Authors: Madeline Evering
The final strains of music faded away
and Catherine made a polite bow to Knight. She rose once more but could not
meet his eyes. The promise he made was like a balm to the many hurts she had
endured these past weeks, and yet, Catherine did not dare believe that it could
be so. Knight stood before her, awaiting a response that did not come. He
gently took possession of Catherine’s hand, determined that she should know and
accept the truth of his words. Catherine looked up at last, fear and hope
shining in her soulful eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could
begin, her attention was forced away by a strange, restless sound that rippled
throughout the room. A growing murmur rose from the crowd and, in the distance,
an angry voice shouted hateful invective that could be heard above all.
Catherine recognized at once the voice of her father.
Turning at the sound, Catherine
caught sight of what held everyone in startled fascination: a grim looking
Philippe duMont being led through their midst, escorted by two officers of the
Admiralty. Catherine turned to Captain Knight, questioningly. “Is it possible?”
Catherine said with whispered hope; “Is duMont under arrest?” Captain Knight
nodded in agreement; “Yes, duMont has been arrested. We found evidence of his
collusion with the French. The ship we captured gave us some clues but the
papers you uncovered, Catherine, set us on the path of discovery. A sizeable
wharf had been constructed on a private, isolated section of the coastline.
From there, duMont was furnishing the French with ammunition and weapons secretly
obtained from Spain. The whole endeavor was happening within the heart of Britain’s own colony.” Catherine was astonished at the news. She knew duMont was capable of
reckless behavior but this treasonous act was well beyond anything she
imagined. Catherine looked once more to watch duMont’s progress; he caught her
glance and gave a small mocking bow in reply. Catherine shuddered at the little
act and turned away in disgust. Seeing her strong reaction, Captain Knight
hesitated at what he must tell her next; “Catherine,” Knight said with quiet
firmness “I am afraid there is more. In uncovering duMont’s deception we found
your father had also been party to the entire affair. He is also under arrest
and charged with treason.”
The words hung between them a long
moment. Knight watched anxiously as many emotions played across her expressive
face – shock, guilt, anger, and relief. Catherine blinked several times, trying
to register the strange news. She knew her father had been involved in the
secret scheme with duMont, knew he was guilty, but the truth still rocked her
to the core. As she struggled to come to terms with what Knight said, the sound
of her father’s angry shouts grew even louder. Catherine looked up in time to
see him brought forth, apoplectic with rage, as the officers escorted him away.
Catherine turned pale and trembled at the sight. Gibson was flailing like a mad
man, turning every which way in his wrath. In one such turn, Gibson caught
sight of his daughter standing in unison with Captain Knight. The mindless rant
against his captors ceased only to turn against Catherine instead.
“You did this!” he shrieked with
fury, “You did this to your own father, you horrible wretch! God damn your
soul! God damn you to hell!” Shockwaves ran through the ballroom as his wrath
fell upon his daughter. The words hit Catherine like a physical blow; she felt
sick with fear and loathing. Catherine stumbled and fell backward, grateful to
find Captain Knight’s solid presence behind her. Knight held her close as she
attempted to regain her equilibrium. All the while, Gibson continued to pour
hateful invective on his child: “You will pay for this, Catherine!” he shouted,
“I will not let you get away with this!” With maniacal determination, Gibson
swung wildly round, evading his captors at last. As the entire room watched in horror,
William Gibson pulled a small pistol from his vest and raced to where Catherine
stood.
Catherine felt time slow to a stop. All
sound seemed to disappear. All that remained was her father bearing down upon
her, and the cold reality of the gun. The terrified girl stood motionless, held
captive by the awful spectacle before her. In slow motion she watched as this
ruthless man moved closer, light glinting from the barrel of his gun as he
raised it to take aim. Catherine closed her eyes in anguish, prepared for the
inevitable conclusion that must come from the horrifying affair.
