cathedral – St. Catherine Parish
as it is now called – is a popular attraction and your wanting to visit it
should raise no questions… or objections.” Catherine saw the wisdom of his
suggestion and agreed to his plan. “Very well,” Knight said, “Then I shall send
word to you as soon as I have news and we can meet at the cathedral to make the
necessary arrangements.”
Once again, Catherine was completely
at a loss to understand this complex man and his motives: at one moment Knight
seemed determined to fight with her, the next he was all gentlemanly kindness
and assistance, and at other times….. Catherine felt the hot blush come into
her face again at the remembrance of their passionate encounters. She wished to
give her thanks but a long time passed before she could compose her thoughts and
speak again. “Captain, I… I appreciate your assistance… and… your discretion in
this matter” she whispered lowly. She stood quietly, uncertain what to say
further to this man who had come to mean so much to her, and yet who would soon
be gone from her life forever. The enormity of the thought struck Catherine
like a physical blow. She rocked on her heels as she stood before Captain
Knight, her hands clasping and unclasping nervously, unhappiness writ large all
over her face. Captain Knight stepped forward and slowly reached for
Catherine’s hand, his strong masculine fingers wrapping about hers in gentle
embrace: “It is nothing, Miss Gibson,” he said, his deep voice rich with
unspoken meaning. “I wish only to be of service to you.”
At his touch, Catherine felt her firm
resolve breaking; she could not bear to continue this interview. She looked down
to the darkly tanned hand that enveloped her own with gentle possession. Despite
her best efforts, Catherine felt wetness gather on her lashes and a single tear
fell, landing on their clasped hands. She heard the captain’s sharp intake of
breath but before he could speak Catherine pulled free of his grasp. She would
not admit her feelings, could not allow Captain Knight any further into her life.
With a slight curtsey and a mumbled, “Goodnight” Catherine turned and left the
room before her heavy heart could betray her further.
The arrival of
HMS Triton
caused a great stir at the Kingston docks. Word soon spread that the
illustrious Captain Knight, accompanied by a captured French corvette, had appeared
in the early hours, carefully piloted into Kingston harbor by the crew. The
sight of the vessels, and the assembled French prisoners on the deck of the
Triton
,
had officers from Admiralty House quickly making their way to the dock to greet
the crew as the ships were made fast.
From the main deck, Catherine watched
the meticulous work dockside as all was made secure. The sight would normally
have held Catherine spellbound but on this morning her attention could not be
caught. She looked absently from one scene to another, her eyes widening with
anxiety each time a civilian approached the ship. A slight breeze stirred the
air but it was not enough to dispel the great heat that was coming from the
island itself. After the refreshing conditions at sea, the close atmosphere of
the island was an uncomfortable reminder of the great change about to come to
Catherine. Her carefully arranged hair was already feeling heavy and damp along
her hairline and even the light cotton dress she had chosen to wear felt constricting
and oppressive in the early morning sun.
“What do you think, Catherine?” her
uncle’s voice came from behind her. Catherine did not turn but continued to
scan the dock as she spoke; “I think it is very hot, uncle. I wonder at any
civilized person wishing to live in a steaming jungle” she finished bitterly.
Matthews stepped closer and gave his niece a quick squeeze of encouragement.
“It is not always so;” he responded with optimism. “You are meeting Jamaica at a difficult time of year. Things will be much better when the summer heat
abates.” Catherine gave a slight nod but showed no sign of conviction at his
words. “I am afraid the time of year will do little to improve my opinion,
uncle. I meet my new home on very uneven terms.”
Lieutenant Matthews knew the course
of this discussion would not improve and so sought to change the subject: “Have
you spoken to young Foster” he asked kindly. At the mention of Tom’s name
Catherine’s face softened and some of her usual good humor returned: “I have,
Uncle” Catherine said with warmth; “We made a very pleasant farewell this
morning – Tom promises to write as often as possible and to visit every time he
finds himself in Jamaica. He is such a delightful boy, Uncle Matthews - I shall
be sad to leave him…..”
Catherine trailed off suddenly at the
sight of an approaching coach drawn by a team of horses, black as jet. The dark
carriage shone like a mirror, winking wickedly in the face of the morning sun
as it drew up alongside the
HMS Triton’s
berth. Inside, Catherine could see
two stern figures – one older, one much younger – but both with the same haughty
bearing. Catherine’s whole body stiffened as she saw her father’s face for the
first time in fifteen long years.
William Gibson had aged considerably
in that time, but Catherine recognized the same look of ruthless determination
that had darkened her childhood. Gibson stepped from the carriage, arrogance
and privilege marking every action as he dismissed the footman and turned to
his companion who also alighted from the carriage. The two men shared a rough
laugh with one another, and began their way to
HMS Triton’s
gangplank.
