17. Awkward family breakfast
Neither of us was well practiced in the art of sitting around and relaxing, and the day Izzy was set to leave for her honeymoon, Andrews and I were already up and moving. We smiled over the obvious sex noises originating from her room, and I told him I’d meet him downstairs at breakfast. I threw my dress sloppily over my shift for the short walk down to my boat. The wind off the sea smelled fresh and tempting. Soon, I promised the waves, soon.
I didn’t need my full fighting regalia, but I wasn’t interested in wearing any more dresses. I opted for a pair of soft linen pants, one of Graham’s shirts I’d stolen from him long ago, and a tailed waistcoat with full, slightly more feminine pleating in the waist. I kept my soft boots on, wrapped a well-washed scarf around my loose hair, and grabbed a hat for the walk back to the house.
Before I left the ship, I stopped in the small galley to examine the terra cotta pots Izzy had made me get for her plants. Ollas. I suppose I understood the purpose. The little plants looked wilted and sad. I took a moment to refill the water and shrugged. Either they’d make it or I’d get some space back in the galley.
I brought out my tools and sail-repair kit and scaled the mast. It was a beautiful morning. I sat a moment looking out at the sea then back towards Andrews’ kingdom. His land rolled out from the coast in cleared green swathes lined with trees in the distance. Smoke trailed up into the sky from the various tanneries and processing houses on the outskirts of his property, and workers moved to and fro changing the land and creating goods. The sea was glorious this morning. The sun gleamed off the never-ending waves and the clouds piled up high, a sign that the trade winds were active and ready to make my ship fly. I patted the solid mast I was perched on and sighed. That land was beautiful, its king was beautiful too, but it wasn’t my land. Somehow I had to start the process of letting go.
A figure exited the house and walked towards the docks. It looked like Bessie, Lady Catherine’s attendant. She walked with determined strides all the way to the dock then hesitated at the gangplank of my boat. She looked all around, saw no one, and took a tentative step on board.
“Hello!” I called out to her.
She started and shielded her eyes to look up at me.
“Are you looking for me?” If she wasn’t she could go right back up to the house.
“I was – I wanted – Lady Catherine – yes. I was hoping to speak with you,” she called up to me. Clearly she was hoping just the opposite. I shook my head and climbed down.
“I suppose we ought to talk.” I jumped the last several feet and landed in front of her. To her credit she didn’t back away.
“Lady Isabelle intimated to me that you and your mistress might require transportation.”
“Yes. She – we do.” Bessie gave a furtive look back towards the manor and I imagined that behind a glinting windowpane Lady Catherine was watching us, heart in her throat. I decided to take it easy on this Bessie kid.
“Relax. Isabelle wants you on this ship, so that’s what’ll happen. You have your ship. Listen carefully to these instructions.” I spoke quickly so as not to be seen spending too much time with her. “When the Victory arrives, you and Catherine must be ready. Pack lightly. Take only what you need to survive. No sentiment. Understand?”
Bessie nodded, wide-eyed but full of grit.
“Good. At some point I’ll knock on your door and invite you to do something, it doesn’t matter, just refuse me loudly so lots of people hear. That will be your signal that it’s time to leave. Grab Catherine and the baby and meet me in the alley behind Gafford’s square exactly three hours later.” I waited for this to sink in before continuing. “Say nothing to anyone. If you get caught, I will deny you. Take only what you need to survive,” I repeated.
Bessie was hardly breathing at this point but kept a hard and determined face. She nodded once and took off for the house. I sent up a silent prayer that Bessie could pull this off. This was all on her small shoulders. I had no confidence in Lady Catherine whatsoever. If they got caught, I would see what I could do for that brave girl.
I walked in through the dining room to the unlikely sight of the young lieutenant and Andrews sitting together at the table. Familiar bangs and scrapes from the kitchen indicated that Izzy had finally finished schtupping her new husband (at least for the time being). I kissed Graham lightly on his lips, whispered, “Have fun,” and entered the kitchen area.
Izzy had an apron over a dress I didn’t recognize and was whirling around the place in a familiar pattern. She blew me a cheerful “Good morning!” as she curtseyed to the oven.
If you looked closely, you could see cartoon woodland animals singing about her latest love session as she cooked a fairytale feast. Guess the young lieutenant was a good lay.
