Page 12

“H ow long will it take to reach Québec?” Crispin asked, looking out over a calm sea. Captain Kelly, sober and completely in charge, smiled into the wind.

“Depends on the weather,” he said with a shrug. “Three weeks or so with good wind. Four with choppy seas. Six with ice.”

“Ice? It’s almost May.” Crispin shook his head.

“It’s the North Atlantic, aye, not the South Pacific. I’ve seen chunks of ice the size of buildings floating by ever so quietly. They’ll slice your hull like a knife through butter. Don’t panic,” he said, noticing Crispin’s shocked expression. “That’s what the crow’s nest is for.”

Crispin glanced up, noticing a sailor in the crow’s nest with a spyglass held to his eye. Relaxing his shoulders, he took in a lungful of the sea air.

“I don’t recall Hardy ever mentioning you,” Kelly said with a question in his voice.

“I only met him a month or two ago in London. You know, he told me he had connections everywhere. I’m sure glad he wasn’t just spinning yarn.”

“Oh,” Kelly said with a laugh. “The man can tell a tale. Pardon my curiosity but, you and Birdy, I can’t wrap my brain around that.”

“It was sudden,” Crispin began, wondering how much detail he could omit. “You know Birdy, beautiful and smart. Who could resist her?”

“Aye, men have had a problem with that.”

“Hardy alluded to some sort of trouble back in their village with one of her former suitors. My wife doesn’t like to speak of it. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened, would you? I’d hate to walk into the village and be challenged to a duel.”

“Funny you should say that. That’s about what happened to the last fellow.”

“What fellow?” Hot jealousy burned in the back of Crispin’s throat.

“His name was George Knife-In-Neck.”

“You’re pulling my leg!”

“His name was George Knife-In-Neck,” Kelly began again with a look of irritation. “He was from the mainland, but traded enough on the island to have noticed Birdy. They were both young, but Hardy and the elders approved of him. His dodem was otter, which was a good match for Birdy’s bear. Or was she the otter? I can never remember which one she is.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Otter and bear?”

“This ain’t English society you’re traveling to, milord. The locals have their own customs, their own rules of society. A dodem is kind of like a Scottish clan. You don’t have to be related by blood. All I know is that an otter can’t marry another otter. It’s like shagging your sister.”

Crispin blinked back his shock. There was much about his wife’s people he didn’t know. “What happened next?”

“There was another fellow, Ben Red Feather. He was a Mohawk who’d been stolen in a raid as a teen. Nobody trusts the Mohawks. Not since the Beaver Wars.”

“Beaver Wars? Swear to God, if you’re pulling my leg…” Crispin shook his head and frowned.

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“My apologies. Please continue.”

“Ben Red Feather, a seasoned warrior, decided it was time to take a woman, and he settled on Birdy. Hardy wouldn’t hear it because he thought Birdy too young and Ben Red Feather too old, and the elders were divided. He was a bear, but he wasn’t a true Ojibwe. There was some discussion whether such a union would be allowed.”

“What about Birdy? Did she want to marry him?”

“If she wanted to, nothing would have stopped her. She was only fourteen or fifteen at the time, the way I heard it. Hardy thought she was too young.”

“Then what happened?”

“The way Hardy explained it to me, the elders denied their permission. Ben Red Feather thought the elders favored George, so he tricked him into a knife fight. This isn’t like a duel where fancy-dressed gentlemen fire their pistols into the air and then have tea. In a knife fight, someone is going to get hurt. Badly. George was no match for Ben Red Feather, and he went down hard. His face was slashed and bleeding, but he managed to nick George in the liver, a worse injury. The boy bled out during the night. Ben Red Feather returned to the mainland without a woman.”

“What about Birdy?”

“She refused to watch the fight but stayed outside George’s wickiup all night as he died. The trouble started when George’s mother accused Birdy of fanning the flames of jealousy between the men, forcing them to fight it out. They blamed her for George’s death. Unable to come to a decision on the matter, the elders decided that Birdy should have a purging ceremony to drive out the evil that caused men to be so jealous.”

“What, exactly, is a purging ceremony?”

“They take the person out into the wilderness and make them drink a mild poison whipped up by the local medicine man. Then they leave them alone to heal themselves through sweating and visions. The person undergoing the ceremony is supposed to get so sick that the evil spirit flees the body. I’ve seen many people stagger out of the woods after two weeks. It isn’t pretty.”

