Sail Away (2 page)

"Commander, might I ask—why did the Navy not simply give the brig to you?"

"Miss Lancaster, I have asked myself that very question many times. Why not, indeed? It is a splendid vessel and I should use it to good effect.” He laughed, managing to convey a sense of humor at his own ambition, not at her question. “In truth, such assignments are a matter of seniority. I am fortunate to be given even a sloop. And until she reaches port and I have read myself aboard to command her, I am to all purposes still only a glorified lieutenant. As such, I was given courier duties, and now that my dispatches have been delivered to your mayor, I stand ready to escort you and your family to the coast."

"Is there need of that?” Lancaster asked.

"We cannot be certain, sir. However, as you have so accurately observed, Trenton is strategically placed. I suspect this town will see more than its share of conflict before these rebels are brought under control. That will be a matter for the Army, I believe. The waters here are not suitable for deep-draft vessels."

Cynthia bit her lip. Her father's worry over politics had seemed exaggerated—but Smith's matter-of-fact statement somehow made the danger real. War, here in this peaceful town? The troubles in Boston seemed so far away, and the idea that Englishmen would take arms against one another was almost unthinkable. It was true there had been civil war in the time of Charles I, but that was a very long time ago, and times had changed a great deal.

Commander Smith must have been watching her; he said, “Never fear, Miss Lancaster. Your father's good judgement should see your family well out of the trouble."

"But what of my friends who remain, sir? For their sake, I must hope that the trouble can be settled quickly.” She could hardly say, “what of my brother?".

"Of course. We must all hope for that. A bad business, all around."

Cynthia was quiet until they returned to the house, listening to the pleasant rumble of Commander Smith's voice. What would happen if her brother did not return before they left the colony? She knew that Geoffrey would be deep in the middle of the conflict, and that he would not be fighting for King George.

When they arrived at home, her father took the commander off to his study. Cynthia handed her cloak to the maid, instructing her to see that a kettle was set to boil in the kitchen. Proceeding to the parlor, she was pleased to see her grandmother sitting in the front room by the window, busy with her knitting. “Grandmama, we have a visitor!"

"Not that Humboldt blockhead, I hope,” her grandmother said crisply. “What your father sees in that boy, I do not know. He has no more conversation than a haddock."

"No,” Cynthia said. “For once it is not Mr. Humboldt. It's a naval officer, a Commander Smith. Paul Andrew Smith, to be exact. We'll be traveling with him, Grandmama, he's going to be part of the convoy to Nova Scotia."

Shrewd blue eyes studied her from under the ruffled cap brim, and a face that looked much like a wizened apple folded into dozens of smile-wrinkles. “Handsome, is he?” She chuckled as Cynthia struggled to find words that would not make her sound like a dithering child. “My word! He must be
very
handsome if he leaves you speechless."

Cynthia put her hands to her cheeks, which seemed to be on fire. “Yes he is, you terrible old woman,” she said affectionately. “He is tall, handsome, courteous, and ... oh, my dear Grandmama, he has the most beautiful baritone. I should dearly love to hear him sing."

Her grandmother t'skd. “All that and a voice as well? Don't get your hopes up too quickly, my dear. Excellent young men are all too rare, and seldom available. We must first discover whether he already has a wife."

"Grandmama! I had not thought—"

"Cynthia, I am an old woman and I know the signs. When a calm, sensible girl like yourself bolts into the room and starts babbling about a handsome man with a voice that tickles her down to her toes—"

Even one's grandmother should not know one's inner feelings. “I never!"

"Child, that's nothing to be ashamed of! There is something about a deep, rumbling voice...” She fanned herself. “My first husband, your grandfather, had a voice like that, and it made me warm all over just listening to him speak. What a man he was! But you must first discover whether this gentleman is fair game, for there's nothing but misery in longing for someone else's husband—I know that first-hand. Leave it to me—I'm old enough that I can ask impertinent questions without fear of giving offense."

Cynthia settled on a footstool beside her grandmother's rocking chair. “Grandmama, even if he is unmarried—and even if he were to take an interest in me, which I hardly think likely—Papa is determined that we must go to Nova Scotia. With Commander Smith waiting for us, I fear that we shall be leaving sooner than we expected to."

