Late in the afternoon, Captain Harding came into her cabin. "You need some fresh air. Come on, now, out of there and get up on deck."
"Please, just leave me," she begged feebly.
"No chance. You are going up if I have to carry you." She got off the bed under her own steam. She went slowly up the steps to the deck, and as she did so Captain Harding below her was given a delicious display of ankles. He reached up to caress one of them, but Kitty felt too wretched even to protest. The brisk wind smashed her in the face! She struggled to the rail and began to retch. In an instant he was holding her. One arm secured her safely, while the other held her stomach rigid and miraculously her guts stopped trying to turn themselves inside out. He massaged her knotted stomach muscles until they began to relax. Even though she felt so sick, she didn't want any man seeing her vomit. As she looked up at him, she saw his mouth curved with compassion and was very thankful for his help. She heard him murmur, "Pauvre petite." She thought vaguely that he was too uncultured to speak French.
"Now," he said briskly, "once around the deck. Take my arm. I wouldn't want you to be swept overboard."
The entire crew leered at her as she made her way along the deck. They looked more like criminals than sailors. One man was standing so close that she knew she would have to walk around him if she was to avoid brushing up against him. Jim Harding's arm shot out and the man was sprawled on the deck. Kitty noticed the captain had fists like hams, and the impact had made a sickening thud. Not one word was exchanged.
He searched her face for some sign of color, but although the wind whipped her cloak and hair about, her pallor was almost ethereal. The protective urge soared in his breast as he bent his head to caution her, "Never walk alone, day or light. Never forget to secure your cabin door."
She nodded her understanding, afraid to open her lips. He feared she would faint, but at last they had circled the deck and he led her down to her cabin. He went into his own cabin and returned with wine. "Drink this, slowly now. It will stay down better than water, and it will restore you. Good girl! Now then, into bed with you and sleep the clock round. I'll have Jemmy bring you dry biscuit to nibble on; that won't make you queasy." He turned swiftly to the door and bade her, "Lock this after me."
She whispered "Thank you" so low she wondered if he had heard.
It was into the second week before her seasickness departed. She kept to her cabin unless Captain Harding was free to take her up on deck. Sometimes in the evenings he would invite her to dine with him, and after interminable days of her own company, she was glad to do so. Her eyes widened in surprise the first time she had dined in his cabin. Snowy, starched cloth and napkins, tall silver candlesticks, heavy lead crystal goblets and Sevres china graced his table. The captain himself was attired in a very formal dark suit and stiff shirt, which made him look uncomfortable rather than elegant. However, he had done it for her and she was glad she had worn the pale green woolen dress and the dark green velvet cloak. Watching her, he said, "The eye also dines."
Kitty soon discovered that he wanted nothing more than someone who would listen to him. When he was crude and used thinly veiled innuendos to shock her, she serenely ignored his words and pretended she hadn't heard them. She looked at him often now and wondered how she could ever have thought him ugly. His golden beard was magnificent, and when he smiled, tanned, crinkled lines gathered about the startling blue eyes. Proximity had turned strangers into friends. He loved nothing better than to sit with her, spinning yarns of his voyages, especially the fights which pointed out his physical strength.
"Guess how much I measure about the chest?" he challenged.
She hid a smile and guessed a deliberately small forty-two inches.
"Ha! Fifty! More if I expand it. You don't believe me. Go! Go on, fetch your tape measure and I'll prove it to you."
There was nothing to do but get the tape measure. Then he insisted she measure his biceps. Enormous!
He said now, "Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the fanciest brothel in the world?"
She ignored his coarse talk.
At other times he quoted poetry or Shakespeare. Once he intrigued her by speaking at length of a book he had been reading.
"It's called Ecstatic Voyage. It was written in 1656 by a philosopher called Athanasius Kircher. He went on a celestial voyage to the planets. Venus was the best place he visited. Its air was perfumed with amber and musk, where beautiful young angels sang and danced while strewing flowers about. I've seen places like that, Kitty. He could be describing Ceylon."
"What about the sun? I love the sun," said Kitty, listening raptly.
"The sun is inhabited by angels of fire who swim in seas of light round a huge volcano. I've seen places like that in the South Seas. Saturn is full of evil spirits who spend their time meting out divine justice to the souls of the wicked." The lines crinkled around his eyes. "Genius or crackpot? Who's to say? Not me, Kitty, not me."
She looked at him and pinpointed his attraction; He was a paradox. So coarse on the outside; so fine within.
"Are you married, Jim?" she asked.
"I was once," he said reflectively. "She was unfaithful to me. She liked to go dancing. She picked up with this fellow who took her dancing."
"Dancing with him doesn't mean she was unfaithful," she said gently.
"Oh, aye, she was. I followed them one night and copped him with his pants down! I half killed him. The next day they found him on the high road. They thought he'd been run over by the mail coach. I don't miss her, she was a whore, but I miss my children unbearably."
She looked at him with compassion and saw that he was crying.
During the second month out they ran into a hurricane.
Jemmy came into Kitty's cabin and found her huddled in a corner.
"The captain ordered me below till it blows over. I know I'd be safe enough up there, but Captain Harding's afraid I'm such a lightweight, I'd get swept overboard."
