The Sea Between (7 page)

‘Aye, aye, captain,’ Dan said, saluting him, and with a grin scooped up the coins and disappeared through the fog of smoke towards the bar.

‘Come on, sup up, lad, you’re lagging behind. You’ve not finished your second drink yet,’ Albert said, nudging John with his good elbow.

Loath to risk more taunts, John picked up his glass, took three mouthfuls in quick succession, then set it down on the table, empty.

Richard smiled and looked away. Young John was starting to look quite glassy-eyed and his cheeks were as pink as a boiled salmon. By the end of the night the lad would be as drunk as a lord. Not much Richard could do about it. If he told his men not to press him, it would only serve to emphasize the lad’s youth all the more. God help the lad tomorrow. Richard could still remember the results of his own initiation into strong liquor, at about the same age…the terrible nausea as the walls of the cabin had moved like waves before his eyes, being violently sick, then feeling as if his skull was going to split in two all the next day. A lot of water had flowed under the bridge since then. He’d been a raw young deck-hand in those days. Now he was master of his own vessel.

‘You’ll be looking forward to seeing your wife again in a month
or two, Tom,’ he said, smiling. Tom had recently married a young woman from London.

Tom scratched his chin and grinned. ‘Aye, I am. She’s a fine woman is Meg.’

‘No plans to tie the knot yourself, sir?’ Albert quizzed.

Richard gave a noncommittal shrug. ‘When I find the right woman, I expect I shall.’ He made it an immutable rule not to share his private affairs with his men.

Albert nodded circumspectly. ‘Trouble is it’s hard to tell what a woman’s like ‘til you marry her. I can’t recall Jess complaining once to me when we were courting, but she certainly complains now. She complains about the weather, complains about the children, complains I’m away too much, then when I’m home she complains I’m under her feet.’

Tom shook his head and laughed. ‘You’re a damned good match by the sound of it then. You do nothing but complain yourself, Albert.’

Taking the comment in good part Albert grinned crookedly.

Richard listened with half an ear as the two men continued to discuss their marriages. Eventually, Dan arrived back with the drinks.

‘Here we are!’ he announced, setting a tray of chinking glasses on the table. ‘Here, John,’ he said, handing him a glass. ‘The third whisky is the best one of all!’ He gave the lad a wink, or the closest that his swollen eyelid would come to it.

‘Aye?’ John said innocently as he set his glass down on the table.

‘Aye,’ Dan repeated solemnly. Bending over, he put a fatherly arm around John’s lean shoulders. ‘It’s like this, you see, lad. The first whisky, it gives you watering eyes, the second makes you very wise, but the third…the third makes your cock rise!’

Roars of laughter erupted from around the table. Tom slapped the table with his hand, rocking back and forth. Richard shook his head and wiped his eyes, laughing as loudly as the rest of them.

‘Would you like some company, gentlemen?’

The laughter came to an abrupt halt.

Two pale blue eyes set in a pretty face framed with fair hair gazed beguilingly around the table. Leaning back against his chair, Richard straightened his face and watched his men curiously, interested to see what they would do. They were all married, bar young John Church. Not that he expected that to deter them. It hadn’t on previous occasions; he knew that for a fact. They talked quite openly about the whores who had serviced them. Sometimes he wondered if the lewd bragging that followed the event was more satisfying than the event itself. It certainly lasted longer.

Dan’s puffy-lidded eyes slid down to the woman’s breasts, their plumpness emphasized by the tightness and low cut of her gown. Albert, also appraising the woman’s attributes, absently rubbed his fingers over his sling, no doubt wondering if he could manage the job one-armed. It was Tom, the ship’s ruddy-faced carpenter, who eventually answered her.

‘We would, lassie, but…well, we’re a bit crowded, as you can see.’ He waved his hand across the small round table, around which they were jammed fairly much elbow to elbow. ‘Come back a bit later,’ he invited. He didn’t add, ‘when the captain’s gone’, but it was what he meant.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled coyly. ‘I don’t mind sitting on a knee.’ Her gaze flicked around the table and came to rest on Richard. He smiled, but shook his head. She gave a pretty shrug and cast her eye around the table again.

‘Come on, John, where are your manners? Offer the lady your knee!’ Leaning forward, Dan grabbed hold of the back of John’s chair,
tilted it back, and scraped it out from the table. ‘Here you are,’ he said, beckoning her across. ‘Here’s a very fine pair of knees for you to rest your behind on.’

