Lily (Song of the River) (20 page)

Captain Lars grunted and reached for a leather cord to his right. A low moan filled the air.

Tears stung Lily’s eyes as she listened to the first long blast, followed by two short toots and another long whistle. “Mother would be so happy if she could see us.”

Jasmine pulled away from her embrace and clapped her hands in excitement. “I want to learn how to do that.”

Blake appeared at the doorway, his blue eyes reflecting the bright sunlit morning. “Don’t you think we should head down to the main level? We’ll want to make sure we get the right cargo.”

Lily and Jasmine followed him, passing through the spotless parlor and on to the first floor where Tamar and Camellia were already positioned at the rail. They waved at the people watching their arrival. Their very first landing. Lily wanted to hug the whole world.

The boat churned the brown water slowly as they approached the wharf. Blake uncoiled a rope nearly as thick as her arm and fashioned a loop at its end that reminded her of a hangman’s noose. As the
Hattie Belle
nudged against the wet, gray wood of the dock, he tossed the rope over one of the posts and pulled it tight, his muscles rippling with the effort. As soon as it caught, he strode past them to the back of the boat, grabbed a second rope, and repeated the process.

Lily could not help but be impressed. She had so much to learn. As soon as they were under way again, she would ask him to show her how to make that loop so she could help the next time they landed.

Jensen appeared from the engine room, wiping his hands on a handkerchief. “The engine seems in good shape.” He took a position next to Tamar, his elbow almost touching her arm.

Tamar moved away and frowned before turning her attention to Lily’s sisters. “Jasmine, you and Camellia come with me. It’s time to check on your patient. We’ll leave the cargo to your sister and the men.”

A chorus of moans answered, but the girls obediently followed her to the aft cabin.

Lily spotted Mr. Hughes waiting beside a mountain of barrels. He doffed his hat in greeting.

Their crewman, Jack Brown, swung the landing platform over the dark water, and it contacted the wharf with a loud clap. As soon as it was down, Mr. Hughes crossed over and handed her two pieces of paper, one signed, one not. “This is the bill of lading. It specifies exactly how many barrels are being loaded on your boat and the value of each.”

Lily glanced at the paper, frowned, and looked toward Mr. Hughes. This could not be right. “I don’t understand. I cannot afford to pay you this amount of money.”

He shook his head. “That amount will be paid to our New Orleans office once the goods are delivered. In turn they will pay you a percentage of their profit for bringing the shipment to them safely.”

A burden seemed to slide off her shoulders. “I see.”

“You should carefully count the items delivered, however.” He patted her arm and chuckled. “Not all businessmen can be relied upon to be honest.”

Another question occurred to Lily. “What happens if I don’t deliver all the barrels listed here?”

“Unless you can afford to purchase insurance, you would have to pay the difference.”

A lump formed in her throat. Lily swallowed hard. “Then I’ll have to make certain every barrel arrives safely.”

“I’ll be praying for you the whole time.”

A snort behind her made Lily turn. Blake leaned against one of the posts, a sour look on his face.

“You don’t believe in the power of prayer?” Mr. Hughes voiced the question in her mind.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, sir.” Blake sauntered toward them. He held out a hand toward Mr. Hughes and introduced himself before continuing. “Asking God for favor cannot harm us, but I’m not certain it will do us good, either. I’d rather purchase insurance and remove all worry.”

Lily drew herself up. “I will not throw away money on insurance for such a short trip in good weather. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be in New Orleans safe and sound.”

“Insurance is quite expensive,” Mr. Hughes added. “It would eat up a large portion of your profit.”

Blake’s half smile curled up one side of his mouth. “I’ll bow to your superior knowledge.”

His reply was obviously directed toward Mr. Hughes. She had less actual experience than anyone else on the boat except for Tamar and her sisters.

Lily folded her lips into a tight smile as Mr. Hughes glanced at both of them. He probably wondered what position Blake held on her boat, but she had no desire to explain.

Mr. Hughes cleared his throat. “I have signed this copy of the bill for you to keep. It also has directions on how to reach our New Orleans office. You need to sign the second copy and return it to me.”

While Mr. Hughes directed loading operations, Lily retreated to the small office just ahead of the engine room. It took her a little while to locate pen and ink before she signed her name with a flourish.

By the time she returned to the loading area, Blake had disappeared, and all the barrels were stowed in neat rows. Oilcloth lashed across them would protect them from rain and spray. She smiled at the sight before turning to the wharf, where Mr. Hughes waited. She leaned against the rail to hand him his copy, noticing that the loading dock seemed higher.

A memory returned from the worst day of her life. She and her father were standing on Grandmother’s front porch, watching an overladen steamboat struggle to make its way against the river currents.

“Filling your boat so full that the river washes across the deck is a sign of a foolish captain.” Her father’s gravelly voice spoke to her. “Always remember to balance your profit against your risks, Water Lily. All the money in the world cannot return loved ones to us once they’re gone.”

That was the last advice her father had given her before he’d walked out of her life. Before he’d abandoned them without a backward glance.

Mr. Hughes’s kind voice brought her back to the present. “I wish you a safe journey.” He tucked his copy of their agreement into a coat pocket and bowed.

Lily waved good-bye as the dockworkers released their ropes and tossed them onto the deck. The giant paddle wheel began moving, and a single, long, steady blast from the captain indicated they were on the move.