They sat in the cabin for over an hour and finally Kitty could stand it no longer. "I've got to go up and see what's going on. I can't stay below like a rat."
"It's not safe up there, ma'am, you have no idea what it's like," he shouted over the roar of the storm.
Kitty opened the cabin door and crept up toward the deck. Her eyes opened in amazement as a wall of water as high as a mountain towered above them, while the ship seemed to be down at the bottom of a deep valley. Suddenly, without warning, everything switched positions and the ship was perched on the precipice of a mountainous wave, and a gorge opened up in the sea below them and threatened to engulf the ship once it plunged from its great height. Kitty was rooted to the spot, too terrified to move. A terrific crack like thunder rent the air, and the mast fell amid shouts and screams. The bloodcurdling screams continued until a gunshot rang out. Kitty scurried like a rat back to the cabin.
After the storm, when the sea was calm again, Jemmy went to see what the damage was. He came back to tell Kitty the mast had fallen on one of the crew, and the captain had shot him to put him out of his misery.
"My God, how could he shoot down a man in cold blood?" she demanded.
"He had to. His legs were gone, he was almost cut in half!"
The captain locked himself in his cabin for three days. On the third morning· Kitty took the captain's breakfast tray from the cabinboy and after a perfunctory tap on the door, she plunged through the doorway with a confidence she did not really feel. Big Jim sat on the edge of his bunk with a brandy hangover. He swiftly averted his eyes from the tray of food and said, "Get shut of that, for starters!"
Without a word she put it outside the door and reentered.
"Are you all right, Jim?"
"My mouth tastes like I've been sucking on a shepherd's stocking." He grimaced. He hauled himself across to the washstand. He looked in the mirror and said, "Christ! My eyes look like two piss holes in the snow!"
Kitty's lips twitched. The Irish could be vulgar, but not one had quite
the coarse touch that Big Jim Harding lent to a phrase. She knew she could leave him now and everything would return to normal.
Dismay clutched Kitty's heart when she discovered her money was missing. She went up on deck and accosted the captain in front of his men. He could have cursed her and ordered her below, or delivered a stinging slap to silence her tongue, but instead he swept her up into the air, planted her firmly with a kiss and carried her below to his cabin. "Filthy, thieving bastards!" she shouted. "I should have known something like this would happen!" she screamed.
He eyed her appreciatively as she spat and fumed, cursed and threatened.
"Are you finished? Then listen to me. When a woman comes aboard a ship, traveling alone, the first thing she should do is choose the biggest, strongest sailor of the lot and he will protect her."
"In return for certain favors!" she spat.
"Kitty, everything in life must be paid for," he said quietly. "Now, the biggest, strongest sailor aboard is myself. Be my woman, Kitty?" He took her hands in his and bent to kiss kef full on the mouth. It was a nice kiss; a good kiss. His lips were firm and dry, his soft beard brushed her cheek gently. His eyes were kind, his aroma was pleasant, his hands gentle, yet she pulled away and said, "Please don't force me! I'm still a maiden," she lied. "If you force me, you'll lose your job," she threatened.
His eyes narrowed. "Who is your man?"
"Patrick O'Reilly," she whispered.
The captain threw back his head and laughed. "I'd do more than lose my job, I'd lose my life, girl! The O'Reilly has sailed with me, and I have his measure. Kitty, what I feel for you is love, not lust. If you've chosen the O'Reilly to be your man, I'll send you to him untouched." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he held her purse and money aloft. "Just for safekeeping and the hope of a reward, you understand." He held it too high for her to reach until she gave him the kiss he wanted.
That night, as she lay in her bunk, she admitted to herself that she was tempted. She realized you could feel different kinds of love for different people. With Patrick it was special, wild, passionate. It was all highs or lows, no in-betweens. Ecstasy or hell, pleasure or pain. With Jim Harding it was so disconcerting to have a man who looked ferocious enough to kill you, but who put you on a pedestal and worshiped you.
He set himself the task of amusing her, and she really did love him for it. They had been at sea so long, cut off from the rest of the world, they had formed an attachment for each other. When the weather was bad, Jim did everything from steadying her with his strong hands to making her laugh so she would forget her fears. As the sun began to get warmer, Kitty's skin darkened into a healthy tan. Her baby was beginning to show, and though she cherished it in private and spoke to "him" quite often, when she went up on deck, she concealed her stomach with her large cloak, and when she took supper with Jim, she was always careful to drape a shawl about her.
One night after dark, one of the seamen grabbed her. She managed to tear herself away and run like someone demented. She crashed into Captain Harding, who led her to her cabin to wipe away her tears and still her frantic pulse. He held her securely and murmured soothing words until her tears stilled and she began to relax.
In a quiet voice Jim began to quote Shelley's "Love's Philosophy":
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle
Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
When their lips sought and found each other it was the most natural thing in the world. His arms were both strong and gentle, his lips tender and firm. His hands were sure, his touch magically arousing. It felt so natural to go to a reclining position, where they could lie in each other's arms. Inevitably, Jim's large body covered Kitty as he rolled her onto her back. The child within her turned over and "quickened" at that moment and she was swept with such a sudden wave of nausea that, groaning uncontrollably, she tried to sit up.
