“Robert!” One of the privateers rushed to aid the wounded man, but the other two turned to me. Anger replaced their amused expressions, and they moved closer, cutlasses brandished. Julia instinctively scurried to my side, and behind the protection of my out-thrust sword we backed toward the other ladies.
“That was not wise, mademoiselle,” Red Cap said. “I must cut your pretty face in repayment.” Then he proceeded to tell me what else he would do.
I do not mind revealing that I was more frightened than I had ever been in my life. I had had the element of surprise with the distracted pirate, but I would now have to rely on skill and strategy. Could I fight two men at once? I had never done so.
More men raced down the stairs, and my heart pounded. It is over. My foolishness will get us killed.
To my surprise I saw Phineas fighting backward down the stairs. He carried no weapon, yet he used his hands and feet, punching and kicking, to first knock the sword from a pirate’s hands then to knock him down the stairs to the deck. Another combatant took the first one’s place, and Phineas prevailed over him, as well. The pirate landed in a heap beside the first.
The two privateers menacing us turned toward Phineas. He was prepared, however, kicking the swords from their hands then punching them before they could defend themselves. They lay on the ground, moaning.
He saw me, and I was about to raise the sword in triumph when he barely had time to yell before another privateer was upon him. “Isabella! Take care behind you!”
I whirled around to face the pirate who had tended the wounded man. He held his cutlass at a deadly angle, slashing through the air as though to warn me. I suddenly realized that I had never actually fought Signor Antonio with the button removed from the tip of my sword.
I parried his thrust and could tell from his slashing that he fought with a great deal of drink inside him. He leered at me, his eyes rheumy with alcohol. I could not afford to let him tire himself out as would be my normal method. Though inebriated, he would fight too long and hard and would take risks that might work to his advantage. I hastily prayed for guidance and strength, then feinted, ducked, and after he followed through, drove my blade into his sword arm.
Cursing, he dropped the weapon and sank to his knees. Phineas rushed beside me, kicked him in the head, laying my opponent flat on the deck. We had barely a moment before we were beset by another miscreant, but between us, we sent him to join his companion.
We stared at one another, breathing heavily during the respite. I could not believe a man could fight the way Phineas had. Not a weapon did he have, save for his body, yet he had defended himself-and me-quite handily.
Mrs. Akers sobbed loudly, and even Julia had given herself to loud tears.
“Listen!” Still panting, Phineas held up his hand. “The cannons have stopped firing.” He turned to the ladies. “Are you all to rights?”
Mrs. Akers could not stop bawling. Mrs. Harrison had nodded off with her head against a stack of barrels. The pirate I had dueled lay sprawled against a spilled sack of grain, completely still.
“I’ll take care of Mrs. Akers and Mrs. Harrison,” Julia said, wiping the tears from her face. “Go above and see what has happened.”
I looked at the still pirate and felt my knees buckle. “I… I should stay to help.”
“Go above with Phineas,” Julia said softly. “We will be well.”
Phineas took my hand and led me up the ladder. When we reached the deck, I smelled gunpowder. I tried not to focus on the prone and bloodied men on the deck, some of whom I felt certain were dead.
Smoke clung to the air around us. I could barely discern a much smaller French ship alongside the Dignity. The corsair sat so low in the water that its masts aligned with our deck. The pirate crew must have dropped onto our ship from their top masts, for one or two men still attempted to board. One landed right in front of me, knocking Phineas and me to the deck. I held on to my sword and staggered to my feet, breathing hard. The villain grappled with me for a moment then drew back in shock. “C’est une dame!” The sight of the fairer sex wielding a sword must have frightened him, for he took another look at me and raced in the opposite direction, only to be caught by one of the Dignity seamen.
Indeed, the fighting had ceased. Our crew had rounded up the pirates and now encircled them, taunting with yells and displays of the captured swords and guns. Clutching his bloodied arm, Captain Malfort bellowed, “Throw them into the brig! And while you’re down there, someone let the ladies know all is safe.”
He caught sight of me wielding the sword, and his jaw dropped. “Good heavens! Miss Goodrich!”
Phineas glanced at me sharply. “You are bleeding,” he said, touching my elbow.