Their first voyage had begun.

T
amar searched the dining parlor but found no sign of her youngest charges. It seemed she’d spent all her waking hours chasing after Jasmine and David since he’d been allowed to leave his sickbed the day before. She had a feeling the friendship between those two was going to give her a head of gray hair.

Where could they be? She hurried down to the first floor, but she saw no sign of Jasmine’s dark curls or David’s wheat-colored thatch of hair—just cargo and empty deck. A sense of foreboding filled her. She could almost see Jasmine leaning over the rail and falling into the brown water. Tamar put a hand over her chest and turned away from the rail.

“And the steam makes the pistons go back and forth—”

“What’s a piston?”

At the youthful voice, Tamar sighed with relief. She pushed open the door to the engine room to find both young people standing next to Jensen Moreau, the one man she’d rather avoid. Whenever they were in the same room, she could feel his dark gaze on her. And he liked to sidle up close to her, like he was interested in courting her. It made her uncomfortable.

She had no time for romance, and even if she did, she wouldn’t encourage someone like him. Jensen Moreau was younger than she and a man of the world. Beyond that, he was a freeman, and she was a slave. Any relationship between them was doomed to failure.

She tried to ignore him, concentrating on Jasmine and David instead. “I’ve been looking all over this boat for you, Miss Jasmine, and you, too, Master David. Not being able to find you has nearly scared me out of ten years of my life.”

Jasmine jumped and twisted around. “Tamar! What are you doing here?”

“I was halfway convinced you’d fallen overboard and drowned.”

Jasmine flipped her hair over one shoulder. “I wouldn’t drown. I know how to swim.”

“I wouldn’t let her come to any harm.” David’s soulful green gaze was centered on Jasmine.

“They wasn’t doing no harm, Miss Tamar.” Mr. Moreau wiped his hands on a rag. “Just wanting to see how this old engine works.”

Tamar put her hands on her hips. She should have known Jasmine would charm the gruff man like she did everyone else. The girl was going to be a handful when she became a woman, leading her older sister on a merry chase until some man took her off Lily’s hands. “She can learn about her home after she studies history and arithmetic.”

Mr. Moreau’s eyes widened. “You teach the children?”

A reluctant smile turned her lips upward. “I don’t hardly know how to spell out my name. I wouldn’t be any good trying to teach them.”

“Tamar is very good at other things.” Jasmine moved to her side and put an arm around her waist. “She’s an excellent seamstress, and she knows all the stories from the Bible.”

Warmth filled Tamar at the way Jasmine rushed to her defense. She had once dreamed of having little girls of her own, but as the years passed, she had come to realize she would never marry. Her heart had never been touched by any man, and now she was too old to be thinking about such things. But the good Lord knew best. And He’d seen fit to give her the joy of raising the motherless Anderson girls. It was enough to satisfy her most times.

Jensen’s unscarred eyebrow lifted. “I have the feeling Miss Tamar can do most anything she puts her mind to.”

The engine room suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. The boiler hissed and popped. No wonder Jensen … Mr. Moreau … only wore a white shirt and loose-fitting trousers. He looked like a bloodthirsty pirate with his swarthy skin and scarred face. All he needed was a neckerchief and a broadsword to complete the picture. “Th–thank you.” What was the matter with her? She was acting like a love-struck girl.

“We need to leave Mr. Moreau to his important work.” Tamar shooed the children out of the room. She ignored the urge to look back. She was a grown woman, an old woman. And she was a godly woman, not one given to carrying on with men—no matter whether one set her heart to fluttering. She would keep her mind where it belonged, regardless of how hard that might be.

Midafternoon heat made it impossible for Lily to nap with her sisters. She tossed for half an hour before getting up and returning to the kitchen to see if she could help Tamar. The older woman was sitting at the table, her hands folded together, her eyes closed.

Tamar was praying. It made Lily think of how little time she’d spent lately talking to God. She needed to do better. Unearth her Bible and get back to reading to her sisters and Tamar. Perhaps she could invite the men to a nightly devotional time. Happy with the idea, she carefully picked up a chair and carried it out onto the deck.

The bank slid silently past, and Lily considered how uneventful their voyage had been. No storms, no pirates.

They had caught up with a smaller steamer, the
Daniel Boone
, right after resuming their journey at dawn. Captain Lars had wanted to race the steamer, but Lily vetoed the idea. She had no desire to collide with a snag or stray out of the channel in such a frivolous pursuit. She wanted to get safely to New Orleans, collect their payment, and pick up their next load. They still managed to leave the smaller boat in their wake, not surprising since their paddle wheel was nearly twice as large.

Tamar’s voice interrupted her musings. “I thought you were taking a nap.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t disturb me, honey. I was just thanking the good Lord for protecting us.”

“You’re such a good example for us, Tamar.”

The older woman looked down at her hands. “I don’t know about that.”

Lily stood and hugged Tamar. “I do.” She pushed Tamar down into her chair. “Why don’t you sit here and relax a bit? I’m feeling too restless to sit still.”

Lily wandered toward the main staircase. Maybe she could talk to Blake about taking on passengers for their return trip to Natchez. Although they would have to hire more crew to help take care of the passengers’ needs, they could still realize a profit.