Owned by the Ocean (12 page)

His father’s
face grew cloudy and Brant quickly changed the subject. “How is
Leo?”

“
I hear he is doing well. His father told me he settled in
Jamaica to run their plantation a few years back. Such a shame that
a young man with such promise would confine himself to that
backwoods island, but the plantation is a good
business.”

“
James tells me you plan on keeping the plantation but selling
this house.”

“
The plantation is a good source of income. James will be in
school so there will be no use for this house. When he is of age he
can purchase a new one if he wishes to stay here.”

“
When summer is over you understand that I must leave. James
will have no one left.”

“
Yes, I understand you have a duty as captain to your crew.
James and I have discussed all the arrangements that will be in
place, you need not worry. Now leave me. I am tired.”

Calvin ended
their time of visitation abruptly, as he usually did when he was
too exhausted to talk anymore. Brant just nodded and forced a tight
smile.

“
I’ll bring you dinner later, Father,” promised Brant as he
left the room.

* * *

After Brant
and James had eaten dinner that evening Brant filled a plate and
climbed the stairs to his father’s room. He knocked before entering
but didn’t wait for an answer. Quite often his father was asleep at
this time and Brant would leave the plate by his bedside for when
he woke up. Tonight, however, Calvin was awake and sitting. Papers
were strewn about his bed and he seemed completely immersed in
reading them.

“
Is everything okay, Father?”

“
Yes, yes.” He sounded strong, stronger than he had since
Brant had come home, though still far from his old self.

“
Can I get you anything?”

“
No, nothing. I just have a few things to go over.”

“
Alright, well here’s your dinner.”

“
Put it on the night stand. My lawyer will be coming first
thing in the morning so I would like breakfast at
seven.”

“
I’ll see to it that you get it.”

“
Thank you. Goodnight, Brant.”

“
Goodnight, Father.”

Brant left the
room but he felt uneasy. He had seen men die before, he was no
stranger to death and he had seen men become stronger in their last
moments. Sometimes it would almost seem like they would pull
through, and then a few hours later they would die. Brant already
knew his father would not survive. The doctor had said there was no
hope, and Brant wasn’t so naïve as to think he could be wrong.
Seeing his father energetic and seemingly strong had him worried
and he couldn’t help but feel a darkness descend on him. This could
very well have been the last time he saw his father alive.

* * *

As morning
dawned Brant was woken up by a scream. One of the maids came out of
Calvin’s room sobbing. Brant took one look at her and knew what had
caused the commotion but he had to see for himself. He went over to
his father’s bed and checked for a pulse. Nothing, as he had
expected. James came running in then, his face ashen and eyes wide
with fear.

“
Is it father? What happened?”

Brant turned
to face his younger brother, swallowing hard. “He’s gone, James.
I’m sorry.”

James’ face
contorted in sorrow and tears filled his eyes, but he swiped them
away angrily. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying. I knew this was
coming.”

Brant went
over to his brother and hugged him. “Our father died, it is right
to grieve.”

James nodded
his head against Brant’s shoulder and allowed his tears to soak
through Brant’s nightshirt. He clung to Brant for a long time,
sobbing, letting out emotion that Brant wished he could feel for
his now dead father. Instead, he felt nothing.

“
Let’s get you out of this room. Markus will see to it that
his body is looked after. The lawyer should be here shortly and we
can attend to business.”

“
Yes, of course. I’ll be in his study.”

Brant called
in the maid who was still standing in the hall sobbing. “Please,
settle down. There is no need for this hysteria. I need you to take
this breakfast back to the kitchen and then send for Markus to
attend to the body. He will know what to do. Also, ask him to send
for the coroner when he’s done. It is not good for him to be
here.”

The girl
nodded and ran off with the bowl of hot porridge in hand, tears
still streaming down her face. Brant felt sorry for the girl but
there was much to be done and he had his brother to worry about.
The maid would be fine, likely just shocked at finding a cold dead
body.

He left his
father’s room and went to join James in the study where they would
await the arrival of their father’s lawyer.

* * *

Russell
Johnson, Calvin Foxton’s lawyer, looked too grave when he walked
into the study and shook hands with Brant and James, as if putting
on a show for the benefit of the grieving sons.

Sitting across
the desk from Brant and James he began to pull out a few papers and
lay them on the desk.

“
We had been preparing for some time for this day. Things are
in order. This estate is in James’ name and I will arrange for it
to be sold as your father requested. All the money will be held in
a trust for James, of which he will receive a sum of twenty pounds
per week as an allowance until he graduates, at which time the
entire sum will be transferred to his name. Does this all seem
satisfactory?”

The brothers
nodded so Russell continued. “Your father and I made a few changes
to the will in the last couple weeks. First of all, James will no
longer be inheriting the Jamaican sugar plantation but I believe
Calvin had discussed that with you already, James.”

“
And what will be happening to the plantation?” questioned
Brant.

“
Your father has decided that you, Brant, have inherited
it.”

Brant looked
at Russell in shock and shook his head. “That cannot be right.”

“
It is. You can look over the paperwork yourself if you like
but his signature is on it. Call it the last sentimentality of a
dying man. It is a thriving plantation that brings in a great deal
of money; I would be happy with your inheritance. Now, there is
something I have to discuss with Brant alone if you don’t mind
leaving us for a little while, James.”

“
Of course,” said James, looking slightly concerned, but
getting up and leaving the room without any question.

“
Brant, your father sent me a letter a few days ago outlining
some changes he wanted made. I was on my way over this morning to
have him sign but I’m afraid I was too late.” Russell handed a
letter over to Brant to read over.