“She was just a child. And she’d done nothing wrong,” Crispin protested.” He’d imagined her childhood as idyllic. Picking berries, fishing, singing around a campfire—she’d never breathed a word of such hardship.

“That’s how Hardy felt on the matter. He refused the ceremony and sent Birdy to school in Montreal for three or four years. When she returned, well, let me tell you, that was an awkward summer. Some welcomed her back, some still shunned her, the elders went back and forth but ultimately did nothing.”

“Her people are important to her. She must have been so hurt.”

“She didn’t show it. She came back from Montreal with a plan to save the island from being claimed by Europeans. Even talked her brother into going to law school. I figured that’s where you fit in.”

“In what way?”

“She knew she needed English allies. We thought she’d snag a lawyer, but a lord is just as good, I imagine.”

“I strive to be useful,” Crispin replied, unable to hide his irritation. That’s why Birdy had agreed to an arranged marriage? That’s why Dunwoody’s note about ruining her father pushed her into action. Had she been disappointed when discovering his lack of influence and power? Did she regret their marriage?

Abandoning the top deck, Crispin made his way back to the small windowless cabin they’d been assigned. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Birdy was disappointed in him. She’d helped him save his sister’s life and find his nephew. What had he done for her? Nothing. What could he do? Again, nothing. She could have done better.

The floor shifted below his feet as the ship cut through a rough wave and he tumbled into their cabin, falling to the floor.

“Let me help you,” Birdy rushed forward, but he gently pushed her hands away.

“I can do it,” he snapped. “I don’t need any more help. You’ve done enough.”

“I don’t know what happened to you, Crispin. But I know it was not my doing. If you’re angry at someone else, I will not tolerate this behavior toward me. Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment. I’m sorry I can’t help you save your island. I know that’s why you married me. I haven’t the influence to affect change in Canada.”

“It was too much to ask of any man. Marrying some great English savior was a childish dream. It was wrong of me to expect that much from anyone. I am not disappointed with you. You’re my husband. For better or worse,” she repeated the words from their wedding vows, “Till death do we part. I love you, Crispin Morgan.”

“Why?” he asked. “I can’t make everything right. I just can’t.” He shook his head to clear it. He’d brought every calamity short of disease and famine into her life. She must be so disappointed. How could she love him?

“You’ve said that before, and I still don’t understand. What makes you unworthy of love?” She reached for him as she spoke, placing a hand on his shoulder as he tried to turn away.

“I’m responsible for someone’s death. Someone died because I failed to make sure everything was right.” He should have told her sooner. She had to know now. He wasn’t the hero she thought he was. Far from it.

“Whom?” She pushed her way onto the bed and sat next to him.

“I was seven or eight, it was my first year at Harrow school. My schoolmates and I had an idle few days and decided to go on an adventure to Barn Hill. We had permission to use a carriage for the night, and one of the older boys acted as coachman. I knew it was wrong for us to go so far, but I was having fun and wanted to fit in with the other lads. Once there, the older lads wandered off. Not far, we could still hear them. We found a stream and played about the edge, splashing each other and poking at minnows with sticks.” He stopped to take a breath, knowing the next part would be hard to relate. Just speaking of it brought a clear vision of it into his mind. The sky was blue and the breeze made the tall grass wave and ripple like golden water. The air smelled of fall leaves and warm dirt.

“We wandered down the stream, not paying much attention to how far we were going. I was unfamiliar with the area and knew better than to wander off. But I kept going. I should have turned us around, got us back to the others. But I didn’t. The water wasn’t deep. It wasn’t. We found a spot where some trees had fallen across the stream and began climbing on them. Jumping from one to the other.” He stopped there, remembering the sound of his friend’s head crashing into the wood as he fell. It was an unnatural sound and he remembered quickly turning toward it. He mimicked the movement as he told the story.

“Timothy slipped. I heard his head strike the log, but I laughed at his clumsiness. At first. He fell into the water. I expected him to pop back up, sputtering and laughing. He didn’t. I was afraid to get my shoes wet because I knew ruining them would have made my father angry. I went back to the grass to remove my shoes and socks before I went looking for him. The other boys had jumped right in. He was entangled in the submerged branches of the tree, and they couldn’t pull him out without my help. But I was too late. He was already dead.”

“That boy died from a terrible accident, not because you removed your shoes.” Birdy’s voice was sympathetic and she put her arms around him. He leaned into the embrace knowing he didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t spoken of the incident in years and the pain it caused was still sharp and white hot. He put a hand to his chest as if he could pluck out whatever shard of it was left.