I spied some cooling rolls and butter and sat on the counter to help myself. Andrews' laughter boomed out from the dining room next door, and I looked, bemused, at the door, wondering what he could have found so humorous.
Izzy brushed me away from my spot on the counter to get access to some pans. She moved me again when she pulled some kind of hot pastry from the kiln-like oven and sat me in a proper chair by the fire. There was a simmering pot of some kind of sauce over the flames. I dipped a chunk of roll in it and tried a bite. It was hot and I inhaled and tried to chew and cool my mouth down.
“Yeowch, that’s hot.” I dipped the roll again and blew on it this time. Still hot.
“At least wait for the compote to cool, Anne! Geez,”Izzy rebuked me. All the cartoon animals following her around shook their heads and tsked at my impatience before going back to singing.
“It’s cooler now.” I went in for a third taste and waited as long as my patience allowed to eat it. “Ouch. Nope. Ouch. Not yet. Damn, that smarts. Ouch.”
Izzy smacked my hand away from the sauce and removed the pot from temptation. I went back to the butter like a chump. The men’s voices murmured through the wall, and I again wondered what the two of them could be talking about.
“We should probably discuss those favors I need from you.” Izzy pounded green stuff into dough.
“Probably.” I tried to sneak a piece of the dough, but she smacked my hand.
“I have some crates of supplies. There are these refugees who barely escaped being enslaved, and now they’re working at the shipyard – anyway, I just want to help them with a few basics. I’ve already talked to Davies, and he mentioned that Mary would be in charge of those things. The same Mary from your boat?”
“The same.” I stood up and found the pot of sauce. It must be cool by now. I stuck my finger in it to test. “Ouch. Fine,
I’ll bring the stuff over. Where is it? Ouch.” I stuck my delicious finger in my mouth. Worth it.
“I brought the crates and things here. Angelica let me store them.”
“I’ll get it over. What next?” The idea that I’d get to see Mary and Dom and the other kids again before leaving this place warmed me.
“Medications. I need to try to give Ian as much protection as I can before he leaves. I figure TDAP, MMR, maybe a few others? Smallpox?” She looked towards the walls and kept her voice low, knowing this was illicit future talk.
“I’ve got it. But clearly you know that already. I’ve been vaccinating this place for years. I loved stabbing Yvonne more than I’ve ever loved anything I’ve ever done.” There was another memory that warmed me. Oh, how she’d screamed like a little bitch. I smirked and replayed the memory in my head a few more times. So good.
“Stabbing Yvonne? What are you talking about?”
“With a needle. Not a knife...not yet.”
“You vaccinated your boyfriend’s other girlfriends? Concubines? I don’t know what the proper terms are. Okay, whatever, I’m not judging the details of your sex life,” Izzy said, voice dripping with judgement despite her words.
Concubines? As if Helene would ever be at the beck and call of anyone’s carnal desires.
“Concubines? God, no. If anything, he was their whore.” I pushed the unwelcome but fitting image out of my head. It was isolated out here, and there was a distillery and lots of parties and few options. “And I was vaccinating the kids. I made her sit there and take it to show the kids they’d be fine.” God, how I’d relished sinking that needle in her stupid arm. I’d take that memory to my nonexistent grave.
“I see. Regarding our...secret mission. Since we’re going to be at sea for so long, I want you to tell me things. Like, all of the big things you’ve been hiding. Deal?” She was serious. Izzy pinned me to the wall with her eyes.
“Izzy…” How could I begin to explain? “That is a complicated request.” I was at a loss. There was no way I could fulfill that request. I could try to tell her some stories, but there were so many others her life would be happier not knowing.
“I’m sure it is. Will you do it?” She didn’t drop her gaze. I winced. It was a terrible idea.
“I can promise you that I’ll try. It’s just complicated.” I mumbled, not wanting to outright lie but not wanting to make her angrier with me than she already was.
“Then try now. Tell me something real and don’t bullshit around about it,” she demanded.
“Like what?” I bargained for more time to think.
“Dealer’s choice. Just tell me something you’ve never told me before.” She and her woodland animals crossed thier arms and nodded their heads in agreement.