With sudden swiftness, Catherine felt
herself moved roughly aside, and time resumed once more. She opened her eyes in
surprise to find Captain Knight standing before her, shielding her with his own
body. Catherine’s senses came flooding back to her, her mind racing in terror.
She clutched at Knight’s arm, determined to save him from her father’s wrath.
A sudden, sharp report rang out. The
gun had fired.
Catherine screamed in anguish. Her
soul writhed in fear for Knight’s life. In torment she clutched at the captain,
heart thundering in her chest. “No! No!” Catherine cried softly, tears
streaming down her face as she staggered forward to witness what she knew must have
happened. As she stepped in front of Knight, Catherine’s dazed eyes tried to
take in the truth of the scene before her; Captain Knight stood unharmed – his expression
was grim but Catherine saw no sign of injury to his person whatsoever. In
anguished relief Catherine sobbed and fell against his chest.
The momentary respite Catherine felt
was quickly replaced by a sudden sharp realization. The captain remained
rigidly at attention, his body stiff and unyielding under her touch. Catherine
stepped back a pace from Knight and read his severe expression. She whirled
around with wild eyes trying to understand his reaction. The grim reality of
the scene lay before her. Less than ten feet away, dead on the floor, lay the
body of William Gibson. And standing a few paces beyond, with smoking gun in
his hand, stood her Uncle Matthews. Catherine surveyed the scene in silence, took
a faltering step forward, and then fell to the floor unconscious.
The gentle motion of the waves
gradually brought Catherine back to herself. She opened her eyes weakly to find
a beam of light streaming in through a porthole window. Catherine looked around
in confusion, unable to recognize her surroundings. Near her on a nightstand
lay a wilted spray of roses, duMont’s necklace, and the combs that had bound
her hair. As she took in the curious sight she realized that under the covers
she was still dressed in her silk evening gown from the previous night. The
pieces of the puzzle came together, clearing the fog that clouded Catherine’s
mind, and she realized she was in her old berth aboard the
HMS Triton
. As
swiftly as this realization came, the horrific scenes from last night came
flooding back as well. Catherine gave a small moan of despair and covered her
head with her hands.
“Catherine?” said a familiar voice.
She turned quickly, sitting up in bed with a jolt. At her side sat her uncle
Matthews. The kind man looked at her with haunted eyes, strong emotions playing
across the weathered planes of his face. Catherine read in an instant the worry
and heartbreak that plagued his soul on this awful morning. “Uncle” she said
softly, eyes filling with tears. Catherine rose in an instant and clutched her
uncle in loving embrace. Matthews returned the young girl’s hold with fierce
determination while she cried her heartache into his comforting chest. The
rugged sailor cradled her with great tenderness, whispering words of comfort
that were occasionally choked by his own strong emotion.
At last, a somber Catherine pulled
away with a small sigh. Her beautiful blue eyes were swimming with tears as she
spoke; “You saved me. You saved the captain.” Matthews shook his head, eyes
cast low at her words; “I did not wish to do it, Catherine, but there was no
other way. Your father was going to kill you both. I am so sorry to have hurt
you, my child.” Catherine shook her head at his words and leaned against him once
more. With her head tucked against his chest, Catherine said quietly; “He was
not my father, Matthews. No father would treat a child the way that he treated
me. I was in fear for my life long before he pulled out the gun. I was only a
possession to him. You are the only father I have ever truly known.” Matthews
gripped her tighter and gave a small shaky sigh. The lieutenant regretted so
much that had happened but the ordeal was over and somehow, together, they must
find a way to move forward.
Looking around the room with grateful
eyes, Catherine tried to remember what had passed; “I am still confused, uncle.
I do not understand what happened… after. How did I come to be aboard
HMS
Triton
? I am afraid I do not remember” she finished brokenly. Matthews
settled next to her and said, “You were in a state of shock, child. Dr. Lyons
attempted to revive you at the ballroom but nothing could bring you round. He
told the captain the shock was so very great that the best thing would be to
let you recover slowly on your own. That’s when the captain insisted on
bringing you here to the ship. We all agreed when you came round it should be
somewhere comforting, so you would not be distressed again. And so, Captain
Knight gathered you up and brought you here himself.”
