Son of Fortune (19 page)

“How did you know who was important?” Aiden asked.

“Well, no one here actually is,” Christopher said. “Important captains are hauling silks and ivory, not guano. But some of the losers are still more important than others, so I encouraged the harbormaster to tell me all.”

Aiden knew
encouraged
really meant
bribed.

“So we need to be dressed by five,” Christopher went on. “Things start early around here.”

Aiden wanted to do nothing more tonight than sit quietly and let his brain unravel, but he understood the obligation.

“And we need to decide what to do about Fish,” Christopher said, still snappish.

“Do what about him?”

“Customarily, it is the captains who visit and dine with other captains. Most owners aren't aboard, after all. But in this case, we have been invited because, well, I am who I am. If this were an ordinary little ship with just Fish for captain, he wouldn't be invited to dine on the
Lady
May
at all. He isn't very—captain-like.”

“He's done a rather good job of it, though,” Aiden said.

“You know what I mean.”

“You mean he's a picnic girl.”

“Exactly!” Christopher said, with no trace of irony. “So will you go sort it out with him? I do like Fish and we're lucky to have him, but it would just be awkward!” Apparently, there was no escaping the strictures of society even out here. Aiden knew that Fish wouldn't want to go anyway, but he still felt sad to have it all laid out so plainly.

“I'll take care of Fish. It's the least I can do.”

No, he certainly did not want to put on a starched collar and tie and wool suit and sit for two hours making small talk with stuffy Brits in a stuffy salon belowdecks and probably have to play a few hands of whist afterward. No, Fish said, he couldn't in fact think of a worse way to spend an evening, except maybe being buried headfirst in a pile of guano with needles stuck in the soles of his feet. He was sorry, but they would just have to make up some excuse for his absence.

Aiden was relieved. He knew Fish would be miserable dining on the
Lady
May
—he expected he himself was going to be miserable—but he also knew his friend was in a lonely position here. All his life, Fish had been a sailor in the company of sailors, but now, as a captain, he had to be apart from the crew, even though he had been friends with half of them before this voyage. Fish did not enforce the rigid separation between officers and crew practiced on most ships—he would still play a few hands of cards or games of chess—but still, there was no escaping the fact that he was no longer one of them.

Dressing in a suit had become ordinary for Aiden in San Francisco, but after six weeks of shipboard freedom, it seemed constricting and absurd. He feared he had not exaggerated any aspect of tonight's party when describing it to Fish, and he wished he could get out of it as easily. But business was business. The right connections could mean the difference between waiting here two weeks or two months.

The wind had dropped and the guano dust was just a low yellow haze over the island as Aiden and Christopher were rowed over to the
Lady
May.

When they climbed up to the deck, Aiden and Christopher found the captain and his wife waiting to greet them at the companionway. Aiden almost laughed, for the man looked like a caricature of a sea captain from a musical comedy. A perfectly round belly strained the buttons on his waistcoat. He had an extravagant mustache that looked like two white mice sitting on his lip, hunched nose to nose, tails flung out and curled beneath his rosy cheeks. Thick white hair fringed out from his hat. He was probably in his mid-fifties, but his face was remarkably unweathered, especially for a sea captain's.

A tidy little steward with deer-brown eyes and a hooked nose stood beside the captain to announce each visitor and make formal introductions. He was barely five feet tall, but his rigid posture, piercing gaze and elegant bearing made him appear formidable.

“Captain and Mrs. Nickerly, may I present Messrs. Christopher Worthington and Aiden Madison, owners of the ship
Raven,
newly arrived from San Francisco. Mr. Worthington, Mr. Madison, Captain Nickerly and Mrs. Nickerly.” His voice was strong and his enunciation precise.