I looked down and saw a bloody gash in the sleeve of the gray dress. “Thankfully, it is nothing serious. I should survive with a minimum of care.”
“Which you shall have right now.” He took me by my undamaged arm, the one still holding the sword, and moved me across the deck, bellowing for the ship’s surgeon. “Mortimer!”
“I am all right,” I murmured, unheard as he moved us toward the bow, where Mortimer knelt over a fallen man.
“She is wounded,” Phineas said, thrusting me in front of the doctor.
Mortimer glanced up at Phineas, then me, taking in my wound with a surgeon’s practiced eye before pronouncing, “It is nothing, man. Bind it up and leave me to tend to more serious matters.” He gestured at his patient, who groaned then screamed as Mortimer adjusted the leg bent at a crooked angle.
“Mr. Gilpin!” I cried, clinging to Phineas for support.
“Take her away,” Mortimer said with a sweeping gesture, “and leave me to my work.”
Phineas steered me in the opposite direction, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Come away,” he said gently now. “I have some fresh cloth to bind your wound, Isabella.”
“But I must help!” I said, gesturing at the wounded men. “Mr. Gilpin… the others.”
“You have done more than your part. Let us go back to the cabin where I can see to your arm.”
I clung to the sword, in shock, I suppose, only releasing it when Phineas gently removed it from my hand once we were safe in our cabin. When he did, I could not help the rush of emotion that overtook me, and try as I might to prevent it, I wept fiercely. I had fought and won, but there seemed little glory. I had taken a life. A life!
Mindful of my wound, Phineas drew me into his arms. He said nothing, but pressed my face against his shoulder. When my tears dissolved into mere tremors then one undignified hiccup, he drew back, smiling. “Do you feel better?”
I did not, but I nodded, yet unable to speak.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing at the wooden crate. I was happy to leave someone in command, so I complied, numb, watching as he knelt to open the mysterious trunk. I could not see inside, for he shut it quickly, but he approached me with a white silk sash.
He knelt and bound the silk around my arm. “It is but a scratch,” he said. “When I saw you wounded, I forgot myself and thought the worst.”
He tied the cloth in place, then gently touched it. His eyes met mine, and my stomach trembled as it had in Cape Town. We looked at each other as though anew, and I felt a pull between us as thrilling but as dangerous as the currents of the ocean.
Phineas leaned forward then seemed to catch himself, rising and helping me to my feet. “Though it is past dawn, you should rest,” he said. “May I bring you some wine?”
I shook my head, suddenly weary to the bone. I made my way to my hammock and crawled in. He drew the blanket around my shoulders then turned away. “Phineas?” I murmured.
He turned back. “Yes?”
“When I awake, will you brew me some green tea? I have yet to partake of any.”
He smiled. “I shall brew you pot after pot.”
“Phineas?”
“Yes?”
“Will you show me how to fight as you did?” I said sleepily.
“A lady with your sword skills wants to fight without one?”
“I will have to return the sword to its rightful owner, and then I shall be without a weapon again.” With my eyes closed, I had no idea where he was, but I smiled anyway. “I am still waiting for my own.”
I heard him raise the canvas, but he made no response.
I did not rise until nearly dinnertime, and I am not certain I would have awakened even then except for the memory of Mr. Gilpin. I wanted to ascertain that he was in good health. I donned the brown dress, since the gray would need to be mended in the sleeve, then I headed for the cuddy. The captain’s cook was there, ordering others about to prepare for dinner. He stopped short when he saw me, clearly appalled for some reason.
“I did not mean to disturb you,” I said. “Is there any news about Mr. Gilpin?”
“He’s still breathing, if that’s your meaning. Check with the doctor, if you like.” He turned away as though he did not want to look at me.
Curious behavior! I headed for the stairs, to the surgeon’s area below deck. I wondered how many other wounded men besides Mr. Gilpin I would find there.
Mr. Calow waited outside the cabin, and he bowed when he saw me, his young eyes twinkling. “Miss Goodrich!”
“Mr. Calow.” I curtsied. “I am delighted to see that you are well.”
He nodded. “Is your arm in need of attention?”
“It was a mere scratch. Phineas should not have troubled Dr. Mortimer.”
