True Treasure: Real - Life History Mystery (6 page)

“They are quite good.”

“Thank you, they are just rough, very rough sketches of course, but when they are finished...”

The Captain interrupted, “And what were you thinking? Sketching the pirates as they were aiming at the ship? Did it not occur to you, you could be shot?”

Mary looked surprised, “I wanted to capture the moment. I would have moved. My intention was not to be in the way or to get hurt. Or to serve as a distraction.” She smiled.

He clasped his hands behind him. “It did not work.”

“Pardon?”

“Locking you in your room. You were still very much a distraction even when not on the deck.”

“Oh.” Mary blushed and lowered head, then lifted it quickly and looked him in the eyes smiling. “Good. Will you please keep me on then to finish my work? If I am to be a distraction even when I am out of your sight, what harm is there in letting me stay?”

He took a step closer, “We blew one ship out of pursuit, but the others are between us and the port. I have a feeling they were testing us. So for now we will continue on our route. There is a chance the boats in pursuit assume we are heading back out to sea and will not follow us. If they talked to others in port then they may know we are heading up the coast so we need the head start. At this time, you will finish your paintings for King George, and then we will return you home.”

“Thank you, captain.” Mary cocked her head, “You will be glad. I will make you proud. I promise.”

He bowed and smiled at her, absorbing every nuance of her hair and her smile. She was intoxicating. Having her around was dangerous. When he had seen the pirate aiming at her, his heart had stopped. He forgot all about his command and swung over to get her out of harm’s way. All thought for the safety of the men in his charge had left his mind. What was he doing? She hadn't flinched in the face of danger, if anything, she'd seemed invigorated by it. After the pirates had been taken care of, one of the men had brought him her book. The sailor had a smirk on his face.

“Sir, the young lady's sketches.”

He flipped to the first. A bustling port scene, and his ship drawn in great detail. She must have sketched it before boarding. She even drew in the scrape where the anchor had bumped the side in rough seas. Her eye for detail brought the picture alive. She was good. He flipped the page. Now he knew the reason for the sailor's smirk.

She had drawn him while he was commanding the sailors to fire upon the pirates.
If this was the way she saw him
...she had put a glint and power in his eyes, he looked fiery and magnetic, even to himself. Now that he knew how she saw him...
he was sunk.

She was in more danger than she knew. How could he control his urge to sweep her into his arms and head for the shores of pleasure? He would control himself and avoid her in person, even if he couldn't abandon her in his thoughts.

As he left her room and closed the door, he thought back on her parting words,
I will make you proud.

He thought, standing the way she did in the face of danger to draw his visage and those of the pirates, “You already have.”

That afternoon, he sent an invitation for Magdela and Ms. Welch to join him at the officers’ dining table for dinner. When he entered the room he found they had not arrived. He asked the sailor standing at muster, “Please escort Ms. Welch and her chaperone to the dinner table.”

Ms. Welch entered the room only followed by the sailor. The officers stood, and the Captain moved to pull out Ms. Welch's chair. “I am sorry, but Ms. Magdela is under the weather and cannot make it to dinner.”

Captain Graham said, “I am sorry, the sea does not affect all as a comfort. May I introduce my officers, ‘Mr. Randall Cullen my first officer whom you have met, Lt. Kerry, Lt. Sedgwig, Lt. Taussant, and Lt. Gregory.’”

The officers seated themselves after the captain took his place. Randall, the first officer, led them in prayer. The dinner courses were served by one of the wait staff.

Mary inclined her head not sure of what to say. She had never dined without another female companion in a room of men, ever.

The officers ate in silence, not being accustomed to a young lady without her chaperone.

After the meal, the captain stood, “Gentlemen, I will see Ms. Welch to her room. Good evening.” They all murmured good evening back and stood as the captain and the lady did.

When they were out of the room, Mary turned toward the captain, “Could we please go out on deck for some fresh air? I'd like to see the coast in the starlight.”

The captain motioned toward the stairs leading up to the deck.

“Thank you,” Mary said.

They walked along the upper promenade deck reserved only for the officers who at this time were all below deck. The first night watch was out. The officers would sleep while they could, as they may be called to muster at anytime for any emergency or occurrence out of the ordinary.

The ocean breeze ruffled Mary's hair. “It is so beautiful out here.”

Mary looked up at the sky. The moon slipped behind a cloud, and the deck went dark. Mary pitched one way as the ship went the other, and the captain reached out to brace her. His touch sent a shiver down her back. He kept his hands on her arms, and spoke softly, “You will get your sea legs soon. Every pitch and sway will be natural. Then when you are back on shore you will wish you were at sea again.”

“Is that how it is for you?”

He waited a moment before answering, “Yes.”

The moon came back out from behind the clouds revealing them to any who would look their way, so the captain dropped his arms from hers.

“Do you not have any loved ones on shore? A family to come home to?”

“A brother. He is assigned to another ship. Our paths rarely cross.”

“Have you never wanted a wife, children, a home?”

“The ship I am assigned to is my home. Being the wife of a naval captain would be a hell for any woman. She would always come second to duty for country and king. When you are back on shore you will meet another landowner’s son, and have a home and a life. You will soon forget about your adventure aboard the HMS Devonshire.”

“No! I could never forget you.”

She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, as they strolled down the promenade, chaperoned only by the sailors on the night watch who were perched high above in the crow’s nest, at the steerage, and on the bows.

He smiled. “You are young and foolish. Of course you will forget. We are a million miles apart by fate or God. Even if I wanted, you would be out of my reach.”