“Okay.” Crap. Crap. Crap. I needed something that wouldn’t invite a ton of follow-up questions. Something relatively harmless. Something that would distract her. Izzy stood patiently expecting. Then I had it.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve time-traveled.” I confessed. Her woodland chorus puffed out of existence in shock.
“What?!” she exclaimed then looked quickly at the door and back and hushed herself. “Really?” she hissed.
“I had to make sure you’d survive the portal. So we did some test runs,” I started to explain.
“Do I dare to ask any more details about those test runs?” Her eyes were wary but intrigued.
“Oh, I’m sure you remember it very vividly.” I grinned. This was absolutely the right story to tell.
“Anne! Tell me! I’m going crazy over here.”
“I took you to a commune in the 1960s. You met my best friend and proceeded to hump his brains out. Is that enough of a hint?” I smiled and laughed out loud as the revelation crashed over her head.
“Shhh!” she hushed me. “Are you seriously talking about Fetu? Cabo was in the 1960s!?” Maui had told her his real name on that trip, Fetu.
“Sure was.” I cackled. This telling her stories was more fun than I realized.
“Well, shit.” Izzy sat back and absently kneaded more dough. “I guess...that actually does explain a lot.”
“See, I can say things.” The sauce in the pot was finally cool, and I spread it over what was left of my roll.
“Yes. Yes, you can.” Izzy absently loaded a few plates with steaming food. “Does this have anything to do with that brand?”
I almost choked at the unexpected reference to one of my earliest and most distinctive scars. Along with his real name, Maui had told her far too much on those spring break trips, in my opinion. Maui bore the Nekydalleon on his neck too.
“Was Fetu a part of this too? How did you learn about this? Does it have anything to do with that liquid you poured on my wrist? How does it all work? Anne?”
Well, fuck me. I had banked on Maui/Fetu log-jamming her thoughts with erotic memories. I guess her new husband had done too good a job. Her cup runneth over and her brain was working again. I forced the memories down and grinned at my sister and did not reveal a thing. She got a taste, and if she wanted the meal, she would get herself on my ship when I departed.
“Sounds like it’s going to be a fun cruise. See you on the ship.” I grabbed two of the plates she'd filled with breakfast concoctions and exited the kitchen. That was actually a lot of fun. What other stories could I tell her? I certainly had enough of them.
Andrews and that new husband of Izzy’s stopped talking and leaned back in their chairs as I entered. I placed one of the plates in front of Graham and kissed him. “I’ve got work to do on the ship. I’ll be up later.”
“Nanette,” Andrews held my hand, “solve a riddle for us. How old would you say you are?”
I laughed. What a question. “How old would I say I am? Or how old am I?” I did my own Cheshire cat impression and chuckled. “Do you know, I’ve lost count.” And that was the god’s honest truth, by the way.
“My lady wife asserted to me that she was your elder.” Her husband had the nerve to pipe up.
“Did she now? Well, what a mystery.” I kept my voice light, kissed Graham again, and left the room. Dammit, Izzy, and after all I did to not maim and dismember your husband every time I looked upon his stupid face. Less than a year and Andrews would have all the answers he wanted. A witch can be anyone and anything. He’d be free to revile my name and ride off into the sunset with whomever he chose.
I left Andrews to his riddle and took my breakfast out to my ship. I sat at the stationary helm and put my feet up, watching the waves sparkle in the morning sun. Against my will, my thoughts drifted out along the rippling tide to the ocean beyond. As I ate, I breathed in the sun and the temperature and the smells coming off the wind. Conditions were excellent to set sail. I turned to look back at the house and frowned. Not yet. I couldn’t leave yet. I finished off the last of the crumbs on the plate and set it aside and sighed. Now was the time for work.
I walked the length of the ship checking the conditions of the boards. Inside, I ran all the systems and checked the solar batteries and reconnected my phone after looking at the pictures from the wedding night. I carefully hid it away behind a slot in the windowsill of my cabin. No one who wasn’t looking for it would find it there. My ship echoed strangely, empty as the day I bought her, minus the stinking ambergris in the hold. There was little to take inventory of in either the hold or the kitchen or any of my hidey-holes where I smuggled goods and riches. Izzy had cleaned me out.
Back up top I began my sail check. One at a time I raised the sails and examined the attachment points and damage on the sturdy canvas. I was about to climb the mast to inspect the rigging when Magnus ran down the dock and jumped aboard.