Catherine twisted her hands together
and moved slowly away as she tried to envision the image her uncle painted. Unconsciously
she swept up the spray of roses from her nightstand and held them to her face,
inhaling the last of their dying scent. Catherine knew somehow that even this
small kindness – the removal of her combs and headdress last night – had been
by the captain’s hand. Catherine moved with trembling limbs to the porthole
window and looked out onto the new day. In the clear morning air birds wheeled freely
about the harbor, rays of light bouncing brightly from their wings. The surface
of the sea was calm and serene and stretched with endless promise to the
horizon. Despite its beauty, Catherine’s heart ached at the sight. Something of
their serenity eluded her; she knew she could never fully be part of these
scenes again. Too much had passed. Too much had been lost. Catherine turned
from the vista outside her window and looked to her uncle once more; “The
captain is a very good man, uncle. His kindness, his protection, is so much
more than I deserve. All that happened last night, the danger he faced because
of me….. I can hardly bear to think on it. He must hate me so.”
Matthews was startled by Catherine’s
words and came quickly to her side in reassurance; “You are wrong, Catherine!
No one blames you for what happened yesterday, certainly not Captain Knight!
You should know that he has been most anxious, Catherine. I do not think he has
been to bed this whole night. His time has been split between addressing the matter
onshore and in visits to your cabin. He has been checking here regularly to see
if you had come round.” Catherine flushed at this news, her heart lurching in
confusion. She could not meet her uncle’s eye any longer and stepped to the
window once more, her forehead resting against its cool surface in support.
Lieutenant Matthews saw the great struggle at play in his niece’s heart and knew
the best course of action was to give her space and time to come to terms with all
that had passed. He placed his hand on her golden hair as though she were a
young child once more. Catherine turned at the touch and gave a fleeting smile.
“I shall leave you now, my dear, so you may get dressed” Matthews said gently.
“Take a few moments to compose your self and prepare for the day. I shall be on
the quarter deck waiting for you when you are ready.” Catherine nodded in
agreement and watched as her uncle turned to go.
Matthews was stopped in the doorway
when Catherine suddenly spoke out, her words an anxious tumble: “I cannot
remain in Jamaica, uncle. I cannot return to that house.” The lieutenant turned
to her and replied with kindness; “You will not need to, Catherine. Everything
will be arranged. And as for the future, I hoped you might wish to return to England to live with your aunt. You will stay with us as you always should have done, as
one of our own.” Catherine was beyond words at the invitation. She smiled
gratefully at her uncle as tears spilled down her face once more, relief easing
the great pain in her heart.
Matthews left without another word, allowing
Catherine the space she needed to sort through her troubled thoughts. She
stared out the window a long while before finally turning and settling on the
edge of the bed. Catherine twisted the stem of roses that she still held in her
hands, their faded petals dropping unheeded in her lap. The lieutenant’s offer
of a real home, of a place where she could heal, gave Catherine comfort. But in
the depths of her heart she knew that there would be emptiness there as well. Last
night, in those horrible moments that had almost spelled the end, Catherine had
discovered the depth of her love for Captain Knight. The thought of him dying,
the possibility of life without him, had almost driven her mad with grief. When
the gunshot rang out it felt like a door slamming shut on her heart; all seemed
in darkness, every former joy was swallowed up in pain. When her anguished
heart finally comprehended that Knight was alive it had been more than she
could bear. It was that shock, more so than the death of her father, which had
caused her to collapse in agonized relief.
“He lives,” she said quietly, “and
that must be enough. That shall be my consolation.” But Catherine felt a deep
anguish nonetheless. The events of last night were so horrible that she knew
Knight must look on her now with contempt and disdain. She would forever be a
reminder to him of a brutal scene that was best forgotten. The friendship they
had found was now marred by tragedy and violence. There could be no turning
back.