“All the boys attended Timothy’s funeral. My father came and asked me what happened. After the service, he stood up and apologized to Timothy’s family for my inaction. He told everyone I should have stepped up. I should have known. I should have kept everyone safe. As a Morgan, it was my duty. Timothy died because I failed in my duty.” There it was. Now she knew what sort of man she married. The shame he felt that day never left him. The look in Timothy’s parents’ eyes haunted him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the image away.

“Timothy died because he slipped on a wet tree. You had nothing to do with it. You were a child. Your father’s words are farts. Why do you listen to them? He has failed in his duty to you. He failed your sister, too. He will fail his grandson as well. He is the failure, not you!”

“When I saw Mr. Shaw’s face,” Crispin shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory. “He looked like Timmy. Cold, pale, and lifeless. I should have known.” Somewhere in his mind he knew it didn’t make sense, but such was the nature of such deep shame.

“How? How would you have known? You cannot go on this way. You’re killing yourself with these ideas. Your father is an idiot. He sat at our wedding and heard an outrageous accusation against you and uttered not a single word in your support.” Birdy’s arms were around him now, holding him close, pulling him into her lap. Closing his eyes, he allowed it even though it felt like stolen comfort.

“I didn’t expect him to. That’s just the way he is.” The realization crept in that he’d long ago resigned himself to his father’s lack of fidelity. He couldn’t even imagine what it might have felt like to know his father trusted him. He hated feeling weak and while keeping Birdy close, he sat upright beside her. There wasn’t much more to say anyway.

“There’s an old saying in my village that even a rock can grow moss. Your excuse for him is nonsense.” She once again pulled him closer as she spoke.

“There were so many things I could have done differently.” He knew in his heart that she was making sense. Still, he wasn’t ready to let go of something he’d clung to for so long.

“There were so many things everyone could have done differently. Some things have no explanation. It was Timmy’s time to die. It was Mr. Shaw’s time to die. You are not God. Stop trying to be.”

“I’m not a God,” he agreed. “I don’t know if I can shake this feeling. I’ve carried the guilt for so long I’ll feel naked without it.” She knew everything now and hadn’t run screaming from the room. He tried to smile at her and failed so he leaned over and kissed her forehead instead.

“I don’t mind you naked.” Birdy leaned closer and rested her cheek against his chest. “Remember, one drop at a time.”

“I love you, Birdy.” Crispin followed his declaration with another kiss. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“It’s almost gone,” Luke said as they watched the last of England slip into the horizon.

“It won’t be long before we are scouting the west for Canada,” Birdy said, feeling Crispin’s body tense next to her. “The voyage goes quickly,” she added, trying to sound reassuring.

She was the only member of their small party who’d made the journey before. Crispin and Luke had never left the shores of their island nation before. A few months ago, she’d experienced her own fear of the unknown. The initial panic over not seeing land in any direction could be disconcerting.

“As my father and I traveled to England,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “We played endless games of chess and concentration. Someone aboard will have a chess set and deck of cards we can use. Every morning, we would stand just about here on the deck and thank the water for keeping us safe.”

“I want to thank the water too,” Luke chimed in. “Can you teach me how?”

“All you need to do is look out upon the water, appreciate its beauty, and acknowledge its power. Without water, nothing can live. Then you say thank you to the water. In my language, the word for water is nibi , so I will say nibi miigwech .”

“ Nibi miigwech ,” Luke yelled out to the sea. “ Nibi , I love you.”

“We will thank the water every day for transporting us away from our troubles and for keeping the Agonde afloat.”

“ Nibi miigwech ,” she heard Crispin whisper as he stood beside her, and she turned to smile at him. He’d not made light of her tradition nor its explanation. He could not understand how much his action meant to her.

“I want to go up there to thank the water,” Luke said, pointing up to the crow’s nest.

“We might use a rigging monkey,” a passing crew member replied. “If you don’t mind my opinion, madam,” he said with a tip of his hat to Birdy.

“Lady Morgan,” Crispin corrected him. “My wife. I’ll ask Captain Kelly if the boy might be indulged.”

“Aye, milord,” the sailor said with a nod of his head. “Name’s Xisco, first mate. With the captain’s permission, I’d be the one showing the boy the ropes.”

“It’s hard work,” Birdy warned Luke. “The crew will be depending on you.”