Calow’s smile fell. “The doctor is still with Mr. Gilpin.”
“Then he lives?”
“Barely, Doctor says. His leg was broken. He was also wounded in the chest and bled quite a bit, but if he holds during the day, he may survive.”
“Perhaps I can help.” I reached for the doorknob.
Mr. Calow covered it first. “Miss Whipple has helped the doctor with Mr. Gilpin, as well as the other wounded men.”
I turned. “Miss Whipple?”
He nodded. “She has helped Dr. Mortimer all this time.”
“She must be exhausted,” I said. “Perhaps I can relieve her so that she may rest.”
“Did you rest well, Miss Goodrich? You must have been exhausted.” Mr. Calow lowered his gaze. “I have never seen a lady fight before.”
“I have not exactly fought before,” I confessed. “Not with real blades, at any rate.”
Smiling shyly at me, Mr. Calow opened the door and admitted me to the surgical area. Several men with various injuries-a bruised head, a sliced arm, a nicked shoulder- lay nursing their wounds. However, all appeared to be conscious and would no doubt be better in a few days, if not sooner.
Mr. Gilpin, lying in the corner bed, did not appear to have that luxury of time. His face was waxy, a contrast to the white bandages bound to the wound on the right side of his chest. He breathed, but scarcely.
Miss Whipple sat on the far side of his bed, applying a wet cloth to his forehead. When she saw me, she looked startled. “Miss Goodrich!”
I took the chair opposite her. “How does he fare? Mr. Calow says that if he lives through the day, the doctor has hope.”
“Yes. The bleeding has lessened, and we can only hope that he improves with rest. There is no longer anything to be done for him, other than prayer.” She wiped his forehead again, and her shoulders drooped.
I felt great pity for her and admiration for her compassion. “You have been here all day?”
“How could I not? Dr. Mortimer admitted that he needed someone to help, and I was available.”
“What of Mrs. Akers and Mrs. Harrison?”
Julia smiled bitterly. “I believe they took to their own beds, promising not to rise until they were fully recovered from being shoved into the ships’s pantry in such an ungracious manner.”
“You should have awakened me,” I said. “I would have been glad to assist. Indeed, I would be glad to take your place now. You have been through a great deal.”
“I have survived worse than being taken below deck for my own safety. Besides, it is you who have endured a great deal. It is all the crew can speak of, how Miss Goodrich and Mr. Snowe fought off many of the frogs and saved the Dignity from certain plunder and ruin. If not for you two, we would all be lost.”
“The crew is too modest. They fought like tigers to save their ship. But what of the Frenchmen and their vessel?”
“Captain Malfort ordered one of the superior officers and some of the seamen to sail the vessel and prisoners back to Cape Town.”
“It is a relief to know they are no longer aboard. Were there many wounded… and dead?” I suppressed a shudder, thinking of the men I had fought hand to hand.
Julia shrugged. “I did not hear. I only know that Captain Malfort said that the frogs were gone. Some of the crew are mopping the deck, as well as making necessary repairs.”
“Would you like for me to watch Mr. Gilpin while you rest?” I offered again.
She shook her head, adjusting the bandage on his chest a trifle. “I find it good to be of use. Mr. Gilpin does not think highly of me, but he is a countryman. Captain Malfort said that he fought bravely.” She raised her head. “As, I hear, did you.”
“It was mere stupidity,” I said. “I must have been beetle-headed to test my skills. Perhaps it was the element of surprise that gave me an advantage.”
“You are too modest, I’m sure.”
“Miss Whipple!” Captain Malfort’s voice seemed to boom behind me, but when I turned, he was staring at Mr. Gilpin. “How is he?”
“There seems to be no change.”
Captain sighed. “I do not like to lose anyone aboard my ship, particularly my highest officer. He is a man of integrity and courage. I believe he killed several frogs before one of them caught him by surprise. And speaking of surprise…” He turned to me. “It appears that you have caught us all off our guard with your swordsmanship display, Miss Goodrich. May I ask where you learned to fight like that?”
“My uncle hired a fencing master for me.”