Mary stopped and pulled on his arm until he faced her, “Do you? Do you want?”

He looked into her eyes. They did something no battle could do. They took his breath away.

“Yes.”

He abruptly turned away and called over to the sailor at his station in the bow. “Mr. Whaley. See the young lady to her room and then report back immediately to your station.”

“Captain!” Mary called out. He briskly walked away without turning to answer her call, leaving her in the care of the young sailor. “Miss? I have my orders.”

Mary stood for a minute. Not sure what to make of the captain's admission. Of course he would find her attractive. She was a female, young, of marriageable age. What was she thinking? She’d never been attracted to a man before in this way. Would it wear off? Was it a spell cast by the attacking pirates, the beautiful weather, and a sense of the unknown?

She wanted to walk and talk with Captain Graham some more, but she knew she was in a dangerous position with her chaperone sick below deck. When she looked at him, he made her want more.

He was right though. Her parents would not approve. It was impossible.

She had not thought of her prospects before. She would
not
be allowed to choose whom she would marry. The possibility of some suitors she considered—would be off limits. Her parents would disapprove of a sea captain who did not own land. His service to the Royal Navy would always come first and any wife of his would lead a lonely existence stuck in a port city.

Still—she could not stop thinking about him. She wanted him. She wanted Graham.

“Miss?”

She came out of her revere and followed the night watchman to her cabin. Bennett Graham was so near, and yet so far. As he had said,
a million miles apart.

***

The next day Mary set up her painting station at dawn. One of the men had caught a curious beast, a sea turtle. She drew it, and committed to memory its colors before the men took it below decks.

She asked the young cabin boy assigned to her station, “What will they do with it?”

“Cook it to eat it, miss.”

She decided not to ask about the other sea creatures they pulled up for her to sketch. Rounding the tip of a promontory, she spied a beautiful waterfall cascading down a high peak all the way to the sea.

She looked about for the captain and would occasionally hear his voice drift past her on the wind, but he did not come near. He stayed on the upper deck, out of her view.

She had hoped—she did not know what she hoped—yes, she did. He would find a way to change their fates. Find a way out of circumstance. She could not think of any that would not cost her honor. No one wanted a fallen woman, and it was not in her nature to be dishonorable. Yes, she had snuck out on her family to have this adventure. She justified it to herself by having been called to the King's service. It was her God given talent that had caused her to be called in the first place, and she couldn't help it was her misfortune to be born a woman. If she were a man, no second thought would be given to her work onboard. Someday she would have to stand before God for her sins, and this accounting kept her integrity in tact. Tea was brought to her while she sat on the deck and worked on her painting. All the men stayed clear and left her to her charcoals and her paints, except for the young cabin boy who was assigned to help her. She had the distinct feeling the men had been told to keep their distance.

The cabin boy looked to be very young. “What is your name, boy?”

“My name is Charles Hurley.”

“How did you come to be in the employ of the Navy?”

“It is a much better prospect than being left to the streets. I am an orphan, ma’am. A navy ship is much better than a whaler, slaver, or merchant. Cleaner, and the men don’t bugger you; they’re under orders not to.”

Mary blushed. “Charles, I guess we do what we can with what God has given us.”

“It could’ve been worse. I coulda’ been on one of those ships. I came down to the Royal ship yard docks on the right day.”

“So you have the future you wanted.”

Charles said proudly, “I am glad to be here, miss. Captain Graham is a respected captain, and the HMS Devonshire is one of the finest in the fleet. Seventy-four guns miss, can sink a brigade with one round. And fast, too. There are only two types of ships bigger in the whole fleet, but they are slow old tubs compared to her.” Charles lovingly patted the rail. “They can’t fly over the water like a Vengeur class can.”

“You certainly seem to know your ships, Charles.”

“Yes, miss,” Charles answered with pride.

Later in the afternoon a small squall line appeared on the horizon moving onto the shore. As it neared it threatened the ship. With the help of the winds in her sails, she easily dodged it weaving between the various rain clouds.

Mary drew a sketch of the squall line, and another of the surveyors doing their work on the deck.

She had enough sketches to start painting and decided she would work on them in the privacy of her room. She worked on the turtle first. She worked in layers, doing a base color first, a grayish green, then built layer upon layer giving the skin complexity of color, depth, and texture. It would take a few days to complete. She must allow some of the colors to dry and set. Mary set the work aside and went on to work on the one that had been on her mind all day. The one of Bennett Graham. Human skin was the hardest to get correct. Again, you had to start with the undertones and build the skin. This one would not be for the King. This one would be her thank you to the captain for allowing her to remain on the ship.

Later, a tray was sent to her room for her and Magdela’s dinner. Poor Magdela was still not up to eating. Late in the evening after Mary had bunked in for the night Magdela called out, “Doctor! I need a doctor!”

Mary got out of her bed, then put on a robe over her night dress, “Oh Magdela!” Mary went over to her and felt her head. It was hot to the touch. This was more than sea sickness.

Mary unlocked the door, and went out into the hall. No one was there. She did not want to wander the ship without an escort, and the only other room she knew to get to—was the captain’s. She stopped at his door and knocked, calling out at the same time, “Captain Graham! Magdela is very ill. She needs the ship’s surgeon!”

The captain opened the door. His nightshirt was half open, and Mary had an urge to reach out and touch him.

“I am sorry sir, I do not know where the doctor’s quarters are.”. Bennett reached for his overcoat, and closed the door behind him.