“So pleased to meet you, very pleased indeed,” Captain Nickerly said. He was radiantly cheerful. This cheer, Aiden suspected from the smell of him, had been fortified with a good deal of liquor in anticipation of the evening's festivities. His wife, at least ten years his junior, appeared to be depressingly sober. She was a sturdy woman who had probably once been pretty and might still be if she unfroze her face for a smile. She wore a plain dress of dark green serge, practical for shipboard life, but adorned with a fine cutwork collar and embroidered cuffs. Aiden knew this sort of handiwork, for his mother had painstakingly sewed such things long ago as an indentured servant in Virginia. Fine work like this was expensive and so declared a family's wealth but was not valuable in any way that would tempt thieves. Thieves were after silver candlesticks, not linen cuffs.

Aiden shook hands and made small talk. He no longer felt out of place at parties, but he doubted he would ever have Christopher's smooth social talent. He was glad when Nicholas and Gilbert appeared. They were freshly washed, with hair still slightly damp. They both wore coats in the latest cuts, exquisite brocade waistcoats, daringly striped trousers and ties that even Aiden could tell were slightly more fashionable than the one Christopher wore. He saw Christopher notice this as well, and bristle a bit, but Nicholas's natural charm quickly eased the awkwardness and soon they were chatting like old friends. Though they were in their twenties, Nicholas and Gilbert were still much closer to Christopher's world than to the world of these moldy old captains.

A servant came by with a silver tray of silver cups. The low sun reflected off the tray and burned on Aiden's chest in a hot beam the size of a coin. Aiden took a cup. The light beam sliced across his chest, cut through the mast and daggered across the deck, then vanished as the servant moved on. Always suspicious of rich people's drinks now, Aiden took a cautious sip, but he found it delicious, with no stinging bubbles. It was sweet and fruity and even slightly cool. He took a big gulp. He saw Alice on the other side of the ship, standing next to a group of chatting wives but not included in their talk, looking almost as awkward as he felt. With relief, he went to join her.

“You look very different—very nice.”

“Was I so completely frightful this morning?”

“No—no, of course not,” Aiden stammered. “I didn't mean that at all!” His face went hot.

“Oh stop, I'm teasing you.” Alice laughed and touched his arm. In fact, she looked, happily, much the same person, only with a dress on. It was a different kind of dress. It had no corset or hoops; the skirt was merely cinched with a wide ribbon high on the waist. It was made of a light, gauzy linen, with loose, flowing sleeves. It might almost have been a nightdress, or something the shepherdesses in the mural in the Elysium might wear, though of course nothing was transparent, wet with dew or falling undone on Alice. Crocheted gloves covered her sun-browned hands. Her hair was twisted up and stabbed into place with an ivory comb, and she had stained her lips and cheeks a little, but otherwise she had put in no great effort with powders and perfume, unlike the other women.

“You're quite the surprise guest, you know,” she said. “The captain and missus were atwitter all afternoon. You didn't say you owned the
Raven.
”

“Only half of it,” Aiden said. “Christopher and I are partners.”

Mrs. Nickerly, hovering nearby, turned at this mention, eager to ferret out more information.

“But it's just the two of you?” Mrs. Nickerly said. “In charge?”

“We have a captain,” Aiden replied. “He regrets he could not come tonight.”

Mrs. Nickerly looked him up and down with a sharp eye.

“You're hardly more than boys.”

“Christopher is eighteen. I will be soon.” He had just turned seventeen in June, so “soon” was a bit of a stretch. “And we have had some experience in the world.”

The woman frowned and looked over at Christopher, who was comfortably chatting with the other men by the starboard rail.

“Men often go to sea at a young age,” Alice offered.

“They may go to sea, but they don't usually own ships!” Mrs. Nickerly snapped suspiciously. Aiden had no idea what to say. Fortunately, he was rescued as the steward announced more guests at the companionway and Mrs. Nickerly left to greet them.

“I didn't know it was such a sin to be young,” Aiden said.

“To the old, it is always a sin to be young,” Alice said. “She's been aboard for twenty years. Six times around the Horn on this ship. Her world has become small. You must be kind.”

“I will.”

“And you are rather shocking with your youth.”

“As shocking as you are with your theodolite?”

“Ah, well. She doesn't like me much either.”