"Nothing will be settled in less than a week,” her grandmother said. “I had everything arranged with my Ben inside five days. And on one point I am determined—no girl with as much sense and feeling as you possess will be married to a whey-faced ninny like Evelyn Humboldt."

"On that, we are as one,” Cynthia assured her. “Would you care for a cup of mint tea while I see to dinner?"

Commander Smith found his attention wandering from the nautical chart that Edward Lancaster had spread on the desk before him. One moment he would be studying the Bay of Fundy, and the next he would be distracted by the memory of a pair of bright, intelligent eyes whose color seemed as changeable as the sea.

Cynthia. What a perfect name for a girl whose face was as round as the moon and as soft and pink as a peach. And what a brave little thing she was—no more than an inch or two over five feet, but she had flown to her father's defense like an Amazon warrior. A pity she had only been a trifle off-balance; if she had actually fallen, he might have caught her and had the chance to hold that lovely ripe figure in his arms. With single women said to be scarce in the colonies, how was it that she did not yet have a home and family of her own? Did America make its young men stupid?

The cessation of Lancaster's speech brought Smith to the sudden realization that his voluptuous Amazon's father was frowning at him. “Surely you cannot expect ice so early in the season?"

Smith coughed. “No, I do not expect it, although it is possible to encounter icebergs. It would be certain if we were to sail much farther north. In the waters around Nova Scotia we should be safe enough. Have you been to the northern colonies yourself, sir?"

"Once only, this past summer, but my elder son was there this past year round. On land, of course, not at sea."

"I see. And your daughter?"

Lancaster gave him a puzzled look. “No, of course not—why should I drag her along on business? She stays here with my mother when I travel. My son Winston assures me the new house is snug and warm, with plenty of firewood at the ready. The ladies should be comfortable enough."

"I'm sure they will. As to our voyage—like any other, we can but keep our halyards coiled, our sails taut, and hope for fair winds."

"True enough. Would you care for a spot of brandy before dinner?"

"Yes, thank you.” When the brandy was duly poured, Smith raised his glass. “As we say aboard ship, the ladies, God bless ‘em!"

"Indeed!"

Smith wondered if his host would be as cordial if he realized that the Commander's salute was addressed not to some nameless ladies, but to Miss Cynthia Lancaster.

"Commander, we have quartered His Majesty's troops here before, and I have room enough. Would you do me the honor of staying in my home while we prepare to depart? I have a carriage that would be at your disposal, should you need it for official business."

That was a complication Smith had not considered. Would it be honorable to stay under the same roof as an attractive young woman who had taken such complete possession of his thoughts? Possibly not—unless his intentions were honorable. On the other hand, if this brief time was all he had to make her acquaintance, he had better seize the chance. Besides, how could he reasonably refuse such a generous offer? “Thank you, sir. If there will be time before dinner, I shall walk to the inn and have my luggage sent here."

"Excellent. We dine at seven here; we keep earlier hours than in England—but I expect you know that."

"Yes, sir. Ship's meals are much the same. I'll be back as soon as possible, then."

After dinner had been served, the succulence of the joint noted and Miss Lancaster's talents in the kitchen given full credit, Mistress Lilymae Leggett, formerly Stanton, formerly Lancaster, neé Beaton, primed her powder and ran out her guns. “Tell me, Captain. What does your wife say when you vanish for months at a time?"

Paul Smith blinked, then suppressed a smile, realizing from whence Miss Lancaster had inherited her direct attitude. Her grandmother might have reached threescore and ten, but she apparently possessed a keen mind, and she had attained an age where she might without fear of censure put aside missish behavior. Paul had always enjoyed conversation with sensible old women, beginning with his own grandmother. Their wit kept a man on his toes.

"Mistress Leggett, there is an old Navy proverb with which you may not be acquainted: ‘A midshipman cannot have a wife, a lieutenant may, and a captain must'. Since I am only one step above Lieutenant and one below Captain, I have only just reached the stage of my life where it is necessary to win myself a helpmeet. However, I think that the long separations of a Navy career would be most trying on a sailor's wife. I would never attempt to convince a young lady that it would be otherwise."