“Auntie!” he called out. “Auntie! You ready to play that game?” He had a chess piece in his hand that he waved at me.
“Have some checks to do first. Want to help?” I asked, knowing he’d jump at the chance.
The boy beamed and put the chess piece in his pocket. He loved working on the ship with me. I sent him up the masts to check on the rigging and listened to him whoop with glee watching the world from so high up.
“Focus!” I called out to the young boy. “Don’t lose your footing!” He was giving me a heart attack. I was getting too old for this.
I raised the mainsail and had him check from the top down for any tears. We repeated that process on the other mast. Only one tear up top on the mainsail.
“Head on back to the house. We’ll have our game after I’m done. I have a lot of cargo to load, and I have to figure out where your mother stored it.”
“I’ll ask her,” he offered.
“Don’t bother her. I’ll get it.”
“It’s probably in the barn. I’ll go look.” And he took off running.
After repairing the sail, I brought out cleaning supplies and began working over the outside and inside. As I’d just been on a journey a few days ago, there wasn’t much to do, but better to catch problems early, while in port and in reach of supplies.
I pulled out my notebook, loose sheafs of paper, and old hand-drawn maps I’d made from memory and began making lists. Magnus returned then with a horse-drawn wagon loaded to the breaking point with crates and sacks and bundles I recognized immediately.
“This is my missing cargo!” I glared up at the house. Izzy was just going to gift my cargo? My cargo! To some threadbare ghosts? Did she have any idea what this was worth? These items could fund my trips for years. These items were procured from all over the world and were of the best quality. I groaned. In modern terms, Izzy was looking at gifting hundreds of thousands of dollars of my hard-earned money and effort away as if this was just stuff left over in a storage unit that she needed to clean out. I rubbed my temples and took calming breaths. She was young. She couldn’t know.
“What’s wrong, Auntie? Did I do something wrong?” Magnus hopped out of the wagon, concerned that I might be upset with him.
“Nothing’s wrong. A person just can’t know what they’ve never learned. Let’s have that game.” I shoved my annoyance with my sister away and refocused on Magnus.
He scrambled back up into his wagon and jumped back down with the chessboard and box of pieces. We played at a small table I set up on my deck, and he beat me soundly several times. I sucked at games.
“You are letting me win, Auntie. Really try this time,” he chided me.
“I am trying,” I growled in frustration. “Just set the board back up.” He laughed and reset the pieces and trounced me yet again.
“So where are you going today?” He indicated the ship and the cargo.
“I’m taking all this over to the new shipyard. Likely stay the night and sail back tomorrow.”
“You’ll need help with all of that. I could go with you.” He was as eager as Dom was to run away with Peter Pan on this pirate ship of fun and mystery.
“I do not think your parents would approve of that.” He was cute to want to help but Helene would kill me if I took him with me.
“Your ship is part of our family and our business. I need to learn the business.” He puffed his thin chest up with importance.
I ruffled his hair. “Well then, you can learn how to properly stow all this cargo. Come on. Except these crates.” I singled out the straw-packed crates of Han dynasty porcelain dishes. Those I set aside for Angelica.
We spent the next hour loading and tying down all my old cargo in all its old spots. As I patted the last of it in a welcome back/farewell manner, Magnus called me back up. There was a ship coming towards the dock.
The ship was a small thirty-foot rig with triangle sails and a shallow hull. The crew sailing her brought her in a little fast and annoyed me by bumping her harshly into the other side of the dock and almost knocking me backwards. I held onto Magnus to steady him, and we both glared at the sailors now tying her off.
“This is a private dock. State your business.” I stood in the way of the upstart attempting to leave the dock and head toward the house. He looked somewhat familiar, but it wasn’t till he leveled a haughty glare at me that I placed him as a relation of the young lieutenant.
“I owe the bitch captain no answers. Step aside or I will be forced to remove you. You have no claim here,” he sneered.
If Magnus weren’t right behind me, I would have handed this jackass his own colon on a platter. Instead I attempted to demonstrate that words and tact could be powerful too.
“Let me try this again.” I took a deep calming breath. “You will need to explain—”
The man viciously slapped me and manhandled me back to the other sailors who got hold of my arms before I could recover from the shock. The slap was hard, unexpected, and sharp. Again, these men needed to thank their lucky stars that that precious child I loved was here and I didn’t want to encourage the notion that violence was the way to solve problems.