‘No. No, I, I…’ John stammered. But it was too late. The woman was already on his lap.

‘You’ve arrived just in time,’ Dan told her, grinning as he sat down again. ‘John’s on to his third whisky. We were just telling him what the third one does for a man.’

Evidently familiar with the bawdy rhyme, she dimpled mischievously and passed John his glass. ‘Drink up, John,’ she said softly.

John glanced around the table and, not knowing what else to do, manfully swigged down the whisky. Removing the glass from his hand, she placed it on the table, then rearranged herself on his knee, turning so that she was almost facing him. ‘Well, shall we see if it worked?’ she asked him casually. With the fullness of her skirts concealing her hands it was impossible to see exactly what she was doing, but the astonished look on John’s face left no one in the slightest doubt.

Back aboard his ship an hour later, sitting alone in his cabin with his sore leg propped up on a stool and a glass of his favourite port in his hand, Richard was still laughing.

April 1865

C
harlotte’s mouth opened in surprise as she took in the figure

standing in the open doorway of the barn. A wide grin spread across Richard’s face as he walked over to her. ‘You look surprised to see me. Didn’t you get my letter, telling you to expect me sometime this week?’

‘No, I didn’t.’ She dropped the horse brush into the bucket of water at her feet and glanced down self-consciously at the big leather apron she was wearing. It belonged to Tom. She’d put it on to stop her skirt from getting soaked while she groomed her mare.

‘I expect it’ll arrive eventually,’ Richard said. Taking hold of her wet hands, he leaned forward and kissed her. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said softly.

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she returned. ‘When did you get back?’

‘If you mean to Lyttelton: yesterday. If you mean home: I haven’t been home yet. I wanted to see you first.’

‘Oh,’ she said smugly.

‘You look well,’ Richard commented.

‘You look tired,’ she said truthfully.

He laughed, kissed her again, then cocked his head towards the house. ‘Where is everyone? I tapped on the back door and got no answer. I couldn’t see a soul anywhere. I thought you were all out.’

‘Everyone is out, except for me,’ she said, pulling her hands free so she could take off the apron and make herself more presentable. ‘My father and Edwin and Tom are out checking the sheep.’ She turned away to toss the apron over the railing of the stall. ‘Sarah and her three children are visiting George and Ann, Isobel is in Christchurch, and Jessie Hall is in Oxford visiting her sister for a day or two.’

‘Splendid.’ Richard pulled her into his arms. ‘It seems I timed my return perfectly.’

She laughed and curled her arms around his neck, then closed her eyes as he kissed her. She’d missed Richard more than she cared to admit, and, judging by the way he was kissing her, he’d missed her quite a lot too. It was several minutes before he slackened his hold on her and released her lips. With a sigh he rested his forehead against hers.

‘Lord, it’s good to be able to hold you in my arms again,’ he said softly. ‘I dreamed of you three nights ago, dreamed I was holding you, just like this.’

She had dreamed of him, too, more than once.

‘How long are you ashore?’ she asked, craning her head back so she could see his face.

‘Ten days.’ Releasing her from his arms, he dug his hand into his jacket pocket and brought out a small box, the kind that usually contained jewellery of some kind. Smiling, he held it out to her on the palm of his hand. ‘I’ve bought you a present.’

She reached out to take it, studied it for a moment, then flipped back the hinged lid. ‘Oh, Richard! It’s beautiful!’ she exclaimed in delight. It was a silver brooch. The top part of it, behind which was the pin, was shaped like a furled sail on a spar and hanging from it was a silver barque, perfect in every detail. Lifting it carefully from the box she placed it on the palm of her hand so that she could see it better.

‘If you look through a magnifying glass, you’ll see the word
Nina,
’ Richard commented quietly. ‘Just there.’ He pointed to the place on the hull but the inscription was so tiny that to the naked eye the letters simply looked like decorative little marks. ‘And if you look underneath the clasp…’ he said, turning it over, ‘…it says something else.’

As she read the words, Charlotte felt her throat tighten.
To Charlotte, with love, R.

She ran her fingertip over the inscription, then looked up, smiled, and kissed him. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I shall treasure it.’

An hour later she was standing alone in the yard, the silver brooch pinned to her dress, watching the dust rise in pale brown clouds in the wake of Richard’s horse as he rode off towards his parents’ home, feeling happier than she could ever remember.

The letter advising her of the date of Richard’s return was among the wad of mail which Edwin brought four days later. He had collected it when he’d gone to meet the coach bringing his wife and family back.

