Miss Whittier Makes a List (49 page)

To her inexpressible agony, Portsmouth next day was full of naval officers in uniform. To her further distress, one of them was Mr. Futtrell. The distress lasted only long enough for him to call her name in surprise. For the second time in her life, she fell into his arms, but this was different from
Lisbon
. Her tears wouldn
’
t come, and she could only shiver and shake her head at his questions. She finally managed to gasp,
“
He told me he doesn
’
t love me.
”

Mr. Futtrell stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief, then gathered her close.
“
I told him it was no life for a woman,
”
he said finally, his voice filled with remorse.
“
I am sorry. Hannah.
”

She stood in his embrace until she felt strong enough to remain on her feet by herself.
“
I am to sail on the
Bonny Jean.
Can you take me there?
”

He took her dressing case in one hand and tucked her hand under his elbow.
“
I always seem to be rescuing you from docks,
”
he said, and she was aware enough of what she owed him to manage the wan smile he was so desperate to see.
“
There you are, my dear. Come on. It
’
s not much farther.
”

She almost gasped with relief to hear the stringent Yankee accent so like her own as Mr. Futtrell introduced her to Captain Josiah Trask from
Boston
. She must have looked as sick as she felt, because the
captain took her right on board,
barely giving her time to say
goodbye
to Mr. Futtrell.

“
We
’
ll sail tomorrow, Miss Whittier,
”
Captain Trask said.
“
Tide
’
ll be right then.
”
He rubbed his jaw as he walked her along the dim companionway.
“
I can
’
t say I
’
ll be sorry to kiss this place goodbye. Here you are. If you need anything, just ask.
”

She dropped her dressing case and sank onto the
narrow
berth. The blanket smelled of ship
’
s mold and wood, and very faintly of tar. The tears came then.

Hannah
Whittier
celebrated her eighteenth birthday at
sea,
wrapped in her cloak and sitting on the deck grating, watching the mountainous waves throw the
Bonny Jean
up and down its troughs. The other passengers were below, suffering through various levels of seasickness, and she knew the crew wondered at her endurance. She said nothing to enlighten them on her own late career with the
Royal
Navy.

She eyed the lookout several times, wondering what they would think if she climbed the rigging and sat there. It was far above the deck and away from everyon
e
—not that her mind would be any clearer for its distance from others. Even after a month at sea
,
she could not put consecutive thoughts together without hearing Daniel Spark
’
s carefully spaced words,
“
I do not love you.
”
She dreaded sleep, because it only meant the words repeated endlessly, the articulation so relentless that it woke her, shivering, into a night sweat.

Hannah stared out at the gray water, dec
kled
with white caps that marched in endless rows across the whole face of the ocean. I have learned so much since June, she thought. I can pick oakum, climb
a rigging, spy for ships, help patch broken bodi
es, and I discovered that I love a man
’
s touch. I have also learned that it may be entirely possible to die of heartbreak. She welcomed the idea, knowing it was far superior to living another sixty or seventy years without Daniel Spark. She bore him no ill will for his declaration. Obviously she had mistaken the depth of his feelings for her. He couldn
’
t have been more plain in his rejection of her love.

And now she was eighteen.
“
Happy birthday, Hannah Whittier,
”
she said. If she were home,
she would have her birthday dinner served on the special red plate, and it would be all her favorite foods. She frowned. What was the meal
she used to like so much? She could not remember. Papa would honor her by reading the Bible verses that told of Hannah, beloved wife of Elkanah, and mother of Samuel.
Beloved wife.
“
Oh, God, I cannot bear it,
”
she said, her voice loud. She looked around quickly, to be sure that no one heard, but her cry was
carried
away by the wind that blew toward
England
.

She followed her usual
pattern
and did not go below until d
inner, which she ate in silence,
or pushed around her plate, depending on whether she remembered to tell herself to eat
.
She must have forgotten to remind herself that night because Captain Trask shook his head at her.
“
Miss
Whittier
, you will waste away before we raise
Boston
, if that is the best you can do.
”

She managed a smile.
“
Oh, I am as healthy as a horse. I have it on
good
authority.
”

“
Not if you continue your present course,
”
he argued.
“
And we have another month at sea.
”

She went to her cabin then
,
grateful to close everyone out once more. Ordinarily she would go to sleep as soon as she could, hoping to outwit the nightmares. Sometimes it worked; other times she woke before light, her cheeks wet with tears. Tonight would be different, she told herself. She had planned a special event for her birthday.