“Auntie!” Magnus tried to get to me, but I put out a hand to keep him back.
“No, girl, I need give you nothing,” the man sneered.
“I am heir to this estate!” Magnus blocked their way this time. “You will answer why you are here.”
“God save me from the perversion of these holdings.” The young lieutenant’s relation laughed along with the other sailors.
Magnus crossed his arms and stood his ground. The asshole of a man sighed with annoyance before relenting. “This is the Lieutenant Commander’s personal boat. He restored it himself and he intends to sail that – his bride on it for his honeymoon. Now step aside so I can complete the delivery.”
“Take your hands off my aunt and you may proceed,” Magnus ordered in a fine impression of his father mixed with the eyebrow raise of his mother.
“She is not your relation, boy. She is a whore pretending to an empty throne,” he sneered.
“You are wrong. We are family and this is her home. Tell him, Auntie,” Magnus pleaded.
They need you to say yes as much as I do. Graham’s words rang in my head.
“She knows what she is. No need to hear more from the shrew.” The relation spat at my feet.
The sailors all laughed but let go of me and followed the dumbass up to the house. Magnus rushed to me full of concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked. I smiled at my 21st-century vernacular coming out of his 17th-century voice.
“I’m fine. Never worry about me.” I ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek. “You were marvelous.”
He grinned and stood up straighter.
I collected myself and looked over the smaller ship. Izzy was going to ride around the island in this?
“Go play now. I’m going to have a discussion with the other adults up there.” He ran off, flushed with his victory over the small crew, and I trudged up the hill, more and more upset with every step. I was upset because that asshole was correct. I had no claim here. I was an intruder haunting Andrews’ life, and I should have been exorcized from this house long ago. My hurt and anger channeled into an explosive direction, and by the time I reached the dining room, my emotions had funneled squarely against the young lieutenant.
“Your plan is to take my sister on some craft-project boat of yours around the island? With no crew? How exactly do you plan to navigate safely when you can’t keep your dick out of her for even an hour?” My cheek still stung. I resisted touching it and focused on the young lieutenant, who pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes.
Instead of answering me, he turned to Izzy and spoke gently to her. “Surprise, darling. I am sailing you around the island, to all my favorite places, just the two of us. As I’ve mentioned, I’ve spent several years preparing a personal ship for my own usage, and I believe you’ll find it full of the comforts of home.”
“She is not stepping foot on that so-called ‘boat’ until I inspect it,” I threatened.
“Nanette,” Andrews spoke sternly and drew my attention, “a word, please?” He stood and offered me his hand.
“Just a moment—”
“Nanette. Now.” He put a hand on my arm, and I let him pull me away into the kitchen. Andrews waved Izzy’s maid out so we could have a private moment. He held me tight until I stopped fuming and resumed a normal breathing pattern.
He put a hand up to my cheek and caressed the stinging skin. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nanette, talk to me," he demanded.
“It doesn’t matter. That ship—”
“He’s a naval officer!” Andrews hollered. “I’m sure that ship will float around the island just fine. What happened?” He held his hand to my cheek and refused to move it.
“What happened is I came back. I came back and I am not your wife. I have no claim here. I don’t belong,” I fired back at him and tried to pry his hand from my cheek.
“One more time and maybe you’ll hear me. What happened to your face?” His voice was not quiet.
“That son of a bitch out there struck me because I have no business being here. And he’s right!” I thundered back, my voice catching on the words barbed with truth, and I turned to leave.
Andrews held onto me. “So make him wrong! Say yes, goddammit! Be my wife. I won’t have you hurt on our own land when it was entirely avoidable!”
Izzy came through the door and laid into me, a second barrel in this assault. “I’m very sorry to interrupt what was clearly going to be a successful marriage proposal, but you mentioned that someone struck you? Who?” she demanded.
“Not now, Izzy,” I growled at her. My two interrogators side by side.
“Answer her, Nan.” Andrews took her side. My sister crossed her arms, and Andrews didn’t give me an inch.
“No,” I told them both.
“I told you I won’t take another no from you!” he yelled.
“Then stop asking!” I yelled right back.