“You and your brother both possess unusual, er, fighting skills. A most unusual family, I daresay. I do not approve of such activities for ladies, but in light of your help to all aboard the Dignity, I thank you.” He bowed stiffly.
I nodded in return. Captain Malfort cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. “Let me know if there is any change, Miss Whipple.”
He left, and I rose. “If I cannot persuade you to accept my assistance…”
She glanced up. “I am happy to be of use,” she said. I thought that she looked remarkably weary, but she seemed content. I left to find Phineas, for we had much to discuss.
I searched the ship high and low. Everywhere I went, sailors tipped their caps or otherwise acknowledged my presence. A few turned their backs as though expressing their disapproval of a lady wielding a sword. It made me realize how Julia Whipple must feel occasionally when she met with outright stares or received a cut direct. She and I had both stepped outside the lines drawn by society, and whether we could ever put both feet back inside remained to be seen.
I had nearly despaired of finding Phineas but found him in the last place I would expect. I had wondered if he had perhaps gone overboard when I retired to our cabin for a place of quiet to pray for Mr. Gilpin. When I opened the door, Phineas glanced up, startled, from where he knelt before his trunk. “Isabella!”
“I have been searching for you,” I said. “I checked on Mr. Gilpin, and you and I must have somehow crossed paths.”
He shut the trunk and rose. “Are you well? Are you recovered?”
“I am. The rest did me good.”
“And your arm?”
“Your bandage still holds,” I said, patting the slight bulk beneath my sleeve. “Thank you for tending to me.”
His eyes searched mine as though for an answer. “Is something wrong?” I said.
“No.” He stepped back, as though putting distance between us. “How is Mr. Gilpin?”
“He is alive, but he has lost a lot of blood, I am told. Julia is still tending him.”
“She was much concerned with his health. The other wounded are not in danger, apparently. We are fortunate that only Mr. Gilpin was wounded badly.”
“Still, it is a pity,” I said.
“Yes.”
We fell into silence, each of us scarcely able to look at the other. What was this awkwardness between us? Since the day we had met, we had always had conversation between us-spirited at best, antagonistic at worst-but always an exchange of words. We seemed as strangers at the moment.
“Isabella.” He cleared his throat. “This seems the appropriate moment.”
I frowned. “For what?”
He knelt before the trunk and lifted the lid, then drew out a long length of supple leather, wrapped tight. He laid it on the closed trunk lid and unwrapped it to reveal a sword. Double bladed and etched with delicate scrollwork, the steel gleamed in the sunlight beaming through the porthole. He placed it carefully in my hands. “It is yours.”
I stared at it with awe. The tip was narrower and not as thick as the base of the blade. The hilt, which protected the hand, had short wings. The handle seemed just long enough for one hand plus a few fingers from the other, so it was primarily a one-handed sword. The grip was covered in some sort of skin, and the pommel-the end of the handle-seemed to hold all the pieces of the sword together. “It is beautiful, Phineas. The blade is quite unique.”
“The tip is for stabbing or slashing. The middle section is for cuts and deflections. The closest section is for defensive action. It is made of several plates, with the middle hard and the outer, softer. ”
I turned it over in my hands, then held it out to test its weight. It was heavier than what I was accustomed to, but it felt solid in my hands. “Where did you acquire it?”
“It has been in my mother’s family for several generations.”
I handed it back as though it burned. “I cannot accept this!”
“I have promised you a sword.” He placed it solemnly back in my hands. “And it is yours.”
“But Phineas-”
He touched my hands. “You have earned it.”
My hands trembled. Suddenly the blade did not seem half as beautiful as it did cruel. “I… I killed a man, did I not?”
He nodded solemnly. “You also saved the lives of many aboard ship. To provoke a fight is unthinkable. To use your skill in self-defense, and especially in the defense of others, is noble. Remember that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for a friend. Most of the ship is grateful.” He covered his right fist with his left hand and bowed. “I am grateful.”
My face warmed. I would have longed for this prideful moment many, many days ago. My entire perception of Phineas Snowe had changed so greatly during that time that now I only found myself embarrassed. “I do not think I should ever attempt such a feat again,” I said. “I learned to fence only as mere folly. I was even foolish enough to dream of knowing a botte secrète-a perfect thrust. And now…” I thought about the dead pirate.