Jim immediately sprang up, thinking he had hurt her. Kitty wasn't quick enough. Before she could struggle upright, she had begun to vomit. It covered her dress and even the bed where they had been lying. Jim fumbled with the lantern in the darkness, finally managing to illumine Kitty's miserably huddled figure in a corner of the bunk.
"Please, Jim, go away and leave me. I don't want you to see me like this."
He waved away her pleas with an impatient hand and briskly poured water into her washbowl and brought over a fresh towel. He took hold of the soiled dress and took it off over her head. Kitty was too weak to protest and allowed herself to be undressed like a rag doll.
"Sweetheart, you're with child! Why didn't you tell me?" She shook her head miserably and began to retch again. "Hush, now; hush, lass," he murmured as he washed away the filth. He found a clean nightdress and slipped it over her head.
"You can't sleep in this bunk until it's been stripped and cleaned. Come on, sweetheart, I'll carry you to my bed. You can't stay here. It stinks!" He put a glass of wine to her lips and slipped her into his bed. He couldn't have treated her with more loving care had she been his child. In that moment she loved him with all her heart. He bade her rest and went off with his incredible energy to strip and scour her cabin. No sooner was her bunk made up clean and the air made sweet-smelling again than she fouled Jim's cabin as she had her own. With infinite compassion he washed her again, changed her nightgown and carried her back to her own cabin. Each time she awoke, Jim's comforting presence was beside her.
In the early hours of the morning he asked, "Are you feeling better, lass?"
"Yes, Jim. I'm sorry about what happened," she said, embarrassed. She awoke later to find Jemmy taking his place. He looked at her kindly and said, "Have your ideas about the captain changed, ma'am?"
"Jemmy, that man's a saint."
He grinned. "Don't let him hear you say that. He prefers to think he's the devil."
She smiled a secret smile. "We know differently."
After breakfast, Captain Harding returned and sat on the edge of her bunk. "Why didn't you tell me about the babe, lass? Your little belly looked so pretty, all rounded and swollen with the sweet burden you carry. I'm fond of you, lass, but it just wasn't meant to be. You've found your man and I'm not one to come between a man and his woman. Still, it would have been an adventure-two Gypsies sailing the seven seas. I'll think of it on lonely nights."
She reached up and touched his face where his beard curled softly. "I'll think of it too, Jim."
"Rest now. We'll sight land tomorrow."
Chapter 20
Patrick had arrived in Charleston a full month before Kitty. He quickly arranged for the disposal of his profitable cargo and so was free to make plans to fill the ship with goods to take back to Liverpool. He would buy cotton from Bagatelle, travel to Wilmington to pick up tobacco grown in Virginia, then sail to Philadelphia and New York to the branch offices of the Hind Food Company, which was expanding faster than he had ever dared hope. He purchased a carriage and a fine team and arranged for a young seaman, Rob Wilson, to drive him to the Carolina plantation.
When they arrived at Bagatelle, Patrick was surprised to find that Jacquine had not remarried. He couldn't believe that a woman of her passions could lead a celibate life, so kept his eyes peeled for evidence of her bedfellow. Surprisingly, he found none. He took young Rob aside and spoke seriously to him. "There's an extra fifty pounds in it for you, Rob, if you stick to my side like glue."
Rob cocked
a questioning eyebrow at him.
"It's very simple. I don't wish you to leave me alone with the widow," he said with a laugh.
"She looks like a grand piece. Willing, too!"
"Too damned willing, that's the trouble. You've heard the expression, 'She'll have your guts for garters'? Well, this one would have your balls for earrings!"
Kitty's face was ever before him. His thoughts dwelled on the times she had been warm in his arms. The scent of her -lingered in his dreams, and many had been the night on the long voyage when he had tossed sleepless upon his narrow bunk while her vision teased him with a burning, consuming desire. She was in his blood now, never to be denied. She was his love; his only love. The thought of other women was like ashes to him. His one thought was to get away from the plantation as soon as possible.
Jacquine was burning with impatience to get him alone, but when Patrick kept up a steady conversation with the common seaman who accompanied him, her pique smoldered beneath the surface.
The table was being set only for two. Patrick quirked an eyebrow at Jacquine. "Surely there will be three of us for lunch, or aren't you joining us, madame?"
She gasped audibly. "I presumed your servant would dine in the servants' hall, Patrick."
He fell back on southern prejudice, which he knew would be strong. "A white man-to dine with the Negroes? I think not, my dear. Rob is not merely my servant, he is also my friend, and therefore my guest."
She masked her annoyance immediately. Patrick O'Reilly was arrogant, dominant, used to getting his own way and best of all, he had a deliciously cruel streak. If she angered him now, she realized she was in danger of losing him, so she became all smiling, gracious hospitality.
Patrick laid the groundwork for an early departure. "Unfortunately, I am already behind in my schedule. We must press on immediately at dawn tomorrow."
She licked her lips and pouted, "I think you are ungallant to put your work before me, cheri.”