“Why won't you just tell me? You know I’m perfectly capable of getting the information.” Lady Isabelle, in all her glory, joined the fight against me.
“Why does it matter? It doesn’t matter!” I backed away from the assault. I didn’t know why it mattered, but it did. I had nothing. Nothing. No land, no house, no husband, no future. Just this one piece of something that they wanted that was mine. I couldn’t give them anything else. I needed this. I kept the answer trapped in my chest, desperate to have something of my own.
“Lieutenant Commander, would you join us please?” Lady Tattletale called out.
“No! Izzy, what the hell? I’m going back to my ship.” I tried to struggle past them, but Andrews got his arms around me and held me fast. I hadn’t realized I was shaking until I felt the vibrations in his arms. I simultaneously needed him to release me and hold me tighter.
When Izzy’s new husband entered, I stopped fighting Andrews and sank back against his chest. It was now three on one.
“Dear husband,” Izzy started, “would you be so good as to find out which of your men was so bold as to strike my sister in the face? I would be most grateful.” Andrews shifted me closer.
“Was it my valet? Tall, young, blue eyes, and a blue jacket?” the young lieutenant asked. I kept my mouth shut.
“Anne?” Izzy asked, expectant.
I didn’t answer.
“Nanette?” Andrews prompted.
“I can deal with him on my own. Everyone, just leave me be.” I tried once more to get away, but Andrews wasn’t having it.
“It was him,” Izzy asserted to Ian. She whispered something to her new husband then said aloud, “Yes, I am serious. Now, please?”
The young lieutenant left, and I relaxed a little. Two on one.
“Well, that will be handled.” Izzy approached me cautiously and kissed me on the cheek.
“Izzy, this isn’t your fight,” I said to her. She ignored me. I turned my face into Andrews’ chest. “You cannot protect me from every danger.”
“I could if you’d let me,” he responded.
“No.”
“Okay! Well, I’m going to let you two get back to whatever the hell you’re doing in here.” Izzy flounced out of the room clearly as in need of escape as I was.
One on one.
Once more I tried to escape the claustrophobic kitchen, but Graham lifted me up and sat me on the counter and held me close. I struggled, but the rage within me had cooled and the embrace felt nice.
“Dammit, Nan. Just let me hold onto you for a fucking moment,” he growled in my ear. I crumbled and held him back.
“It’s not fair,” I said, even as my throat closed around the words to keep me from saying them. I buried my head in his chest.
“I know.” He cradled my face and kissed me.
“I want to marry you.” I looked straight into his eyes and spoke the truth. “I want you as my husband. I want to wear your ring. Sit in that chair. Wake up with you every morning.”
His eyes burned with desire and his arms tightened around me as he heard all the words he’d ever wanted to hear me say tumble out of me in this charged moment.
“It’s not fair,” I repeated.
“It can be. Say yes. Please, Nan. Just say yes.” He tilted my head up and kissed me again, lightly at first and then deepening with intensity as he stood on the precipice of all his most desperate desires coming true.
Helene Andrews
1610-1684
Beloved wife
Beloved mother
“You’re not mine. And I’m not yours. No, Graham.” I pushed him away. My beloved’s eyes turned to stone. I could feel the heat from his heart cool and retreat. For a moment it felt like he might strike me himself.
Instead he turned and walked away from me. He slammed the dining room door on his way out. I sat there, shivering from the reflected chill of the heart I’d just killed.
Through the kitchen window I could see my ship. At least I didn’t have to stay here. I had cargo to deliver. I got down from the counter and left through the kitchen exit. Magnus caught up with me as I went down to my ship.
“Auntie, I heard yelling. Father is upset.”
“I gave him some bad news.”
“Are you leaving?” He eyed my braids.
“Just to deliver that cargo you helped me with.”
“But then you are coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ll come back.” He rushed off to do whatever thirteen-year-olds do in this time, and I kept going to the ship.
The young lieutenant’s ship was an affront to my eyes. It hardly looked seaworthy. The ass-faced valet was back on the dinghy working, probably using toothpaste to patch some holes.
I went aboard my own ship and down to my cabin. I needed a minute. I poured myself a drink and put my old helmet from the temple on and let it shut out the sounds around me. Unfortunately, it didn’t occlude the vibrations of several people walking down the dock together.