“When necessity demanded your skill, you accepted the challenge without forethought or hesitation. Some might call it destiny, Isabella.”
“And what would you call it?”
His eyes met mine. “Do you remember the Chinese character on your slippers? The one that I said meant love?”
“Then you said it did not. Which time is the truth?”
“The second. I lied the first time because I believed you only interested in romantic notions, and I thought only to flatter you in jest.”
“What did the character really mean, then?”
“Bravery. You have shown it every step of our journey.” He bowed again. “The sword is yours, Isabella.”
I laid it on its leather wrap and re-covered it. It was beautiful, but it was deadly. Yet it was a gift I could not refuse, for it had been given with the utmost sincerity and depth of heart. I turned back to Phineas. “I will accept it on one condition: that you teach me to fight as you did. Without any weapon at all.”
He smiled. “We always seem to strike a bargain, do we not?”
“Will you teach me?”
“Yes.” His gaze flickered over my form. “But you will need something more suitable to wear. You cannot kick wearing a dress.”
“I am accustomed to wearing inexpressibles while I fence,” I said.
He opened his trunk. “Then you will find these comfortable.” He handed me a pair of light cotton inexpressibles and a loose-fitting cotton jacket that tied at the side. Their style was peculiar but comfortable looking indeed.
“What manner of fencing clothes are these?”
“They are not for fencing. They are what I often wear when I am in China.”
“Where will we practice? Surely we should stay out of sight.”
“Do you think the crew will be astonished at your learning martial arts after the way you handled a sword? Nevertheless, we do not want to be in anyone’s way, so perhaps we could find more room in the cuddy than on deck.”
So it was that I found myself in the middle of the Indian Ocean on an East Indiaman bound for China, learning Phineas’s method of fighting. He called it mo soot. At first I found it difficult not to laugh at the stances he taught, which, he said, were based on various animal movements, such as the dragon, leopard, tiger, snake, and crane. It reminded me of being a child, when David Ransom and I had pretended to be animals roaming in their natural habitat.
What a lifetime ago it seemed, as though it had happened to another person…
As the days melded into weeks, Phineas and I began to speak Chinese more frequently, particularly during our training. I had learned to distinguish the various tones in the language, and with a little practice, I learned to repeat them well enough to be understood. I completed a few more copies of the second chapter of Luke in Chinese, and after the ink had dried, Phineas bound them with a ribbon Julia provided and stored them in his trunk. I was pleased, for I would pass out these tracts when we reached the interior of China.
Naturally, my reputation was quite ruined with our fellow passengers. Mr. Harrison appeared none too pleased with me, pursing his lips when in my presence. But as Mrs. Harrison was no paragon of a lady herself, he said nothing. Sadly, she appeared to be as addicted to the laudanum as ever, and I wondered at the wisdom of his taking her to a country where so many suffered from the same ailment. Phineas had described opium dens, and I shuddered to think of Mrs. Harrison’s presence there.
Mr. and Mrs. Akers gave me the cut direct. Fortunately, neither they nor anyone else seemed wiser to the fact that Phineas and I were not truly brother and sister, but they would have nothing to do with me because of my behavior with the privateers. Mrs. Akers sniffed that it would have been far better for me to have been killed than to have participated in such wicked, unladylike behavior. “You want to be a missionary?” she said. “It is the Chinese who should seek to convert you. Perhaps it is well that you go there, though, for surely only heathens will have you. Britain certainly will not.”
Her words stung that day and every day after when I passed her on deck or sat near her in the cuddy. She refused to speak with me, communicating only through someone else. “Mr. Snowe, would you please ask your sister to pass the salt?” Naturally, by this time someone had informed her of Julia Whipple’s reputation, so she was never the recipient of Mrs. Akers’s conversation, either. I cannot speak for Julia, but I learned to count it all joy.
