Authors: Madeline Evering
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 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 passed 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 wineglass 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 embarrassment 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 – 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.
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, assuring 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 unsurpassed 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 space 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 embarrassment. 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 passenger’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.
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.