I dumped the old silver helmet on the floor and drank as I heard Izzy’s shrill voice demanding answers from someone on the other ship. What the hell was she doing? I knocked back the rest of the tumbler, poured another, then walked up top, already feeling the effects of the whiskey.
I arrived in time to witness Izzy slap the asshole clear across the face. He’d wear that handprint a few days. I took another sip and watched the wanker fail to stifle his tears before storming off.
“That wasn’t necessary,” I told her. Izzy spun around. I don’t think she knew I was here. “But thank you.”
“It most certainly was necessary. I don’t know where these cowards get off striking women all the time!” Izzy screamed off after him. “A time of chivalry my round ass,” she grumbled.
I took the few steps over to her and the young lieutenant. It definitely wasn’t necessary, but I did feel slightly warmer to the pair.
“I’d like to inspect your boat. Permission to come aboard, Coving-try?” I stumbled over his name – their name.
“Permission granted,” he acceded and stepped aside for me to pass.
I stepped aboard the smaller ship and made note of the condition of the wood, the sails, and the lines. I scowled at the bed tucked in below the deck. There was an itty-bitty galley, just a wood-burning stove top and a small dry sink.
“She cooks. A lot. What’s your fire-suppression system?” I grilled him.
“If a fire breaks out, what precautions are in place?” Izzy translated.
“There are buckets of sand there and there.” He pointed to a few buckets out of the way. Fine. He passed that one.
I continued on. “Where’s the lifeboat? Do you have an accessory boat when this one goes down on the reefs?”
Izzy mumbled under her breath what sounded like petty sarcastic remarks, but when this ship went down, she’d be happy to know if there was a second thing that might float.
“There’s a small detachable raft tied off the port side.” He pointed out a flimsy concoction of roped-together twigs. “We shan't ever be far from land. The reefs are quite a ways out to sea from my projected course.”
“Which is what, pray tell?”
The young lieutenant detailed for me his route around the island and through the small upshoots of land that dot the inner bays of Bermuda.
“How far has she sailed before?” I continued the inspection.
“She’s made it out to the western end and back to St. George's.”
“Any issues?”
“All fixed.” He outlined that the winds had stressed a few of the riggings and the mast, problems that he’d since reinforced.
He then took me on a tour of the ship after that and detailed the ship's condition when he first acquired it and all the work he’d put into the little ship. He’d bought the piece of junk just after arriving on the island and used most of his free time between then and when I’d arrived with Izzy working on the little ship. Since Izzy had come along, he’d been paying a crew to formally finish her off and add amenities that might suit his new wife and her quirky landlubbing ways.
I tried out the halyard, the down haul, the responsiveness of the rudder. He told me there was a keel but a small one. This ship wasn’t intended for open ocean; it was strictly for circumnavigation of the island.
He eyed my ship and I bristled, ready for his criticism, but instead he asked a question about the rigging and the pattern I’d wound into the ropes. And just like when the women admired the embroidery on my dress, I opened up a vault of stories about my precious ship.
I ended up pouring a glass of rum for Ian and telling him about the time I’d capsized off the coast of Jakarta. He whistled, impressed with the tale. He asked how the masts held up in storms, and I told him that I’d only suffered one really terrible breakage, which kept my ship out of commission for a whole season while it was repaired. We started sharing stories of crossing the Atlantic, and I impressed him again when I said I’d made the run from Newfoundland to Paris in eight weeks. He told me that he’d scaled the mainmast of the galleon that ferried him here in a sudden squall to repair a line that had snapped. I toasted him. I was impressed and told him so.
It turned out he knew an acquaintance of mine in London, a pub owner, Mr. Colin O’Rourke. He’d seen him just before departing a few years ago. “Did he ever repair the fire damage?” I asked.
“Never. He continues to blame the damage on every party that comes through. I believe it’s rather kept the pub afloat financially.” He drank and smiled.
“I do believe I’ve paid for that corner at least twice.”
“Three times.” He pointed to himself and laughed. He was about to launch into another story when Izzy interrupted. I blinked at her. I could have sworn she’d left.
“Hello! Are you two quite finished?” She was annoyed.
I looked at the shadows on the dock. I supposed we had been going on awhile.
“Of course, darling.” Coventry handed me back his empty glass. “Provided your sister is satisfied as to your safety upon my vessel?”