Speaking of Julia, the oddest turn of events occurred while Phineas and I trained together. Alternately nursing the other wounded as needed, she spent the majority of her time at Mr. Gilpin’s bedside. Perhaps because of much prayer, her steady compassion, and the medical skills of the doctor, Mr. Gilpin’s health steadily improved. Soon he was able to tolerate broth, then to sit up and converse with visitors, and finally, to stand. One day Phineas and I were strolling the deck when we saw a shaky Gilpin on the arm of Julia Whipple, walking as far as the quarter deck before returning to the surgeon’s area. Phineas and I both marveled at his improvement. We marveled even more when, as Gilpin was released from bed rest, he was seen in Julia’s company more often than not.
“She has done much good for his recovery,” Phineas said to me late one evening as we loitered about the deck. “A man will not fight to save himself half as much as when there is a lady involved.”
“Perhaps the lady upon whom he thinks is his mother. He sets great store by her.”
“Too much, perhaps. Though a man must, indeed, retain the highest regard for his mother, or he is no man at all.”
“Indeed.”
Though it was late and we should be headed for the cabin, we walked to the bow. I thrilled to watch the ship cutting through the water, pushing whitecaps to the side with such little effort. Ah, if only life could be so effortless. I turned to Phineas to express that very thought, but he was studying the horizon, not the water.
“A penny for your thoughts?” I said softly.
He turned, and I could see the moon reflected in his eyes. Solemnly, he took my hand. “Do you remember the night we met?”
“Of course.”
“There was dancing that night.”
I smiled. “As I recall, we were deep in conversation during all the dances, having one argument or another, I am certain.”
“I wish…” He gently squeezed the fingers of my hand. “I wish that I had asked you to dance, for then I would now have the memory of holding you in my arms.”
My mouth went dry. “Phineas…”
“Would you dance with me now?”
Oh, thank heavens, he was merely making a jest at my expense. I smiled again. “There are no musicians, indeed, no music.”
“Then I will hum the tune. Have you ever waltzed, Miss Goodrich?”
The way he said my name formally, as he had once been accustomed, sent a shiver up my spine. “I… I do not know the steps, and indeed I hear it is a scandalous dance.”
“It is easy enough to master if you can count one-two-three. Your hand goes lightly on my shoulder here, and my hand at your waist there.”
“Phineas…”
He hummed softly, an unfamiliar tune to my ear. My feet-traitorous appendages!-willingly followed his steps. We were no longer aboard the Dignity, but at a ball. Instead of our dingy ship wear, Phineas and I wore the finest of garments and we waltzed across a parquet floor to the accompaniment of a four-piece orchestra. Candles flickered all around us, and the scent of flowers clung in the air. I sensed the strength of his body as he held me closely, yet his touch was so tender that I knew I need never fear.
“Isabella,” he whispered, his breath stirring the fringes of hair covering my ear.
I opened my mouth to reply, but he held me even closer, and suddenly it seemed that we scarcely moved at all. Then I realized we did indeed stand still, and he was leaning even closer, if possible.
The ballroom faded away, the orchestra ceased its tune, and we were aboard the Dignity yet again. I had never felt such a stirring in my heart, and when his lips met mine, it seemed the most natural of events.
This-this!-was love. My heart beat with joy, and I allowed myself to be enfolded more closely in his arms as the kiss lingered on. Reason altogether fled but suddenly returned equally as swift. I released his hand and stepped back. “We cannot,” I said softly, hating myself almost as much for releasing him as for regretting the words.
Shock then horror registered on his face. “Isabella… forgive me. I would never seek to compromise your character.”
“I know,” I whispered, and somehow, I knew that he would never trifle with me. I had been a willing, nay, eager accomplice. “It… it is late, Phineas.”
“Yes, of course. Let me escort you to the cabin.”
We hurried now, though I was certain we had ample time before the ten o’clock bells. The thought of putting the canvas sail between us promised security and perhaps, at least on my part, better reason. We passed several crew members, but no word or expression on their part indicated that we had been observed near the bow.
Phineas held the door open for me. “I will join you shortly,” he said, handing me the candle. “Extinguish the flame when you are ready for sleep. Do not leave it lit on my account.”
I wondered at his words, but he was already shutting the door behind me. I readied myself for bed and did wait for a few moments, but when he did not appear, I snuffed out the candle. I tried to sleep, but my heart still pounded so that I was certain I would not be able to rest at all that night.