‘For you,’ he said, handing the envelope to her with a grin.

She pushed it into her pocket and went to greet Sarah. ‘It’s good to have you home again,’ she said warmly. ‘Are George and Ann well?’

‘They are,’ Sarah affirmed with a smile, then frowned as a loud clatter sounded from the yard followed by excited squeals and shouts from Arthur and Matthew. Then, rising above the general din, came John’s stern voice.

Edwin breathed out an exasperated sigh. ‘Dear God, give me patience! They haven’t been back two minutes and they’re already in trouble with their grandfather!’ Shaking his head, he dropped the rest
of the mail on the parlour table and went outside to investigate.

Sarah glanced down as Mary Ellen stirred in her arms, pushing a chubby arm out from the folds of the blanket. She rocked her gently, shushing softly until the baby settled again, then looked up at Charlotte and smiled. ‘So?’ she prompted. ‘I hear Richard’s here. Has he said anything yet?’

Charlotte laughed. ‘Lots of things. He hasn’t proposed to me, if that’s what you mean.’

‘D’you think he will?’

‘Yes. But maybe not on this visit.’

‘Have you mentioned anything about not liking him being away for such long periods?’

‘Several times.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘Nothing. He thinks it’s just my way of telling him that I missed him.’

Sarah cocked her head to the side, lips pursed. ‘Does he seem glad to be ashore? Does he seem to have missed you?’

‘I think so.’

‘D’you think he’ll be agreeable to making shorter voyages, to being ashore more often?’

Charlotte reached up to finger the silver brooch pinned to the bodice of her white cotton blouse. ‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly. She doubted Richard would agree to give up his long voyages altogether, but he might be prepared to make them less frequently.

Sarah studied her for a moment, then gave a small shrug. ‘Well, you can but ask him. If he says no I suppose you’ll just have to make the best of things.’

Charlotte looked down at little Mary Ellen, sleeping peacefully in her mother’s arms. That was the other thing she’d been thinking
about a lot lately—children. She wanted children of her own, Richard’s children. She wasn’t prepared to raise them on her own, though. Where was the joy in that? Looking up again, she shook her head. ‘I’m extremely fond of Richard, Sarah, but unless he’s willing to spend considerably more time ashore, I won’t marry him.’

Sarah tossed her an old-fashioned smile. ‘I’ll lay odds you will,’ she said.

Ten days had seemed like a reasonably long time when Richard had said that was how long he would be ashore. But the ten days were in fact only eight days in terms of his stay at the farm, because the ten days included the day it had taken him to travel from Lyttelton and the day that it would take him to travel back again. In terms of the weather, however, the eight days couldn’t have been better. Every day had been fine and sunny and every day they’d either ridden or walked across the hills together. In terms of their relationship, well, that was every bit as rosy as the weather. Charlotte enjoyed Richard’s company immensely, and he obviously enjoyed hers too.

On Richard’s final day at the farm, they had ridden up to Shelf Rock and were lying on the grass in each other’s arms in the shade of the overhanging rock, out of the heat of the sun. Even so it was very warm, all the more so with Richard lying half on top of her. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and undone the top three or four buttons so that the front was gaping loose, letting in some air.

Sliding her hand up the back of his neck she ran her fingers through his hair as he planted a trail of kisses down her throat. She loved the way his hair fell forward when he was kissing her, brushing against her skin as he moved.

Lifting his head, Richard smiled down at her. ‘I suppose you’ve realized that I’m in love with you,’ he said softly.

She smiled happily. She had
thought
that he loved her but it was the first time that he had actually
told
her that he did. ‘And I suppose you’ve realized that I’m in love with you,’ she returned quietly. It was the first time she’d told him how she felt, too.

Richard’s smile spread several notches. Leaning forward, he kissed her on the lips, an indescribably gentle, tender kiss that expressed in a way that words could not the depth of his feelings for her.

‘I’ve something to ask you,’ he said quietly.

She looked at him and waited.

‘I want you to be my wife, Charlotte. Will you marry me?’ His smile stretched expectantly.

She smiled back at him, aware that her heart had started to thump. ‘Richard, I do want to marry you,’ she said, choosing her words carefully, ‘but there are a few things we need to talk about first. We need to talk about what our marriage will be like, in terms of seeing each other, spending time together.’

A puzzled frown formed between Richard’s brows. ‘I shall see you whenever I’m ashore.’

‘Yes, I know you will, but how often will that be? Twice a year? Richard, I want to see you more than that.’