“Fair winds and following seas, Lieutenant – Lieutenant Commander.” I amended the rank so as not to annoy her further and toasted them both. “I’m about to head out myself. I imagine the next time I’ll see you is in St. George's. Enjoy your time together. It’s a gift you got any at all.” I wished I had any more time at all with Andrews. I’m afraid I rather punctured Izzy’s spirit with that comment.
She hugged me anyway and said, “I love you. Be careful, and I’ll see you soon?”
“Right. One moment. A last parting gift.” I had forgotten the damn vaccines.
I quickly went down to the cargo area and reached to unlock a complicated mechanism that dropped my medical bag into my hands. I unrolled the leather pack that contained the precious syringe and vials of various medications, antibacterials, and added the vaccinations from my fridge. There were cotton balls and antiseptic in the bag along with a few oral medications. I’d put this kit together when Magnus was a baby. I’d sailed in not long after he was born to find the estate sick with scarlet fever or rheumatic fever, either way something penicillin could easily cure. Andrews and the adults were down and out, and the children were worse. I’d made a decision then that they all needed a little magic. I’d made one of my tightest exits and entrances I’ve ever managed to date, even spotting my own sails on the current. I brought them medicine. I stayed with them in their cabins. I sat up several nights with Magnus, hot with fever, to let Helene sleep and heal.
They’d all been too weak to protest at first and too astonished with their recovery afterwards to question it. When I began regular vaccinations, they were all skeptical, but the power of my medicine was too strong to argue against. When surrounding farms were wiped out by one plague or another while ours was left untouched, even the questions stopped. Every trip back to the future I picked up more and more medical supplies and vaccinated every new baby and person who took up residence.
Magnus had been so sick. I still remembered his hot, heavy baby breath and the raised rashes on his skin and his mother and sisters sleeping soundly on the beds beyond. Even once he got better I held onto him. Helene recovered after a few days and took her child back. The little boy had captured my heart from that moment on.
I repacked the bag exquisitely carefully and headed back. Izzy was actually in the galley grabbing a few odds and ends before I took her 21st-century stores away.
“Here. Everything you need. Do not lose it. Do not sell it. Do not trade it. No one sees this,” I instructed.
“Of course. I understand.” She nodded absently as she packed small tins into her bag.
“No, Izzy. Hear me. No street children, no refugees, no enslaved people. Ian. That’s who gets it. The wrong word in the wrong ear and you will be put to death.” Maybe this was a mistake. I put it in her hands, wondering if I’d be able to save her from the stake if it came to it. My scars tightened, and a dull roar sounded in my ears. I shook my head and tried to remain calm despite the smell of smoke. I pulled at my collar and took steadying breaths.
“Yes. I understand. Ian has said as much about some similar topics. I don’t know if it will matter, but I have to try to do something to help him.” She put the medical kit in her bag.
“It’ll matter. You are doing what you can with what you have.” It’s all anyone could ever do, really.
“Exactly! Like the refugees. Thank you for handling that. They’ve been through so much, Anne—”
“Literally never mention it again.” I was still sour about losing all my hard work even if it was going to a good cause.
“Look what I’m going to surprise Ian with.” She held up a canister of tea she’d bought before we’d left. “He’s never had tea before. Do you think he’ll like it?”
“An Englishman liking tea? You never know.” She chuckled at the terrible joke and grabbed a sack of pot to dull the pain of my humor. “Go on that honeymoon already and don’t get pregnant.”
“I am mildly concerned as to whether or not my pills are up to the phenomenal challenge they’ve been put to.” She was smitten and I was nauseous.
“Get out before I vomit.” I pointed the way. She straight up giggled and kissed me on the cheek before skipping out.
I raised the sails soon after booting her horny ass out and told her I’d pick her up in St. George's when I got word the Victory was in port. My plan, as it stood now, was to sail to Mary and Davies, unload the cargo, and spend a last night or two with my friends. Then I’d sail to St. George's, pick up Izzy and Catherine-party-of-three and launch us across the Atlantic.
And Andrews?
He had retreated to somewhere on the estate and was better off for not seeing my departure. Maybe he’d continue to watch the horizon for my sails, or maybe he’d feel blessed to finally have me out of his life.