Brant
carefully looked it over and then looked at the lawyer. “This means
that my father wanted me to become the guardian of James?”

“
Yes. There are a few guidelines though. When James turns
sixteen he is to attend school here, in London until he is twenty,
or some other school that you deem fit for a gentleman of his
standing. You are also to spend summer every year either in London
or at the sugar plantation. James is not to take part in any
illegal activities and he must be given every opportunity to lead
the life of a gentleman and a member of the King’s court. Your
father never signed the alterations so I can use this letter as his
consent or we can burn it and forget it ever existed.”

Brant looked
at the man and looked back at the letter. “I would like nothing
more than to be my brother’s guardian, but it’s a choice he will
have to make. I’ll call him back in.”

Brant called
James back into the room and Russell Johnson once again explained
the situation. James looked serious, much too serious for a ten
year old.

“
So I would live on Brant’s ship, with him?”

“
Yes.”

“
And I would still go to school?”

“
That is correct. When you turn sixteen.”

“
If Brant doesn’t mind I very much like this
arrangement.”

“
I would have it no other way.”

“
Then it is settled. I will arrange the liquidation of
Calvin’s possessions here in London and have the money wired to an
account in Jamaica.”

“
That would be fine. I only have another few weeks before I
leave London.”

Russell got up
from his chair and extended his hand first to Brant and then James.
“I offer my deepest condolences to both of you. Calvin Foxton was a
good man.”

Brant thanked
him and showed him out. He had a few weeks to arrange a funeral for
his father, the uprooting of his brother and the setting sail of
his ship and he wasn’t sure he could handle it all. In fact he was
quite sure he couldn’t handle it all.

* * *

Calvin
Foxton’s funeral took place in a large church in the heart of
London. It was well attended, treated like more of a social event
than a time to mourn the loss of a decorated commodore. Brant and
James heard enough well wishes and condolences and platitudes to
make Brant feel sick. Everyone had something to say about what a
great man Calvin Foxton was and poor boys, having lost both
parents. They must have forgotten that James had never known his
mother and Brant had been missing from the family for the last four
years. Women that Brant had never met in his life cried on his
shoulder expressing how much they would miss “dear Calvin” as he
was such a good man and had given so much to his country. Brant
wanted to know what he had given to his family.

Following the
funeral Brant and James went back to their father’s house where a
small group of their father’s friends came and had tea and cake
with them. It was now that people finally began to acknowledge
Brant’s absence for the last five years. They asked him where he
had been and what he was doing with his life. Most of them
expressed disapproval for his chosen lifestyle but a small few were
interested and wanted to know more about the life of a privateer
and how exactly he served the country. There was even one or two
who commended him for his bravery and service, but they did so in
hushed tones. Brant smiled and answered their questions as they
came to the best of his ability.

The following week was spent entirely with Brant being pulled
in two different directions. He was busy making arrangements for
the departure of the
BlackFox
and preparing to uproot James and move him away
from everything he knew.

James wanted
to take everything with; his furniture, his bedding, every little
thing that reminded him of home. Brant had to work hard to convince
him to leave it behind and sell it. There would be furniture in
Jamaica and anything else he needed could be purchased. In the end
James packed up a few trunks with his book collection and
clothing.

Arranging to have his brother’s things transferred to
the
BlackFox,
Brant set James up with a bunk on his ship and took his leave
to track down a blacksmith. He wanted to buy James a cutlass of his
own—he would not have his brother defenceless on a privateering
ship. The more Brant thought about it the more he realized that
the
BlackFox
was
no place for a ten-year-old boy who had been sheltered most of his
life. His father had entrusted him with the well-being of his
brother, and Brant would be exposing him to a dangerous and immoral
lifestyle. He wasn’t ready for this new responsibility. He barely
knew how to look after himself and command a crew, how could he be
expected to be a good parental figure? Calvin had the same
experience as Brant and his parenting had resulting in a bitter
boy. The whole situation was quickly turning from overwhelming to
terrifying.

Stepping into
a blacksmith shop Brant determined to concentrate on the task at
hand: finding James a suitable cutlass.

“
Can I help you?” asked a large sweaty man wearing a leather
apron.

“
I’m looking for a cutlass.”

“
Let’s see what I have.”

The man pulled
out a few ornate blades which he presented to Brant.

Brant accepted
each one at a time and tested their balance and took a few
experimental swings and thrusts but each time he shook his
head.

“
What is the best one you have?”

“
It’s nothing fancy.”

“
It doesn’t have to be.”

The man pulled
out a relatively plain sword. The handle had beautiful metalwork
but it wasn’t encrusted with any gems or inlaid with any gold. The
blacksmith handed it to Brant and he followed the same ritual as he
had with the others.

“
How much?”

“
Thirty pounds.”

Brant pulled
out a bag and counted out the allotted money, handing it to the
blacksmith.

Walking back
to the ship Brant carried his purchase proudly at his side. He had
never gotten a gift for his brother and he was looking forward to
giving it to him. A boy’s first sword was an important part in
one’s life—a rite of passage and a step closer to manhood.

Walking the ramp onto the
BlackFox
Brant went in search of his
brother who was likely trying to grasp the huge lifestyle change
that was coming over him—especially after he saw his living
quarters. Brant could remember quite fondly the first time he had
seen where he would be sleeping. The
BlackFox
was outfitted with wooden
bunks in the crew’s quarters but the beds were short and narrow and
the mattresses made of straw that were refilled once a year for
cleanliness reasons. That was not a common practice on most ships
but LaFleur had enforced it strictly and Brant had continued to do
so. However, the beds were far from the standards of what James was
used to. But Brant had gotten used to them and so would
James.