“I can do it,” Luke responded with all the confidence of a youngster who’d never been tested.

“We’ll get Captain Kelly’s permission first,” Crispin said as Birdy nodded her agreement.

The boy needed a diversion from the tedious hours that lay before them. After a few days, she and Crispin would as well. After yesterday’s discussion, things were more settled between them. One could not truly know another person until one met their ghosts.

Knowing the source of Crispin’s pain explained so much. That he’d lived for so many years with the weight of his childhood friend’s death on his shoulders made her angry. Angry at his father. It was a reminder of how lucky she’d been to have Hardy Carmody as a father.

When her mother had died of a fever, Hardy became both her mother and father. He encouraged her to embrace her mother’s sister, who happily taught her everything her mother would have had she survived. She owed this escape to her father as well.

Captain Kelly was a captain because of her father. The Agonde was financed by her father. Her father had come to her rescue once again. Her heart hurt for Crispin, who had never felt such paternal love and support. Crispin’s father was a sad man beneath her contempt. He’d denied himself the pleasure of a close relationship with his children.

Would Crispin make the same mistake? The thought weighed heavily on her mind. They’d spoken of the possibility of children last night for the first time. It was no surprise to her to hear him admit he aspired to be a parent. She yearned for a family much like the one her parents made while Crispin vowed to be better and not repeat the mistakes of his father.

Unsettled on the matter, she hoped a return to her village would bring clarity. Perhaps, amidst the familiar places of her own childhood, she’d feel the pull to bring new life to the world.

Last night, Crispin also revealed what he’d learned of her past from Captain Kelly. It was a favor to her, she supposed. It released her from the burden of explaining what she still found unexplainable. With all he was dealing with, she never knew how to relate the sordid tale to her husband. In retrospect, it was as if the entire incident had happened to someone else and she’d only been perched on a branch, watching it unfold from a distance.

The air was clear between them now. There were no more secrets to keep or to hide from. Maybe now they could begin their marriage in earnest. On the day she first walked into the Lyon’s Den, she could never have imagined the wild and deadly adventure ahead of her.

She could only hope their misadventures meant that Crispin’s sister, Miss Lamb, was still living a peaceful life hidden from her murderous husband. For surely, if she’d been found, there would have been no reason for Dunwoody to continue to pursue them.

“There you are,” she heard his familiar voice behind her.

“I’ve spoken to Captain Kelly, and he’s vouched for Mr. Xisco’s reliability. Luke has gone off happily to become a monkey.”

“It will keep him out of mischief.” Birdy stepped into Crispin’s arms, closed her eyes and smiled. They were but a tiny speck on the vast sea, and she felt safer than she had in weeks.

“Keep looking,” Birdy said, gripping the gunwale. The sun had risen behind them, but the morning fog was slow to dissipate in the northern sky. The air threatened rain, but she was too excited to care. After three weeks and good winds, they were approaching Canada. They would dock in Québec City before nightfall.

Crispin paced the deck behind her, his anticipation palpable. The only passenger who was sorry to see an end to their voyage was Luke, who was enjoying working with the crew. Both Xisco and Captain Kelly, true to their word, kept the boy happily and safely occupied for the duration of the journey.

“Our son will be born in Canada,” Crispin announced. “We’ll find the best midwife on the continent.”

“I’m not with child. I told you before that my courses have always been light and shy. Don’t get your hopes up. If I was increasing, I think I’d be the first to know.”

“You are,” he explained. “I just know. I’m not just hoping for a son, you know. A daughter like you would put me over the moon as well.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Birdy shook her head and turned back to scanning the horizon. Once on land, they still had a long, hard trek ahead of them to reach her village. In truth, she was starting to worry that Crispin wasn’t up to the task. He’d led a privileged and pampered life. He’d never paddled a canoe, never navigated a swamp.

He couldn’t fail. He’d never forgive himself if he did. She’d have to make sure that he didn’t. As long as he learned to trust in himself, he could do it. This wasn’t a good time for her body to have other plans for her.

The trouble was, she was starting to suspect he was right.

“Land ho!” a voice called out from the crow’s nest, followed by another. Footfalls everywhere as crewmen started running to their stations.

Straining her eyes against the fog, Birdy held her breath. A fresh breeze that smelled of sand and grass blew across the bow. Slowly, as the fog burned away, a dark patch of land was revealed in the distance.

“Raise the mizzen mast!” Captain Kelly barked out his order.

“Land ho!”