At last I heard him enter and saw him, briefly, before he ducked behind the canvas. I could not read the expression on his face, and he spoke not a word. When I heard the creak of his hammock and he blew out his candle, I thought then that he would say something. He did not.
Since the battle with the privateers, we had not returned to the story of Wo-Ping and Mei. It seemed an unspoken agreement that the reality of combat was too close to us still to return to the mythical land of Hu-King. Tonight, however, I needed myth not only as an escape but also as a reassurance for our own relationship. “Will you not tell the story tonight?” I said, hopeful and faltering.
“I do not have the heart,” he said in a weary voice. “Though I regret that it is so. Tomorrow, perhaps?”
“Yes, perhaps,” I echoed doubtfully. I could not believe that he was unwilling. “I hope so.”
In the morning, I was not certain what to expect when we first saw each other, which was at breakfast. It was already a momentous day, for Mr. Gilpin joined us, looking somewhat pale but more fit than I had seem him in many days. We all welcomed him back with enthusiasm, but none more so than Captain Malfort.
“It is good to have you back, Mr. Gilpin,” he boomed. “Cook will fatten up those bones in no time, as well.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said. He nodded at us all. “It is good to be in your company again. I look forward to resuming my duties.”
“We are only a few weeks from Macao, then on to Canton and tea, then homeward sails the Dignity,” Captain Malfort said.
“I do hope we’ll encounter no further privateers,” Mrs. Akers said. “A nasty lot, those Frenchmen… if men they can be spoken of at all!”
“I am pleased at your recovery, Mr. Gilpin,” I said. “You gave us all a dreadful scare.”
He glanced at Julia Whipple, who sat to my left, then back at me. “No matter how many times one faces privateers, it is always a test of fortitude. With God’s blessing, we all not only survived but retained the Dignity under Britain’s flag.”
“Hear hear,” Captain Malfort said. “And now, man, eat up, eat hearty!”
Phineas sat at the far end of the table, engaged in conversation with Mr. Akers, probably about East India Company business. Or what Mr. Akers thought was Phineas’s interest in the company anyway. I wondered if Mrs. Akers or her husband would give Phineas the cut the way they did me if they knew his true intentions. Indeed, I had not thought of his scheme in quite a while. Perhaps his silence indicated a willingness to abandon his thoughts of revenge. I could only pray.
After breakfast, our company dispersed. Mrs. Harrison was no doubt eager to retire to her bed (as usual), Mr. Harrison and Mr. Akers to make further business plans, and Mrs. Akers-I could not begin to say what she did with her idle time. I had never been invited to her cabin, but I understood that she had insisted upon bringing much of their furniture. Perhaps she spent her time rearranging it…
“Isabella.”
I felt a hand at my elbow. “Yes?”
Phineas stood beside me. “May I have a word with you?”
He seemed so formal, so serious. Had I done something wrong? “Yes, of course.”
Confused, I let him lead me to a corner of the cuddy where it was quiet. He had never asked to have “a word” before we began lessons. Oh my, in all the excitement over Mr. Gilpin’s appearance at breakfast, I had forgotten about last night! Did Phineas seek an apology? Did he seek to berate me? I should never have agreed to the dance…
I studied him as he watched the last of our group heading out, Julia and Mr. Gilpin among them. The servants moved into the room to clear the tables, and Phineas spoke in a low voice. “I wish to speak to you about last night.”
Oh dear. It was my fault. I knew little of men, but I knew enough to act as a lady should, and I had failed.
He cleared his throat. “I have done a great deal of thinking since our time together at the bow. I can scarcely believe a ship to be romantic with so many people occupied with their own business and lives.”
I said nothing, still confused as to his intention. Why did he speak of romance? And why must he have such dark eyes? I could read nothing there whatsoever.
“The truth is,” he said, then faltered. “The truth is that you must know I care greatly about your welfare. I hope I have exhibited that, if nothing else, during our acquaintanceship.”
“I believe you have.”
He looked relieved. “Then you will understand that I am in earnest by my declaration. I cannot bear the thought of either your unhappiness, your lack of security, or a bad reputation attached to your name.” He drew a deep breath. “Isabella Goodrich, will you marry me?”