The
letter
from Daniel Spark had come just before the
Bonny Jean
prepared to tack from
Portsmouth
Harbor
. Someone pushed it under her door as she lay in the berth, staring with dull eyes at the deck above. She recognized Daniel
’
s precise handwriting, small and up and down from years of writing cramped log entries. She made no move to pick up the letter; several days passed before she did more than walk over it on her way to and from the main deck. When she finally retrieved the
letter,
she debated one entire evening whether to throw it overboard, then decided against it. That would require the effort of going on deck again, and she was weary. She tucked it in her dressing case under her clo and out of sight. Perhaps in years distant from this one she would look at the envelope and use it as a good lesson in not ma
king mountains out of molehills,
if she really needed any reminders. She knew she would never open it. That kind of pain went beyond anything she had the stomach for.

But as each day dissolved into another one like it, her curiosity grew. She felt anger at first, rage so strong that it left her shaken, when she considered that he felt it necessary to smite her again, this time with words on paper. This emotion was followed by sorrow that he thought her so dense that she needed further explanation. As her birthday neared, she decided she would read the
letter,
reasoning that it was impossible to feel any worse than she already did. Perhaps if she could begin to make fun of her own folly, she would recover eventually.

She took out the much-trampled
letter and
placed it on her pillow, then turne
d away, her hands over her eyes,
as she remembered his
head on her pillow once. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath, sat down in the berth, and picked up the lette
r. The wax seal was already shatt
ered from all the times she had trod on it. She drew out the
letter
and held it until the cabin grew so dark that she had to light the lamp.

By the unstable tight of the swaying lamp, she opened the pages and spread them out. Her heart stopped in her breast as she stared at the salutation.
“
Daniel,
what has thee done?
”
she whispered. She held the
letter
closer, reading out loud.

“
Beloved,
”
she began, her lips scarcely able to
form
the word.
“
If I know you as well as I think I do, you are somewhere in the middle of the
Atlantic
right now, and you have deliberated for some weeks on whether to read this.
”

She looked up from the words. Daniel, thee knows me too well. She looked back at the letter and continued.
“
Of course, any other woman would have thrown this overboard. Hannah, I am relying upon the fact that you are not like any other woman.
”

Of course I am not, she thought, a wooden smile on her lips. Any other woman would not have flung herself so trustingly at thee. Any other woman would have known better than to believe thee. Put it down to my youth.

“
My conduct last night was inexcusable,
”
she continued,
and nodded in agreement,
“
but if it had not been dark I could not have said such hurtful things to you. You would have known I did not mean them.
”
She paused again, feeling an odd buoyancy that bumped against the wall of pain that had formed around her
heart
. She pulled the letter closer to her eyes, wishing that the sea would be still for a moment so the lamp would stop swaying.

“
As I went about refitting the
Clarion
in
Portsmouth
, you were never far from my thoughts.
In fact, you consumed me.
It
’
s hard to argue with a harbor master over kegs of salt beef when all you want to do is hurry home and make fero
cious
love to the woman there.
”

“
Daniel,
”
she said out loud. Her hands
started
to shake and she could not read the words until she composed herself.
“
My dilemma is this,
beloved. I began to think about your list again, especially that pa
rt
that seems to be causing us such grief right now. Do I need to write it?
He will place my
welfare above his own
.
”

Why did I ever tell him about that? she asked herself for the thousandth time. Why did I ever think that I could list the qualities of the man I would ma
rry
? Was I so stupid once? She returned to the letter.

“
Late one night, when I should have been reconciling the ship
’
s manifest, it occurred to me that you had created, with th
at single, innocent stipulation,
a dreadful conundrum. It is this: if you place my welfare above your own, you will marry me, because I need you so badly. But if I place your welfare above my own, I will not
marry
you.
”

“
My God!
”
The words were to
rn
from her lips as she leaped to her feet and threw the letter across the cabin. Just as quickly she dropped to her hands and knees to retrieve it, sitting on the deck because her legs had not the strength to help her rise.

I belong to the most suicidal of professions, even in peacetime,
”
she read.
“
You know, as few women do, how doubly dangerous it is during war. I
’
ve already outlived the normal life span of a man so long at sea. Every voyage now is like fluttering a red flag in the path of death. I cannot be so callous with your
heart
, my love. It is because I love you so much that I cannot
marry
you. I have truly placed your welfare before my own, and this, I believe, is what any woman needs.
”

“
Then I was a fool, Daniel,
”
she whispered.
“
Why can
’
t thee be selfish, like other men?
”

She dragged her eyes back to the page.
“
I hope you will
marry
someone else, Hannah,
”
she read.
“
Whatever you do, and wherever the years take you, please know there was a man who loved you too much to marry you. Yours, now and always, Daniel.
”