He pushed himself up slightly, supporting himself on his left forearm. ‘What are you suggesting, Charlotte? That you accompany me on my voyages?’

‘No, of course not.’ She reached up to touch his cheek gently.

‘Then what are you suggesting? That I should sell my ship and become a farmer?’

‘No, of course not,’ she said again.

‘What then?’ Richard had been expecting her to delightedly accept his proposal and he was looking somewhat put out by this unforeseen turn of events.

Pushing herself into a sitting position, she curled her arms around
his neck. ‘Richard, I love you very much and I want to be your wife. I would never ask you to give up the sea entirely, because I know how much you enjoy it—but do you have to go on long voyages? Do you have to be away for six months at a time? Could you not carry local cargoes up and down the coast, that would only take you away from home for a night or two?’

Letting out a deep sigh, he sat up so that they were sitting side by side. ‘Charlotte, I’m afraid it isn’t that simple. I own a sea-faring barque, not a coastal trader. It was built with long voyages in mind. It’s not suited to short coastal hauls. It’s the wrong type of vessel.’

‘Well, could you not exchange it for one that
is
suited?’ she asked.

‘Are you telling me how I should order my business affairs, Charlotte?’ There was no mistaking the sharp note of warning in Richard’s voice.

‘I’m suggesting a way around a problem,’ she returned evenly.

‘You were suggesting that I sell my ship.’

She turned away and stood up. ‘If you want to marry me, Richard, you’ll have to find a way of spending time with me, and more than just a few days a year. How you do that is up to you. I was merely suggesting coastal trading as a possible—’

‘Charlotte,’ Richard interrupted. ‘You know nothing at all about shipping, or finances. I’m currently paying off a loan and paying it off reasonably quickly, because there are good profits to be made in carrying long-distance cargoes, particularly when I carry a cargo on my own behalf. I purchased a cargo of tea last year and sold it in England for twenty times what I paid for it. Within five or ten years I’ll be completely free of debt. If I were to use the
Nina
only for coastal trading, I’d still be in debt in twenty years’ time.’

She glanced down at him. ‘A moment ago you said it wasn’t suitable for coastal trading.’ He was changing his tune now. ‘Anyway,
does it matter if it takes twenty years to clear your debts?’

‘Of course it matters!’ He pushed himself to his feet.

She folded her arms and looked away. ‘Well, it matters to me that I’d not see you for months and months!’

Expelling another loud sigh, Richard turned her around to face him again, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. ‘Charlotte, let’s not quarrel about it,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll discuss it again when I next come home, when you’ve had time to think about it some more.’

‘And will you be thinking about it as well?’ she asked. ‘Will you be thinking about how you can spend more time with me? Or is it just I who must think? Think up ways of occupying myself while you’re at sea.’

‘Charlotte, the sea is my livelihood,’ Richard said patiently. ‘Much as I’d like to spend more time ashore with you, it isn’t possible.’

‘It would be, if you made a change to coastal trading.’

‘I’ve already explained to you why I travel long distances.’

‘Yes, you have explained. It’s on account of profit, which is apparently more important to you than spending time with me!’

Richard tightened his lips. ‘Well, if that’s how poorly you rate my feelings for you, you’d better not marry me.’

‘I don’t intend to,’ she returned. ‘Not until you can assure me that you’ll spend a reasonable amount of time with me. I want a proper husband, Richard, not one I don’t see from one month to the next, whom I can only converse with by letter, who’s hard-pressed to remember his children’s names because he sees them so rarely. I want a marriage that
is
a marriage.’

‘So either I give in to your demands or else you won’t marry me—is that it?’

She looked away impatiently. ‘They aren’t demands. They’re requests.’

‘Whatever you want to call them, they amount to the same!’ Silence fell. Shaking his head in exasperation, Richard strode down the hill about twenty yards, stood for a minute staring at his feet, then walked back up the slope to her. ‘We’ll discuss it again when I come back in a few months,’ he said coolly. ‘You can give me your answer then.’

‘And when we discuss it again, when you’re next ashore, will we be discussing how you can make some changes so that you aren’t away so much?’ she asked.

‘Charlotte, I want to marry you but I will not have you dictating to me how I should run my business affairs,’ Richard returned in the same cool, even tones.

She looked away, feeling hurt and angry. He was more or less informing her that he had no intention of making any changes whatsoever to his comings and goings, and that she would have to learn to accommodate any domestic inconveniences they caused.