The old lady nodded. “Well spoken, sir. My third husband, Mr. Leggett, was a sailor in his youth. He gave it up after his captain was eaten by natives of the Cannibal Isles. You don't travel there, I hope?"

"I have not, madam, and it appears that between France and these colonial rebels, I shall most likely be dealing with slightly more civilized adversaries for the foreseeable future."

"Where have you traveled, Commander?” Cynthia asked, giving her grandmother a quelling look.

"Of late, back and forth between England and the colonies. I have seen some service in patrolling the Channel, of course; every British sailor spends some time on Channel patrol. As a midshipman I visited the West Indies a few times, but apart from the chance to swim in tropical waters, I never saw much of the islands. The climate is quite lovely—except of course in the hurricane season."

Cynthia smiled at that last, and he resolved to see if he could find a way to make her smile again.

"And have you ever seen a mermaid, Captain?"

"Mythical creatures,” Edward Lancaster huffed. “As well ask if he's seen a sea-serpent!"

"Ah, but I did, sir,” Paul responded. “With my own eyes, God's truth."

"I beg your pardon!"

"I have seen a sea-serpent—or the remains of one. A most curious creature, washed up on shore in the Hebrides. It had grey skin like an elephant and a serpentine head and neck, attached to a bulbous body shaped something like a seal."

"Some jest by fools with more time than sense, I warrant."

"No, sir. My captain said he had heard of such things, and thought it might be the sort of beast the Scots have reported seeing in Loch Ness. Whatever the creature may be, it must be quite shy in its living state. As to mermaids—” he smiled apologetically at Cynthia, “I regret to confirm your father's assessment—those ladies are most probably mythical. There are water-creatures that men call by that name, to tease their new shipmates, but the creatures are extremely unattractive except perhaps to one another."

She shrugged good-naturedly. “I thought as much. Still, they make for interesting fairy tales. I thought if they existed anywhere, the warm southern waters would be most hospitable."

Meeting her eyes, which had taken on the sea-green color of her dress, Paul had a startling fantasy of the dignified Miss Lancaster with her golden hair undone, floating like a mermaid in the warm waters of the Caribbean. The thought was so distracting that he nearly choked on a bit of her excellent pumpkin pie.

"Mr. Humboldt will not wish to hear your fantasies of mermaids and sea-serpents,” Lancaster said with a stern look at his daughter.

"I am sure he would not,” she said evenly. “If he were here, I would not have mentioned them."

"Mr. Humboldt,” Paul said, wondering at the sudden tension between the two. “A member of your firm, is he not?"

"Indeed he is,” said Lancaster. “A most valued member. And once we have settled in Nova Scotia, I expect him to become my son-in-law."

Mrs. Legget made an exasperated sound. The look she gave her son said clearly that she was holding her tongue only out of consideration for their guest.

There was no response Smith could make but “I see.” It would hardly be courteous to leap from his seat, seize his pistol, and go off to challenge Mr. Humboldt, no matter how deeply satisfying such a course of action might be. But it was Cynthia's reaction that most concerned him, and he was gratified to see that the flash of anger in her eyes suggested she was not in complete accord with her father's wishes.

If Lancaster had been a wiser man, he would have let the matter rest. He was not quite wise enough. “Cynthia, my dear, would you prefer to have the wedding here, before we leave, so that your friends might attend? There should be time enough to post the banns."

Cynthia took a deep breath, and a flush brightened her cheeks. “Papa, since you ask, no, I would not. The truth of the matter is that Mr. Humboldt has not proposed to me. I believe it would be much too forward of me to consider marriage with a gentleman who has not even issued a proposal."

Lancaster's color rose to match his daughter's. “Come, daughter, you know that this match has been decided for a year or more. I gave Humboldt permission to broach the matter to you some weeks ago."

"And as yet he has not, and I have pride enough that I will not consider marriage to a man who does not possess courage enough to ask me to my face.” Cynthia rose suddenly from the table, and Paul nearly knocked his chair over in trying to stand, as good manners required. “Excuse me,” she said. “I feel slightly unwell. Your pardon, Papa, Commander.” Smith bowed and smiled; Cynthia left the room with calm dignity, and Lancaster at least had sense enough not to follow her or call her back.