Like Catherine, Lieutenant Matthews
had recognized William Gibson at once. He felt anger welling up inside of him,
not only at the sight of this callous man, but at the unwelcome sight of
Gibson’s traveling companion. As Matthews’ shrewd eye took in the man’s
fashionable dress and conceited bearing his worst fears for Catherine were
realized. Rage burned within him at the helpless situation – there could be no
mistaking what this man’s presence foretold. “Come” he said to Catherine
quietly, and took her by the arm to lead her away. Catherine remained rooted to
the spot, unhearing as though in a trance. Matthews watched as the color left
her face and an expression of distress crossed her features. After a moment he
gave her arm a gentle shake and Catherine returned to herself with effort. “I
suppose I should gather my things, uncle” she said, her blue eyes wide and
frightened in her pale face. Matthews nodded his agreement and watched her
leave the deck for her cabin. He knew Catherine’s fate was inevitable but hoped
to keep her safe, if only a few moments longer.
Catherine had not long left the deck
when a great commotion began at the base of the gangplank. Matthews moved to the
side rail as the sound of voices raised in anger carried up to him in the
morning air. Below, William Gibson stood bristling as one of the ship’s
lieutenants refused the man entrance to the ship. Gibson’s face was scarlet as
he angrily confronted the lieutenant on duty. “I am sorry,
sir
” the
young lieutenant said sharply. “As I said, no one is admitted aboard His
Majesty’s ship without invitation from Captain Knight. I have had word passed
to the captain. I am sure he will address your request as soon as is
convenient.” “Damn you, you insolent cur!” Gibson roared. “My daughter is
aboard that ship at my instruction, and I will damn well enter if I choose.”
“No, Mr. Gibson, you are mistaken”
came the crisp, controlled voice of Captain Knight from above. Matthews and the
others watched as their captain made his way across the deck to stand at the
top of the gangplank. Knight, dressed imposingly in full uniform, stood
unflinching before the two challengers; his polished black boots seemed rooted
to the deck and from his vantage point above the men his great height was even
further accentuated. He looked down upon Catherine’s father with a look of
barely concealed contempt. The two men sized each other up a long moment before
Captain Knight spoke once more: “Your daughter, Mr. Gibson, is aboard at my
discretion, not by your instruction. I am in charge of this vessel and you will
conduct yourself accordingly.” Knight’s words hung in the air like glittering
daggers. The hands all paused in their work to see what would transpire next. “Permission
to come aboard?” Gibson ground out through clenched teeth. Knight nodded his
head in acknowledgement and gave the command for Gibson and his companion to
pass.
On deck, Captain Knight’s eyes flashed
dangerously as William Gibson and his unknown acquaintance stepped aboard.
Gibson roughly shook off the sailor attempting to assist him from the gangplank
and looked around like a madman. His wild stare lit on the figure of Lieutenant
Matthews and Gibson lurched towards him shaking with anger. “You arrogant
bastard,” he hissed, “How dare you allow me to be treated in such a way in
front of my business associate? You forget who I am, Matthews. You forget the
power I hold. You will pay for this dearly...” Matthews’ fists coiled in anger
but before he could act, Gibson’s ranting was suddenly silenced as Knight reached
forward and grabbed Gibson roughly by his lapels. Gibson struggled uselessly,
looking up at the stoney-faced captain in astonishment. From behind, Gibson’s
companion watched the encounter coolly, making no move to intervene on his
friend’s behalf. Captain Knight held Gibson close, every muscle coiled and
prepared for action; he seethed with anger as he said, “I will explain the
situation to you once again,
sir
. You are onboard my ship, Mr. Gibson. I
am in command. You will conduct yourself appropriately or I will have you thrown
overboard. Do we understand each other?” Knight’s eyes glittered dangerously,
wicked flames burning in their depths as he awaited Gibson’s answer.
Gibson straightened and returned the
Captain’s look, anger boiling in his face. He twisted around, finally noting
that the crew, indeed, stood ready to act at a word from their captain. William
Gibson saw that if he pushed this powerful man further there was nothing of
which Captain Knight was not capable. Like the cunning gambler he was Gibson
quickly weighed his options and settled on another tactic: “Captain Knight,” he
wheedled with false piety, “You, will forgive me of course. It is only a
father’s loving concern for his daughter that makes me behave with such poor
manners.” Gibson lowered his head in fatherly concern and continued his
charade; “Having my daughter returned to me after so many years apart is a
blessing, Captain Knight. Her wellbeing weighs greatly upon me; my only
concern, my only wish in life is for her care” he pleaded with feigned
sincerity.