Aiden suddenly bent down and whispered to Alice, “We won the ship in a card game.”

Her green eyes sparkled, and she pressed her fingers to her mouth in amusement. “No!” she giggled. “My goodness, don't let Nicholas and Gilbert learn of that! A card game?”

“I'm not actually supposed to tell anyone,” Aiden admitted. He wasn't sure why he had told her, just that he felt conspiratorial and liked her very much.

“I am very good with secrets,” she said with a smile. “And be careful with that,” she added as he took another drink of the punch. “It's loaded with pisco brandy, but you hardly taste it with all the fruit juice.”

“Thank you for the warning.” Aiden set his cup down. He had eaten very little of their light lunch, and the drink was already making his head spin. Then the party swelled up all around them. Aiden worked hard to remember every name and to fashion the proper conversation. Asking questions, he had discovered, was the key. People were always happy if you just kept asking them questions about themselves. The questions directed at him, Aiden casually deflected. He owned land in Kansas, he explained, had worked in the timber business in Washington Territory, then had recently expanded into shipping in San Francisco. It sounded rather grand without all the details. Perhaps it was just the novelty of talking to new people, but Aiden began to find the conversation less difficult and, with some of them, even interesting.

After a while, he found he was actually starting to enjoy himself. Here he was, aboard a fine ship, wearing a fine suit, surrounded by fine people—in fact, he was one of those fine people! He was a shipowner, a businessman, no longer bound or indentured or simply poor. No longer a dirt farmer to be thrashed about by the whims of a hostile planet, he was, like these others, a man who could carve his own destiny and set his own course. He felt bold and deserving. A little over a year ago, he was eating dirt. Now servant hands swept plates away and slipped new courses in front of him. The main course was roasted pork loin. “Brought out live this afternoon,” Captain Nickerly reassured them. “So don't worry about the native filth.” Aiden cringed. Not long ago they would have considered
him
“native filth.”

For a few strange hours, the whole world existed in this little room with the smell of the powdered rich and the beady pork. It was hot and Aiden felt like he was breathing soup. He drank only one glass of wine, yet when they were finally released from the table, the world was tipped eight ways from center. He was glad to climb up into the fresh night air. Captain Nickerly, who was now sweating and swaying, invited them to stay for cigars and a game of cards, but Christopher managed to make excuses.

“I think all the excitement of arrival has been a bit much,” he explained. “Your excellent hospitality has made us forget our fatigue for a while, but I believe it will soon catch up to us and we will be poor company.”

As they waited their turn for their launch, Alice came up to Aiden and took his hand in farewell. “It was lovely to meet you,” she said. “I hope we will have more occasions to visit during our stay here.”

“I would like that very much,” Aiden said. He had not touched a woman in six weeks, and the softness of her hand half melted his brain. “I was in fact, um, quite interested in your geology and surveying and such things. Might I come along with your party again? I would find it very interesting. I could help carry things.”

“You would be welcome,” Alice said with a slight hesitation, her cool glance taking his measure.

“I am always eager to learn new things,” Aiden said, immediately thinking it sounded stupid.

“Very well.” Alice smiled. “We leave at first light. I will have our launch stop for you.”

The
Raven
was quiet as Aiden and Christopher climbed aboard, except for the hushed talk of a few sailors still on deck and the soft lapping of water against the hull. Lanterns cast warm pools of light on the polished deck.

“That went well, I think,” Aiden said. “It seemed we were very well received.”

“A dancing poodle would be well received by that crowd!” Christopher's mood, always mercurial, was suddenly gloomy. “What dullards and bores! We cannot stay here two months waiting to load. I'll absolutely die.” He leaned against the railing and looked out over the village of ships. “God, I wish there was something else I could do.”

“What do you mean? To move us up the queue?”

“No—well, yes, of course to move up the queue, but I mean in life. Something to do in life besides business!” He yanked at his tie and clawed at the button on his stiff collar. “I want to do something more than scheme for deals and toady up to influential bores. I want to do something that matters! I want to be a painter or a poet!”